Arrived in my room, I changed my dress-coat for a smoking-jacket, and my patent shoes for loose slippers. Then I suddenly discovered that I had no cigarettes. I glanced at the clock. It was only half-past ten. I had still half an hour to spare.
I locked up my room and descended by the lift to the entrance hall. My friend the hall-porter was standing behind his counter, doing nothing.
"I wish you would send a boy into the café," I said, "and ask Louis to send me a box of my cigarettes."
"With pleasure, sir," the man answered. "By the bye," he added, "Louis is not there himself, but I suppose any of the others would know the sort you smoke, sir?"
"Not there?" I answered, glancing at the clock. "Ah! I suppose it is a little early for him."
"He will not be there at all this evening," the porter answered. "The secondmaître d'hôtelwas here a few minutes ago, and told me so himself."
"Not there at all!" I repeated. "Do you mean to say that Louis has a night off?"
"Certainly, sir," the man answered. "He has just gone out in his morning clothes."
For a moment I was so surprised that I said nothing. Only a few minutes ago Louis had gone out of his way to tell me that he would be on duty that night in the café. All the time it was obviously a lie! He would not have deceived me without a reason. What was it? I walked to the door and back again. The hall-porter watched me a little curiously.
"Did you wish for Monsieur Louis particularly," he said, "or shall I send to Antoine for the cigarettes?"
I pulled myself together.
"Send to Antoine, by all means," I answered. "He knows what I want."
I took up an evening paper and glanced at the news. Somehow or other I was conscious, although I had had no exercise, of feeling unusually sleepy. When the boy returned with the cigarettes I thrust the box into my pocket, unopened. Then I went to the smoking-room on my way upstairs and drank a stiff brandy and soda. Of one of the junior waiters whom I met I asked a question.
"Do you know if Monsieur Louis will be here to-night?" I asked.
"No, sir!" he answered. "He has just left."
"Very well," I answered. "You need not mention my inquiry."
I gave the boy half-a-crown, and ascended once more to my room. I was feeling a little more awake, but, incomprehensible though it might seem, I began to have a curious idea concerning the coffee with which Louis had served me. I even remembered—or thought that I remembered—some curious taste about it. Yet what object could Louis have in drugging me just as I was on the point of entering into an enterprise on his behalf?
I had a spirit-lamp in my room, and I made myself rapidly a cup of strong tea. Even after I had drunk it, I still felt the remains of the drowsy feeling hanging around me. It was now ten minutes to eleven, and I opened my wardrobe to find the only weapon with which I proposed to arm myself,—a heavily loaded Malacca cane, which had more than once done me good service. To my surprise it was not in its accustomed corner. I was perfectly certain that I had seen it since my return from Paris, and I proceeded to make a thoroughly methodical search. I left scarcely an inch of space in my rooms undisturbed. At last I was forced to come to the conclusion that the stick had gone. Either the valet or some one else must have borrowed it.
It was eleven o'clock by the time I had concluded my search, and there was no time for me to make any further inquiries. I locked up my rooms and descended to the fifth floor. The corridor was empty, and with the key which Louis had given me I opened the door of Mr. Delora's bedroom without difficulty. The room was in darkness, but the electric-light knob was against the wall. I turned it on quickly. There was neither any one in the room, nor any evidence of it having been recently occupied t satisfied with my first inspection, I looked into the wardrobe and lifted the curtains of the bed. Very soon I was assured that there was no one in hiding. I sat down on the edge of the bed and began to consider how to pass the time for the next hour or so. The whiskey and soda set out upon the table attracted my attention. I went over to it, struck by a sudden thought! First I poured out a little of the whiskey. It smelt harmless enough. I tried it upon my tongue. There was no distinctive flavor. Then I looked at the soda-water syphon. The top was screwed up tightly enough, and it easily came undone with the application of a little force. I examined the screw. I felt certain at once, for some reason or other, that it had been tampered with recently. I poured a little of the soda-water into a glass. It was quite flat, and when I tasted it it had a peculiar flavor. Something seemed to have been added to it which destroyed altogether its buoyancy. I screwed on the top again and whistled softly to myself. The whiskey and soda had been placed there by Louis. He had even gone so far as to call my particular attention to it. The coffee which I had drunk a little before had also been prepared by Louis. He was evidently taking no chances! It was his intention that I should be asleep when the intruder, whoever he might be, should enter the room. After all, it seemed that I was in for something a little more complicated in the way of adventures than I had imagined. I examined the lock of the door by which I had entered. It worked easily, and there was also a bolt on the inside. The door was by its side which led into the sitting-room. I also examined it, and I saw with satisfaction that there was at the top a narrow glass transept, which I carefully opened. The sitting-room was in darkness, so Felicia had evidently retired for the night. I sat down to wait!
