There was a faint sound outside and I saw him raise his head.  It was the distant but unmistakable hum of a motor, drawing nearer and nearer every moment.  For a few seconds we both stood there listening:  then with a sudden shock I realized that the car had reached the house and was turning in at the drive.

Weak as I was I sprang from my chair, scarcely feeling the thrill of pain that ran through me at the effort.

“By God!” I cried fiercely, “you’ve sold me!”

He whipped out the revolver, pointing it full at my face.

“Sit down, you fool,” he said.  “It’s not the police.”

CHAPTER IV

ECHOES OF A FAMOUS CASE

Whatever my intentions may have been—­and they were pretty venomous when I jumped up—­the revolver was really an unnecessary precaution.  Directly I was on my feet I went as giddy as a kite, and it was only by clutching the chair that I saved myself from toppling over.  I was evidently in a worse way than I imagined.

Lowering his weapon the doctor repeated his order.

“Sit down, man, sit down.  No one means you any harm here.”

“Who is it in the car?” I demanded, fighting hard against the accursed feeling of faintness that was again stealing through me.

“They are friends of mine.  They have nothing to do with the police.  You will see in a minute.”

I sat down, more from necessity than by choice, and as I did so I heard the car draw up outside the back door.

Crossing to the window the doctor threw up the sash.

“Savaroff!” he called out.

There came an answer in a man’s voice which I was unable to catch.

“Come in here,” went on McMurtrie.  “Don’t bother about the car.”  He turned back to me.  “Drink this,” he added, pouring out some more brandy into the wine-glass.  I gulped it down and lay back again in my chair, tingling all through.

He took my wrist and felt my pulse for a moment.  “I know you are feeling bad,” he said, “but we’ll get your wet clothes off and put you to bed in a minute.  You will be a different man in the morning.”

“That will be very convenient,” I observed faintly.

There was a noise of footsteps outside, the handle of the door turned, and a man—­a huge bear of a man in a long Astrachan coat—­strode heavily into the room.  He was followed by a girl whose face was almost hidden behind a partly-turned-back motor veil.  When they caught sight of me they both stopped abruptly.

“Who’s this?” demanded the man.

Dr. McMurtrie made a graceful gesture towards me with his hand. 
“Allow me,” he said, “to introduce you.  Monsieur and Mademoiselle
Savaroff—­our distinguished and much-sought-after friend Mr. Neil
Lyndon.”

The big man gave a violent start, and with a little exclamation the girl stepped forward, turning back her veil.  I saw then that she was remarkably handsome, in a dark, rather sullen-looking sort of way.