“Your name and address were upon an envelope found in the pocket of an Englishman who was brought here late last night suffering from serious injuries,” he said in a dry official tone. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. She looked away. ’ Melusine’s eyes narrowed and she drew back. " "But why not?" The doctor dallied with his teaspoon. "You will not make it valueless in my eyes," he added, catching her in his arms, and pressing her to his breast. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. “Where?” “To that ball. ” “What do you mean—by too late?” he demanded. He stood back and held her shoulders.
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