Part 4 (2/2)
”No, we came together,” I answered. ”We met at Charing Cross, and he spoke to me. He knew my name, and reminded me that we had once met at the 'Vagabonds' Club.'”
”Did you remember him?”
”I cannot say that I did,” I answered.
”And afterwards?”
”We talked together for some time, and when we left the station he asked me to lunch here.”
”Did he arrive by train, or was he meeting anyone at Charing Cross?” the sergeant asked.
”Neither, so far as I could see,” I answered. ”He seemed to be simply loitering. I ought to tell you, though, that we saw Major Delahaye and this young lady arrive by the Continental train, and he seemed to be interested in them.”
The sergeant turned to Isobel.
”Did you know him?” he asked.
”No,” she answered. ”I did not notice him at the station at all. I saw that he was sitting at the same table downstairs as this gentleman, but I am quite sure that I have never seen him before in my life.”
The sergeant put away his pocket-book.
”I am very sorry to trouble you,” he said, ”but I think it would be better for you all to come to Bow Street and see the superintendent.”
”I am quite willing to do so,” I answered, ”though I can tell him no more than I have told you.”
The child moved suddenly towards me. Her thin, shabbily gloved fingers gripped my arm with almost painful force. Her eyes were full of pa.s.sionate appeal.
”I may go with you,” she murmured. ”You will not leave me alone?”
”The young lady will be required also,” the sergeant remarked.
”We will go together, of course,” I said gently. ”Come!”
CHAPTER V
We crossed the road from the police-station, and found ourselves in one of the narrow streets fringing Covent Garden. The air was fragrant here with the perfume of white and purple lilac, great baskets full of which were piled up in the gutter. The girl half closed her eyes.
”Delicious!” she murmured. ”This reminds me of St. Argueil! You have flowers too, then, in London?”
I bought her a handful, which she sniffed and held to her face with delight.
”Ah!” she said a little sadly. ”I had forgotten that there were any beautiful things left in the world. Thank you so much, Mr. Arnold.”
”At your age,” I said cheerfully, ”you will soon find out that the world--even London--is a treasure-house of beautiful things.”
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