The time dragged on slowly enough, as it might well have done under the circumstances. I was waiting for something,—I had not the least idea what, or in what form it would arrive. I heard the quarters chime one after the other until one o'clock. Then at last I heard the sound of a key in the outer door of the suite. I had already poured half the syphon of soda and a fair quantity of the whiskey out of the window. I now threw myself upon the bed, closed my eyes, and did my best to simulate a heavy sleep. The person who entered the apartments came up the little outer passage until he reached the door leading into my room. I heard that softly opened. Then there was a pause, broken only by my heavy breathing. Some one was in the room, and it was some one who had learned the art of absolute noiselessness. I heard no footsteps,—not even a man's breathing. Suddenly there was the click of the electric light, and although I still heard nothing, I felt that some one had approached a little way towards the bed. I dared not open my eyes, but in a restless movement, which I felt I might safely make, I raised my hand to shield me, and caught a momentary glimpse of the person who was standing between me and the door. As I expected, it was Louis! He held the soda-water syphon in his hand, as though measuring its contents. I believe that he afterwards came and stood over me. I dared not open my eyes again, for I was none too good an actor, and I feared that he might not be deceived. The quantity of whiskey and soda, however, which I had apparently drunk, must have satisfied him, for he only stayed altogether about a minute in the room. Then he passed out into the sitting-room, closing the door behind him, and without noticing the open transept. I lay quite still, expecting that before long he would return. There were no signs of his coming, however, though through the transept I could see that the light in the sitting-room had been turned on. I rose softly from the bed and bolted both doors. If Louis were to make up his mind to return, it was better, after all, for him to discover that I had been deceiving him than to have him come upon me unawares!
From the top of a chair I was easily able to see through the transept into the sitting-room. At my first glance I thought that it was empty. Then, however, I saw Louis come in from the outer hall, as though from the door of Felicia's room. He came into the centre of the sitting-room and stood there waiting. He was in dark morning clothes, and there was no sign of that charming expression which his patrons found so attractive. His brows were contracted. His mouth seemed screwed together. His peculiar-colored eyes shone like gimlets. He seemed to be waiting impatiently—waiting for what? Once he moved a little, and glanced expectantly toward the open door of the sitting-room. For the first time a horrible fear gripped me. I could scarcely stand in my place. With both hands I held the cornice. My heart began to thump against my ribs. If it should be true! Then all of a sudden a little cry came to my lips, which Heaven knows how I stifled! My eyes were suddenly hot. There was a mist before them. I could see nothing, nothing save Felicia, who had entered the room in a dressing-jacket, with her hair still down her back. It was nothing to me, at that moment, that her eyes were round with fear, that she came as one comes who obeys the call of her master. I was so furious with anger that I had hard work to battle with the impulse which prompted me to throw open the door and confront them both.
"Louis, is this wise?" she murmured.
"There are times," he answered softly, "when one has to dare everything! Listen, Felicia."
"Yes?" she murmured.
"In a short time you will hear a soft knocking on the outside door. Take no notice. I shall open it. It will be some one to see your uncle. We shall talk in this sitting-room. I hope that nothing will happen, but if you hear the sound of blows or voices take no notice. Remain in your room till everything is quiet. Presently, if all is well, I shall knock three times on your door. I may need your help."
"Very well," she answered. "And if you do not knock?"
He handed her a slip of paper.
"You have a telephone in your room," he said. "Ring up the number you will find there, and simply repeat the words which I have written."
"Is that all?" she asked.
"That is all."
"Louis," she said,—then she pointed in my direction,—"may I not go in just for one minute?"
"No!" he answered. "It is not wise."
"It seems unkind," she said, "to keep away from him all this time if he is ill."
"I did not know that you had so much affection for him!" Louis remarked.
"Why not?" she answered. "He was always kind to me, in his way."
There was a moment's pause. Then she spoke again, and her voice had in it a note of sharp inquiry.
