"
"If you had not been a guest in this house, Miss Abbeway," the
Colonel assured her, with some dignity, "I should have had you
arrested first and questioned afterwards."
"You come of a race of men, Colonel Henderson, who win wars," she
declared graciously. "You know your own mind."
"You will be joining us presently, I hope?" Lord Maltenby enquired
from the door.
"In a very few minutes," she promised.
The door closed behind them. Catherine waited for a moment, then
she sank a little hysterically into a chair.
"I cannot avoid a touch of melodrama, you see," she confessed.
"It goes with my character and nationality. But seriously, now
that that is over, I do not consider myself in the slightest
danger. The poor fellow who was shot this morning belongs to a
different order of people. He has been a spy over here since the
beginning of the war."
"And what are you?" he asked bluntly.
She laughed up in his face.
"A quite attractive young woman," she declared,--"at least I feel
sure you will think so when you know me better."
CHAPTER VII
It was about half-past ten on the following morning when Julian,
obeying a stentorian invitation to enter, walked into Miles
Furley's sitting room. Furley was stretched upon the couch,
smoking a pipe and reading the paper.
"Good man!" was his hearty greeting. "I hoped you'd look me up
this morning."
Julian dragged up the other dilapidated-looking easy-chair to the
log fire and commenced to fill his pipe from the open jar.
Pages:
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75