Chris bustled away to make the necessary arrangements. Some few hours later Lord Littimer was looking out from his luxurious private sitting-room with the a.s.sumption of being a martyr. He and Chris were dressed for dinner; they were waiting for the bell to summon them to the dining-room. When they got down at length they found quite a large number of guests already seated at the many small tables.

"Your man here?" Littimer asked, languidly.

Chris indicated two people seated in a window opposite.

"There!" she whispered. "There he is. And what a pretty girl with him!"

CHAPTER XLIX

A CHEVALIER OF FORTUNE

Littimer put up his gla.s.s and gazed with apparent vacancy in the direction of the window. He saw a tall man with a grey beard and hair; a man most immaculately dressed and of distinctly distinguished appearance.

Littimer was fain to admit that he would have taken him for a gentleman under any circ.u.mstances. In manner, style, and speech he left nothing to be desired.

"That chap has a fortune in his face and accent," Littimer said. "'Pon my word, he is a chance acquaintance that one would ask to dinner without the slightest hesitation. And the girl--"

"Is his daughter," Chris said. "The likeness is very strong."

"It is," Littimer admitted. "A singularly pretty, refined girl, with quite the grand air. It is an air that mere education seldom gives; but it seems to have done so in yonder case. And how fond they seem to be of one another! Depend upon it, Chris, whatever that man may be his daughter knows nothing of it. And yet you tell me that the police--"

"Well, never mind the police, now. We can get Mr. Steel to tell Marley all about 'John Smith' if we can't contrive to force his hand without.

But with that pretty girl before my eyes I shouldn't like to do anything harsh. Up till now I have always pictured the typical educated scoundrel as a man who was utterly devoid of feelings of any kind."

Dinner proceeded quietly enough, Chris having eyes for hardly anything else beyond the couple in the window. She rose presently, with a little gasp, and hastily lifted a tankard of iced water from the table. The girl opposite her had turned pale and her dark head had drooped forward.

"I hope it is not serious," said Chris. "Drink a little of this; it is iced."

"And they told me they had no ice in the house," the man Rawlins muttered. "A little of this, Grace. It is one of her old fainting fits.

Ah, that is better."

The man Rawlins spoke with the tenderest solicitude. The look of positive relief on his face as his daughter smiled at him told of a deep devotion and affection for the girl. Chris, looking on, was wondering vaguely whether or not she had made a mistake.

"Lord Littimer obtained our ice," she said. "Pray keep this. Oh, yes, that is Lord Littimer over there. I am his secretary."

Littimer strolled across himself and murmured his condolences. A little time later and the four of them were outside in the verandah taking ices together. Rawlins might have been, and no doubt was, a finished scoundrel, but there was no question as to his fascinating manner and his brilliant qualities as a conversationalist. A man of nerve too, and full of resources. All the same, Littimer was asking himself and wondering who the man really was. By birth he must have been born a gentleman, Littimer did not doubt for a moment.

But there was one soft spot in the man, and that was his love for his daughter. For her sake he had been travelling all over the world for years; for years he had despaired of seeing her live to womanhood. But she was gradually growing better; indeed, if she had not walked so far to-day nothing would have happened. All the time that Rawlins was talking his eyes were resting tenderly on his daughter. The hard, steely look seemed to have gone out of them altogether.

Altogether a charming and many-sided rascal, Littimer thought. He was fond, as he called it, of collecting types of humanity, and here was a new and fascinating specimen. The two men talked together till long after dark, and Rawlins never betrayed himself. He might have been an Amba.s.sador or Cabinet Minister unbending after a long period of heavy labour.

Meanwhile Chris had drawn Grace Rawlins apart from the others. The girl was quiet and self-contained, but evidently a lady. She seemed to have but few enthusiasms, but one of them was for her father. He was the most wonderful man in the world, the most kind and considerate. He was very rich; indeed, it was a good thing, or she would never have been able to see so much of the world. He had given up nearly the whole of his life to her, and now she was nearly as strong as other girls. Chris listened in a dazed, confused kind of way. She had not expected anything like this; and when had Rawlins found time for those brilliant predatory schemes that she had heard of?