"Louis, whose stick is that?" she demanded.
I raised myself a little higher. Upon the table, close to where Louis was standing, was a thick Malacca cane which I recognized at once.
"Mine!" Louis answered shortly.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Whose did you suppose that it was?" he demanded.
"Capitaine Rotherby was carrying one just like it," she declared. "I noticed it in the railway carriage."
"They are common enough," Louis answered. "This one, at any rate, is mine. Hush!"
They both, for a moment, seemed to be listening intently. Then Louis pointed to the door.
"Go back to your room," he said, in a low whisper. "Go back at once, and turn your key."
She stole away. When she was no longer in the room I could see more clearly,—I could take account of other things! Distinctly I could hear now the soft knocking upon the outer door!
Louis disappeared from the room for the moment. I heard the outer door softly opened and closed. Then he came back into the sitting-room, followed by the man who had stood by our side at Charing Cross Station. The latter looked around the room quickly, and seemed disappointed to find it empty.
"I understood that Mr. Delora was here," he said.
"Mr. Delora is in his bedroom," Louis answered. "He is here, and perfectly willing to see you. But it is against the doctor's orders, and my instructions were that I was to warn you not to excite him. You must speak slowly, and you may have to repeat anything which you wish him to understand."
"Who are you?" the newcomer asked.
"I am Mr. Delora's servant," Louis answered.
The newcomer looked a little puzzled.
"Surely I have seen you before somewhere!" he exclaimed.
"It is very possible," Louis answered. "I am also a waiter in the café below, but I come from South America, and Mr. Delora, when he is over, is always kind to me. I spend most of my time, now that he is ill, up here looking after him."
The newcomer shook his head thoughtfully.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Louis," was the quiet answer.
"Then, my friend Louis," the newcomer said, "understand me plainly. I am not here to be bamboozled, or to give you an opportunity for exercising any ability you may possess in the art of lying. I am here to see Delora, and if he is here, see him I will and must! If he is not here, well, it will come later. There is no roof nor any walls in London which will enclose that man and keep him from me!"
"Mr. Delora has no desire to hide himself from any one," Louis answered calmly.
"That is a statement which I may be permitted to doubt!" the visitor answered. "Is that the door of his sleeping chamber? If so, I am going in!"
He pointed to the door, through the transept of which I was looking into the sitting-room. Louis moved on one side.
"That is Mr. Delora's room," he said softly. "Perhaps you had better let me be sure that he is awake."
"You need not trouble," the other answered. "If he is asleep I shall wake him. If he is awake he will know very well that there is no escaping me."
He turned away from Louis. His hand was already outstretched toward the handle of my door. Then I saw Louis snatch the Malacca cane from its place and swing it behind his body. He was already poised for the blow—a blow which would have killed any man breathing—when I sprang to the ground and flung open the door.
"Look out!" I cried.
The newcomer sprang on one side. Louis, disturbed by my cry, lost his nerve, and the blow fell upon a small side table, smashing it through, and sending splinters flying into the air. Both men looked at me in the blankest of amazement. I came out into the sitting-room.
"You coward!" I said to Louis.
He shrank back against the wall. He still held the stick in his hand, but he showed not a sign of fight. The other man stood with clenched fists, as though about to spring upon him, but I stepped between them.
"In the first place," I said to the newcomer, "you had better look into that room. You will see that Mr. Delora is not there. I can assure you, from my own knowledge, that he has never been there. When you have finished, come back and tell me what you want with him."
Louis was still staring at me in amazement. The idea that I had discovered his attempt to make a cat's-paw of me was dawning upon him slowly, but knowing nothing of the transept, he could not account for my unexpected appearance. For once, at any rate, he had lost his nerve. I could see that he was shaking with fear.
"Come, Louis," I said, "put my stick down and talk like a man, if you can."
The stick fell from his fingers. He had scarcely strength enough left to hold it. Then the man who had been examining Delora's room came back and stepped past Louis up to me.
"I do not know why you are here, sir," he said. "You may be mixed up in this affair or you may not be. But if you are, let me warn you that you are on the wrong side. You saw his attempt?" he added, pointing to Louis. "I am going to wring the life out of him. He deserves it."
"No!" I answered, holding him back. "We will have no violence here. Louis has a little account to settle with me yet."
"He has a more serious one with me," the other muttered.
