“Would it be impertinent to ask if you were in love with him?” pursued Carn; and, seeing her blush, he averted his eyes and babbled on in an embarrassed attempt at a fatherly tone: “I see that it would. But perhaps Mr. Templar is more susceptible. As a friend, you would do him a great service by using whatever influence you have to persuade him of his foolhardiness.”
“Then he is in danger?”
Carn sighed.
“Purely of his own making,” he said. “Mr. Templar has elected to play a very dangerous game. I can’t say any more. Perhaps he’ll tell you himself.”
Patricia looked at her watch for the twentieth time. There were still six minutes to pass.
Chapter VI.
The Kindness of the Tiger
“Here we are again,” murmured the Saint. “Seeing quite a lot of each other to-night, aren’t we? And how’s the occiput? Not dented beyond repair, I hope.”
Bittle inclined his head.
“A trifle primitive,” he said urbanely, “but very effective. I have views of my own, however, on the subject of physical violence, which I shall present you with in due course.”
“Splendid,” said Templar.