“So this wretched imbroglio may cost you the love of a charming and devoted girl?”
“Heaven help me, it may—probably will.”
“I swear to you,” cried the barrister, who was unusually excited, “that I will tear the heart out of this mystery before the week expires.”
Mensmore bowed silently and would have left the room, but Smith entered. In their distraction they had not heard the bell ring. Smith handed a card to his master. Instantly Bruce controlled himself. His admiration for the dramatic sequence of events overcame his eagerness as an actor. It was with an appreciative smile that he said, without the slightest reference to Mensmore:
“Show the lady in.”
Mensmore was passing out, but the sight of the visitor drove him back as though he had been struck. It was Phyllis Browne.
Her recognition of him was a bright smile. She advanced to Bruce, saying pleasantly:
“I am glad to meet you, though the manner of my call is somewhat unconventional. I heard much of you from Bertie in the Riviera, and more since my return to town.”
He suitably expressed his delight at this apparition. Mensmore, not knowing what to do, stood awkwardly at the other end of the room.
Neither of the others paid the least heed to him.