Part 12 (1/2)

I sat and listened to the end of the story, saying never a word, though I was in one of the moods which make me a person that n.o.body but myself could stand for a moment. I should simply have smiled if wild horses had come along to tear him in two.

”So you see,” said he, at last, when I didn't speak, ”I'm in the game with you.”

”It isn't my game,” said I.

”You're playing it,” said he.

”Because I have to,” said I.

”Is it Sir Lionel who's making you play it?” he asked.

”Oh, dear, no,” I broke out, before I stopped to think.

”Then, he isn't in it?”

I thought it looked more respectable to admit that, whatever the ”game”

was, Sir Lionel and I were not playing it together.

”You're doing it for your friend,” deduced our young detective.

I gently intimated that that was _my_ business. But Mr. Burden advised me that I would be wise to accept him as my partner if I didn't want the business to fail.

”What have I done to you, that you should interfere?” I wanted to know, only I didn't dare--actually didn't _dare_, for Ellaline's sake, to speak angrily. Oh, I did feel like a worm's paper doll!

”You've made me like you, awfully,” he said.

”Then you shouldn't want to do me any harm,” I suggested.

”I don't want to do you harm,” he defended himself. ”What I want is to see as much of you as possible, and also I'd like to give Aunt Gwen a little pleasure, thrown in with mine. I want you to ask Sir Lionel to invite us to join your party. There's plenty of room for us in that big motor-car of his. I went to see it in the garage to-day.”

”You _would_!” I couldn't resist sputtering. But he took no notice.

”You needn't be afraid that Aunt Gwen's in this,” he went on to a.s.sure me. ”I've kept mum as an oyster. All she knows is that I saw you--Miss Lethbridge--in Paris, and haven't been the same man since. She helped me get to know you, of course. She's a great chum of mine, and her being an old pal of Sir Lionel's too, meant a lot for me in the beginning. She's a ripper, and stanch as they make 'em--but they _don't_ make 'em perfectly stanch where other women are concerned. And as long as you and I hunt in couples she shan't have a suspicion.”

”You'd tell her, if I refused to hunt in that way?” I asked.

”I might think it my duty to let Sir Lionel know how he's being humbugged. At present I'm shuttin' my eyes to duty, and lookin' at you.

What?”

”Why does Mrs. Senter want to come with us?” I ventured to inquire.

”Because,” explained her loyal nephew, ”she's fed up with visiting, and she loves motoring. So do I, with the right people. I'm sure it's not much to ask. We won't sponge on Sir Lionel. We'll pay our own hotel bills; and I'm sure, even though you are in a wax with me just now, you must admit Aunt Gwen and I would wake things up a bit--what? All's fair in love and war, so you oughtn't to blame me for anything I've done.

You'd think it jolly well romantic if you read it in a book.”

I denied this, but said I would consider. He must give me till to-morrow morning to make up my mind; which he flatly refused to do. To-morrow would be too late. He saw in my eye that I hoped to slip off, but it was ”no good my being foxy.” Things must be fixed up, or _blown_ up, on board this s.h.i.+p to-night.

Whether or not he really meant to do his worst, if I wouldn't give in, I can't be sure, but he looked as obstinate as six pigs, and I didn't dare risk Ellaline's future. My _own_ impression is that there's a _big_ mistake somewhere, and that she would be perfectly safe in Sir Lionel's hands if she would tell him frankly all about Honore du Guesclin--I, meanwhile, vanis.h.i.+ng through a stage trap or something. But she may be right. And I _may_ be wrong. That's why I was forced to promise d.i.c.k.

And I kept my promise, as soon as we got home to our hotel--Sir Lionel, Mrs. Norton, and I.