It seemed to me that Felicia that night was in her most charming mood. She wore a dress of some soft white material, and a large black hat, under which her face—a little paler even than usual—wore almost a pathetic aspect. Her fingers touched my arm as we entered the restaurant together. She seemed, in a way, to have lost some of her self-control,—the exclusiveness with which she had surrounded herself,—and to have become at once more natural and more girlish. I noticed that she chose a seat with her back to the room, and I understood her reason even before she told me.
"I think," she said, "that to-night it would be pleasant to forget that there is any one here who disturbs me. I think it would be pleasant to remember only that this great holiday of mine, which I have looked forward to so long, has really begun."
"You have looked forward to coming to London so much?" I asked.
"Yes!" she answered. "I have lived a very quiet life, Capitaine Rotherby. After the Sisters had finished with me—and I stayed at the school longer than any of the others—I went straight to the house of a friend of my uncle's, where I had only adame de compagnie. My uncle—he was so long coming, and the life was very dull. But always he wrote to me, 'Some day I will take you to London!' Even when we were in Paris together he would tell me that."
"Tell me," I asked, "what is your uncle's Christian name?"
"I have three uncles," she said, after a moment's hesitation,—"Maurice, Ferdinand, and Nicholas. Nicholas lives all the time in South America. Maurice and Ferdinand are often in Paris."
"And the uncle with whom you are now?" I asked.
I seemed to have been unfortunate in my choice of a conversation. Her eyes had grown larger. The quivering of her lips was almost pitiful.
"I am a clumsy ass!" I interrupted quickly. "I am asking you questions which you do not wish to answer. A little later on, perhaps, you will tell me everything of your own accord. But to-night I shall ask you nothing. We will remember only that the holiday has begun."
She drew a little sigh of relief.
"You are so kind," she murmured, "so very kind. Indeed I do not want to think of these things, which I do not understand, and which only puzzle me all the time. We will let them alone, is it not so? We will let them alone and talk about foolish things. Or you shall tell me about London, and the country—tell me what we will do. Indeed, I may go down to your home in Norfolk."
"I think you will like it there," I said. "It is too stuffy for London these months. My brother's house is not far from the sea. There is a great park which stretches down to some marshes, and beyond that the sands."
"Can one bathe?" she asked breathlessly.
"Of course," I answered. "There is a private beach, and when we have people in the house at this time of the year we always have the motor-car ready to take them down and back. That is for those who bathe early. Later on it is only a pleasant walk. Then you can learn games if you like,—golf and tennis, cricket and croquet."
"I should be so stupid," she said, with a little regretful sigh. "In France they did not teach me those things. I can play tennis a little, but oh! so badly; and in England," she continued, "you think so much of your games. Tell me, Capitaine Rotherby, will you think me very stupid in the country if I can do nothing but swim a little and play tennis very badly?"
"Rather not!" I answered. "There is the motor, you know. I could take you for some delightful drives. We should find plenty to do, I am sure, and I promise you that if only you will be as amiable as you are here I shall not find any fault."
"You will like to have me there?" she asked.
Her question came with the simplicity of a child. She laughed softly with pleasure when I leaned over the table and whispered to her,—
"Better than anything else in the world!"
"I am not sure, Capitaine Rotherby," she said, looking at me out of her great eyes, "whether you are behaving nicely."
"If I am not," I declared, "it is your fault! You should not look so charming."
She laughed softly.
"And you should not make such speeches to a poor little foreign girl," she said, "who knows so little of your London ways."
Louis stood suddenly before us. We felt his presence like a cold shadow. The laughter died away from her eyes, and I found it difficult enough to address him civilly.
"Monsieur is well served?" he asked. "Everything all right, eh?"
"Everything is very good, as usual, Louis," I answered. "The only thing that is amiss you cannot alter."
"For example?" he asked.
"The atmosphere," I answered. "It is no weather for London."
"Monsieur is right," he admitted. "He is thinking of departing for the country soon?"
"It depends a little upon mademoiselle," I answered.
Louis shook his head very slowly. He had the air of a man who discusses something with infinite regret.
