Eliphalet went straight to Harrington May’s room and entered uninvited.
The leading-man was removing his make-up, and he looked up over the brim of a very dirty towel.
“What d’you want?” he demanded.
And Eliphalet answered coldly enough:
“You are a blackguard—a low, thieving blackguard. A man to whom honour is a thing unknown.”
“That’s very pretty,” said May. “Did you write it?”
“You dared to kiss my future wife.”
Harrington May rubbed his face thoughtfully.
“Oh, and who would that be?”
“I refer to Miss Cannon.”