"You had better go to bed, now," said Sir Lyster.
With a charming smile she passed out, Sir Lyster closing the door behind her. As he turned into the room his eye caught sight of the chair in which Malcolm Sage had been sitting.
"Where is Mr. Sage?" He looked from Mr. Llewellyn John to Lord
Beamdale.
As he spoke Malcolm Sage appeared from the embrasure of the window through which he had entered, and where he had taken cover as Sir Lyster rose to open the door.
"You see, Sage is not supposed to be here," explained Mr. Llewellyn
John.
"Your secretary has an expensive taste in perfume," remarked Malcolm Sage casually, as he resumed his seat. "It often characterises an intensely emotional nature," he added musingly.
"Emotional nature!" repeated Sir Lyster. "As a matter of fact she is extremely practical and self-possessed. You were saying——" he concluded with the air of a man who dismisses a trifling subject in favour of one of some importance.
"Diplomatists should be trained physiognomists," murmured Malcolm
Sage. "A man's mouth rarely lies, a woman's never."
Sir Lyster stared.
"Now," continued Malcolm Sage, "I should like to know who is staying here."