The girl stood for a few seconds in silence.

She had heard strange rumours regarding the man seated there before her.

Some had hinted that he, on more than one occasion, acting in an unofficial capacity, had arranged important treaties between Great Britain and a foreign Power, leaving to amba.s.sadors the arrangements of detail and the final ratification. There were whispers abroad that he was a trusted and tried agent of the British Government, but in exactly what capacity was unknown. His name frequently appeared among the invited guests of Cabinet Ministers, and he received cards for many official functions, but the actual manner in which he rendered a.s.sistance to the Government was always kept a most profound secret.

More than once Sir Hugh had mentioned the matter over the dining-table, expressing wonder as to Fetherston's real position.

"You know him well, Enid," he had exclaimed once, laughing over to her.

"What is your opinion?"

"I really haven't any," she declared. "His movements are certainly rapid, and often most mysterious."

"He's a most excellent fellow," declared the old general. "Cartwright told me so the other day in the club. Cartwright was amba.s.sador in Petrograd before the war."

Enid remembered this as she stood there, her hands behind her back.

"Before I left I heard that Paul had been called unexpectedly to Paris,"

he said a few moments later. "Has he returned?"

"Not yet, I believe. I had a letter from Blanche this morning. When it was written, two days ago, he was still absent." Then she added: "There is some mystery regarding his visit to the capital. Blanche left for Paris yesterday, I believe, for she had telegraphed to him, but received no reply."

"She has gone to Paris!" he echoed. "Why did she go? It was silly!"

"Well--because she is puzzled, I think. It was very strange that Paul, even though at the very gate, did not leave those two men and wish her adieu."

"Two men--what two men?" he asked in affected ignorance.

"The two men who stopped the car and demanded to speak with him," she said; and, continuing, described to him that remarkable midnight incident close to the chateau.

"No doubt he went to Paris upon some important business," Fetherston said, rea.s.suring her. "It was, I think, foolish of his wife to follow. At least, that's my opinion."

He knew that when madame arrived in Paris the ghastly truth must, sooner or later, be revealed.

CHAPTER XX

IN WHICH A TRUTH IS TOLD

AS Fetherston sat there, still chatting with his well-beloved, he felt a hatred of himself for being thus compelled to deceive her--to withhold from her the hideous truth of Paul's arrest.

After all, silence was best. If Walter spoke to the girl before him, then he must of necessity reveal his own connection with the affair. He knew she had been puzzled by his presence in France, but his explanation, he hoped, had been sufficient. He had a.s.sured her that the _only_ motive of his journey had been to be near her, which was, indeed, no untruth.

He saw that Enid was not altogether at her ease in his presence. Perhaps it was because of those questions and his plain outspokenness when last they met, on that forest road, where they had discussed the strange death of Harry Bellairs.

On that evening, full of suspicion and apprehension, he had decided to tear himself away from her. But, alas! he had found himself powerless to do so. Pity and sympathy filled his heart; therefore, how could he turn from her and abandon her at this moment of her peril? It was on the next day that he had discerned Weirmarsh's sinister intentions. Therefore, he had risen to watch and to combat them.

Some of his suspicions had been confirmed, nevertheless his chief object had not yet been attained--the elucidation of the mystery surrounding the remarkable death of Bellairs.

He was about to refer again to that tragic incident when Enid said suddenly: "Doctor Weirmarsh called and saw Sir Hugh this morning. You told me to tell you when next he called."

"Weirmarsh!" exclaimed the novelist in surprise. "I was not aware that he was in London!"

"He's been abroad--in Copenhagen, I think. He has a brother living there."

"He had a private talk with your stepfather, of course?"

"Yes, as usual, they were in the study for quite a long time--nearly two hours. And," added the girl, "I believe that at last they quarrelled. If they have, I'm awfully glad, for I hate that man!"

"Did you overhear them?" asked Fetherston anxiously, apprehensive lest an open quarrel had actually taken place. He knew well that Josef Blot, alias Weirmarsh, was not a man to be trifled with. If Sir Hugh had served his purpose, as he no doubt had, then he would be betrayed to the police without compunction, just as others had been.

Walter Fetherston grew much perturbed at the knowledge of this quarrel between the pair. His sole aim was to protect Sir Hugh, yet how to act he knew not.

"You did not actually hear any of the words spoken, I suppose?" he inquired of Enid.

"Not exactly, except that I heard my stepfather denounce the doctor as an infernal cur and blackguard."

"Well, and what did Weirmarsh reply?"

"He threatened Sir Hugh, saying, 'You shall suffer for those words--you, who owe everything to me!' I wonder," added the girl, "what he meant by that?"

"Who knows!" exclaimed Walter. "Some secret exists between them. You told me that you suspected it long ago."

"And I do," she said, lowering her voice. "That man holds Sir Hugh in the hollow of his hand--of that I'm sure. I have noticed after each of the doctor's visits how pale and thoughtful he always is."

"Have you tried to learn the reason of it all?" inquired the novelist quietly, his gaze fixed upon her.

"I have," she replied, with slight hesitation.

Walter Fetherston contemplated in silence the fine cat's-eye and diamond ring upon his finger--a ring sent him long ago by an anonymous admirer of his books, which he had ever since worn as a mascot.

At one moment he held this girl in distinct suspicion; at the next, however, he realised her peril, and resolved to stand by her as her champion.

Did he really and honestly love her? He put that question to himself a thousand times. And for the thousandth time was he compelled to answer in the affirmative.

"By which route do you intend travelling to Italy to-morrow?" he asked.

"By Paris and Modane. We go first for a week to Nervi, on the coast beyond Genoa," was her reply.

Fetherston paused. If she put foot in France she would, he knew, be at once placed under arrest as an accomplice of Paul Le Pontois. When Weirmarsh took revenge he always did his work well. No doubt the French police were already at Calais awaiting her arrival.

"I would change the route," he suggested. "Go by Ostend, Strasburg and Milan."

"Mrs. Caldwell has already taken our tickets," she said. "Besides, it is a terribly long way round by that route."

"I know," he murmured. "But it will be best. I have a reason--a strong reason, Enid, for urging you to go by Ostend."