"Settle it when and where you will," I said, "but not here. As for me, I have no longer any interest in or concern with any of you. I came into this thing by accident, and to-night I go out of it. You, sir, must leave the hotel at once. I do not know your name or anything about you. It is not my concern. If you have anything to say to Louis, choose another time."
He looked at me curiously. I could see that with every nerve in his body he was longing to spring upon Louis.
"You seem to be a masterful person, sir," he said. "Why should I obey you?"
"Because I saved your life, for one thing," I answered, "and because I will allow no violence in this room, for another. And if you need a third reason," I added, "because I have the advantage of you in strength. You need not be afraid of my further interference," I continued. "I shall leave London to-morrow, and I hope that I may never see one of you again. Now will you go?"
"Yes, I will go!" he said. "Let me tell you this, sir," he added, as he neared the door. "Your decision is a wise one. If you knew whose cause you had been aiding, whose tool you had very nearly become, I think that your manner would be a little more apologetic."
"I have your word, sir, that you will leave the hotel?" I asked.
"At once," the other answered.
We heard him close the outer door and depart. Then I turned to Louis.
"Louis," I said, "so this is your adventure! This is the way you proposed to make use of me! You got me into that room and drugged me. I was to lie there while you murdered that man with my weapon. Then you would creep away, and in the morning there was I and the dead man! I was to be the tool,—the girl there the lure. It was well worked out, Louis, but it was a coward's plan and a coward's trick!"
I reached out my hand and took him by the collar. I felt as though I were grasping some unclean insect, from whom the sting might shoot out at any moment.
"Have you anything to say?" I asked.
"You do not understand," he said, in a low tone. "I did not mean to put this thing upon you. I meant, perhaps, to disable that man who has just left. If you knew his history and mine, you would not wonder at it. But I meant to see that he was safely removed."
"Then why did you bring me down into that room," I asked, "under a false pretence? Why did you use that murderous cane of mine for your crime? Why did you insist upon it that I should be seen dining with the girl—God knows who she is!—who is in that room?"
"I can explain everything," Louis said. "I am confused! I cannot help it—you came so unexpectedly!"
"Unexpectedly indeed," I answered, "because I poured your whiskey and soda out of the window, and because I took an antidote to your coffee!"
"You speak of things which I do not understand," Louis declared.
"Oh! tell me no more lies!" I exclaimed. "Listen! You see I have you by the collar, and I have my cane. Now I am going to beat you till every bone in your body aches, till you will not be able to crawl about, until you tell me the real history of these things. For every lie—if I know it to be a lie—I shall strike you. Tell me who that man Delora is? Tell me who the girl is, posing as his niece, who meets you here after midnight? Tell me the name of that man who has just left us? Tell me how you are all bound together, and what your quarrel is? And tell me where Delora is now?"
"I have no strength," he gasped. "You are too rough. Let me sit down quietly. I must think."
"No!" I answered. "Speak! Speak now!"
I raised the stick as though to strike him. Then I saw a sudden change in his face. I looked toward the door. Almost as I did so I heard the faint flutter of moving draperies. Felicia stood there looking in upon us, her hands uplifted, her face full of terror.
"It is Capitaine Rotherby!" she cried. "Tell me, then, what has happened? Capitaine Rotherby!"
She came a little toward us, but I think that she read in my face something of what I was feeling, for she stopped suddenly and her lips quivered.
"What has happened?" she demanded. "Will neither of you tell me? Is my uncle worse? Has any one—any one tried to do him an injury?"
"Nothing is the matter," I answered, "except that we have come to an end of this tissue of lies and plots and counterplots. There is no uncle of yours in that room, nor ever has been. The man who was to have been murdered here has gone. And for the rest, I saw you here with Louis and I heard your conversation less than an hour ago."
"You saw us?" she gasped.
"From the transept there," I answered, pointing towards it. "I was brought into that room to personate your uncle, to receive an attack which was meant for him—a very clever scheme! I was drugged, and was to have lain there to cover this fellow's crime. But there, I don't suppose that I need tell you any of these things!" I added brutally.
She looked at me with horror.
"You do not believe—" she gasped.
"Oh! I believe nothing," I answered,—"nothing at all! Every word I have been told by both of you is a lie! Your lives are lies! God knows why I should ever have believed otherwise!" I said, looking at her.
