"Oh! I believe nothing," I answered,--"nothing at all! Every word I have been told by both of you is a lie! Your lives are lies! G.o.d knows why I should ever have believed otherwise!" I said, looking at her.

"Let me go," Louis pleaded, "and you shall hear the truth."

"I shall be more likely to feel the knife you have in your pocket," I answered contemptuously, for I had seen his left hand struggling downward for the last few moments. "Oh! I'll let you go! I have no interest in any of you,--no interest in your cursed conspiracy, whatever it may be! Keep your story. I don't care to hear it. Lie there and talk to your accomplice!"

I sent him reeling across the room till he fell in the corner. Then I walked out, closing the sitting-room door behind me,--out into the corridor and up the stairs into my own room. Then I locked and bolted my own door and looked at my watch. It was a quarter to three. I took a Bradshaw from my bookcase, packed a few clothes myself, set an alarm clock for seven o'clock in the morning, and turned into bed. I told myself that I would not think. I told myself that there was no such person in the world as Felicia, that she had never lived, that she was only part of this nightmare from which I was freeing myself! I told myself that I would go to sleep, and I stayed awake until daylight. All the time there was only one thought in my brain!

CHAPTER XXI

A CHANGE OF PLANS

At a few minutes past nine on the following morning, I was standing outside the front door of the Court watching the piling of my luggage on to a four-wheel cab. The hall-porter stood by my side, superintending the efforts of his myrmidons.

"You had better send my letters on," I told him. "I am going down into Norfolk for several weeks,--perhaps longer."

"Very good, sir," he answered. "By the bye," he added, turning away, "this morning's letters have just arrived. There was one for you, I think."

He handed it to me, and I tore it open as I stepped on to the pavement. It was written from Feltham Court, Norfolk, and dated the previous day.

My Dear Austen,

I send you a hurried line in case you should be thinking of coming down here. I have decided to come up to London for a few weeks, and have lent the Court to Lady Mary, with the exception of the shooting, which is reserved for you. If you are in town, do look me up at Claridge's.

Ever yours,

Ralph.

I was on the point of having the cab unloaded and reconsidering my plans. Suddenly, however, like an inspiration there flashed into my mind the thought that it would not, perhaps, be such a very bad thing if, under the circ.u.mstances, I kept my altered plans to myself. So I stuffed the letter into my pocket and stepped into the four-wheeler.

"You understand, Ashley?" I said. "Send everything on to Feltham Court,--cards, letters, or anything."

"Perfectly, sir," the man answered. "I hope you will have a pleasant time, sir."

"Tell the cabman Liverpool Street," I ordered, and got in.

We rolled out of the courtyard, and I drove all the way to Liverpool Street as though to catch my train. Arrived there, however, I deposited my luggage in the cloak-room and drove back to Claridge's in a hansom. I found that my brother was installed in a suite of rooms there, and his servant, who came into the sitting-room to me at once, told me that he believed they were up for at least a month.

"His Lordship has nearly finished dressing, sir," he added. "He will be in, in a few minutes."

I took up the morning paper, but found nothing of interest there. Then my brother came in, leaning heavily on two sticks, and moving slowly. He was not more than ten years older than I was, but the shock of his accident and subsequent sufferings had aged him terribly. His hair had gone prematurely gray, and his face was deeply lined. I stepped forward and took him by the hand.

"My dear Ralph," I said, "this is really first-cla.s.s. The last time I saw you, you scarcely expected to be out of your bath-chair in six months."

"I am getting on, Austen," he answered, "thanks! I am getting on. I will sit in that easy-chair for a few minutes. Thanks! Then we will have some breakfast."

"I was starting for Feltham this morning," I told him, "when I got your letter."

"When did you get back from Paris?" he asked.

"Three or four days ago," I answered.

He raised his eyebrows.

"I know that I ought to have come at once," I said, "but there were several things in London. I found it hard to get away."

"Well?" he said.

"I met Tapilow face to face at a little French cafe," I told him.

"They tell me that he will recover, but he is maimed and scarred for life."

My brother showed no excitement--scarcely, even, any interest in my information. His face, however, had darkened.

"I am glad that you did not kill him outright," he said. "Tell me, are you likely to get into any trouble for this?"

"No!" I a.s.sured him. "The affair happened in a very dubious sort of place. I don't think I shall hear anything more about it unless from Tapilow himself."

Ralph nodded.

"We will close the chapter," he said.

"You have no news--"

"None!" he interrupted me, shortly. "We will close the chapter."

So I spoke to him no more on his own affairs. His servant brought in the letters and papers, poked the fire, and announced that breakfast was ready.

"You will have something, Austen?" he asked.

"I have only had a continental breakfast," I answered. "I dare say I can manage to eat something."

"I have a letter from d.i.c.ky," he remarked, later on. "Asks me to be civil, if I can, to some people who have been remarkably kind to him out in Brazil. They have an estate there."

I nodded.

"d.i.c.ky doing all right?" I asked.

"Seems to be," Ralph answered.

d.i.c.ky was our younger brother, and rather a wanderer.

"What is the name of the people who are coming over?" I asked.

"Some odd name," Ralph answered,--"Delora, I think."

Ralph had drawn the _Times_ towards him, and he did not notice my start. I sat looking at him in blank amazement.