"Miss Saxham, I do not believe that there is any danger of an accident. But—that there will be delay—I shall not try to disguise. The fact is——"
A guttural, Teutonic voice said close at Sherbrand's shoulder.
"Gnädiges Fräulein will wish to return home? It is getting late, so very late! I haf instructions from my master to drive the Fräulein back to her address."
Sherbrand wheeled, to be confronted by the thickset figure of the moustached and uniformed attendant who had occupied the seat beside the chauffeur of the big blue F.I.A.T. car.
"Who is this?" he demanded in a look, and Patrine, her pallor drowned in a scarlet blush of horrible embarrassment, stammered:
"I really—haven't the least idea!"
"You hear!" Sherbrand's tone was not pleasant. "The lady does not know you—that ought to be enough!"
Patrine felt herself drowning in chill waves of horror. The man persisted:
"The lady is a friend of the gentleman who brought her here.... I haf my orders to drive the lady home in the yellow car!"
In his muddy eyes there flickered a leer or a menace. Patrine saw the Doctor coming and flew to his side. Sherbrand said, looking sternly at the German: