Part 21 (1/2)

Mr. Sabin rose.

”I thank you, sir,” he said, ”for the courteous manner in which you have discharged your mission.”

Lord Robert bowed.

”My good wishes,” he said, ”are yours.”

Mr. Sabin when alone called Duson to him.

”Have you any report to make, Duson?” he asked.

”None, sir!”

Mr. Sabin dismissed him impatiently.

”After all, I am getting old. He is young and he is strong--a worthy antagonist. Come, let us see what this little volume has to say about him.”

He turned over the pages rapidly and read aloud.

”Reginald Cyril Brott, born 18--, son of John Reginald Brott, Esq., of Manchester. Educated at Harrow and Merton College, Cambridge, M.A., LL.D., and winner of the Rudlock History Prize. Also tenth wrangler.

Entered the diplomatic service on leaving college, and served as junior attache at Vienna.”

Mr. Sabin laid down the volume, and made a little calculation. At the end of it he had made a discovery. His face was very white and set.

”I was at Petersburg,” he muttered. ”Now I think of it, I heard something of a young English attache. But--”

He touched the bell.

”Duson, a carriage!”

At Camperdown House he learned that Helene was out--shopping, the hall porter believed. Mr. Sabin drove slowly down Bond Street, and was rewarded by seeing her brougham outside a famous milliner's. He waited for her upon the pavement. Presently she came out and smiled her greetings upon him.

”You were waiting for me?” she asked.

”I saw your carriage.”

”How delightful of you. Let me take you back to luncheon.”

He shook his head.

”I am afraid,” he said, ”that I should be poor company. May I drive home with you, at any rate, when you have finished?”

”Of course you may, and for luncheon we shall be quite alone, unless somebody drops in.”

He took his seat beside her in the carriage. ”Helene,” he said, ”I am interested in Mr. Brott. No, don't look at me like that. You need have no fear. My interest is in him as a man, and not as a politician. The other days are over and done with now. I am on the defensive and hard pressed.”

Her face was bright with sympathy. She forgot everything except her old admiration for him. In the clas.h.i.+ng of their wills the victory had remained with her. And as for those things which he had done, the cause at least had been a great one. Her happiness had come to her through him. She bore him no grudge for that fierce opposition which, after all, had been fruitless.

”I believe you, UNCLE,” she said affectionately. ”If I can help you in any way I will.”