The Lost Ambassador, E. Phillips Oppenheim [motivational books for women txt] 📗

back to my brother's hotel. Certainly in the problem of these two people who had come so curiously into my life there was very much to give me matter for thought. I believed in the girl, and trusted her. More than that I did not dare to ask myself! I should have believed in her, even if her uncle were proved to be a criminal of the most dangerous type. But none the less I could not help realizing that her present position was a singularly unfortunate one. To be alone in a big hotel, without maid or chaperon, herself caught up in this web of mystery which Louis and those others seemed to have woven around her, was in itself undesirable and unnatural. Whatever was transpiring, I was quite certain that her share in it was a passive one. She had been told to be silent, and she was silent. Nothing would ever make me believe that she was a party to any wrong-doing. And yet the more I thought of Delora the less I trusted him. At Charing Cross Station, for instance, his had not been the anxiety of a man intrusted with a difficult mission. His agitation had been due to fear,—fear abject and absolute. I had seen the symptoms more than once in my life, and there was no mistaking them. I told myself that no man could be so shaken who was engaged in honest dealings. Even now he was in hiding,—it could not be called anything else,—and the one person with whom I had come in touch who was searching for him was, without a doubt, on the side of law and justice, with at least some settled position behind him. Delora's deportment was more the deportment of a fugitive from justice than of a man in the confidence of his government.

Walking a little carelessly, I took a turn too far northward, and found myself in one of the streets leading out of Shaftesbury Avenue. I was on the point of taking a passage which would lead me more in my proper direction, when my attention was attracted by a large motor-car standing outside one of the small foreign restaurants which abound in this district. I was always interested in cars, but I noticed this one more particularly from the fact of its utter incompatibility with its surroundings. It was one of the handsomest cars I had ever seen,—a sixty to eighty horse-power Daimler,—fitted up inside with the utmost luxury. The panels were plain, and the chauffeur, who sat motionless in his place, wore dark livery and was apparently a foreigner. I slackened my pace to glance for a moment at the non-skidding device on the back tire, and as I passed on I saw the door of the little restaurant open, and a tall commissionnaire hurried out. He held open the door of the car and stood at attention. Two men issued from the restaurant and crossed the pavement. I turned deliberately round to watch them—vulgar curiosity, perhaps, but a curiosity which I never regretted. The first man—tall and powerful—wore the splendid dress and black silk cap of a Chinese of high rank. The man who followed him was Delora. I knew him in a second, although he wore a white silk scarf around his neck, concealing the lower part of his face, and a silk hat pushed down almost over his eyes. I saw his little nervous glance up and down the street, I saw him push past the commissionnaire as though in a hurry to gain the semi-obscurity of the car. I stopped short upon the pavement, motionless for one brief and fatal moment. Then I turned back and hastened to the side of the car. I knocked at the window.

"Delora," I said, "I must speak to you."

The car had begun to move. I wrenched at the handle, but I found it held on the inside with a grip which even I could not move. I looked into the broad, expressionless face of the Chinaman, who, leaning forward, completely shielded the person of the man with whom I sought to speak.

"One moment," I called out. "I must speak with Mr. Delora. I have a message for him."

The car was going faster now. I tried to jump on to the step, but the first time I missed it. Then the window was suddenly let down. The Chinaman's arm flashed out and struck me on the chest, so that I was forced to relinquish my grasp of the handle. I reeled back, preserving my balance only by a desperate effort. Before I could start in pursuit, the car had turned into the more crowded thoroughfare, and when I reached the spot where it had disappeared a few seconds later, it was lost amongst the stream of vehicles.

I went back to the restaurant. It was like a hundred others of its class—stuffy, smelly, reminiscent of the poorer business quarters of a foreign city. A waiter in a greasy dress-suit flicked some crumbs from a vacant table and motioned me to sit down. I ordered a Fin Champagne, and put half-a-crown into his hand.

"Tell me," I said, "five minutes ago a Chinaman and another man were here."

The man laid the half-crown down on the table. His manner had undergone a complete change.

"Perhaps so, sir," he answered. "We have been busy to-night. I noticed nobody."

I called the proprietor to me—a little pale-faced man with a black moustache, who had been hovering in the background. He hastened to my side, smiling and bowing. This time I did not ask him a direct question.

"I am interested in the restaurants of this quarter," I said. "Some one has told me that your dinner is marvellous!"

He smiled a little suspiciously. The word was perhaps unfortunate!

"I am bringing some friends to try it very soon," I said.

The waiter brought my Fin Champagne. I drank it and ordered a cigar.

"You have all sorts of people here," I remarked. "I noticed a Chinaman—he was very much like the Chinese ambassador, by the bye—leaving as I came in."

The proprietor extended his hands.

"We have people of every class, monsieur," he assured me. "One comes and tells his friends, and they come, and so on. I believe that there was a Chinese gentleman here to-night. One does not notice. We were busy."

