CHAPTER X 

I knew the moment I opened the door that changes were on foot. Our studio sitting-room was dismantled of many of its treasures. Allan, with his coat off and a pipe in his mouth, was throwing odds and ends in a promiscuous sort of way into a huge trunk which stood open upon the floor. Arthur, a few yards off, was rolling a cigarette. 

Our meeting was not wholly free from embarrassment. I think that for the first time in our lives there was a cloud between Allan and myself. He stood up and faced me squarely. 

"Arnold," he said, "where is Isobel?" 

"In Illghera with her grandfather," I answered. "Where else should she be?" 

"Are you sure?" 

"I have seen her there with my own eyes," I affirmed. 

There was a moment's pause. I saw the two exchange glances. Then Allan held out his hand. 

"That damned woman again!" he exclaimed. "Forgive me, Arnold!" 

"Willingly," I answered, "when I know what for." 

"Suspecting you. Lady Delahaye wrote Arthur a note, in which she said that the Archduchess and you had made fresh plans. You can guess what they were. And Illghera was off. You did hurry us away from Paris a bit, you know, and I was fool enough to imagine for a moment that there might be something in it. Forgive me, Arnold!" he added, holding out his hand. 

"And me!" Arthur exclaimed, extending his. 

I held out a hand to each. There was something grimly humorous in this reception, after all that I had suffered during the last few days. My first impulse of anger died away almost as quickly as it had been conceived. 
What did it say?
Archduchess and you had made fresh plans