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"Is George in it? that would be unusual." Fairholme suddenly bethought himself. "Something to do with a motor," he said vaguely. "The Vanrenens are Americans, friends of Mrs. Leland's. You remember her, Arthur, don't you?" "Perfectly. Is 'Vanrenen' the Peter of that ilk?" "I think so. Yes that is the name Peter Vanrenen." "Oh, he's all right.
He wanted to feel his fingers clutching that slender throat, to see that pink and white face empurple and grow black under their strain, and it was all-important that the scoundrel should be brought to book before the Vanrenens returned to London. He gave a passing thought to Mrs. Leland, it was true.
"I happened to meet the Vanrenens in Paris," he said. "Business brought me here, and I was surprised to see Miss Vanrenen without her father. You will pardon my reference to your son, I am sure. His attitude is explicable now. He resented my offer of friendly assistance to the young lady. Perhaps he thought she might avail herself of it." "Assistance? What is the matter?"