Free Her Forbidden Knight by Rex Stout Page B

to leave unveiled the stars they guarded, and a tiny spot of pink glowed on either cheek.
    Suddenly, as Knowlton sat watching her silently, her hand dropped to the table and she gave a startled movement, while her face filled with unmistakable alarm. She glanced at Knowlton and met his questioning gaze.
    “Mr. Sherman,” she whispered excitedly. “He just entered the restaurant, and is sitting at a table near the door. He saw us.”
    Knowlton started to turn round to see for himself, but thought better of it and remained facing his companion.
    “The Erring Knights,” he said easily, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. “Assuredly, they protect you with a vengeance. But I can hardly compliment them on their choice of an emissary.”
    “But surely it must be—he is here by accident,” said Lila. “They would not have sent him.”
    “Perhaps he sent himself,” Knowlton suggested. “I happen to know that he is an adept at the gentle art of shadowing.”
    Lila’s face flushed with annoyance.
    “He has no right”—she began impetuously. “I hate him. He has spoiled my dinner—I mean, our dinner.
    At this Knowlton, who was hiding his own annoyance, protested with a laugh that it would take more than Sherman to spoil it for him. His enjoyment, he declared, rested only with his companion. Lila sighed and poised her fork daintily over her plate of clams.
    “Does the creature eat?” asked Knowlton presently.
    Lila glanced toward the door.
    “No,” she replied. “He drinks.”
    Knowlton chuckled at her tone of disgust and declared that he felt a certain pity for Mr. Sherman.
    But gradually, as the dinner progressed, they forgot his presence. Knowlton exerted himself to that end, and soon had Lila laughing delightedly at a recital of his boyhood experiences in the country.
    Under the influence of his sparkling gaiety her cheeks resumed the healthy flush of youth and health, and her eyes glowed with pleasure and animation.
    “Not so much—please!” she protested, as Knowlton heaped her plate high with asparagus tips. “You know, I am not a poor, overworked farmer, as you seem to have been. Though, to tell the truth, I don’t believe half of it.”
    “I don’t blame you,” said Knowlton cheerfully. “In fact, I don’t believe it all myself.”
    For a time there was silence, while Lila listened dreamily to the orchestra, and her companion frowned portentously over the delicate and stupendous task of apportioning the salad.
    “And now,” Knowlton said presently, placing the spoon in the empty bowl with a sigh of relief, “what about yourself? I shall expect you to be just as frank as I have been. I already know your age, so you may leave that out.”
    Lila felt a little thrill find its way to her heart. Was it possible he remembered their first meeting so well? Of course, she did, but that was different. She decided to find out.
    “And pray, what is my age?” she asked.
    “Twenty,” said Knowlton promptly. “Did you think I had forgotten? I guessed nineteen. You said twenty.”
    Then he did remember! Lila paused a moment to keep a tremor from her voice as she said:
    “Then there is little to tell. I get up in the morning and go to work. I go home at night and go to bed. That’s all.”
    “Fair play!” Knowlton protested. “Now that I have a chance to learn something I shan’t let you escape. So far I’ve been able to learn just one thing about you.”
    “And that is?”
    “That you’re an angel.”
    Lila did not know whether to be angry or amused. The smile on her companion’s face added to her uncertainty; but Knowlton hastened to relieve her of her embarrassment.
    “I had it from Dougherty,” he continued. “On the morning of my admission to the charmed circle of the Erring Knights I asserted my right to information. Tom gave it to me something like this.”
    Knowlton curled his upper lip and puffed out his cheeks, in imitation of the ex-prizefighter.
    “ ‘Listen here,