A sharp gasp escaped him. He stood up, and they saw the sweat running down his forehead. "Will you—excuse me for a moment?" he said. "I have—forgotten quelque chose."
He turned towards Chris with punctilious courtesy, clicked his heels together, bowed, and walked stiffly from the room.
CHAPTER XII
A MAN OF HONOUR
An amazed silence followed his exit; then, in a quick whisper, Chris spoke.
"He isn't well. I'm sure he isn't well. Did you see—his face—when he stood up?"
She turned with the words as if she would go after him, but Max checked her sharply. "No, you stay here. I'm going."
She paused irresolute. "Let me come too."
"Don't be silly," said Max. He frowned at her scared face for a moment, then smiled abruptly. "Don't be silly!" he said again. He passed down the room with what seemed to her maddening deliberation, opened the door, and went quietly out.
Aunt Philippa was still busy with her correspondence in the drawing-room. She glanced up as he went through. "Can you tell me what time the evening post goes out? I have just asked M. Bertrand, but he did not see fit to answer me."