“She seems a very sensible young lady,” he declared slowly.  “I should have thought that she would have been old enough to know for herself what she wanted and what was best for her.”

The woman at his side wrung her hands with a little gesture of despair.

“Oh, why can’t I make you understand!” she exclaimed, the emotion once more quivering in her tone.  “How can I—­how can I possibly make you believe me?  Listen.  Something has happened of which she does not know—­something terrible.  It is absolutely necessary, in her own interests as well as mine, that I see her, and that very shortly.”

“I shall tell her exactly what you say,” Tavernake answered apparently unmoved.  “Perhaps it would be as well now if we went on to view the sleeping apartments.”

“Never mind about the sleeping apartments!” she cried quickly.  “You must do more than tell her.  You can’t believe that I want to bring harm upon any one.  Do I look like it?  Have I the appearance of a person of evil disposition?  You can be that young lady’s best friend, Mr. Tavernake, if you will.  Take me to her now, this minute.  Believe me, if you do that, you will never regret it as long as you live.”

Tavernake studied the pattern of the parquet floor for several moments.  It was a difficult problem, this.  Putting his own extraordinary sensations into the background, he was face to face with something which he did not comprehend, and he disliked the position intensely.  After all, delay seemed safest.

“Madam,” he protested, “a few hours more or less can make but little difference.”

“That is for me to judge!” she exclaimed.  “You say that because you do not understand.  A few hours may make all the difference in the world.”

He shook his head.

“I will tell you exactly what is in my mind,” he said, deliberately.  “The young lady was terrified when she saw you that night accidentally in the chemist’s shop.  She almost dragged me away, and although she was almost fainting when we reached the taxicab, her greatest and chief anxiety was that we should get away before you could follow us.  I cannot forget this.  Until I have received her permission, therefore, to disclose her whereabouts, we will, if you please, speak of something else.”

He rose to his feet and glancing around was just in time to see the change in the face of his companion.  That eloquently pleading smile had died away from her lips, her teeth were clenched.  She looked like a woman struggling hard to control some overwhelming passion.  Without the smile her lips seemed hard, even cruel.  There were evil things shining out of her eyes.  Tavernake felt chilled, almost afraid.

“We will see the rest of the house,” she declared coldly.

They went on from room to room.  Tavernake, recovering himself rapidly, master of his subject, was fluent and practical.  The woman listened, with only a terse remark here and there.  Once more they stood in the hall.