"I came as quickly as I could," he said. "There was the usual
delay, of course, at Marseilles, and the trains on were terrible.
So all has ended well."
Oliver Hilditch, standing by, remained speechless. It seemed for
a moment as though his self-control were subjected to a severe
strain.
"I had the good fortune," he interposed, in a low tone, "to be
wonderfully defended. Mr. Ledsam here--"
He glanced around. Francis, with some idea of what was coming,
obeyed an imaginary summons from the head-porter, touched Andrew
Wilmore upon the shoulder, and hastened without a backward glance
through the swing-doors. Wilmore turned up his coat-collar and
looked doubtfully up at the rain.
"I say, old chap," he protested, "you don't really mean to walk?"
Francis thrust his hand through his friend's arm and wheeled him
round into Davies Street.
"I don't care what the mischief we do, Andrew," he confided, "but
couldn't you see what was going to happen? Oliver Hilditch was
going to introduce me as his preserver to the man who had just
arrived!"
"Are you afflicted with modesty, all of a sudden?" Wilmore
grumbled.
"No, remorse," was the terse reply.
CHAPTER V
Indecision had never been one of Francis Ledsam's faults, but
four times during the following day he wrote out a carefully
worded telegraphic message to Mrs.
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