“And what do you wish with me?” the young woman inquired in very fair English.
“Come back a few yards and I’ll explain,” I responded quickly. “First, let me tell you that my name is Willoughby Woodhouse, and that I am private secretary to the Earl of Stanchester.”
“Woodhouse!” gasped her companion involuntarily, and I saw that his face went pale. “You are Mr Woodhouse!”
“Yes,” I continued, “and I have been sent here to you by Lady Lolita Lloyd to warn you that your house is being watched by the police.”
“The police!” ejaculated the man. “Are they there now?”
“They are. A detective has been keeping observation all the evening.”
“Then we must fly,” he whispered quickly. “By Jove! we’ve had a narrow escape! And, sir, I can only apologise for what I’ve just said. Of course I didn’t know who you were. The fact is I thought you were yourself a detective.”
“No apology is needed,” I smiled. “I’ve only one further word to deliver from her ladyship,” I added, turning to the young Frenchwoman, “and it is that, having given you this timely warning, she hopes that you will not fail to let her know your whereabouts. She also says that you are to regard myself as the intermediary between you.”
“Tell her that I shall not fail to recognise this kindness,” was the woman’s answer in her broken English. “But for her we might both have fallen into the hands of the police. I’ve been absent a fortnight, but thought that all was clear, otherwise I should not have dared to return here.”
“Come, let’s get away,” urged her companion anxiously.