The flush of colour faded from her cheeks.
“I presume, then,” she said, “that I am under your surveillance?”
“In a sense,” he admitted, “it is true.”
“On the steamer,” she remarked, “you spoke as though your interest in me was not inimical.”
“Nor is it,” he answered promptly. “You are in a difficult position, but you may find things not so bad as you imagine. At present my advice to you is this: Go upstairs to your room and stay there.”
The little man had a compelling manner. Lucille made her way towards the elevator.
“As a matter of fact,” she murmured bitterly, “I am not, I suppose, permitted to leave the hotel?”
“Madam puts the matter bluntly,” he answered; “but certainly if you should insist upon leaving, it would be my duty to follow you.”
She turned away from him and entered the elevator. The door of her room was slightly ajar, and she saw that a waiter was busy at a small round table. She looked at him in surprise. He was arranging places for two.
“Who gave you your orders?” she asked.