In Tottenham Court Road he stopped the cab, and she alighted, so that they should not both arrive at Fitzroy Square together.
A few minutes afterwards he got out and rang the bell.
Walking unceremoniously past Mrs O’Shea, the aged housekeeper, he entered the studio unannounced.
Jack and Valérie were seated upon a low divan before the fire. He was holding her slim hand in his, and was uttering some low, passionate words. As the door opened their tête-à-tête was abruptly terminated, for the artist jumped to his feet, while she turned to face the intruder.
“I—I really must apologise for coming in without knocking,” Hugh exclaimed roughly. “I didn’t know you were engaged, old fellow,” he added sarcastically.
“You! Hugh!” she cried, with a blush suffusing her cheeks.
“What, Valérie!” said Trethowen, laughing dryly. “I really didn’t recognise you in the shadow. I’m sorry if I interrupted what must have been a pleasant conversation.”
“Not at all, old boy,” Egerton answered airily. “Mademoiselle Valérie merely called to have a chat.”
Hugh’s brow darkened.
“I think, as my affianced wife, Valérie owes me a full explanation of this mysterious visit,” he said angrily.