“Hark!” I said. “Listen to what they are saying! Delanne is following your father!”
“He is his worst enemy,” she said simply. “Do you not remember that he was watching him in Manchester?”
The fact that he was an associate of Reckitt puzzled me. I felt highly resentful that the fellow should have thus intruded upon my privacy and broken up my very pleasant evening. He had intruded himself upon me once before, causing me both annoyance and chagrin. I looked forth into the corridor, and there saw the figures of two men in the act of getting through the window at the end, while a waiter and a femme-de-chambre stood looking on in surprise.
“Who is that man?” I asked of Sylvia, as I turned back into our salon.
“His real name is Guertin,” she replied.
“He told me that he knew you.”
“Perhaps,” she laughed, just a trifle uneasily, I thought. “I only know that he is my father’s enemy. He is evidently here to hunt him down, and to denounce him.”
“As what?”
But she only shrugged her shoulders. Next instant I saw that I had acted wrongly in asking Sylvia to expose her own father, whatever his faults might have been.