"I'm here to help that," said Basil.
"It's Bob," she answered. "The man that keeps me. I'm afraid of him. He's been away for months, out of England, but he's coming back at once. To-morrow as likely as not, he couldn't say to a day. I had a letter from Brindisi last week. He's been to Palestine, via Alexandria."
A quick premonition took hold of the young man.
"Who is he?" he asked.
She took a photograph from the mantel-shelf and gave it to him. It was one of the Stereoscopic Company's series of "celebrities." Under the portrait was printed—"Sir Robert Llwellyn."
Gortre started violently.
"I know him," he said thickly. "I felt when I met him—What does it all mean?"
He dropped his head into his hands, filled with the old, nameless, unreasoning fear.
She looked steadily at him, wondering at his manner.
There was a tense silence for a time.