"I should tell you," said Glynn, while aiding him to get upon his feet, "that I had some experience of Mrs. Darien upon my former visit to Cannes. I, in fact, then found it better to go to her lodgings in Nice, and try to perfect a little arrangement for Miss Winstanley's protection. That, it seems, has failed."
"The person is irresponsible," answered Clandonald, a dark flush, coming into his face. "And, I am afraid, incorrigible."
"All the same, I am going to ask your permission to interfere so far as to look her up again to-night."
"You know that is what I most want?"
"I think so. I put myself in your place."
"More than that no man can do for another," said Clandonald warmly.
After Glynn had gotten him into his own bedroom, called up his servant, and telephoned for the family physician of Lady Campstown (who, herself, remained still fortunately absent upon her round of calls), they parted like friends of years.
CHAPTER XII
There was no little dinner at Villa Julia that evening. Clandonald, wretched and feverish, tossed upon his bed. Posey's white face and strained expression of anxiety kept the other villa in a state of suspended animation while Glynn, in the motor car, was running over to Nice on business not stated.
Helen Carstairs met him early next morning upon the terrace, at his request.