Part 15 (1/2)

”Are you going?”

”Certainly!”

Felix nodded.

”Very good,” he said. ”I should advise you to cultivate his acquaintance. He is a very extraordinary man.”

”Come, Felix,” Mr. Sabin said. ”You owe me something more lucid in the way of explanations. Who is he?”

”A statesman--successful, ambitious. He expects to be Prime Minister.”

”And what have I to do with him, or he with me?” Mr. Sabin asked quietly.

Felix shook his head.

”I cannot tell you,” he said. ”Yet I fancy that you and he may some time be drawn together.”

Mr. Sabin asked no more questions, but he promptly sat down and accepted his niece's invitation. When he looked round Felix had gone. He rang the bell for Duson and handed him the note.

”My town clothes, Duson,” he ordered. ”I am lunching out.”

The man bowed and withdrew. Mr. Sabin remained for a few moments in deep thought.

”Brott!” he repeated. ”Brott! It is a singular name.”

CHAPTER XI

So this was the man! Mr. Sabin did not neglect his luncheon, nor was he ever for a moment unmindful of the grey-headed princess who chatted away by his side with all the vivacity of her race and s.e.x. But he watched Mr. Brott.

A man this! Mr. Sabin was a judge, and he appraised him rightly. He saw through that courteous geniality of tone and gesture; the ready-made smile, although it seemed natural enough, did not deceive him.

Underneath was a man of iron, square-jawed, nervous, forceful. Mr. Brott was probably at that time the ablest politician of either party in the country. Mr. Sabin knew it. He found himself wondering exactly at what point of their lives this man and he would come into contact.

After luncheon Helene brought them together.

”I believe,” she said to Mr. Brott, ”that you have never met my UNCLE.

May I make you formally acquainted? UNCLE, this is Mr. Brott, whom you must know a great deal about even though you have been away for so long--the Duc de Souspennier.”

The two men bowed and Helene pa.s.sed on. Mr. Sabin leaned upon his stick and watched keenly for any sign in the other's face. If he expected to find it he was disappointed. Either this man had no knowledge of who he was, or those things which were to come between them were as yet unborn.

They strolled together after the other guests into the winter gardens, which were the envy of every hostess in London. Mr. Sabin lit a cigarette, Mr. Brott regretfully declined. He neither smoked nor drank wine. Yet he was disposed to be friendly, and selected a seat where they were a little apart from the other guests.

”You at least,” he remarked, in answer to an observation of Mr. Sabin's, ”are free from the tyranny of politics. I am a.s.suming, of course, that your country under its present form of government has lost its hold upon you.”

Mr. Sabin smiled.

”It is a doubtful boon,” he said. ”It is true that I am practically an exile. Republican France has no need of me. Had I been a soldier I could still have remained a patriot. But for one whose leanings were towards politics, neither my father before me nor I could be of service to our country. You should be thankful,” he continued with a slight smile, ”that you are an Englishman. No const.i.tution in the world can offer so much to the politician who is strong enough and fearless enough.”

Mr. Brott glanced towards his twinkling eyes.