I paid my bill and departed. The commissionnaire pushed open the door, whistle in hand. He looked at me a little curiously. Without doubt he had watched my attempt to speak to Delora. I drew a half-sovereign from my pocket.

"Tell me," I said, "do you want to earn that?"

He was a German, with a large pasty face and a yellow moustache. His eyes were small, and they seemed to contract with greed as they looked upon the coin.

"Sir!" he answered, with a bow.

"Who was the Chinese gentleman with the splendid motor-car?" I asked.

The man spread out his hands.

"Who can tell?" he said. "He dined here to-night in a private room."

A private room! Well, that was something, at any rate!

"You do not know his name or where he comes from?" I asked.

The man shook his head, glancing nervously towards the interior of the restaurant.

"The other gentleman?" I asked.

"I do not know his name, sir," the man declared with emphasis. "He has been here once or twice, but always alone."

I put the half-sovereign in my pocket and drew out a sovereign. The man stretched out an eager hand which he suddenly dropped. He pointed down the street. The swing door of the restaurant remained closed, but over the soiled white curtain I also could see the face of the proprietor peering out.

"It is the second turn to the left," the man said to me.

"And if you want that sovereign made into five," I said carelessly, "my name is Captain Rotherby, and I am going from here to Claridge's Hotel."

I walked down the street and left him looking after me. At the corner I glanced around. The proprietor and the commissionnaire were talking together on the pavement.

CHAPTER XXV PRIVATE AND DIPLOMATIC

The following evening I dined alone with my brother, who was, for him, in an unusually cheerful frame of mind. He talked with more interest of life and his share in it than he had done—to me, at any rate—since the tragedy which had deprived him of a home. Toward the end of dinner I asked him a question.

"Ralph," I said, "how could I meet the Chinese ambassador here?"

He stared at me for a moment.

"Why, at any of the diplomatic receptions, I suppose," he said, seeing that I was in earnest. "He is rather a pal of Freddy's. Why don't you ring up and ask him?"

"I will, the moment after dinner," I answered.

"Why this sudden interest in Orientalism?" Ralph asked curiously.

"Curiously enough, it is apropos of these Deloras," I answered. "I called to-day, but only found the girl in. The man I saw later with a Chinaman whom I believe to be the ambassador."

"What is the girl like?" my brother asked.

"Charming!" I answered. "I am writing Aunt Mary to invite her down to Feltham. The difficulty seems to be to get hold of Delora."

"So you've written Aunt Mary, eh?" Ralph remarked, looking up at me. "Austen, I believe you're gone on the girl!"

"I believe I am," I admitted equably. "So would you be if you saw her."

Ralph half closed his eyes for a moment. It was a clumsy speech of mine!

"Seriously, Austen," he continued, a few moments later, "have you ever thought of marrying?"

"Equally seriously, Ralph," I answered, "not until I met Felicia Delora."

"Felicia Delora!" my brother repeated. "It's a pretty name, at any rate. I suppose I must go and see her myself."

"Wait for a day or two, Ralph," I begged. "She is a little upset just now. Her uncle seems to be neglecting her for some precious scheme of his."

"I wonder if, by any chance, you are in earnest, Austen?" my brother asked.

"I should not be surprised," I admitted.

"It's an interesting subject, you know," Ralph continued gravely. "Considering my accident, and other things which we need not allude to, I think we may take it for granted that there's no chance of my ever having an heir. It's our duty to look ahead a little, you know, Austen. There isn't any manner of doubt that some time between now and the next ten years you will have to take up my place. I only hope you won't make such a hash of it."

"Don't talk rubbish, Ralph!" I answered.

"It isn't rubbish," he said firmly. "You go and talk to my doctor if you don't believe me. However, I hadn't meant to say anything about this to-night. Your mentioning the girl put it into my head. I want you, of course, to know that I am not forgetful of my responsibilities. Your two thousand a year may do you very well as a bachelor, but you are heir apparent to the title now, and if you should think of marrying, the Fakenham estates are yours, and the house. They bring in between six and seven thousand a year, I think,—never less."

"It's very good of you, Ralph,—" I began.

"It's nothing of the sort," he answered. "It's your rightful position. The Fakenham estates have been held by the heir apparent for generations. Tell me a little about this Miss Delora."

"I'll bring her to see you presently, Ralph," I answered.

"You are in earnest, then?" he remarked, with a smile.

"I believe so," I answered.

He looked at me once more, searchingly.

"There is something on your mind, Austen," he said,—"something bothering you. I believe it is about these Deloras, too. Is there something about them which you can't understand, eh?"

"There is, Ralph," I admitted. "You saw what Dicky said. They are people of consequence in their own country, at any rate, yet over here the man seems to behave like a hunted criminal."

"Dicky also said," Ralph remarked, "that the man was intrusted with some business over here for his government. Nasty