There was a noise of footsteps outside, the handle of the door turned, and a man—a huge bear of a man in a long Astrachan coat—strode heavily into the room. He was followed by a girl whose face was almost hidden behind a partly-turned-back motor veil. When they caught sight of me they both stopped abruptly.
"Who's this?" demanded the man.
Dr. McMurtrie made a graceful gesture towards me with his hand.
"Allow me," he said, "to introduce you. Monsieur and Mademoiselle
Savaroff—our distinguished and much-sought-after friend Mr. Neil
Lyndon."
The big man gave a violent start, and with a little exclamation the girl stepped forward, turning back her veil. I saw then that she was remarkably handsome, in a dark, rather sullen-looking sort of way.
"You will excuse my getting up," I said weakly. "It doesn't seem to agree with me."
"Mr. Lyndon," explained the doctor, "is fatigued. I was just proposing that he should go to bed when I heard the car."
"How in the name of Satan did he get here?" demanded the other man, still staring at me in obvious amazement.
"He came in through the window with the intention of borrowing a little food. I had happened to see him in the garden, and being under the natural impression that he was—er—well, another friend of ours, I ventured to detain him."
Savaroff gave a short laugh. "But it's incredible," he muttered.
The girl was watching me curiously. "Poor man," she exclaimed, "he must be starving!"