Carnac realized that the dinner had been ordered by the two men, and he said quietly: “Don’t serve it for a half-hour yet—not till I ring, please. Make it ready then. There’s no hurry. It’s early.”
The waiter bowed and withdrew with a smile, and Carnac turned to Luzanne. She smiled, got up, came over, laid a hand on his arm, and said: “It’s quiet and nice here, Carnac dear,” and she looked up ravishingly in his face.
“It’s too quiet and it’s not at all nice,” he suddenly replied. “Your father and Ingot have gone. They’ve left us alone on purpose. This is a dirty game and I’m not going to play it any longer. I’ve had enough of it. I’ve had my fill. I’m going now. Come, let’s go together.”
She looked a bit smashed and overdone. “The dinner!” she said in confusion.
“I’ll pay for that. We won’t wait any longer. Come on at once, please.”
She put on her things coolly, and he noticed a savage stealthiness as she pushed the long pins through her hat and hair. He left the room. Outside the hotel, Carnac held out his hand.
“Good night and good-bye, Luzanne,” he said huskily. “You can get home alone, can’t you?”
She laughed a little, then she said: “I guess so. I’ve lived in New York some years. But you and I are married, Carnac, and you ought to take me to your home.”
There was something devilish in her smile now. Then the whole truth burst upon Carnac. “Married—married! When did I marry you? Good God!”
“You married me this afternoon after lunch at Shipton. I have the certificate and I mean to hold you to it.”