She went to him and put an arm about him, but his feverishly burning eyes singled out the stranger.
"It is a friend of Philip's—Mr. Ashton-Kirk. He has been kind enough to visit us."
There was a disagreeable smile about the thin lips of Dr. Morse as he said:
"Kind, indeed. We are charmed." Then to Warwick he added, "It is not every one, my dear Philip, who has the power of attracting friends."
Dr. Morse was a tall man, with high, narrow shoulders and a long, pasty-white face. There were deep, sour-looking lines about his mouth; the short black hair stood up on his head like bristles.
"To attract friends," said the secret agent, "is rather an enviable knack."
"It denotes a perfect nature, I have no doubt," replied Dr. Morse, still with the disagreeable smile.
"And if such a knack exists," said Ashton-Kirk, evenly, "it argues the existence of a counter condition, don't you think, in some others—that of attracting enemies?"
For a moment there was a dead silence in the room; a look of consternation appeared in the face of the young Englishman. Dr. Morse smoothed back his short, stiff hair and sat down; the smile was still present, but his red-lidded eyes were narrowed in a way that was not at all pleasant.