"It would be very delightful indeed," he said, "if it were possible for mademoiselle to go into Norfolk to your brother's house. It would be very good for mademoiselle, but I am not sure—I fear that her uncle—"
"How the mischief did you know anything about it?" I asked in amazement.
Louis smiled—that subtle, half-concealed smile which seemed scarcely to part his lips.
"Why should not mademoiselle have told me?" he asked.
"But I have not!" she declared suddenly. "I have not seen Louis since you were here this afternoon, Capitaine Rotherby."
Louis extended his hands.
"It is true," he admitted. "It is not from mademoiselle that I had the news. But there, one cannot tell. Things may alter at any moment. It may be very pleasant for Monsieur Delora that his niece is able to accept this charming invitation."
"So you have been in communication with Mr. Delora, Louis?" I asked.
"Naturally," Louis answered. "He told me of mademoiselle's request. He told me that he had promised to reply at ten o'clock this evening."
"Perhaps you can tell us," I remarked, "what that reply will be?"
Louis' face remained absolutely expressionless. He only shook his head.
"Mr. Delora is his own master," he said. "It may suit him to be without mademoiselle, or it may not. Pardon, monsieur!"
Louis was gone, but he had left his shadow behind.
"He does not think," she murmured, "that I may come!"
"Felicia,—" I said.
"But I did not say that you might call me Felicia!" she interrupted.
"Then do say so," I begged.
"For this evening, then," she assented.
"For this evening, then, Felicia," I continued. "I do not wish to worry you by talking about certain things, but do you not think yourself that your uncle is very inconsiderate to leave you here alone on your first visit to London,—not to come near the place, or provide you with any means of amusement? Why should he hesitate to let you come to us?"
"We will not talk of it," she begged, a little nervously. "I must do as he wishes. We will hope that he says yes, will we not?"
"He must say yes!" I declared. "If he doesn't I'll find out where he is, somehow, and go and talk to him!"
She shook her head.
"He is very much engaged," she said. "He would not like you to find him out, nor would he have any time to talk to you."
"Selling his coffee?" I could not help saying.
"To-night, Capitaine Rotherby," she answered softly, "we do not talk of those things. Tell me what else we shall do down at your brother's house?"
"We shall go for long walks," I told her. "There are beautiful gardens there—a rose garden more than a hundred years old, and at the end of it a footpath which leads through a pine plantation and then down to the sea marshes. We can sit and watch the sea and talk, and when you find it dull we will fill the house with young people, and play games and dance—dance by moonlight, if you like. Or we can go fishing," I continued. "There is a small yacht there and a couple of sailing-boats."
She listened as though afraid of losing a single word.
"Tell me," I asked, "have you been lonely all your life, child?"
"All my life," she answered, and somehow or other her voice seemed to me full of tears, so that I was almost surprised to find her eyes dry. "Yes, I have always been lonely!" she murmured. "My uncle has been kind to me, but he has always some great scheme on hand, and Madame Müller—she would be kind if she knew how, I think, but she is as though she were made of wood. She has no sympathy, she does not understand."
"I wonder," I said reflectively, "what made your uncle bring you here."
"It was a promise," she said hurriedly,—"a promise of long ago. You yourself must know that. Your letter from your brother in South America said, 'Mr. Delora and his niece.'"
"It is true," I admitted. "But why he should want to bring you and then neglect you like this—But I forgot," I interrupted. "We must not talk so. Tell me, you have been often to the theatre in Paris?"
"Very seldom," she answered, "and I love it so much. Madame Müller and I go sometimes, but where we live is some distance from Paris, and it is difficult to get home afterwards, especially for us two alone. My uncle takes us sometimes, but he is generally so occupied."
"He is often in Paris, then?" I asked.
She started a little.
"Yes!" she said hurriedly. "He is often there, of course. But please do not forget,—to-night we do not talk about my uncle. We talk about ourselves. May I ask you something?"
"Certainly!" I answered.
"If my uncle says 'No!'—that I may not come—do you go away altogether, then, to-morrow?"
"No," I answered, "I do not! I shall not leave you alone here. So long as you stay, I shall remain in London."
