"Naturally," Lessingham replied. "I had the great pleasure of
arranging for your release."
"Look here," Richard went on, "I'm groping about a bit. I don't
understand. Forgive me if I run off the track. I'm not forgetting
our friendship, Maderstrom, or what I owe to you since you came
and found me at Wittenburg. But for all that, you have served in
the German Army and are an enemy, and I want to know what you are
doing here, in England, in my brother-in-law's house."
"No particular harm, Richard, I promise you," Lessingham replied
mildly.
"You are here under a false name!"
"Hamar Lessingham, if you do not mind," the other assented. "I
prefer my own name, but I do not fancy that the use of it would
ensure me a very warm welcome over here just now. Besides," he
added, with a glance at Philippa, "I have to consider the friends
whose hospitality I have enjoyed."
In a shadowy sort of way the truth began to dawn upon Richard. His
tone became grimmer and his manner more menacing.
"Maderstrom," he said, "we met last under different circumstances.
I will admit that I cut a poor figure, but mine was at least an
honourable imprisonment. I am not so sure that yours is an
honourable freedom."
Philippa laid her hand upon her brother's arm.
"Dick, dear, do remember that they were starving you to death!"
she begged.
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