A well-dressed man of middle stature, perfectly self-possessed and at his ease, stood near the table, hat in hand. He was apparently about forty years of age, with a broad forehead and dark brown, wavy hair and mustache, but the eyes behind the gold rimmed pince-nez were clear and blue like billows of the sea, steadfast and piercing; he bowed slightly, saying:
"Good morning, Mr. Murner," in a strong, full voice, as, ignoring Wallion, he looked straight into Tom's face. The latter returned the greeting with a stiff inclination of the head.
"Good morning, Doctor Corman," he said in English ... "This is my friend and adviser, Mr. Wallion."
The Doctor bowed again with perceptibly heightened interest.
"To what do we owe the honor of a visit from you?" Tom said with an effort.
The Doctor's mustache concealed a faint smile of amusement.
"I have come to relieve you from a situation which is certainly as embarrassing as it was unexpected, Mr. Murner."
His sonorous voice was calculated to break down any kind of opposition and to negative any doubts, as a physician's is wont to do in a sick room. Tom felt that the doctor knew all.
"I don't quite understand," he said haltingly.
Doctor Corman waved his hat towards the smoking-room and said: "I have come to take the little lady back to her father. She has had adventures enough. The thing is settled."