“I’ll wait till she comes out.”
“Then you’ll have to wait some time. She’s not coming out to-night—or to-morrow—or the next day.”
“I’m afraid I shall have to go up and see her, then. I quite appreciate that you don’t want me to disturb her work, but you can’t very well sequester her person for days on end.” He got slowly off the table with a swagger of defiance, keeping his eyes on Eric and moving, with his head turned, towards the stair-case. “There’ll be some one to let me in, I suppose?”
“There’s a doctor and a nurse to keep you out,” Eric answered without moving. “Ivy’s very seriously ill, you’ll be interested to hear. She mustn’t be worried, and I can’t allow any noise of any kind... Perhaps you’d better come out with me. There are one or two things which I think you’ve a right to know, because, if that child dies, you’ll have murdered her as surely as I’m standing here.”
Gaymer’s foot was already on the lowest stair, but he first hesitated and then came slowly back.
“You mustn’t allow your love of the dramatic to run away with you,” he sneered. “What’s the matter with her?”
“I’ll tell you outside. Are you coming? I warn you that, if you try to get into my flat, I’ll send for the police.”
He held open the street-door, and Gaymer passed through it jauntily after just enough deliberation to shew that he was not yielding to a threat. Eric walked half a pace ahead of him down St. James’ Street and into the Park. Once Gaymer broke the silence to ask where he was being taken; Eric strode on without answering until he found two empty chairs under a secluded tree.
“I’m glad to have this opportunity of talking to you,” he said. “It must be understood that I can’t let Ivy be molested by you any longer. You made a great nuisance of yourself at Croxton and again this morning—”
Gaymer leaned forward and thrust his face within a foot of Eric’s with an unspoken challenge to strike if he dared.