Part 17 (1/2)

”An appointment? Something over an hour ago? Yes, he had an appointment about that time, but he never kept it.” Franklyn looked at his watch. The thirty minutes of which he had spoken to Miss Strong were already nearly past. ”Can I have a bed here to-night?”

The clerk said that he could. Franklyn took a card out of his pocket-book. He scribbled on it in pencil--

”I shall be at Medina Villas till eleven. Come at once. They are very anxious to have news of you.”

Securing it in an envelope, he handed it to the clerk, instructing him, should Mr. Paxton return before he did, to let him have it at once. Then Mr. Franklyn left the hotel, meaning to walk to the cab rank, which was distant only a few yards, and then drive straight back to Medina Villas.

As he walked along the broad pavement some one stopping him, addressed him by name.

”Is that you, Mr. Franklyn?”

The speaker was John Ireland. In his professional capacity as a solicitor Mr. Franklyn had encountered the detective on more than one occasion. The detective's next question took Mr. Franklyn a little by surprise.

”Where's Mr. Paxton?”

Mr. Franklyn looked at his questioner as attentively as the imperfect light would permit. To his trained ear there was something in the inquirer's tone which was peculiar.

”Mr. Paxton! Why do you ask?”

Ireland seemed to hesitate. Then blurted out bluntly--

”Because I've a warrant for his arrest.”

Franklyn made a startled movement backwards.

”His arrest! Ireland, you're dreaming!”

”Am I? I'm not of a dreaming sort, as you ought to know by now. Look here, Mr. Franklyn, you and I know each other. I know you're Mr.

Paxton's friend, but if you'll take my advice, you won't, for his sake, try to give him a lead away from us. You've just come out of Makell's Hotel. Is he there?”

Mr. Franklyn answered, without pausing a moment for reflection.

”He is not there. Nor did they seem to be able to tell me where he is.

I'm quite as anxious to see him as you are.”

Ireland slapped his hand against his legs.

”Then I'll be hanged if I don't believe that he's given us the slip.

It'll almost serve me right if he has. I ought to have had him without waiting for a warrant, but the responsibility was a bit bigger one than I cared to take. And now some of those pretty friends of his have given him the word, and he's away. If he's clean away, and all because I s.h.i.+rked, I shall almost feel like doing time myself.”

When he spoke again Franklyn's manner was caustic.

”Since, Ireland, you appear to wish me to be a little unprofessional, perhaps you also won't mind being a little unprofessional, by way of a _quid pro quo_. Might I ask you to tell me what is the offence which is specified on the warrant which you say you hold?”

”I don't mind telling you, not the least. In the morning you'll see it for yourself in all the papers--as large as life and twice as natural.

Mr. Paxton is wanted for the robbery of the d.u.c.h.ess of Datchet's diamonds.”

If the other had struck him Mr. Franklyn could scarcely have seemed more startled.