“Great Heavens, Sylvia!” cried Pennington, standing pale-faced and open-mouthed. “It’s Guertin! He must not discover that I am in Paris!” Then, turning to me in fear, he implored: “Save me from this meeting, Biddulph! Save me—if you value your wife’s honour, I beg of you. I’ll explain all afterwards. Only save me!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DESCRIBES AN UNWELCOME VISIT
Pennington’s sudden fear held me in blank surprise.
Ere I could reply to him he had slipped through the door which led into my bedroom, closing it after him, just as Delanne’s stout figure and broad, good-humoured face appeared in the doorway.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, “Meester Biddulph!” and he bowed politely over my hand.
Then, turning to Sylvia, who stood pale and rigid, he put forth his hand, and also bowed low over hers, saying in English: “My respects—and heartiest congratulations to madame.”
His quick eyes wandered around the room, then he added—