"Ere the day is over Morry will be here himself," she cried. "I think you will find the room cramped at the Manor of Varenac when he returns."
The smile broadened on the sneering features.
"I am prepared to remain till then," retorted my lord suavely. "I do not think I need look for another lodging at present."
Count Jéhan stepped suddenly forward.
"Your lace is soiled, Monsieur," he observed, with meaning in his tones, whilst, stretching out his hand, he touched the ruffle of Mechlin lace which fell back from Lord Denningham's wrist.
"Soiled?"
The owner of the ruffle looked down with a careless laugh.
The whole of the under-portion of the lace was stiff with blood.
Gabrielle gave a low cry.
"What is it?" she gasped. "What is it?"