He left the room without even a word or a salute to Philippa. Lessingham looked after him for a moment, thoughtfully. Then he shrugged his shoulders.

“I am quite sure that I do not like Captain Griffiths,” he declared. “There is no breeding about the fellow.”

[ [!-- H2 anchor --] ]

CHAPTER XXIV

Philippa, even for some moments after the departure of Captain Griffiths and his myrmidons, remained in a sort of nerveless trance. The crisis, with its bewildering denouement, had affected her curiously. Lessingham rose presently to his feet.

“I wonder,” he asked, “if I could have a whisky and soda?”

She stamped her foot at him in a little fit of hysterical passion.

“You're not natural!” she cried. “Whisky and soda!”

“Well, I don't know,” he protested mildly, helping himself from the table in the background. “I rather thought I was being particularly British. When in doubt, take a drink. That is Richard all the world over, you know.”

She broke into a little mirthless laugh.