"He is my guest," continued Ormuz Khan, "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 as his own. I do not conceal from
you, Miss Abingdon, that he is danger."
"In danger?" she whispered.
"It is true, but beneath my roof he is safe. There is a matter of
vital urgency, however, in which you can assist him."
"I?" she exclaimed.
"No one but you." Ormuz Khan raised his slender hand gracefully.
"I beg you, do not misunderstand me. In the first place, would
Mr. Harley have asked you to visit him at my home, if he had not
been well assured that you could do so with propriety? In the
second place, should I, who respect you more deeply than any
woman in the world, consent to your coming unchaperoned? Miss
Abingdon, you know me better. I beg of you in Mr. Harley's name
and in my own, prevail upon Mrs. McMurdoch to accept the
invitation which I bring to lunch with me at Hillside, my Surrey
home."
He spoke with the deep respect of a courtier addressing his
queen. His low musical voice held a note that was almost a note
of adoration. Phil Abingdon withdrew her gaze from the handsome
ivory face, and strove for mental composure before replying.
Subtly, insidiously, the man had cast his spell upon her. Of this
she was well aware. In other words, her thoughts were not
entirely her own, but in a measure were promptings from that
powerful will.
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