As he was going up the stairs to his rooms, he was met by his soldier-servant, who told him that a lady had been waiting to see him for the last two hours. Lauriston hurried on in great excitement. Neither Nouna nor Mrs. Ellis knew his address, his sisters were in Scotland, and he had not, like some of his comrades, a circle of lively and easy-mannered feminine acquaintances. His thoughts flew directly to the woman who had followed him home the night before: perhaps the mystery was going to be solved after all; perhaps he should indeed see Nouna’s mother. Before he reached his rooms he heard voices; a few steps more and he could distinguish that of Clarence Massey; arrived at the door of the sitting-room, the soft tones of Nouna herself struck his ears. “No,” she was saying, “I shall not kiss you; Mr. Lauriston would be very angry with you for asking me.” “Bless you, you little beauty, no, he wouldn’t. He’d be delighted to know you were enjoying yourself,” answered Massey confidently. Lauriston threw open the door just as Massey, who had been sitting on a stool a few paces from the sofa where Nouna half-sat, half-reclined, sprang up and seized the hand with which she was wearily supporting her head. Nouna jumped up, clapping her hands with joy like a child, and ran towards Lauriston, who, livid, wet, and trembling, did not even look at her, but striding across to Massey without a word, lifted him up in his arms with the sullen fury of an enraged bear, and carrying him to the door, which he opened with a kick, flung him pell-mell, anyhow, like a heap of soiled clothes against the wall, as far along the corridor as he could throw him. Then slamming the door to work off the remains of his rage, he turned to the frightened girl, who had fallen on her knees and was clinging about his feet. CHAPTER IX. When George Lauriston, having relieved his feelings by his summary treatment of Massey and closed the door upon the young Irishman’s groans and voluble remonstrances, turned his attention to Nouna, he was seized with remorse at having given such free rein to his anger, when he saw what a strong effect it had upon the girl. She persisted in crouching on the ground at his feet like a dog that has been whipped, and when he stooped down and laid his hands upon her, gently telling her to get up and speak to him, she only murmured, “Don’t hurt me. I haven’t done anything wrong,” and tied herself up with extraordinary suppleness into a sort of knot, which George surveyed helplessly, not knowing well how to handle this extraordinary phenomenon. At last it occurred to him that this exaggerated fear could be nothing but one of her elfish tricks, and he began to laugh uneasily in the hope that this would afford a key to the situation.