She drew a little breath, and with a quick, impetuous movement her hand stole across the table and pressed mine.
"It is so good of you!" she murmured.
"I am afraid that it is selfishness, Felicia," I answered. "I should not care to go away and leave you here. I am beginning to find," I added, "that the pleasures in life which do not include you count for very little."
"You will turn my head," she declared, with a delightful little laugh.
"It is the truth," I assured her.
"I am quite sure now," she murmured, "that my great holiday has commenced!"
Felicia laid down the receiver and looked at me. There was scarcely any need for words. Her disappointment was written into her white face.
"You are not to come!" I said.
"I am not—to come," she repeated. "After all, my holiday is not yet."
"Will you tell me," I asked, "where I can find your uncle?"
She shook her head.
"You must not ask me such a thing," she declared.
"Remember," I said, "that I have really called to make his acquaintance as a matter of courtesy on behalf of my brother. What excuse do you give me for his absence? Tell me what it is that you are supposed to say in such a case?"
"Simply that he is away for a few days, engaged in the most important business," she answered. "He will rejoin me here directly it is settled."
"And in the meantime," I said thoughtfully, "you are left in a strange hotel without friends, without a chaperon, absolutely unprotected, and with only a head-waiter in your confidence. Felicia, there is something very wrong here. I am not sure," I continued, "that it is not my duty to run away with you."
She clasped her hands.
"Delightful!" she murmured. "But I mustn't think of it," she added, with a sudden gravity, "nor must you talk to me like that. What my uncle says is best to be done. He knows and understands. If he has had to leave me here alone, it is because it is necessary."
"You have a great deal of faith in him," I remarked.
"He has always been kind to me," she answered, "and I know that the business upon which he is engaged just now is hazardous and difficult. There are men who do not wish it to go through, and they watch for him. If they knew his whereabouts they would try to stop him."
"Felicia, do you know what that business is?" I asked.
"I have some idea of it," she answered.
Her answer puzzled me. If Felicia really had any idea as to the nature of it, and was content to play the part she was playing, it certainly could not be anything of an illicit nature. Yet everything else which had come under my notice pointed to Delora's being associated with a criminal undertaking. I paced the room, deep in thought. Felicia all the time was watching me anxiously.
"You are not going to leave me?" she asked very softly.
I came to a standstill before her.
"No, Felicia," I said, "I am not going to leave you! But I want to tell you this. I am going to try and find out for myself the things which you will not tell me. No, you must not try to stop me!" I said, anticipating the words which indeed had trembled upon her lips. "It must be either that or farewell, Felicia. I cannot remain here and do absolutely nothing. I want to find your uncle, and to have some sort of an explanation from him, and I mean to do it."
She shook her head.
"There are others who are trying to find him," she said, "but I do not think that they will succeed. The young man who was here the other night, for instance."
"If I fail, I fail," I answered. "At any rate, I shall be doing something. I must go back to my brother's to-night, Felicia, because I have promised to stay with him. In a day or two I shall return to my rooms here, and I shall do my best to find out the meaning of your uncle's mysterious movements. It may seem impertinent to you to interfere in anybody else's concerns. I cannot help it. It is for your sake. The present position is impossible!"
"You are not staying here to-night?" she asked.
"To-night, no!" I answered. "I will let you know directly I return."
"There is one thing else, Capitaine Rotherby. Could you promise it to me, I wonder?"
"I will try," I answered.
"Do not quarrel any more, if you can help it," she begged, "with Louis!"
Her question forced a laugh from my lips. Quarrel with Louis, indeed! What more could I do in that direction? Then I frowned, in temporary annoyance. I hated to hear her speak of him as a person to be considered.
"Louis is a venomous little person," I said, "but I certainly should not quarrel with him more than I can help. I am, unfortunately, in his debt, or I should have dealt with him before now."
I glanced at the clock and jumped up. It was very much later than I had thought. She gave me her hands a little wistfully.
"I do not like to think of you here alone," I said. "I wish that I could persuade you to engage a maid."
She shook her head.
