"You haven't heard what I have been saying." Her eyes challenged his.

"Haven't I?"

"Deny it."

He did not; again she looked at him merrily.

"Of course, I can't afford to be harsh with my rescuer. Perhaps"--in the same tone--"you really did save my life! Have you ever really saved any one--any one else, shall I say?--you who are so strong?"

A spasm as of pain pa.s.sed over his face; his look, however, was not for her; and the girl's eyes, too, had now become suddenly set afar. Was she thinking of another scene, some one her own words conjured to mind? Her mood seemed to gain in seriousness; she also became very quiet; and so almost in silence they went on to the entrance, down the street, to her home.

"_Au revoir_, and thank you!" she said there, regaining her accustomed lightness.

"Good-by! At least for the present," he added. "I am leaving London,"

abruptly.

"Leaving?" She regarded him in surprise. "To be gone long?"

"It is difficult to say. Perhaps."

"But--you must have decided suddenly?"

"Yes."

"While we have been riding home?" Again he answered affirmatively; the blue eyes looked at him long. "Is it--is it serious?"

"A little."

"Men make so much of business, nowadays," she observed, "it--it always seems serious, I suppose. We--we are moving into the country in a few weeks. Shall I--shall we, see you before then?"

"To my regret, I am afraid not."

"And after"--in a voice matter-of-fact--"I think aunt has put you down for July; a house party; I don't recall the exact dates. You will come?"

"Shall we say, circ.u.mstances permitting--" "Certainly," a little stiffly, "circ.u.mstances permitting." She gave him her hand. "_Au revoir!_ Or good-by, if you prefer it." He held the little gloved fingers; let them drop. There was a suggestion of hopelessness in the movement that fitted oddly his inherent vigor and self-poise; she started to draw away; an ineffable something held her.

"Good luck in your business!" she found herself saying, half-gaily, half-ironically.

He answered, hoa.r.s.ely, something--what?--rode off. With color flaming high, the girl looked after him until Lord Ronsdale's horse, clattering near, caused her to turn quickly.

CHAPTER VI

A CONFERENCE

The book-worms' row, hardly a street, more a short-cut pa.s.sage between two important thoroughfares, had through the course of many years exercised a subtle fascination for pedant, pedagogue or itinerant litterateur. At one end of the way was rush and bustle; at the other, more rush and bustle; here might be found the comparative hush of the tiny stream that for a short interval has left the parent current. Dusty and musty shops looked out on either side, and within on shelves, or without on stands, unexpected bargains lay carelessly about, rare Horaces or Ovids, Greek tragedies, ponderous volumes of the golden age of the English poets and philosophers. Truth nestled in dark corners; knowledge lay hidden in frayed covers and beauty enshrined herself behind cobwebs.

Not that the thoroughfare, in its entirety, was devoted to books; nor that it housed no other people than bibliomaniacs or antiquarians!

Higher, above the little shops, small rooms, reached by rickety stairways, offered quiet corners for divers and sundry gentlemen whose occupations called for discreet and retired nooks.

In one of these places, described on the door as "a private, confidential, inquiry office," sat, on the morning following John Steele's ride in the park, a little man with ferret-like eyes at a dusty desk near a dusty window. He did not seem to be very busy, was engaged at the moment in drawing meaningless cabalistic signs on a piece of paper, when a step in the hallway and a low tapping at the door caused him to throw down his pen and straighten expectantly. A client, perhaps!--a woman?--no, a man! With momentary surprise, he gazed on the delicately chiseled features of his caller; a gentleman faultlessly dressed and wearing a spring flower in his coat.

"Mr. Gillett?" The visitor's glance veiled an expression of restlessness; his face, although mask-like, was tinted with a faint flush.

The police agent at once rose. "The same, sir, at your service; I--but I beg your pardon; unless I am mistaken--haven't we--"

"Yes; a number of years ago on the _Lord Nelson_," said the caller in a hard matter-of-fact tone. "We were fellow pa.s.sengers on her, until--"

"We became fellow occupants of one of her small boats! An aging experience! But won't you," with that deference for rank and position those of his type are pleased to a.s.sume, "honor me by being seated, Lord Ronsdale?"

As he spoke, he dusted vigorously with his handkerchief a chair which his caller, after a moment's hesitation, sank into; Mr. Gillett regarded the one he himself had been occupying; then, in an apologetic manner ventured to take it. "Your lordship is well? Your lordship looks it.

Your lordship was, last I heard, in Australia, I believe. A genuine pleasure to see your lordship once more."

The visitor offered no acknowledgment to this flattering effusion; his long fingers rubbed one another softly. He looked at the table, the window, anywhere save at the proprietor of the establishment, then said: "I saw by an advertis.e.m.e.nt in the morning papers that you had severed your connection with the force and had opened this--a private consultation bureau."

"Quite so!" The other looked momentarily embarra.s.sed. "A little friction--account of some case--unreliable witness that got tangled up--They undertook to criticize me, after all my faithful service--" He broke off. "Besides, the time comes when a man realizes he can do better for himself by himself. I am now devoting myself to a small, but strictly high-cla.s.s," with an accent, "clientele."

Lord Ronsdale considered; when he spoke, his voice was low, but it did not caress the ear. "You know John Steele, of course?"

The ferret eyes snapped. "That I do, your Lordship. What of him?"

quickly.

The caller made no reply but tapped the floor lightly with his cane, and--"What of him?" repeated Mr. Gillett.

Lord Ronsdale's glance turned; it had a strange brightness. His next question was irrelevant. "Ever think much about the _Lord Nelson,_ Gillett?"

"She isn't a boat one's apt to forget, after what happened, your Lordship," was the answer. "And if I do say it, her pa.s.sengers were of the kind to leave pleasant recollections," the police agent diplomatically added.

"Her pa.s.sengers?" The caller's thin lips compressed; a spark seemed to leap from his gaze, but not before he had dropped it. "Among them, if memory serves me, were a number of convicts?"

"A job lot of precious jailbirds that I was acting as escort of, your Lordship!"

"But who never reached Australia!" quickly.

"Drowned!--every mother's son of them!" observed Mr. Gillett, with a possible trace of complacency. "Not that I fancy the country they were going to mourned much about that. I understand a strong sentiment's growing out there against that sort of immigration."

The visitor's white hand held closer the head of his cane; the stick bent to his weight. "_Were_ they all drowned, by the way?" he observed as if seeking casual information on some subject that had partly pa.s.sed from his mind.

"No doubt of it. They were not released until the second boat got off, and then there was no time to get overboard the life rafts!"

"True." Lord Ronsdale gazed absently out of the window, through a film, as it were, at a venerable figure below; one of the species _h.e.l.luo librorum_ standing before a book-stall opposite. "Recall the day on that memorable voyage you were telling us about them--who they were, and so on?"

"Very well," replied Mr. Gillett, good-humoredly. If his caller cared to discuss generalities rather than come at once to the business at hand, whatever had brought him there, that was none of his concern. These t.i.tled gentry had a leisurely method, peculiar to themselves, of broaching a subject; but if they paid him well for his time he could afford to appear an amiable and interested listener. In this case, the thought also insinuated itself, that his visitor had something of the manner of a man who had been up late the night before; the glint of his eye was that of your fashionable gamester; Mr. Gillett smiled sympathetically.