She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. "What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on. There is scarcely one chance in a dozen of saving his life; there would be none at all if he were moved. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. It was scarcely likely that she would have accepted his aid. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. In the biological laboratory that was their invincible tone. ’ That arrested her. . A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. He must be tied behind the carriage.
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