“Then beware of him, my girl—beware of him!” he snapped, his grey face darkening in remembrance of certain ugly facts, and in recollection of the sinister face of the shabby lounger against the park railings.
“Is he such a bad man, then?”
Sam Statham pressed his thin lips together.
“He is one of those men without conscience, and without compunction; a man whose plausible tongue would deceive even Satan himself.”
“Then he has deceived Max—I mean Mr Barclay,” she exclaimed, quickly correcting her slip of the tongue, her cheeks slightly crimsoning at the same time.
“Without doubt,” was the millionaire’s reply. “I must see Barclay to-morrow, and ascertain what are Adam’s plans.”
“He is persuading Mr Barclay to go to Constantinople. I know that because he asked me to use my influence upon him in that direction.”
“Oh, so he has approached you, also, has he? Then there is some strong motive for this journey, without a doubt! Barclay will be ill-advised if he accepts the invitation. The bait held out is a very tempting one; but when I’ve seen your gentleman friend he will not be so credulous.”
“I’m very surprised at what you told me. I thought Mr Adam quite a nice person—for a foreigner.”
“No doubt he was nice to you, for he wished to enlist your services to induce your lover to go out to Turkey. For what reason?”