Part 17 (1/2)
_”Ah!”_
He dropped back in his chair. Nothing moved. The activity of the household stirred rea.s.suringly about him. He stood up, crossed to the wardrobe, and threw wide its doors.
In the pocket of a hanging coat was thrust a nickelled rod from a patent trousers-stretcher, so that it pointed out into the room.
Rohscheimer stared--and stared--and stared.
”My G.o.d!” he whispered. ”He slipped out directly he got the cheque, and I sat here all night----”
CHAPTER IX
ES-SINDIBAD OF CADOGAN GARDENS
Upon the night following the ill-omened banquet in Park Lane was held a second dinner party, in Cadogan Gardens. Like veritable gourmets, we must be present.
It is close upon the dining hour.
”Zoe is late!” said Lady Vignoles.
”I think not, dear,” her husband corrected her, consulting his celebrated chronometer. ”They have one minute in which to demonstrate the efficiency of American methods!”
”Thank you--Greenwich!” smiled her vivacious ladys.h.i.+p, whose husband's love of punctuality was the only trace of character which six months of marital intimacy had enabled her to discover in him.
”You know,” said Lord Vignoles to Zimmermann, the famous _litterateur_ of the Ghetto, ”she is proud of Yankee smartness. Only natural.” And his light blue eyes followed his wife's pretty figure as she flitted hospitably amongst her guests. Admiration beamed through his monocle.
”Lady Vignoles is a staunch American,” agreed the novelist. ”I gather that your opinion of that nation differs from hers?”
”Well, you know,” explained his host, ”I don't seriously contend--that is, when Sheila is about--I don't contend that their methods aren't smart. But it seems to me that their smartness is all--just--well, d'you see what I mean? Look at these Pinkerton fellows!”
”Those who you were telling me called upon you this morning?”
”Yes. They came over with Oppner to look for this Severac Bablon.”
”What is your contention?”
”Well,” said Vignoles, rather fl.u.s.tered at being thus pinned to the point, ”I mean to say--they haven't caught him!”
”Neither has Scotland Yard!”
”No, by Jove, you're right! Scotland Yard hasn't!”
”Do you think it likely that Scotland Yard will?” asked the other.
But Lord Vignoles, having caught his wife's eye, was performing a humorous grimace, and, watch in hand, delivering a pantomimic indictment of American unpunctuality. At which moment Miss Oppner was announced, and Lady Vignoles made a pretty _moue_ of triumph.
Zoe Oppner entered the room, regally carrying her small head crowned with the slightly frizzy mop of chestnut hair, conscious of her fine eyes, her perfect features, and her pretty shoulders, happy in her slim young beauty, and withal wholly unaffected. Therein lay her greatest charm. A beautiful woman, fully aware of her loveliness, she was too sensible to be vain of a gift of the G.o.ds--to pride herself upon a heavenly accident.
”Why, Zoe!” said Lady Vignoles, ”what's become of uncle?”