“In your hands,” said Madame, “or in your arms. Sir Gorman, I trust you. I give you my Konrad into your hands. I fling myself into your arms if you wish it.”
“I don’t wish it in the least,” said Gorman. “In fact it will complicate things horribly if you do.”
Three days later Gorman called on Dane-Latimer at his office.
“I think,” he said, “that I’ve got that little trouble between Madame Ypsilante and the dentist settled up all right.”
“Are you sure?” said Dane-Latimer. “Scarsby is still in a furious temper. At least he was the day before yesterday. I haven’t seen him since then.”
“You won’t see him again,” said Gorman. “He has completely climbed down.”
“How the deuce did you manage it?”
Gorman drew a heavy square envelope from his breast pocket and handed it to Dane-Latimer.
“That’s for you,” he said, “and if you really want to understand how the case was settled you’d better accept the invitation and come with me.”
Dane-Latimore opened the envelope and drew out a large white card with gilt edges and nicely rounded corners.