Part 17 (1/2)

”Very likely,” I answered. ”I should suggest that you go and interview Miss Delora. She will probably tell you all about it.”

They were both silent. I felt quite certain that they had already done so. At that moment my own telephone bell rang. The two men exchanged quick glances. I took up the receiver.

”Is that Capitaine Rotherby?”

I recognized the voice at once. It was Miss Delora speaking.

”Yes!” I answered.

”I thought I should like to let you know,” she continued, ”that I am no longer in the least anxious about my uncle. He is always doing eccentric things, and I am sure that he will turn up,--later to-night, perhaps, or at any rate to-morrow. I do not wish any inquiries made about him. It would only annoy him very much when he came to hear of it.”

”I am very glad to hear you say so, Miss Delora,” I answered. ”To tell you the truth, there are some men here at present who are asking me questions. I have told them, however, that you are the only person to whom they should apply.”

Her voice, when she answered me, showed some signs of agitation.

”I have not asked the help of the police,” she declared, ”and I do not need it! They would have come to my rooms, but I refused to receive them.”

”I quite agree with you, Miss Delora,” I answered. ”Good night!”

”Good night, Capitaine Rotherby!” she said softly. I laid down the receiver.

”You have probably overheard my conversation,” I said to the inspector. ”After that, I can only wish you good night!”

He moved at once to the door in stolid, discontented fas.h.i.+on. The detective, however, lingered.

”Captain Rotherby,” he said, ”I cannot blame you for your decision. I think, however, it is only fair to warn you that you will probably find yourself better off in the long run if you do not mix yourself up in this affair.”

”Indeed!” I answered.

”There are wheels within wheels,” the man continued. ”I have no charge to make against Mr. Delora. I have no charge to make against any one. But I think that so far as you are concerned, you would be well advised to remember that these are merely travelling companions, and that even the most accomplished man of the world is often deceived in such. Good night, sir!”

They left me then without another word. I heard their footsteps die away along the corridor, the ring of the lift bell, the clatter of its ascent and descent. Then I undressed and went to bed.

I awoke the next morning rather late, dressed and shaved in my rooms, and descended to the cafe for breakfast. The waiter who usually served me came hurrying up with a welcoming smile.

”Monsieur Louis,” he announced, ”returned early this morning.”

”He is not here now?” I asked, looking around the room.

The waiter smiled deprecatingly.

”But for the early breakfast, no, sir!” he said. ”Monsieur Louis will come at one o'clock, perhaps,--perhaps not until dinner-time. He will be here to-day, though.”

I unfolded my paper and looked through the list of accidents. There was nothing which could possibly have applied to Mr. Delora. I waited until eleven o'clock, and then sent up my name to Miss Delora. A reply came back almost at once,--Miss Delora had gone out an hour ago, and had left no word as to the time of her return. Once more I was puzzled. Why should she go out unless she had received some news? She had told me that she had no friends in London. It was scarcely likely that she would go out on any casual expedition in her present state of uncertainty. I made my way to the manager's office, whom I knew very well, and with whom I had often had a few minutes' talk. He received me with his usual courtesy, and gave me a handful of cigarettes to try. I lit one, and seated myself in his easy-chair.

”Mr. Helmsley,” I said, ”you know that I am not, as a rule, a curious person, and I should not like to ask you any questions which you thought improper ones, but you have some guests staying here in whom I am somewhat interested.”

Mr. Helmsley nodded, and by his genial silence invited me to proceed.

”I mean Mr. Delora and his niece,” I continued.