He brushed past Francis so closely that the latter looked into his face, half attracted and half repelled by the waxen-like complexion, the piercing eyes, and the dignified carriage of the man whose arrival seemed to be creating some stir in the hotel.

A reception clerk and a deputy manager had already hastened forward.

The newcomer waved them back for a moment.

Bareheaded, he had taken Margaret Hilditch's hands in his and raised them to his lips.
"I came as quickly as I could," he said.

"There was the usual delay, of course, at Marseilles, and the trains on were terrible.