“Till dinner,” she said, and watched him pass out of sight. She was a girl whose poise of manner prevented the betrayal of vivid emotion in any but a certain subdued fashion. But it was plain she was laboring now under an agitation that amounted almost to deadly fear.
A few seconds later Daniel Taylor strode in with firm assured tread and looked at the luxurious surroundings with approval.
“Good evening, Miss Cartwright,” he exclaimed genially. “Good evening.”
“My sister,” she returned, trembling, “nothing’s happened to her? She’s all right?”
“Sure, sure,” he returned reassuringly, “I haven’t bothered her; the little lady’s all right, don’t you worry.”
“Then what do you want here?” she cried alarmed. No matter what his manner this man had menace in every look and gesture. She had never been brought into contact with one who gave in so marked a degree the impression of ruthless strength.
“I thought I’d drop in with reference to our little chat this afternoon,” he remarked easily. “Nice place they’ve got here.”
“But I don’t understand why you have come,” she persisted.
“You haven’t forgotten our little conversation, I hope?”
“Of course not,” she said.