Sheard held out his hand. And withdrew it again.
"To-morrow——" he began.
"To-morrow you will have no choice!"
"How so? You have placed yourself in my hands. I can now, if I desire, publish your description!—report all that you have told me—all that I have seen!"
"You will not do so! You will be my friend, my defender in the Press. Of what you have seen to-night you will say nothing!"
"Why?"
"No matter! It will be so!"
A silence fell between them that endured until the car pulled up before Sheard's gate.
With ironic courtesy, he invited Séverac Bablon to enter and partake of some refreshment after the night's excitement. With a grace that made the journalist slightly ashamed of his irony, that incomprehensible man accepted.
Leaving him in the same arm-chair which he had occupied when first he set eyes upon him, Sheard went to the dining-room and returned with a siphon, a decanter, and glasses. He found Séverac Bablon glancing through an edition of Brugsch's "Egypt Under the Pharaohs." He replaced the book on the shelf as Sheard entered.