Part 22 (2/2)

”I hope so with all my heart,” he answered. But his face showed that he was deeply troubled, and my heart sank down--down.

As I realised more and more the danger in which Ivor stood, my resentment against him began to seem curiously trivial. Nothing had happened to make me feel that I had done him an injustice in thinking he cared more for Maxine de Renzie than for me--indeed, on the contrary, everything went to prove his supreme loyalty to her whose name he had refused to speak, even for the sake of clearing himself. Still, now that the world was against him, my soul rushed to stand by his side, to defend him, to give him love and trust in spite of all.

Down deep in my heart I forgave him, even though he had been cruel, and I yearned over him with an exceeding tenderness. More than anything on earth, I wanted to help him; and I meant to try. Indeed, as the talk went on while that terrible meal progressed, I thought I saw a way to do it, if Lisa and I should act together.

I was so anxious to have a talk with her that I could hardly wait to get back to our own hotel, from the Ritz. Fortunately, n.o.body wanted to sit long at lunch, so it wasn't yet three when I called her into my room.

The men had gone to make different arrangements about starting, for we were not to leave Paris until they had had time to do something for Ivor. Uncle Eric went to see the British Amba.s.sador, and Aunt Lilian had said that she would be busy for at least an hour, writing letters and telegrams to cancel engagements we had had in London. For awhile Lisa and I were almost sure not to be interrupted; but I spoke out abruptly what was in my mind, not wis.h.i.+ng to lose a minute.

”I think the only thing for us to do,” I said, ”is to tell what we know, and save Ivor in spite of himself.”

”How can anything you know save him?” she asked, with a queer, faint emphasis which I didn't understand.

”Don't you see,” I cried, ”that if we come forward and say we saw him in the Rue d'Hollande at a quarter past twelve--going into a house there--he couldn't have murdered the man in that other house, far away.

It all hangs on the time.”

”But you didn't see him go in,” Lisa contradicted me.

I stared at her. ”_You_ did. Isn't it the same thing?”

”No, not unless I choose to say so.”

”And--but you will choose. You want to save him, of course.”

”Why?”

”Because he's innocent. Because he's your friend.”

”No man is the friend of any woman, if he's in love with another.”

”Oh, Lisa, does sophistry of that sort matter? Does anything matter except saving him?”

”I don't consider,” she said, in a slow, aggravating way, ”that Ivor Dundas has behaved very well to--to our family. But I want you to understand this, Di. If he is to be got out of this danger--no doubt it's real danger--in any such way as you propose, it's for _me_ to do it, not you. He'll have to owe his grat.i.tude to me. And there's something else I can do for him, perhaps--I, and only I. A thing of value was stolen from him, it seems, a thing he was anxious to get back at any price--even the price of looking for it on a dead man's body.

Well, I think I know what that thing was--I think I have it.”

”What do you mean?” I asked, astonished at her and at her manner--and her words.

”I'm not going to tell you what I mean. Only I'm sure of what I'm saying--at least, that the thing _is_ valuable, worth risking a great deal for. I learned that from experts this morning, while you and your aunt were thinking about hats.”

For an instant I was completely bewildered. Then, suddenly, a strange idea sprang into my mind:

”That brocade bag you picked up in the Rue d'Hollande last night!”

It was the first time I had thought of it from that moment to this--there had been so many other things which seemed more important.

Lisa looked annoyed. I think she had counted on my not remembering, or not connecting her hints with the thing she had found in the street, and that she had wanted to tantalise me.

”I won't say whether I mean the brocade bag or not, and whether, if I do, that I believe Ivor dropped it, or whether there was another man mixed up in the case--perhaps the real murderer. If I _do_ decide to tell what I know and what I suspect, it won't be to you--unless for a very particular reason--and it won't be yet awhile.”

<script>