"Well, my dear friend!" she said gravely, halting by the bedside.
"It's about time," Lanyard retorted.
"I was afraid you might be growing impatient," she confessed. "I have
had so much to do..."
"No doubt. But if you had neglected me much longer I should have come
to look for you regardless of consequences."
"How is that?" she enquired with knitted brows--"regardless of what
consequences?"
"Any damage one might do to the morale of your menage by toddling about
in the voluptuous deshabille in which you behold me--my sole present
apology for a wardrobe."
She found only the shadow of a smile for such frivolity. "I have sent
for clothing for you," she said absently. "It should be here any minute
now. We only wait for that."
"You mean you have sent to the Chatham for my things?"
"But certainly not, monsieur!" Liane Delorme lied without perceptible
effort. "That would have been too injudicious. It appears you were not
mistaken in thinking you were recognized as Andre Duchemin last night.
Agents of the Prefecture have been all day watching at the Chatham,
awaiting your return.
Pages:
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275