"When he returns from Roumania?" "When he returns, or when I go to him there." He laughed now at her earnestness. "We will go together--you and I," he said. "We will start for Paris to-morrow. It is a stage upon our journey. I sent for you so--to go to Paris with me to-morrow. Of course, your father goes. He will tell you so when he comes here. He goes with us, and is pleased to be out of England. Why should he not be? Here is all the town gaping at his daughter. That pains him. I, too, dislike it, for I do not wish the world to call my wife an actress. No, Lady Evelyn, we shall prevent it--your father and I. In France, you will forget all this. The day will come when you will know that we have been your friends." He would have had it appear that he spoke with sincerity and earnestness; but Evelyn heard little of that which he said. The deep-laid plot never for a moment deceived her. She knew that her father was in no way concerned in it; she understood that she had been brought to the house by a subterfuge and that courage alone would save her. "Count Odin," she said as she rose and faced him, "when my father wishes me to go to Paris he will tell me so. Your threats I treat with contempt. You are one of those men whose part in life is to be woman's enemy. I know you now, and am not even afraid of you. Let me leave this house quietly and I will forget that I ever came here. Compel me to stay and I will find a way to the nearest police station in spite of you. That is my answer. I have nothing further to say." He listened to her as though he had expected just such an answer as this. "Dear lady," he said with provoking insolence, "do you know that it is one o'clock and that we are nearly five miles from Charing Cross?" "It would make no difference to me if we were fifty." "But your father is coming here----" "That is not true." "Come, you compel me to be angry. Understand that I have no intention whatever of letting you go. If you persist, I must speak more frankly." "A new experience. Stand aside, please. I am going to leave this house." He laughed brutally. "Go to your English friend. I will telegraph that you are coming. Go to him--if he is still alive, dear lady." She shuddered but did not flinch. "I will tell the story where all the world may read it to-morrow." "To-morrow--to-morrow, how far off is to-morrow sometimes. Beware of to-morrow, Lady Evelyn." He drew aside and opened the door for her; and she, wondering greatly at his apparent compliance, put her furs about her shoulders. Just for one instant she stopped and with a woman's instinct would have bargained with him for Gavin's life. "Give me your word of honor that no harm shall happen to Mr. Ord and I will be silent," she said. He crossed the room and looked closely into her face. "We will speak of that to-morrow--when your father comes," he said.