Without waiting for a reply she switched on the light.
Ramon stood before her, his face pale, his eyes dark with pain. One arm was in a sling and the thick hair upon his forehead barely concealed a long strip of plaster.
“Nothing really serious, dear. I had a slight accident––run down by a motor-car, just after leaving the office. My head was cut and I was rather knocked out, so they took me to a hospital. I would have come before, but they would not allow me to leave. I knew that you would be anxious because of my delay in coming, but I feared to add to your apprehension by telephoning to you from the hospital.”
“But your arm––is it sprained?”
“Broken. I had a nasty crash––can’t imagine how it was that I didn’t see the car coming in time to avoid it. It was a big limousine with several men inside, all singing and shouting riotously, and the chauffeur, I think, must have been drunk, for he swerved the car directly across the road in my path. They never 26 stopped after they had bowled me over, and no one seemed to know where they went.”
“Then the police did not get their number?”
“No, but they will, of course. Not that I care, particularly; I’m lucky to have got off as lightly as I did. I might have been killed.”
“It was a miracle that you were not, Ramon. Do you know what I believe? I don’t think it was any accident, but a deliberate attempt to assassinate you; to keep you from coming to me.”
“What nonsense, dear! They were a wild, hilarious party, careless and irresponsible. Such accidents happen every day.”
“I am convinced that it was no accident. Ramon, I feel that I am to be the victim of a conspiracy; that you are the only human being who stands in the way of my being absolutely in the power of those who would defraud me and defame father’s name.”