"Let me go," Louis pleaded, "and you shall hear the truth."
"I shall be more likely to feel the knife you have in your pocket," I answered contemptuously, for I had seen his left hand struggling downward for the last few moments. "Oh! I'll let you go! I have no interest in any of you,—no interest in your cursed conspiracy, whatever it may be! Keep your story. I don't care to hear it. Lie there and talk to your accomplice!"
I sent him reeling across the room till he fell in the corner. Then I walked out, closing the sitting-room door behind me,—out into the corridor and up the stairs into my own room. Then I locked and bolted my own door and looked at my watch. It was a quarter to three. I took a Bradshaw from my bookcase, packed a few clothes myself, set an alarm clock for seven o'clock in the morning, and turned into bed. I told myself that I would not think. I told myself that there was no such person in the world as Felicia, that she had never lived, that she was only part of this nightmare from which I was freeing myself! I told myself that I would go to sleep, and I stayed awake until daylight. All the time there was only one thought in my brain!
At a few minutes past nine on the following morning, I was standing outside the front door of the Court watching the piling of my luggage on to a four-wheel cab. The hall-porter stood by my side, superintending the efforts of his myrmidons.
"You had better send my letters on," I told him. "I am going down into Norfolk for several weeks,—perhaps longer."
"Very good, sir," he answered. "By the bye," he added, turning away, "this morning's letters have just arrived. There was one for you, I think."
He handed it to me, and I tore it open as I stepped on to the pavement. It was written from Feltham Court, Norfolk, and dated the previous day.
My Dear Austen,I send you a hurried line in case you should be thinking of comingdown here. I have decided to come up to London for a few weeks,and have lent the Court to Lady Mary, with the exception of theshooting, which is reserved for you. If you are in town, do lookme up at Claridge's.Ever yours,Ralph.
I was on the point of having the cab unloaded and reconsidering my plans. Suddenly, however, like an inspiration there flashed into my mind the thought that it would not, perhaps, be such a very bad thing if, under the circumstances, I kept my altered plans to myself. So I stuffed the letter into my pocket and stepped into the four-wheeler.
"You understand, Ashley?" I said. "Send everything on to Feltham Court,—cards, letters, or anything."
"Perfectly, sir," the man answered. "I hope you will have a pleasant time, sir."
"Tell the cabman Liverpool Street," I ordered, and got in.
We rolled out of the courtyard, and I drove all the way to Liverpool Street as though to catch my train. Arrived there, however, I deposited my luggage in the cloak-room and drove back to Claridge's in a hansom. I found that my brother was installed in a suite of rooms there, and his servant, who came into the sitting-room to me at once, told me that he believed they were up for at least a month.
"His Lordship has nearly finished dressing, sir," he added. "He will be in, in a few minutes."
I took up the morning paper, but found nothing of interest there. Then my brother came in, leaning heavily on two sticks, and moving slowly. He was not more than ten years older than I was, but the shock of his accident and subsequent sufferings had aged him terribly. His hair had gone prematurely gray, and his face was deeply lined. I stepped forward and took him by the hand.
"My dear Ralph," I said, "this is really first-class. The last time I saw you, you scarcely expected to be out of your bath-chair in six months."
"I am getting on, Austen," he answered, "thanks! I am getting on. I will sit in that easy-chair for a few minutes. Thanks! Then we will have some breakfast."
"I was starting for Feltham this morning," I told him, "when I got your letter."
"When did you get back from Paris?" he asked.
"Three or four days ago," I answered.
He raised his eyebrows.
"I know that I ought to have come at once," I said, "but there were several things in London. I found it hard to get away."
"Well?" he said.
"I met Tapilow face to face at a little French café," I told him. "They tell me that he will recover, but he is maimed and scarred for life."
My brother showed no excitement—scarcely, even, any interest in my information. His face, however, had darkened.
"I am glad that you did not kill him outright," he said. "Tell me, are you likely to get into any trouble for this?"
"No!" I assured him. "The affair happened in a very dubious sort of place. I don't think I shall hear anything more about it unless from Tapilow himself."
Ralph nodded.
"We will close the chapter," he said.
"You have no news—"
"None!" he interrupted me, shortly. "We will close the chapter."
So I spoke to him no more on his own affairs. His servant brought in the letters and papers, poked the fire, and announced that breakfast was ready.
