"You're not going out alone to look for him!" he observed quietly.
She drew a quick little breath.
"Now look here," he went on before she could reply at all; "I don't know where he is. I haven't an idea. But I'm a good deal more likely to find him than you are. Whether he'll be pleased to have me coming around after him as if I'm his nurse is another matter. I'll do it. He'd be angrier if you did it. Although I'm the bad character you've just drawn for my benefit, I promise I won't give information to the police you're so afraid of. I shall go first to Pennington's. Anyhow, I'll find him somehow. But you've got to promise to go straight home first."
"Allow me to pass at once!" Her face was quite white now; she spoke in a low, desperately quiet voice.
"I'm not going to. What's it matter if I'm rude to you? Isn't it only in accordance with your idea of me?"
"Quite. But it matters, because I am determined to go and find him. I am not alone. I am with a gentleman," she added this unwillingly but in despair. "He will go with me."
"He'll take you home at once. You'll excuse my saying that you're acting very unwisely. You're only keeping me—and doing no good. O'Brien is probably at home now—or more probably," his mouth twisted humourously, "out hunting for you. Hadn't you better go?"
"Yes, I'll go!" her voice gave a little choke. "I'll go, but oh, how I hate you! If only I could show you how I hate you!"
"If that's all, you're showing me remarkably well, Miss O'Brien."
He turned and opened the door for her. She went across the hall and rejoined Herr Schmidt. When she saw his broad, kindly face, his anxious eyes peering over his spectacles at her, she felt a sudden fondness for him, a weak inclination to cry. She ran to him and slipped her hand into his arm.