"My uncle would not allow it," she said simply. "He says that servants are always prying into one's concerns. Good night, Capitaine Rotherby! Thank you so much for taking me out this evening. After all, I cannot help feeling that it has been rather like the beginning of this holiday."
I held her hands tightly in mine.
"When it really begins," I answered, "I shall try and make it a little more interesting!"
I declined a taxicab and turned to walk back to my brother's hotel. Certainly in the problem of these two people who had come so curiously into my life there was very much to give me matter for thought. I believed in the girl, and trusted her. More than that I did not dare to ask myself! I should have believed in her, even if her uncle were proved to be a criminal of the most dangerous type. But none the less I could not help realizing that her present position was a singularly unfortunate one. To be alone in a big hotel, without maid or chaperon, herself caught up in this web of mystery which Louis and those others seemed to have woven around her, was in itself undesirable and unnatural. Whatever was transpiring, I was quite certain that her share in it was a passive one. She had been told to be silent, and she was silent. Nothing would ever make me believe that she was a party to any wrong-doing. And yet the more I thought of Delora the less I trusted him. At Charing Cross Station, for instance, his had not been the anxiety of a man intrusted with a difficult mission. His agitation had been due to fear,—fear abject and absolute. I had seen the symptoms more than once in my life, and there was no mistaking them. I told myself that no man could be so shaken who was engaged in honest dealings. Even now he was in hiding,—it could not be called anything else,—and the one person with whom I had come in touch who was searching for him was, without a doubt, on the side of law and justice, with at least some settled position behind him. Delora's deportment was more the deportment of a fugitive from justice than of a man in the confidence of his government.
Walking a little carelessly, I took a turn too far northward, and found myself in one of the streets leading out of Shaftesbury Avenue. I was on the point of taking a passage which would lead me more in my proper direction, when my attention was attracted by a large motor-car standing outside one of the small foreign restaurants which abound in this district. I was always interested in cars, but I noticed this one more particularly from the fact of its utter incompatibility with its surroundings. It was one of the handsomest cars I had ever seen,—a sixty to eighty horse-power Daimler,—fitted up inside with the utmost luxury. The panels were plain, and the chauffeur, who sat motionless in his place, wore dark livery and was apparently a foreigner. I slackened my pace to glance for a moment at the non-skidding device on the back tire, and as I passed on I saw the door of the little restaurant open, and a tallcommissionnairehurried out. He held open the door of the car and stood at attention. Two men issued from the restaurant and crossed the pavement. I turned deliberately round to watch them—vulgar curiosity, perhaps, but a curiosity which I never regretted. The first man—tall and powerful—wore the splendid dress and black silk cap of a Chinese of high rank. The man who followed him was Delora. I knew him in a second, although he wore a white silk scarf around his neck, concealing the lower part of his face, and a silk hat pushed down almost over his eyes. I saw his little nervous glance up and down the street, I saw him push past thecommissionnaireas though in a hurry to gain the semi-obscurity of the car. I stopped short upon the pavement, motionless for one brief and fatal moment. Then I turned back and hastened to the side of the car. I knocked at the window.
"Delora," I said, "I must speak to you."
The car had begun to move. I wrenched at the handle, but I found it held on the inside with a grip which even I could not move. I looked into the broad, expressionless face of the Chinaman, who, leaning forward, completely shielded the person of the man with whom I sought to speak.
"One moment," I called out. "I must speak with Mr. Delora. I have a message for him."
The car was going faster now. I tried to jump on to the step, but the first time I missed it. Then the window was suddenly let down. The Chinaman's arm flashed out and struck me on the chest, so that I was forced to relinquish my grasp of the handle. I reeled back, preserving my balance only by a desperate effort. Before I could start in pursuit, the car had turned into the more crowded thoroughfare, and when I reached the spot where it had disappeared a few seconds later, it was lost amongst the stream of vehicles.
I went back to the restaurant. It was like a hundred others of its class—stuffy, smelly, reminiscent of the poorer business quarters of a foreign city. A waiter in a greasy dress-suit flicked some crumbs from a vacant table and motioned me to sit down. I ordered a Fin Champagne, and put half-a-crown into his hand.
