“There’s no need to bother about that,” interrupted the Duke quickly. “Where are you going to?”
“A little hotel near the Star. I’ve forgotten the name of it,” said Sonia. “But this card—”
“Has it a telephone?” said the Duke.
“Yes—No. 555, Central,” said Sonia.
“If I haven’t telephoned to you before half-past eight to-morrow morning, come straight to my house,” said the Duke, scribbling the telephone number on his shirt-cuff.
“Yes, yes,” said Sonia. “But this card.... When Guerchard knows ... when he discovers.... Oh, I can’t let you get into trouble for me.”
“I shan’t. But go—go,” said the Duke, and he slipped his right arm round her and drew her to the door.
“Oh, how good you are to me,” said Sonia softly.
The Duke’s other arm went round her; he drew her to him, and their lips met.
He loosed her, and opened the door, saying loudly: “You’re sure you won’t have a cab, Mademoiselle Kritchnoff?”