CHAPTER VII
AN INTRUDER
HE looked from one to the other with a quickly appraising eye. The girl was fingering the lace of her bodice. Rizzio had turned toward the newcomer recovering his poise.
“Hope I’m not intrudin’,” said Hammersley, with a laugh.
“Well, hardly. You’ve come in a hurry.”
“Yes,” drawled Hammersley. “I missed your train, I think. Too bad. Jolly slow work travelin’ alone. Stryker picked me up at Edinburgh and we came on by motor.”
He took off his fur coat in leisurely fashion and crossing to the fireplace took Doris’s proffered hand. “You had my note?” he asked carelessly.
The girl nodded. “I was glad,” she said.
“Well, I’m here. Jolly happy, too. Had a narrow squeak of it, though. Some bally idiot stretched rope across the road over by Saltham Rocks, but we saw it in time, and went around. Fired a few shots at us, too. Must have taken me for Rizzio. What?” he laughed.
Thus directly appealed to, Rizzio smiled grudgingly.
“You don’t ask me to believe that story, Hammersley,” he said dryly.
“You don’t have to, Rizzio.”
The girl’s look was fixed on Hammersley’s face. Suddenly she broke in with a voice of alarm.
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