"Go on! Drink!" he said, with insistence, and in a moment his hand closed upon hers, guiding the wine to her lips.
She drank obediently, not meeting his look, and he took the glass from her, and set it down.
"Now we will go. Are you ready?"
She rose, and he stood aside for her. As she passed him, his hand closed for an instant upon her bare arm in a grasp that was close and vital. She threw him a quick, upward glance; but still she said no word.
They passed out through the throng of diners almost unobserved, but in the corridor Spentoli leaned against a pillar smoking a long, black cigar. He made no movement to intercept them, but his eyes with their restless fire dwelt upon the girl in a fashion that drew her own irresistibly. She saw him and slightly paused.
It was the pause of the hunted animal that sees its retreat cut off, but in an instant Saltash's voice, very cool, arrogantly self-assured, checked the impulse to panic.
"Straight on to the lift, ma chère! See! It is there in front of you.
There will be no one in the gallery. Go straight on!"
She obeyed him instinctively as her habit was, but in the lift she trembled so much that he made her sit down. He stood beside her in silence, but once lightly his hand touched her cheek. She moved then swiftly, convulsively, and caught it in both her own. But the next moment he had gently drawn it free.
The gallery that ran round three sides of the great salon was deserted. There was only one point at the far end whence a view of the stage that had been erected for the dancer could be obtained. Towards this Saltash turned.
"We shall see her from here," he said.