“I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe. “Mr. “I got Sydney’s telegram at ten o’clock, and caught the ten-thirty from the Gare du Nord. A sinister thought edged in. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. Cathy threw Mike a look. The burden of decision had been transferred. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good. “Mean as an old mule, too. Wild," he added, as Jonathan came up, and assisted him to secure and disarm the prisoner. ‘Just what I was going to tell you, miss. “Yes, I believe he is. ” She said. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters.
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