"You will have something, Austen?" he asked.
"I have only had a continental breakfast," I answered. "I dare say I can manage to eat something."
"I have a letter from Dicky," he remarked, later on. "Asks me to be civil, if I can, to some people who have been remarkably kind to him out in Brazil. They have an estate there."
I nodded.
"Dicky doing all right?" I asked.
"Seems to be," Ralph answered.
Dicky was our younger brother, and rather a wanderer.
"What is the name of the people who are coming over?" I asked.
"Some odd name," Ralph answered,—"Delora, I think."
Ralph had drawn theTimestowards him, and he did not notice my start. I sat looking at him in blank amazement.
"Ralph!" I said presently.
My brother looked up.
"Have you got Dicky's letter on you?" I asked.
He passed it over to me. I skimmed through the first part until I came to the sentence which interested me.
I have been out staying at an awfully fine estate here, right onthe Pampas. It belongs to some people called Delora. One of thebrothers is just off to Europe, on some Government business, andwill be in London for a few days with his niece, I expect. He isgoing to stay at the Milan Hotel, and it would be awfully good ofyou if you would look him up, or drop him a line. They really havebeen very kind to me out here.
I pushed the letter back to Ralph.
"Have you done anything yet," I asked, "about this?"
Ralph shook his head.
"I thought you would not mind calling for me," he remarked. "I would like to be civil to any one who has done anything for Dicky. If he shoots, you might take him down to the Court. Mary's there, of course, but that would not matter. There is the whole of the bachelor wing at your disposal."
I nodded.
"I will look after it for you," I said. "You can leave it in my hands. It is rather an odd thing, but I believe that I have met this man in Paris."
My brother was not much interested. I was glad of the excuse to bury myself in the pages of theDaily Telegraph. Here at last, then, was something definite. The man Delora was not a fraud. He was everything that he professed to be—a wealthy man, without a doubt. I suddenly began to see things differently. What a coward I had been to think of running away! After all, there might be some explanation, even, of that meeting between the girl and Louis.
We finished our breakfast, and my brother hobbled over to the window. For several minutes he remained there, looking out upon the street with the aimless air of a man who scarcely knows what to do with his day.
"What are you thinking of doing, Austen?" he asked me.
"I had no plans," I answered. "Some part of the day I thought I would look up these people—the Deloras."
Ralph nodded and turned to his servant.
"Goreham," he said, "I will have the motor in an hour. Come and dine with me, will you, Austen?" he said, turning to me. "I don't suppose you will go down to Feltham for a day or two."
"I will come, with pleasure," I answered. "Where are you going to motor to?"
Ralph answered a little vaguely. He had some calls to make, and he was not altogether sure. I left him in a few minutes and descended to the street. I turned westward and walked for some little distance, when suddenly I was attracted by the sight of a familiar figure issuing from the door of a large, gray stone house. We came face to face upon the pavement. It was the man whose life I had probably saved only a few hours ago.
He lifted his hat, and his dark eyes sought mine interrogatively.
"You were not, by chance, on the way to call upon me?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"Not only," I answered, "was I ignorant of where you lived, but I do not even know your name."
"Both matters," he remarked quietly, "are unimportant."
I glanced at the house from which he had issued.
"It would seem," I remarked, "that you have diplomatic connections."
"Why not?" he answered. "Indeed," he continued thoughtfully, "I do not see, Captain Rotherby, why my name should remain a secret to you."
He drew a card from his pocket, and handed it to me. I read it with ill-concealed curiosity.
MR. ALFONSE LAMARTINE
Brazilian Legation.
12, Porchester Square.
"You are a South American?" I asked quickly.
"By birth," he answered. "I have lived chiefly in Paris, and here in London."
"You knew Mr. Delora at Brazil, then?" I asked.
"I know the family quite well," he answered. "They are very influential people. I have told you my name, Captain Rotherby," he continued, "because I see no reason why we two should not be frank with one another. I am of necessity interested in the movements and doings of Mr. Delora and his niece. You," he continued, "appear to have been drawn a little way into the mesh of intrigue by which they are surrounded."
I drew my arm through his. We were walking now side by side.
"Look here," I said, "you were quite right in what you said. There is no reason why we should have secrets from one another. Tell me about these people, and why on earth they have any connections at all with persons of the class of Louis and those others."
My companion spread out his hand. He stopped short on the pavement, and gesticulated violently.