"Tell me," I said, "five minutes ago a Chinaman and another man were here."
The man laid the half-crown down on the table. His manner had undergone a complete change.
"Perhaps so, sir," he answered. "We have been busy to-night. I noticed nobody."
I called the proprietor to me—a little pale-faced man with a black moustache, who had been hovering in the background. He hastened to my side, smiling and bowing. This time I did not ask him a direct question.
"I am interested in the restaurants of this quarter," I said. "Some one has told me that your dinner is marvellous!"
He smiled a little suspiciously. The word was perhaps unfortunate!
"I am bringing some friends to try it very soon," I said.
The waiter brought my Fin Champagne. I drank it and ordered a cigar.
"You have all sorts of people here," I remarked. "I noticed a Chinaman—he was very much like the Chinese ambassador, by the bye—leaving as I came in."
The proprietor extended his hands.
"We have people of every class, monsieur," he assured me. "One comes and tells his friends, and they come, and so on. I believe that there was a Chinese gentleman here to-night. One does not notice. We were busy."
I paid my bill and departed. Thecommissionnairepushed open the door, whistle in hand. He looked at me a little curiously. Without doubt he had watched my attempt to speak to Delora. I drew a half-sovereign from my pocket.
"Tell me," I said, "do you want to earn that?"
He was a German, with a large pasty face and a yellow moustache. His eyes were small, and they seemed to contract with greed as they looked upon the coin.
"Sir!" he answered, with a bow.
"Who was the Chinese gentleman with the splendid motor-car?" I asked.
The man spread out his hands.
"Who can tell?" he said. "He dined here to-night in a private room."
A private room! Well, that was something, at any rate!
"You do not know his name or where he comes from?" I asked.
The man shook his head, glancing nervously towards the interior of the restaurant.
"The other gentleman?" I asked.
"I do not know his name, sir," the man declared with emphasis. "He has been here once or twice, but always alone."
I put the half-sovereign in my pocket and drew out a sovereign. The man stretched out an eager hand which he suddenly dropped. He pointed down the street. The swing door of the restaurant remained closed, but over the soiled white curtain I also could see the face of the proprietor peering out.
"It is the second turn to the left," the man said to me.
"And if you want that sovereign made into five," I said carelessly, "my name is Captain Rotherby, and I am going from here to Claridge's Hotel."
I walked down the street and left him looking after me. At the corner I glanced around. The proprietor and thecommissionnairewere talking together on the pavement.
The following evening I dined alone with my brother, who was, for him, in an unusually cheerful frame of mind. He talked with more interest of life and his share in it than he had done—to me, at any rate—since the tragedy which had deprived him of a home. Toward the end of dinner I asked him a question.
"Ralph," I said, "how could I meet the Chinese ambassador here?"
He stared at me for a moment.
"Why, at any of the diplomatic receptions, I suppose," he said, seeing that I was in earnest. "He is rather a pal of Freddy's. Why don't you ring up and ask him?"
"I will, the moment after dinner," I answered.
"Why this sudden interest in Orientalism?" Ralph asked curiously.
"Curiously enough, it is apropos of these Deloras," I answered. "I called to-day, but only found the girl in. The man I saw later with a Chinaman whom I believe to be the ambassador."
"What is the girl like?" my brother asked.
"Charming!" I answered. "I am writing Aunt Mary to invite her down to Feltham. The difficulty seems to be to get hold of Delora."
"So you've written Aunt Mary, eh?" Ralph remarked, looking up at me. "Austen, I believe you're gone on the girl!"
"I believe I am," I admitted equably. "So would you be if you saw her."
Ralph half closed his eyes for a moment. It was a clumsy speech of mine!
"Seriously, Austen," he continued, a few moments later, "have you ever thought of marrying?"
"Equally seriously, Ralph," I answered, "not until I met Felicia Delora."
"Felicia Delora!" my brother repeated. "It's a pretty name, at any rate. I suppose I must go and see her myself."
"Wait for a day or two, Ralph," I begged. "She is a little upset just now. Her uncle seems to be neglecting her for some precious scheme of his."
