Guy admitted him into the sitting-room, where the sight of Captain Marven surprised him into an exclamation.
"I must see you alone—quite alone," he insisted to Guy.
"I would rather you did not," said Guy. "I am afraid there is nothing you can say which will be news to Captain Marven."
Flurscheim looked from the young man to the elder man, and his shrewd eyes noted the emotion from which both were obviously suffering.
"It's my misfortune to have arrived at an inopportune time," he remarked. "But you shall soon be rid of my presence. I only want to rid myself of the debt I owe you for preserving my life."
Guy's face flushed. He felt exquisitely uncomfortable.
"You rate my service too highly," he said. "I did nothing which entailed any risk to myself, and——" Flurscheim interrupted, but Guy continued hastily, "And yet, perhaps, it is as well that you should have arrived just now, while Captain Marven is here. I have a confession to make to you. I should like him to hear what I have to say and—and, when I have said it, I think you will no longer consider yourself in my debt."
The connoisseur found it difficult to believe his ears. Guy's words could only bear one meaning. He glanced at Captain Marven and saw that a light had come into his face. Marven had grasped Guy's arm, and Flurscheim heard him say,
"That's right, Guy, get it over."
Guy turned to him. There was a new-born humility in his voice and manner. "It is really your wish?" he asked.