With eyes widely open, Phil Abingdon watched him.
"From," she began—but her lips would not frame the name.
"From Mr. Paul Harley," he said, inclining his head gravely.
"Oh! tell me, tell me!"
"I am here to tell you, Miss Abingdon. Mr. Harley feels that his absence may have distressed you."
"Yes, yes," she said, eagerly.
"But in pursuit of a certain matter which is known to you, he has found it necessary in the interests of his safety to remain out of London for a while."
"Oh," Phil Abingdon heaved a great sigh. "Oh, Your Excellency, how glad I am to hear that he is safe!"
The long, dark eyes regarded her intently, unemotionally, noting that the flush had faded from her face, leaving it very pale, and noting also the expression of gladness in her eyes, the quivering of her sweet lips.
"He is my guest," continued Ormûz Khân, "my honoured guest."
"He is with you?" exclaimed Phil, almost incredulously.
"With me, at my home in Surrey. In me he found a natural ally, since my concern was as great
