With an exclamation, he sprang toward her, rage and lust in his eyes; but, prepared, she flung a chair against his legs and escaped into the drawing-room, slamming the door in his face, and darting from the vestibule into the hall as he came blindly in pursuit. She did not stop until she had descended the flight of stairs. Below, she turned, and perceived his passion distorted face glowering down from the upper landing.
"Will you kindly bring my things down, Mr. Sassoon? I'm going now," she said, breathless, but exhilarated by the escape and the victory.
"Come and get them!" he said furiously, and he disappeared.
She frowned, not relishing the turn, calculating how to extricate herself. At length, reluctantly, she descended the second flight, resolved to send a boy up-stairs for her things. The vestibule in which she found herself was a large one with glass doors opening into the noisy restaurant, played over by an energetic Hungarian orchestra. As she hesitated, conscious of the strange figure she presented, the glass doors swung hastily and Harrigan Blood came out.
"Dodo! I thought I recognized you!" he cried, stopping short. "What in the name of the incredible—"
She went to him quickly, grasping his arm, actuated by a sudden brilliant plan of revenge.
"Mr. Blood—Harrigan!" she said quickly. "I was brought here by a gentleman who had told me it was to be a party of eight or ten. I have just escaped from the trap he laid for me! Will you give me your arm while I go and reclaim my things?"
"Will I? I'll throttle him!" he said angrily. "The contemptible cur! Who is he?"
"Sassoon!"
"My God!"