"How did you come to meet Mrs. Poggi?" he inquired, at last.
The question brought that same flush to Mr. Dreux's cheeks.
"She found I was following her one day," he explained, "so I told her I was smitten by her beauty. I got away with it, too. Rather clever, for an amateur, eh?"
"Is she good-looking?"
Bernie nodded. "She's an outrageous flirt, though, and—oh, what a temper!" He shuddered nervously. "Why, she'd stick a knife into me or bite my ears off if she suspected. She's insanely jealous."
"It's not a nice position for you."
"No. But I've something far worse than her on my hands—Felicite. She's more to be feared than the Mafia."
"Surely Miss Delord isn't dangerous."
"Isn't she?" mocked the bachelor. "You ought to see—" He started, his eyes fixed themselves upon the entrance to the cafe with a look of horror, he paled and cast a hurried glance around as if in search of a means of escape. "Here she is now!"
Norvin turned to behold Miss Delord approaching them like an arrow. She was a tiny creature, but it was plain that she was out in all her fighting strength. Her pretty face was dark with passion, her eyes were flashing, and they pierced her lover with a terrible glance as she paused before him, crying furiously: