“The telephone. Will you excuse me one moment?”
She hurried out, leaving the door slightly ajar. Michael heard her quick, angry reply to somebody at the other end of the wire, and then a long interregnum of silence, when apparently she listened without comment. It was nearly ten minutes before she returned, and her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed.
“Would you mind if I told you what I was going to tell you a little later?” she asked.
She had been on the telephone to Sir Gregory: of that Michael was sure, though she had not mentioned his name.
“There’s no time like the present, Miss Mendoza,” he said encouragingly, and she licked her dry lips.
“Yes, I know, but there are reasons why I can’t speak now. Would you see me to-morrow?”
“Why, certainly,” said Michael, secretly glad of his release.
“Shall I drive you back?”
“No, thank you, I can walk.”
“Let me take you to the edge of the town: I’m going that way,” she begged.