"I wonder if, by any chance, you are in earnest, Austen?" my brother asked.
"I should not be surprised," I admitted.
"It's an interesting subject, you know," Ralph continued gravely. "Considering my accident, and other things which we need not allude to, I think we may take it for granted that there's no chance of my ever having an heir. It's our duty to look ahead a little, you know, Austen. There isn't any manner of doubt that some time between now and the next ten years you will have to take up my place. I only hope you won't make such a hash of it."
"Don't talk rubbish, Ralph!" I answered.
"It isn't rubbish," he said firmly. "You go and talk to my doctor if you don't believe me. However, I hadn't meant to say anything about this to-night. Your mentioning the girl put it into my head. I want you, of course, to know that I am not forgetful of my responsibilities. Your two thousand a year may do you very well as a bachelor, but you are heir apparent to the title now, and if you should think of marrying, the Fakenham estates are yours, and the house. They bring in between six and seven thousand a year, I think,—never less."
"It's very good of you, Ralph,—" I began.
"It's nothing of the sort," he answered. "It's your rightful position. The Fakenham estates have been held by the heir apparent for generations. Tell me a little about this Miss Delora."
"I'll bring her to see you presently, Ralph," I answered.
"You are in earnest, then?" he remarked, with a smile.
"I believe so," I answered.
He looked at me once more, searchingly.
"There is something on your mind, Austen," he said,—"something bothering you. I believe it is about these Deloras, too. Is there something about them which you can't understand, eh?"
"There is, Ralph," I admitted. "You saw what Dicky said. They are people of consequence in their own country, at any rate, yet over here the man seems to behave like a hunted criminal."
"Dicky also said," Ralph remarked, "that the man was intrusted with some business over here for his government. Nasty underhand lot, those republics of the Southern Hemisphere. I dare say he is driven to be a bit mysterious to carry the thing through."
"I shall know more about it soon, I hope," I answered. "I'll go and ring Freddy up, if you don't mind, now."
Ralph nodded.
"I'm off to my room, at any rate, old chap," he said. "Groves is going abroad for a month's holiday, and he has brought some papers for me to look through. See you some time to-morrow."
I made my way into the little sitting-room which belonged to the suite of rooms my brother had placed at my disposal. There I rang up Lord Frederic Maynard, my first cousin, and a junior member of the government. The butler told me that Lord Frederic was dining, but would doubtless speak to me for a moment. In a minute or two I heard his familiar voice.
"Freddy," I said, "I want to meet the Chinese ambassador."
"Eleven till one to-night here," he answered. "What the devil do you want with him?"
"Do you mean that he is coming to your house to-night?" I asked.
"Exactly," Freddy answered. "We've a political reception, semi-diplomatic. I saw our old friend only yesterday, and he reminded me that he was coming."
"You're a brick, Freddy!" I answered. "I'll be round."
"You have not answered my question," he reminded me.
"I'll tell you later," I answered, and rang off.
I was at Maynard House very soon after eleven, and, after chatting for a little while with my hostess, I hung around near the entrance, watching the arrivals. About midnight His Excellency the Chinese ambassador was announced, and I felt a little thrill of exultation. I was right! The tall, powerful-looking man whom I saw bowing over my cousin's hand was indeed the person whom I had seen with Delora a few hours ago. I ran Freddy to ground, and presently I found myself also bowing before His Excellency. He regarded me through his horn-rimmed spectacles with a benign and pleasant expression. I had been in the East, and I talked for a few moments upon the subjects which I thought would interest him.
"Your Excellency, I dare say, is well acquainted with London," I remarked, apropos of something he said.
"I know your great city only indifferently," he answered. "I am always anxious to take the opportunity of seeing more of it."
"Last evening, for instance," I remarked, "Your Excellency was, I think, exploring a very interesting neighborhood."
"Last evening," he repeated. "Let me think. No, not last evening, Captain Rotherby! I was giving a little dinner at my own house."
I looked at him for a moment in silence. There was nothing to be learned from his expression.
"I thought," I said, "that I saw your Excellency in a street near Shaftesbury Avenue, leaving a small foreign restaurant,—the Café Universel. Your Excellency was with a man named Delora."
