“A friend of Mrs. Capella’s.”
“H’m! I’m glad to hear it. I thought you could not be that beastly Italian.”
“You are candour itself; but you have not answered me?”
“About seeing my cousin? No. I will call when she is less engaged.”
He turned to go, but Brett caught him by the shoulder.
“Will you come quietly,” he said, “or by the scruff of the neck?”
The other man wheeled round again. That he feared no personal violence was evident. Indeed, it was possible Brett had over-estimated his own strength in suggesting the alternative.
The Argentine cousin laughed boisterously.
“By the Lord Harry,” he cried, “I like your style! I will come in, if only to have a good look at you.”
They approached the two frightened women. Margaret had recognised his voice, and now advanced with outstretched hand.