"To-morrow," Mabane said, "you must tell Isobel."

"Why not to-night?" Arthur interposed.

"Why not to-night, indeed?" Isobel's soft voice asked. "If, indeed, there is anything more to tell."

We were all thunderstruck as she glided out from behind the screen which shielded the inner door, the door which led to her room. It needed only a single glance into her face to a.s.sure us that she knew everything. Her eyes were still soft with tears, shining like stars as she stood and looked at me across the floor; her cheeks were pale, and her lips were still quivering.

"I heard my name," she said. "The door was unfastened, so I stole out.

And I think that I am glad I did. I had a right to know all that I have heard. It is very wonderful. I keep thinking and thinking, and even now I cannot realize."

"You heard everything, Isobel?" Arthur exclaimed meaningly.

"Everything!" she answered, her eyes suddenly seeking the carpet. "I thank you all for what you have said and done for me. To-morrow, I think, I shall know better how I feel about these things."

"Quite right, Isobel," Allan said quietly. "There are great issues before you, and you should live with them for a little while. Do not decide anything hastily!"

Arthur pressed forward to her side.

"You will give me your hand, Isobel?" he pleaded. "You will say good-night?"

She gave it to him pa.s.sively. He raised it to his lips. It was his active p.r.o.nouncement of himself as her suitor. I watched her closely, and so did Allan. But she gave no sign. She held out her hand to us, too--a cold, sad little hand it felt--and turned away. There was something curiously subdued about her movements as well as her silence as she pa.s.sed out of sight.

Arthur took up his hat. He was nervous and uneasy. His tone was almost threatening.

"I shall be here early in the morning," he said. "I suppose you will allow me to see Isobel?"

"By all means," I answered. "As things are now you need not go away unless you like. Your room is still empty. Our compact is at an end.

Stay if you will."

He hesitated for a moment, and then threw down his hat. He sank into an easy chair, and covered his face with his hands.

"I've been a beast, I know!" he half sobbed. "I can't help it. Isobel is everything in the world to me. You fellows can't imagine how I care for her."

I laid my hand upon his shoulder--a little wearily, perhaps, though I tried to infuse some sympathy into my tone.

"Cheer up, Arthur!" I said. "You have your chance. Don't make a trouble of it yet."

Arthur shook his head despondently.

"I think," he said, "that she will go to Waldenburg!"

Book III

CHAPTER I

Arthur flung himself into the room pale, hollow-eyed, the picture of despair.

"Any news?" he cried, hopelessly enough, for he had seen my face.

"None," I answered.

"Anything from Feurgeres?"

"Not yet."

"Tell me again--where did you telegraph him?"

"Dover, Calais, Paris, Ostend, Brussels, Cologne!"

"And no reply?"

"As yet none."

"Let us look again at the note you found."

I smoothed it out upon the table. We had read it many times.

"There is something else which I must tell you before I leave England. Come to me at once. The bearer will bring you. Come alone.

"HENRI FEURGeRES.

"P.S.--You will be back in an hour. Disturb no one. It is possible that I may ask you to keep secret what I have to say."

"This note," I remarked, tapping it with my forefinger, "was taken in to Isobel by Mrs. Burdett at a quarter to eight. It was brought, she said, by a respectable middle-aged woman, with whom Isobel left the place soon after eight. We heard of this an hour later. At eleven o'clock we began the search for Monsieur Feurgeres. At three, Allan discovered that he had left the _Savoy Hotel_ at ten for St. Petersburg. Since then we have sent seven telegrams, the delivery of which is very problematical--and we have heard--nothing!"

Allan laid his hand gently upon my shoulder.

"We may get a reply from Feurgeres at any moment," he said, "but there will be no news of Isobel. That note is a forgery, Arnold."

"I am afraid it is," I admitted. "Feurgeres was a man of his word. He would never have sent for Isobel."

"Then she is lost to us," Arthur groaned.

I caught up my hat and coat.

"Not yet," I said. "I will go and see what Lady Delahaye has to say about this. It can do no harm, at any rate."

"Shall I come?" Arthur asked, half rising from his chair.

"I would rather go alone," I answered.