Very slowly the ambassador shook his head.
"Not me!" he said. "Not me! I did dine with the younger members of the Legation in Langham Place. What name did you say?"
"A man named Delora," I repeated.
Once more the ambassador shook his head, slowly and thoughtfully.
"Delora!" he repeated. "The name is unknown to me. There are many others of my race in London now," he continued. "The costume, perhaps, makes one seem like another to those who look and pass by."
I bowed very low. It was the most magnificently told lie to which I had ever listened in my life! His Excellency smiled at me graciously as I made my adieux, and passed on. Despite my disappointment, I felt that I was now becoming profoundly interested in my quest. The evidence, too, was all in favor of Delora. It seemed, indeed, as though this undertaking in which he was involved might, after all, be connected with other things than crime!
It was past one o'clock in the morning when I returned to the hotel, yet the porter who admitted me pointed toward the figure of a man who stood waiting in the dimly lit hall.
"There is a person here who has been waiting to see you for some hours, sir," he said. "His name is Fritz."
"To see me?" I repeated.
The man came a step forward and saluted. I recognized him at once. It was thecommissionnaireat the Café Universel.
"It is quite right," I told the porter. "You had better come up to my rooms," I added, turning to Fritz.
I led the way to the lift and on to my sitting-room. There I turned up the electric lights and threw myself into an easy-chair.
"Well, Fritz," said I, "I hope that you have brought me some news."
"I have lost my job, sir," the man answered, a little sullenly.
"How much was it worth to you?" I asked.
"It was worth nearly two pounds a week with tips," he declared, speaking with a strong foreign accent.
"Then I take you into my service at two pounds ten a week from to-night," I said. "The engagement will not be a long one, but you may find it lucrative."
The man fingered his hat and looked at me stolidly.
"I am not a valet, sir," he replied.
"If you were I should not employ you," I answered. "You can make yourself very useful to me in another direction, if you care to."
"I am very willing, sir," the man declared,—"very willing indeed. I have a wife and children, and I cannot afford to be out of employment."
"Come, then," I said. "The long and short of it is this. I want to discover the whereabouts of the man who was with the Chinaman at your restaurant last evening."
The man looked at me with something like surprise in his face.
"You do not know that?" he said.
"I do not," I admitted. "Your business will be to find out."
"And what do I get," the man asked, "if I do discover the staying place of that gentleman?"
"A ten-pound note," I answered, "down on the nail."
A slow smile suffused Fritz's face.
"I will tell you now," he said. "You have the ten pounds, so?"
"I have it ready," I answered, rising to my feet. "Come on, Fritz, you are a brave fellow, and I promise you it shall not end at ten pounds."
"You are serious?" Fritz persisted. "This is not a joke?"
"Not in the least," I assured him. "Why should you think so?"
The smile on the man's face broadened.
"Because," he said, "that gentleman—he is staying here, in this very hotel."
For a moment I was silent. The thing seemed impossible!
"How on earth do you know that, Fritz?" I asked.
"I will tell you," Fritz answered. "There was a night, not long ago, when he did come to the restaurant with the Chinese gentleman. They talked for a long time, and then I was sent for into the private room where they were taking dinner. The gentleman he wrote a note and he gave it to me. He said, 'You will take a hansom cab and you will drive to Claridge's Hotel. You will give this to the cashier, and he will hand you a small parcel which you will bring here.' I told him that I could not leave my post, but he had already seen the proprietor. So I came to this very hotel with that note, and I did take back to the restaurant a small parcel wrapped in brown paper."
"Fritz," I said, "sit down in that easy-chair and help yourself to whiskey and soda. I am sorry that I have not beer, but you must do the best you can with our own national drink. Take a cigar, too. Make yourself quite comfortable. I am going downstairs to the reception office. If I find that what you have told me is true, there will be two five-pound notes in my hand for you when I come back."
"So!" Fritz declared, accepting my hospitality with calm satisfaction.
