Part 38 (1/2)

”No, madame, we think not. They are strangers--and entirely unknown.”

Sylvia also heard the man's reply, and exclaimed--

”I hope my father has successfully escaped his enemies. It was, however, a very narrow shave. If they had seen him, they would have shot him dead, and afterwards declared it to have been an accident!”

”Surely not!” I cried. ”That would have been murder.”

”Of course. But they are desperate, and they would have wriggled out of it somehow. That was why I feared for him. But, thank Heaven, he is evidently safe.”

And she turned from the window that looked forth into the Rue de Rivoli, and then made an excuse to go to her room.

I saw that she was greatly perturbed. Her heart beat quickly, and her face, once pale as death, was now flushed crimson.

”How your father got away so rapidly was simply marvellous!” I declared. ”Why, scarcely ten seconds elapsed from the time he closed that door to Delanne's appearance on the threshold.”

”Yes. But he instantly realized his peril, and did not hesitate.”

”I am sorry, dearest, that this exciting incident should have so upset our evening,” I said, kissing her upon the brow, for she now declared herself much fatigued. ”When you have gone to your room, I shall go downstairs and learn what I can about the curious affair.

Your father's enemies evidently knew of his arrival from Brussels, for Delanne admitted that word of it was telephoned to Orleans, and he came to Paris at once.”

”Yes, he admitted that,” she said hurriedly. ”But do not let us speak of it. My father has got away in safety. For me that is all-sufficient. Good-night, Owen, dear.” And she kissed me fondly.

”Good-night, darling,” I said, returning her sweet caress; and then, when she had pa.s.sed from the room, I seized my hat and descended the big flight of red-carpeted stairs, bent on obtaining some solution of the mystery of that most exciting and curious episode.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MORE MYSTERY

Nothing definite, however, could I gather from the hotel people.

They knew nothing, and seemed highly annoyed that such an incident should occur in their quiet and highly aristocratic house.

Next day Sylvia waited for news of her father, but none came.

Delanne called about eleven o'clock in the morning, and had a brief interview with her in private. What pa.s.sed between them I know not, save that the man, whose real name was Guertin, met me rather coldly and afterwards bade me adieu.

I hated the fellow. He was always extremely polite, always just a little sarcastic, and yet, was he not the a.s.sociate of the man Reckitt?

I wished to leave Paris and return to London, but Sylvia appeared a little anxious to remain. She seemed to expect some secret communication from her father.

”Thank Heaven!” she said, on the day following Delanne's call, ”father has escaped them. That was surely a daring dash he made. He knew that they intended to kill him.”

”But I don't understand,” I said. ”Do you mean they would kill him openly?”

”Of course. They have no fear. Their only fear is while he remains alive.”

”But the law would punish them.”