"Now look here, Miss Ramsbotham--no," I broke off. "Such an
appellation is anachronistic, incongruous, and infinitely absurd.
I can't use it. I must take the liberty of addressing you as
Carlotta."

"But I've told you that Carlotta is my name," she said, in
uncomprehending innocence.

"And mine is Sir Marcus Ordeyne. People call me 'Sir Marcus.'"

"Seer Marcous," said Carlotta.

She did not seem at all impressed with the fact that she was
talking to a member of the baronetage.

"Quite so," said I. "Now, Carlotta," I resumed, "our first plan
is to set out in search of Harry. He may have missed his train,
and have followed by a later one, and be even now rampaging about
Waterloo station. If we hear nothing of him, I will drive you to
the Turkish Consulate, give you in charge there, and they will
see you safely home to Alexandretta. The good Hamdi Effendi is
doubtless distracted, and will welcome you back with open

arms."

I meant to be urbane and friendly.

She rose to her feet, grew as white as paper, opened her great
eyes, opened her baby mouth, and in the middle of the Embankment
Gardens plumped on her knees before me and clasped her hands