"Well, what do you think of them?" Littimer asked, when at length he and Chris were alone. "I suppose it isn't possible that you and I have made a mistake?"

"I'm afraid not," Chris said, half sadly. "But what a strange case altogether."

"Pa.s.sing strange. I'll go bail that that man is born and bred a gentleman; and, what is more, he is no more of an American than I am. I kept on forgetting from time to time what he was and taking him for one of our own cla.s.s. And, finally, I capped my folly by asking him to bring his daughter for a drive to-morrow and a lunch on the Gapstone. What do you think of that?"

"Splendid," Chris said, coolly. "Nothing could be better. You will be good enough to exercise all your powers of fascination on Miss Rawlins to-morrow, and leave her father to me. I thought of a little plan tonight which I believe will succeed admirably. At first I expected to have to carry matters with a high hand, but now I am going to get Mr. Rawlins through his daughter. I shall know all I want to by to-morrow night."

Littimer smiled at this sanguine expectation.

"I sincerely hope you will," he said, drily. "But I doubt it very much indeed. You have one of the cleverest men in Europe to deal with.

Good-night."

But Chris was in no way cast down. She had carefully planned out her line of action, and the more she thought over it the more sure of success she felt. A few hours more and--but she didn't care to dwell too closely on that.

It was after luncheon that Chris's opportunity came. Lord Littimer and Grace Rawlins had gone off to inspect something especially beautiful in the way of a waterfall, leaving Chris and Rawlins alone. The latter was talking brilliantly over his cigarette.

"Is Lord Littimer any relation of yours?" he asked.

"Well, yes," Chris admitted. "I hope he will be a nearer relation before long."

"Oh, you mean to say--may I venture to congratulate--"

"It isn't quite that," Chris laughed, with a little rising in colour. "I am not thinking of Lord Littimer, but of his son.... Yes, I see you raise your eyebrows--probably you are aware of the story, as most people are.

And you are wondering why I am on such friendly terms with Lord Littimer under the circ.u.mstances. And I am wondering why you should call yourself John Smith."

The listener coolly flicked the ash from his cigarette. His face was like a mask.

"John Smith is a good name," he said. "Can you suggest a better?"

"If you ask me to do so I can. I should call myself John Rawlins."

There was just the ghost of a smile on Rawlins's lips.

"There is a man of that name," he said, slowly, "who attained considerable notoriety in the States. People said that he was the _derniere cri_ of refined rascality. He was supposed to be without feeling of any kind; his villainies were the theme of admiration amongst financial magnates. There were brokers who piously thanked Providence because Rawlins had never thought of going on the Stock Exchange, where he could have robbed and plundered with impunity. And this Rawlins always baffles the police. If he baffles them a little longer they won't be able to touch him at all. At present, despite his outward show, he has hardly a dollar to call his own. But he is on to a great _coup_ now, and, strange to say, an honest one. Do you know the man, Miss Lee?"

Chris met the speaker's eyes firmly.

"I met him last night for the first time," she said.

"In that case you can hardly be said to know him," Rawlins murmured. "If you drive him into a corner he will do desperate things. If you tried that game on with him you would regret it for the rest of your life. Good heavens, you are like a child playing about amidst a lot of unguarded machinery. Why do you do it?"

"That I will tell you presently. Mr. Rawlins, you have a daughter."

The hard look died out of the listener's eyes.

"Whom I love better than my life," he said. "There are two John Rawlins's--the one you know; and, well, the other one. I should be sorry to show you the other one."

"For the sake of your daughter I don't want to see the other one."

"Then why do you pit yourself against me like this?"

"I don't think you are displaying your usual lucidity," Chris said, coolly. Her heart was beating fast, but she did not show it. "Just reflect for a moment. I have found you out. I know pretty well what you are. I need not have told you anything of this. I need have done no more than gone to the police and told them where to find you. But I don't want to do that; I hate to do it after what I saw last night. You have your child, and she loves you. Could I unmask you before her eyes?"