I descended into the hall of the hotel and made my way to the reception office. The one clerk on duty was reading a novel, which he promptly laid aside at my approach. It occurred to me that my task, perhaps, might not prove so easy, as Delora would scarcely be staying here under his own name.
"I wanted to ask you," I said, "if you have a gentleman here named Delora."
The man shook his head.
"There is no one of that name in the hotel, sir," he answered.
"I scarcely expected that there would be," I remarked. "The fact is, the gentleman whom I want to find, and whom I know is or was staying here, is using another name which I have not heard. You know who I am?"
"Certainly, Captain Rotherby!" the man replied. "You are Lord Welmington's brother."
"You will understand, then," I said, "that if I ask questions which seem to you impertinent, I do so because the matter is important, and not from any idle curiosity."
"Quite so, sir," the man answered. "I shall be pleased to tell you anything I can."
"This gentleman of whom I am in search, then," I answered, "he would have arrived probably last Wednesday evening from the Continent. I do not know what name he would give, but it would probably not be the name of Delora. He is rather tall, pale, thin, and of distinctly foreign appearance. He has black eyes, black imperial, and looks like a South American, which, by the bye, I think he is. Does that description help you to recognize him?"
"I think so, sir," the man answered. "Do you happen to know whether, by any chance, he would be a friend of the Chinese ambassador?"
"I should think it very likely," I answered. "He is staying here, then?"
"He was staying here until a few hours ago, sir," the man answered. "He came in about ten o'clock and went at once to his rooms, sent for his bill, and left the hotel in a great hurry. I remember the circumstance particularly, because he had said nothing about his going, and from the manner of his return and his hasty departure it is quite clear that he had not expected to leave so soon himself."
I was a little staggered. It seemed hard luck to have so nearly succeeded in my search, only to have failed at the last moment. It was maddening, too, to think that for all these hours I had been in the same hotel as the man whom I so greatly desired to find!
"Tell me, did he leave any address?" I asked.
"None whatever, sir," the man answered. "Our junior clerk here asked him where he would wish letters to be forwarded, and he replied that there would not be any. I think he said that he was leaving for abroad almost at once, but would call before he sailed in case there were any letters or messages for him."
"Tell me under what name he stayed here?" I asked.
"Mr. Vanderpoel," the man told me.
"He was quite alone, I suppose?" I asked.
"Absolutely," the man answered. "He had a few callers at different times, but he spent most of his time in his rooms. If you are particularly anxious to discover his whereabouts," the clerk continued, "the night porter who would have started him off is still on duty."
"I should like very much to speak to him," I said.
The clerk touched a bell, and the porter came in from outside.
"You remember Mr. Vanderpoel leaving this evening?" the clerk asked.
"Certainly, sir," the man answered. "He went at about eleven o'clock."
"Did he go in a cab?" the clerk asked.
"In a four-wheeler, sir," the porter answered.
"Do you remember what address he gave?"
The porter looked dubious for a moment.
"I don't absolutely remember, sir," he said, "but I know that it was one of the big railway stations."
The clerk turned to me.
"Is there anything else you would like to ask?" he inquired.
I shook my head.
"No, thanks!" I answered. "I am afraid there is nothing more to be learned."
The porter went back to his duties, and I bade the clerk good night. Up in my room Fritz was waiting anxiously.
"You were right and wrong," I announced. "Mr. Delora has been staying here and left to-night."
"He has gone!" Fritz exclaimed.
"He left at eleven o'clock," I answered. "He saw me, and I suppose he knew that I was looking for him. Here's half your money, anyhow," I continued, giving him a five-pound note. "The next thing to do is to find out where he has gone to. I think you could help here, Fritz."
"What must I do?" the man asked.
"First of all," I said, "go to the big railway hotels and try and find out from one of the porters—you Germans all stick together—whether any one arrived in a four-wheel cab at between eleven and twelve this evening, whose description coincides with that of Mr. Delora. I reckon that will take you most of to-morrow. When you have finished come to me at the Milan Court, and let me know how you have got on."
"So!" the man remarked, rising from his seat. "To-morrow morning I will do that. They will tell me, these fellows. I know many of them."
"Good night, Fritz, then!" I said. "Good luck!"