Part 24 (1/2)
Zoe felt that her face turned pale; but she bravely smiled as the Scotland Yard man approached her.
”You see, I am back again, Miss Oppner! Do you know if Mr. Oppner has gone out?”
”I am not sure. But I think he went out with Mr. Alden.”
Sheffield's face clouded. This employment of a private detective was a sore point with the Inspector. It seemed strangely like a slight upon the official service. Not that Sheffield was on bad terms with Alden. He was too keen a diplomat for that. But he went in hourly dread that the Pinkerton man would forestall Scotland Yard.
To Sheffield it appeared impossible that Severac Bablon could much longer evade arrest. In fact, it was incomprehensible to him how this elusive character had thus far remained at large. Slowly, and by painful degrees, Sheffield was learning that Severac Bablon's organisation was more elaborate and far-reaching, and embraced more highly placed persons, than at one time he could have credited.
It would appear that there were Government officials in the group which surrounded this man, pointing to ramifications which sometimes the detective despaired of following. News from Paris, received only that morning, would seem to indicate that a similar state of affairs prevailed in the French capital. With whom, Sheffield asked himself, had he to deal? Who _was_ Severac Bablon? That he was in some way a.s.sociated with Jewish people and Jewish interests the Yard man was convinced. But he could not determine, to his own satisfaction, if Severac Bablon's activities were inimical to Juda or otherwise. It was a bewildering case.
”I hope Mr. Oppner hasn't gone out,” he said, after a pause. ”I particularly wanted to see him again.”
”Is there some new clue?” asked Zoe eagerly.
Inspector Sheffield was nonplussed. Here was the daughter of J. J.
Oppner, the last girl in the world whom any sane man would suspect of complicity in the Severac Bablon outrages; yet, for reasons of his own, Sheffield wondered if she were as wholly ignorant of Bablon's ident.i.ty as the rest of the world. He distrusted everyone. He had said to Detective-Sergeant Harborne, who was a.s.sociated with him in the case, ”Where Severac Bablon is concerned, I wouldn't trust the Lord Mayor of London--no, nor the Archbishop of Canterbury.”
Accordingly, he replied, ”I think not, Miss Oppner. I'll just run upstairs and see if there's anybody about.”
CHAPTER XII
LOVE, LUCRE AND MR. ALDEN
Zoe was waiting for Lady Mary Evershed. Lady Mary was late--an unremarkable circ.u.mstance, since Lady Mary was a woman, and less remarkable than ordinarily for the reason that Lady Mary had met Sir Richard Haredale on the way. At the time she should have been at the Astoria she was pacing slowly through St. James's Park, beside Haredale.
”My position is becoming impossible, Mary,” he said, with painful distinctness. ”Every day seems to see the time more distant, instead of nearer, when I can say good-bye to Mr. Julius Rohscheimer. My situation is little better than that of his secretary. By hard work, and it _is_ hard work to act as Rohscheimer's social Virgil!--and by harder self-repression, I have struggled to earn enough to enable me to cry quits with the other rogues who preyed upon me, when--before I knew you.
I've scarcely a shred of self-respect left, Mary!”
She looked down at the gravelled path and made no answer to his self-accusation.
”It is only my sense of humour that has saved me. But one day I shall break out! It is inevitable. I cannot pander for ever to Rohscheimer's social ambitions. Yet, if I show fight, he will break me! Saving the prospect--with a hale and hearty uncle intervening, and one of the best; may he live to be a hundred!--of the t.i.tle, and all that goes with it, what have I to offer you, Mary? I am a man sailing under false colours.
Practically, I am a salaried servant of Rohscheimer's. I don't actually draw my salary; but in recognition of my services in popularising his wife's entertainments, he keeps the vultures at bay! Bah! I despise myself!”
Mary looked up to him, tenderly reproachful.
”You silly boy!” she said. ”There is nothing dishonourable in what you do!”
”Possibly not. But how would your father like to know of my position.”
She lowered her eyes again.
”Is my father indebted to Julius Rohscheimer in any way, d.i.c.k?” she asked suddenly.
Haredale laughed nervously.
”Rohscheimer does not honour me with the whole of his confidence in financial matters,” he replied. ”It is a question Adeler would be better able to answer.”