“Sit down, Mirabelle Leicester, and warm yourself. You have come quickly, my friend,”—he addressed Monty.
“I’m black and blue all over,” growled Newton. “Why couldn’t we have a car?”
“Because the cars were engaged, as I told you.”
“Did you——” began Newton quickly, but the old man glanced significantly at the girl, shivering before the fire and warming her hands mechanically.
“I will answer, but you need not ask, in good time. This is not of all moments the most propitious. Where is your woman?”
He had forgotten Joan, and went out to find her shivering in the passage.
“Do you want her?” he asked, poking his head in the door.
“She shall go with this girl. You will explain.”
“Where are you going to put her?”
Oberzohn pointed to the floor.