"That cripple is in the business!" cried Pennington, who had been narrowly watching. "He's keeping observation, and has told him something. Some deep game is being played here, Biddulph." "I wonder why they are watching?" I asked, somewhat apprehensive of the coming evil that had been so long predicted. Father and daughter exchanged curious glances. It seemed to me as though a startling truth had dawned upon them both. I stood by in silence. "It is certainly distinctly unpleasant to be watched like this--providing, of course, that Sylvia has not made a mistake," Pennington said. "I have made no mistake," she declared quickly. "I've been much worried about it all day, but did not like to arouse Owen's suspicions;" and I saw by her face that she was in dead earnest. At the same moment, however, a light tap was heard upon the door and a waiter opened it, bowing as he announced-- "Monsieur Pierre Delanne to see Monsieur Biddulph." "Great Heavens, Sylvia!" cried Pennington, standing pale-faced and open-mouthed. "It's Guertin! He must not discover that I am in Paris!" Then, turning to me in fear, he implored: "Save me from this meeting, Biddulph! Save me--if you value your wife's honour, I beg of you. I'll explain all afterwards. _Only save me!_" CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE DESCRIBES AN UNWELCOME VISIT Pennington's sudden fear held me in blank surprise. Ere I could reply to him he had slipped through the door which led into my bedroom, closing it after him, just as Delanne's stout figure and broad, good-humoured face appeared in the doorway. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "Meester Biddulph!" and he bowed politely over my hand. Then, turning to Sylvia, who stood pale and rigid, he put forth his hand, and also bowed low over hers, saying in English: "My respects--and heartiest congratulations to madame." His quick eyes wandered around the room, then he added-- "Meester Pennington is here; where is he? I am here to speak with him." "Pennington was here," I replied, "but he has gone." "Then he only went out this moment! I must see him. He is in the hotel!" my visitor exclaimed quickly. "I suppose he is," I replied rather faintly; "we had better ask the waiter. He is not stopping here. He merely came to-night to dine with us." "Of course," said Delanne. "He arrived by the 2.37 train from Bruxelles, went to the Hotel Dominici, near the Place Vendome, sent you a _petit-bleu_, and arrived here at 6.30. I am here because I wish to see him most particularly. I was in Orleans when the news of my friend's arrival in Paris was telephoned to me--I have only just arrived." I opened the door leading to my bedroom, and called my father-in-law, but there was no response. In an instant Delanne dashed past me, and in a few seconds had searched the suite. "Ah, of course!" he cried, noticing that the door of my wife's room led back to the main corridor; "my friend has avoided me. He has passed out by this way. Still, he must be in the hotel."