“No, nothing from Mr. Bodery; so I am free as yet.”
“I am very glad,” she murmured conventionally.
“And I,” he said, turning with a polite smile to hand her the letter.
She took the envelope, and holding it up in both hands examined it critically.
“M-a-x,” she read; “how badly it is written! Max—Max Talma—is that it?”
“Yes,” he answered gravely, “that is it.”
With a little laugh and a shrug of her shoulders she proceeded to open the envelope. It contained nothing but the sketch made upon the fly-leaf of a novel. Christian was watching her face. She continued to smile as she unfolded the paper. Then she suddenly became grave, and handed the open sketch to him. At the foot was written:—
“Max Talma—look out! Avoid him as you would the devil!
“In haste, C.T.”
Christian read it, laughed carelessly, and thrust the paper into his pocket. “Trevetz writes in a good forcible style,” he said, turning to greet Molly, who came, singing, downstairs at this moment. For an instant her merry eyes assumed a scrutinising, almost anxious look as she caught sight of her sister and Christian standing together.