Part 2 (1/2)
”Yes; I think that I understand you,” Mr. Sabin said, his piercing eyes raised now from the ground and fixed upon the other man's face. ”You have given me food for serious thought. I shall do nothing further till I have talked with you again.”
Harcutt suddenly and swiftly withdrew. He had stayed as long as he dared. At any moment his presence might have been detected, and he would have been involved in a situation which even the nerve and effrontery acquired during the practice of his profession could not have rendered endurable. He found a seat in an adjoining room, and sat quite still, thinking. His brain was in a whirl. He had almost forgotten the special object of his quest. He felt like a conspirator. The fascination of the unknown was upon him. Their first instinct concerning these people had been a true one. They were indeed no ordinary people. He must follow them up--he must know more about them. Once more he thought over what he had heard. It was mysterious, but it was interesting. It might mean anything. The man with Mr. Sabin he had recognised the moment he spoke. It was Baron von Knigenstein, the German Amba.s.sador. Those were strange words of his. He pondered them over again. The journalistic fever was upon him. He was no longer in love. He had overheard a few words of a discussion of tremendous import. If only he could get the key to it! If only he could follow this thing through, then farewell to society paragraphing and playing at journalism. His reputation would be made for ever!
He rose, and finding his way to the refreshment-room, drank off a gla.s.s of champagne. Then he walked back to the main salon. Standing with his back to the wall, and half-hidden by a tall palm tree, was Densham. He was alone. His arms were folded, and he was looking out upon the dancers with a gloomy frown. Harcutt stepped softly up to him.
”Well, how are you getting on, old chap?” he whispered in his ear.
Densham started, and looked at Harcutt in blank surprise.
”Why, how the--excuse me, how on earth did you get in?” he exclaimed.
Harcutt smiled in a mysterious manner.
”Oh! we journalists are trained to overcome small difficulties,” he said airily. ”It wasn't a very hard task. The Morning is a pretty good pa.s.sport. Getting in was easy enough. Where is--she?”
Densham moved his head in the direction of the broad s.p.a.ce at the head of the stairs, where the Amba.s.sador and his wife had received their guests.
”She is under the special wing of the Princess. She is up at that end of the room somewhere with a lot of old frumps.”
”Have you asked for an introduction?”
Densham nodded.
”Yes, I asked young Lobenski. It is no good. He does not know who she is; but she does not dance, and is not allowed to make acquaintances. That is what it comes to, anyway. It was not a personal matter at all. Lobenski did not even mention my name to his mother. He simply said a friend. The Princess replied that she was very sorry, but there was some difficulty. The young lady's guardian did not wish her to make acquaintances for the present.”
”Her guardian! He's not her father, then?”
”No! It was either her guardian or her uncle! I am not sure which. By Jove! There they go! They're off.”
They both hurried to the cloak-room for their coats, and reached the street in time to see the people in whom they were so interested coming down the stairs towards them. In the glare of the electric light, the girl's pale, upraised face shone like a piece of delicate statuary. To Densham, the artist, she was irresistible. He drew Harcutt right back amongst the shadows.
”She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life,” he said deliberately. ”t.i.tian never conceived anything more exquisite. She is a woman to paint and to wors.h.i.+p!”
”What are you going to do now?” Harcutt asked drily. ”You can rave about her in your studio, if you like.”
”I am going to find out where she lives, if I have to follow her home on foot! It will be something to know that.”
”Two of us,” Harcutt protested. ”It is too obvious.”
”I can't help that,” Densham replied. ”I do not sleep until I have found out.”
Harcutt looked dubious.
”Look here,” he said, ”we need not both go! I will leave it to you on one condition.”
”Well?”
”You must let me know to-morrow what you discover.”
Densham hesitated.
”Agreed,” he decided. ”There they go! Good-night. I will call at your rooms, or send a note, to-morrow.”
Densham jumped into his cab and drove away. Harcutt looked after them thoughtfully.
”The girl is very lovely,” he said to himself, as he stood on the pavement waiting for his carriage; ”but I do not think that she is for you, Densham, or for me! On the whole, I am more interested in the man!”
CHAPTER V.
THE DILEMMA OF WOLFENDEN.
Wolfenden was evidently absolutely unprepared to see the girl whom he found occupying his own particular easy chair in his study. The light was only a dim one, and as she did not move or turn round at his entrance he did not recognise her until he was standing on the hearthrug by her side. Then he started with a little exclamation.
”Miss Merton! Why, what on earth----”
He stopped in the middle of his question and looked intently at her. Her head was thrown back amongst the cus.h.i.+ons of the chair, and she was fast asleep. Her hat was a little crushed and a little curl of fair hair had escaped and was hanging down over her forehead. There were undoubtedly tear stains upon her pretty face. Her plain, black jacket was half undone, and the gloves which she had taken off lay in her lap. Wolfenden's anger subsided at once. No wonder Selby had been perplexed. But Selby's perplexity was nothing to his own.
She woke up suddenly and saw him standing there, traces of his amazement still lingering on his face. She looked at him, half-frightened, half-wistfully. The colour came and went in her cheeks--her eyes grew soft with tears. He felt himself a brute. Surely it was not possible that she could be acting! He spoke to her more kindly than he had intended.
”What on earth has brought you up to town--and here--at this time of night? Is anything wrong at Deringham?”
She sat up in the chair and looked at him with quivering lips.
”N--no, nothing particular; only I have left.”
”You have left!”
”Yes; I have been turned away,” she added, piteously.
He looked at her blankly.
”Turned away! Why, what for? Do you mean to say that you have left for good?”
She nodded, and commenced to dry her eyes with a little lace handkerchief.
”Yes--your mother--Lady Deringham has been very horrid--as though the silly papers were of any use to me or any one else in the world! I have not copied them. I am not deceitful! It is all an excuse to get rid of me because of--of you.”
She looked up at him and suddenly dropped her eyes. Wolfenden began to see some glimmerings of light. He was still, however, bewildered.
”Look here,” he said kindly, ”why you are here I cannot for the life of me imagine, but you had better just tell me all about it.”
She rose up suddenly and caught her gloves from the table.
”I think I will go away,” she said. ”I was very stupid to come; please forget it and---- Goodbye.”
He caught her by the wrist as she pa.s.sed.