Part 17 (1/2)

”You mean Miss Lys?” he said.

The young man with great possessions stopped dead.

”You know her?” he said, in accents of extreme surprise. ”Then you know who the--the man was, too? At first I thought--oh, a mad thought!--because of the extraordinary resemblance!”

He was still a little incoherent, and unable to speak the thoughts that were rus.h.i.+ng through his startled brain. With shaking hand, he took out a gold cigarette-case and tried to light one of the little white tubes.

A tall policeman came up to them.

”You must move on, if you please, gentlemen,” he said. ”The pavements must be kept clear at this time of night.”

”Look here,” Sir Thomas said to Hampson, ”my name is Ducaine--Sir Thomas Ducaine. You know something of all this--you know Miss Lys. I want to talk to you. I must talk to you, sir! Now, I live only a few yards from here, my house is in Piccadilly. Won't you come and spend an hour or two with me? It would be a great kindness. I'm sure you want some supper, too, after all this terrible excitement.”

Hampson made up his mind immediately. He was attracted to the fresh-looking, strong-faced young man. He liked what he had said about the leprous play, before Joseph's appearance. And he also was terribly bewildered, and needed human companions.h.i.+p and talk. Moreover, he was faint with hunger--the emotions he had endured had robbed his blood of all his strength, and his brain had burnt up the vital force within him.

He would go with Sir Thomas.

”I thank you!” he said, noting with surprise how thin and tired his own voice was. ”I shall be glad to come. My name is Hampson, and I am the editor of a weekly newspaper.”

”We will go at once,” Sir Thomas answered, and crossing the Circus, the strangely a.s.sorted pair walked rapidly down Piccadilly.

They had traversed about a third of that street of clubs and mansions when the baronet stopped at the ma.s.sive door of a large bow-windowed house, opened it with a tiny Bramah key, and Hampson found himself, for the first time in his life, in the house of a wealthy and fas.h.i.+onable young gentleman of London.

A silent manservant took their coats, and the host led the way to a small room, which opened into the hall at the further end of it. Here another and older man was waiting--the butler, evidently. A small round table was laid for supper with dainty richness. A ma.s.s of hothouse violets stood in a silver bowl in the centre; there were tall hock-gla.s.ses of Venetian ware, purple also; and the table-cloth and serviettes were fringed with purple.

”Bring some supper at once, please!” Sir Thomas said. ”Something light, Mr. Hampson? Oh, very well! Some _consomme_, _Bryce_, some devilled oysters--yes, and an omelette afterwards. That will do.”

”And the wine, Sir Thomas?”

”Oh, bring some hock and seltzer!”

The man withdrew.

”Excuse me one moment, Mr. Hampson,” the baronet said. ”I am expecting a rather important telegram. If it has arrived, they will have put it in the library. I will go and see.”

He hurried out of the room. Hampson looked round him. The walls were panelled in white, and priceless old sporting prints, full of vivid color and movement, had been let into the panels. A great couch, covered in blue linen, with broad white stripes, was drawn up to the cosy fire, and on the tiger skin which served as a hearthrug a little j.a.panese spaniel was lying asleep. In a moment or two Sir Thomas returned. He had changed his evening coat for a smoking-jacket of quilted satin, and wore a pair of straw-woven Italian slippers upon his feet.

”Supper won't be a moment,” he said, sinking down upon the couch. ”I have trained all my people to be quick. But if you are not too tired, will you tell me, or begin to tell me, what you know? This means more to me than you can possibly imagine.”

”How shall I begin?”

”Who is that man who appeared in the theatre, and swayed and held it with the force of his words?”

”He is named Joseph Bethune,” Hampson answered, ”and he is a great personal friend of my own.”

”And why was Miss Lys with him? And what do you know of her?”

With perfect frankness Hampson explained how Mary had saved his life. He told of the strange occurrences in connection with Joseph's accident, recovery, and journey to Wales.

”Miss Lys, I know,” Hampson said, ”was greatly impressed by Joseph and the occurrences connected with him. Only three days ago I met her, and we talked about him. She had not heard from her brother, with whom Joseph was staying. I had not heard from Joseph, either, for several weeks. We were both distressed.”

Suddenly, as he said this, Hampson started. He remembered the great fiery cross that he and Mary had seen hanging over London from the top of St Paul's Cathedral.