"Don't go away, Miss Villiers!"
"Why not—Mr. Fullarton?"
"Because I've got something in here that I want you to see. You remember our little discussion about lawn-tennis rackets? You said they were still made curved, and I said they weren't. Well, on the lower side of this portmanteau—at the very bottom—underneath my shirts—there is, or ought to be, a racket of this year. We'll see if there is, Miss Villiers; and we'll see which of us is right."
He had spoken with smiling eyes upon the girl; and his smile broadened as he specified, with more and more exactitude, the precise position of the racket. It was the address of a conjurer before his greatest trick; yet Irralie alone understood. As he finished speaking, he raised the knife and stabbed with sudden energy at the leather above the lock. Indeed the point of the blade caught the plate of brass, and the blade itself closed upon his hand amid the exclamations of the onlookers.