"It is you who ask me these things!" he exclaimed. "Yet it is from you I hoped to obtain information. I know nothing,—absolutely nothing! Simply my instructions were to meet Mr. Delora on his arrival in London, to show him every possible civility, and to assist him in any purpose where my help would be useful. I go to meet him—he has disappeared! I haunt his rooms—he has not returned! His niece knows nothing. I try to force my way into his rooms, and my life is attempted!"
"Wait a moment," I said. "You spoke of instructions. From whom do you receive them?"
"From my government," he answered a little shortly. "Mr. Delora has some private business of importance here in England, in which they are interested."
"Do you know anything of his niece?" I asked.
"Nothing whatever," the young man answered, "except that she seems a very charming young lady, and will, I believe, inherit a great fortune."
"Do you know of any enemies that he might have?" I asked. "For instance, is this business of his connected with any affairs which might bring him into touch with such people as Louis and his associates?"
"I will be frank with you," the young man said. "I do not know what his business was. Neither, curiously enough, does my chief. My instructions simply were to meet him, and to see him day by day. You yourself can judge how well I have succeeded!"
"Have you been to the police?" I asked.
"I have not," Lamartine answered. "We have written out to Brazil explaining the circumstances, and asking for a cablegram in reply. By the bye," he continued, a little diffidently, "did it strike you last night that Miss Delora must have been associated with that blackguard Louis in his little attempt upon me?"
"I do not believe anything of the sort!" I answered shortly.
The young man smiled cynically.
"It is perhaps natural," he answered.
"You are not seriously suggesting," I asked, "that a young lady in the position of Miss Delora would descend to scheming with a head-waiter?"
"Captain Rotherby," my companion said, "I do not know anything. I do not understand anything. I only know that the Delora business has puzzled me,—has puzzled my chief. We have important communications for Mr. Delora, and he cannot be found."
"It is not possible," I declared, "for a man to disappear in London."
"A man may disappear anywhere," Lamartine said dryly, "when such people as Louis are interested in him! However, we do no good by comparing notes when we neither of us know anything. If I should gain any information of Mr. Delora's whereabouts—"
I gave him my card quickly.
"We will exchange our news," I assured him. "It is a promise."
He bowed, and left me with a little farewell wave of the hand.
I changed my mind about calling at the Milan that morning, but toward five o'clock in the afternoon I presented myself there, and gave the hall-porter my card to send up to Miss Delora. He received me with some surprise, but I explained that I had been obliged to postpone my visit into the country.
"Miss Delora has asked twice about you this morning, sir," he announced. "I gave her your country address."
"Quite right," I answered. "By the bye, is Mr. Delora visible yet?"
"Not yet, sir," the man answered. "Rather a curious thing about his return, sir," he added. "Not a soul has even seen him yet."
I nodded, but made no remark. Presently the boy who had taken my card up returned.
"Miss Delora would be glad if you would step upstairs, sir," he announced.
I followed him into the lift and up to number 157. Felicia was there alone. She rose from the couch as I entered, and waited until the door had closed behind the disappearing page. Then she held out her hands, and there was something in her eyes which I could not resist. I was suddenly ashamed of all my suspicions.
"So you have come back," she said softly. "That is very kind of you, Capitaine Rotherby. I have been lonely—very lonely, indeed."
"I have come back," I answered, taking her hands into mine and holding them for a moment.
"I am nervous all the time, and afraid," she continued, standing close by my side and looking up. "Only think of it, Capitaine Rotherby,—it is this journey to London to which I have been looking forward for so many, many years, and now that it has come I am miserable!"
"Your uncle—" I asked.
"They told me what was not true!" she exclaimed. "He is not back. I am here all alone. He does not come to me, and he will not let me go to him. But you will sit down, Capitaine Rotherby?" she added. "You are not in a hurry? You are not going away again?"
"Not just yet, at any rate," I admitted. "Do you know that after all this is a very small world! I have come to pay you a formal call on behalf of my brother who is an invalid."
Her eyes grew round with surprise.
"But I do not understand!" she said.
I told her of my brother's letter from South America. She listened with interest which seemed mingled with anxiety.
"It is very strange," she said, when I had finished,—"very delightful, too, of course!" she added hurriedly. "Tell me, is it my uncle Maurice or my uncle Ferdinand of whom your brother spoke most in his letter?"
