"I believe he is a Persian," said Phil Abingdon, rather
confusedly. "To be quite frank, I know very little about him."
Paul Harley gazed steadily at the speaker for a moment. "Can you
think of any reason why Sir Charles should have worried about
this gentleman?" he asked.
The girl lowered her head again. "He paid me a lot of attention,"
she finally confessed.
"This meeting at Lady Vail's, then, was the first of many?"
"Oh, no--not of many! I saw him two or three times. But he began
to send me most extravagant presents. I suppose it was his
Oriental way of paying a compliment, but Dad objected."
"Of course he would. He knew his Orient and his Oriental. I
assume, Miss Abingdon, that you were in England during the years
that your father lived in the East?"
"Yes. I was at school. I have never been in the East."
Paul Harley hesitated. He found himself upon dangerously delicate
ground and was temporarily at a loss as to how to proceed.
Unexpected aid came from the taciturn Doctor McMurdoch.
"He never breathed a word of this to me, Phil," he said,
gloomily. "The impudence of the man! Small wonder Abingdon
objected."
Phil Abingdon tilted her chin forward rebelliously.
"Ormuz Khan was merely unfamiliar with English customs," she
retorted. "There was nothing otherwise in his behaviour to which
any one could have taken exception."
"What's that!" demanded the physician. "If a man of colour paid
his heathen attentions to my daughter--"
"But you have no daughter, Doctor."
"No. But if I had--"
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