"He did not mention the Christian names of either," I told her. "He simply said that one of the Mr. Deloras and his niece were coming to London, and he begged us to do all we could to make their visit pleasant. Do you know," I continued, "that as I came along I had an idea?"
"Yes?" she exclaimed.
"Why shouldn't you come down into the country," I said, "to my aunt's? She will send you a telegram at once if I tell her to, and we could all stay together down at Feltham,—my brother's house in Norfolk. You are out of place here. You are not enjoying yourself, and you are worried to death. Beside which," I added more slowly, "you are mixed up with people with whom you should have nothing whatever to do."
"If only I could!" she murmured. "If only I could!"
"Why not?" I said. "Mr. Delora comes here with an introduction which precludes my criticising his friends or his connections, however strange they may be, but it is very certain that you ought not to be left here alone to rely upon the advice of a head-waiter, to be practically at the beck and call of men of whose existence you should be unconscious. I want you to make up your mind and come away with me."
A little flush of color stole into her cheeks, and her eyes danced with excitement.
"I do no good here!" she exclaimed. "Why not? You, too, Capitaine Rotherby,—you would come?"
"I would take you there," I answered, "and I would do my best, my very best, to keep you entertained."
"I shall ask!" she exclaimed. "To-night I shall ask."
"Ask whom?" I inquired. "Louis?"
She shook her head.
"My uncle," she answered.
"You will not see him!" I exclaimed.
"He will telephone," she answered. "He has promised."
I reached over towards her and took her hands into mine.
"Felicia," I said boldly, "I am your friend. The letter I have told you of should prove that. I am only anxious for your good. Tell me what reason your uncle can have for behaving in this extraordinary way, for allowing himself to be associated even for a moment with such people as Louis and his friends?"
Everything that it had made me so happy to see in her face died away. She was once more wan and anxious.
"I cannot tell you," she said,—"I cannot, because I dare not! I have promised! Only remember this. My uncle has lived in Paris for so many years—"
"But I thought that he had just come from South America!" I interrupted.
"Yes, but before that," she explained breathlessly,—"before that! He loves the mysterious. He likes to be associated with strange people, and I do believe, too," she continued, "that he has business just now which must be kept secret for the sake of other people. Oh, I know it must all seem so strange to you! Won't you believe, Capitaine Rotherby, that I am grateful for your kindness, and that I would tell you if I could?"
"I must," I answered, with a sigh. "I must believe what you tell me. Listen, then. I shall wait until you hear from your uncle."
"Have you come back to your rooms?" she asked timidly.
"I shall do so," I announced, "but I hope that it will be only for the night. To-morrow, if all goes well, we may be on our way to Norfolk."
There was a knock at the door. She started, and looked at me a little uneasily. Almost immediately the door was pushed open. It was Louis who entered, bearing a menu card. He addressed me with a little air of surprise. I was at once certain that he had known of my visit, and had come to see what it might mean.
"Monsieur has returned very soon," he remarked, bowing pleasantly.
"My journey was not a long one, Louis," I answered. "What have you brought that thing for?" I continued, pointing to the menu card. "Do you want an order for dinner? Miss Delora is dining elsewhere with me!"
My tone was purposely aggressive. Louis' manners, however, remained perfection.
"Miss Delora has engaged a table in the café," he said. "I have come myself to suggest a little dinner. I trust she will not disappoint us."
She looked at me pathetically. There was something which I could not understand in her face. Only I knew that whatever she might ask me I was prepared to grant.
"Will you not stay and dine here with me?" she said. "Louis will give us a very good dinner, and afterwards I shall have my message, and I shall know whether I may go or not."
The humor of the idea appealed to me. There was suddenly something fantastic, unbelievable, in the events of last night.
"With pleasure!" I answered.
Louis bowed, and for a moment or two seemed entirely engrossed in the few additions he was making to the menu he carried. Then he handed it to me with a little bow.
"There, monsieur," he said. "I think that you will find that excellent."
"I have no doubt that we shall, Louis," I answered. "I will only ask you to remember one thing."
"And that, monsieur?" he asked.
"I dine with mademoiselle," I said, "and our appetites are identical!"
Louis smiled. There were times when I suspected him of a sense of humor!
"Monsieur has not the thick neck of Bartot!" he murmured, as he withdrew.