The Primadonna Page 11

  CHAPTER XI

  Mr. Van Torp was walking slowly down the Elm Walk in the park at OxleyPaddox. The ancient trees were not in full leaf yet, but there weremyriads of tiny green feather points all over the rough brown branchesand the smoother twigs, and their soft colour tinted the luminousspring air. High overhead all sorts and conditions of little birdswere chirping and trilling and chattering together and by turns, andon the ground the sparrows were excessively busy and talkative, whilethe squirrels made wild dashes across the open, and stopped suddenlyto sit bolt upright and look about them, and then dashed on again.

  Little Ida walked beside the millionaire in silence, trustfullyholding one of his hands, and as she watched the sparrows she triedto make out what sort of sound they could be making when they hoppedforward and opened their bills so wide that she could distinctly seetheir little tongues. Mr. Van Torp's other hand held a newspaper, andhe was reading the article about himself which Margaret had shown toLady Maud. He did not take that particular paper, but a marked copyhad been sent to him, and in due course had been ironed and laid onthe breakfast-table with those that came regularly. The article wasmarked in red pencil.

  He read it slowly with a perfectly blank expression, as if itconcerned some one he did not know. Once only, when he came uponthe allusion to the little girl, his eyes left the page and glancedquietly down at the large red felt hat with its knot of ribbandsthat moved along beside him, and hid all the child's face except thedelicate chin and the corner of the pathetic little mouth. She did notknow that he looked down at her, for she was intent on the sparrows,and he went back to the article and read to the end.

  Then, in order to fold the paper, he gently let go of Ida's hand, andshe looked up into his face. He did not speak, but his lips moveda little as he doubled the sheet to put it into his pocket; andinstantly the child's expression changed, and she looked hurt andfrightened, and stretched up her hand quickly to cover his mouth, asif to hide the words his lips were silently forming.

  'Please, please!' she said, in her slightly monotonous voice. 'Youpromised me you wouldn't any more!'

  'Quite right, my dear,' answered Mr. Van Torp, smiling, 'and Iapologise. You must make me pay a forfeit every time I do it. Whatshall the forfeit be? Chocolates?'

  She watched his lips, and understood as well as if she had heard.

  'No,' she answered demurely. 'You mustn't laugh. When I've doneanything wicked and am sorry, I say the little prayer Miss More taughtme. Perhaps you'd better learn it too.'

  'If you said it for me,' suggested Mr. Van Torp gravely, 'it would bemore likely to work.'

  'Oh no! That wouldn't do at all! You must say it for yourself. I'llteach it to you if you like. Shall I?'

  'What must I say?' asked the financier.

  'Well, it's made up for me, you see, and besides, I've shortened it awee bit. What I say is: "Dear God, please forgive me this time, andmake me never want to do it again. Amen." Can you remember that, doyou think?'

  'I think I could,' said Mr. Van Torp. 'Please forgive me and make menever do it again.'

  'Never want to do it again,' corrected little Ida with emphasis. 'Youmust try not even to want to say dreadful things. And then you mustsay "Amen." That's important.'

  'Amen,' repeated the millionaire.

  At this juncture the discordant toot of an approaching motor-car washeard above the singing of the birds. Mr. Van Torp turned hishead quickly in the direction of the sound, and at the same timeinstinctively led the little girl towards one side of the road. Sheapparently understood, for she asked no questions. There was a turn inthe drive a couple of hundred yards away, where the Elm Walk ended,and an instant later an enormous white motor-car whizzed into sight,rushed furiously towards the two, and was brought to a standstill inan uncommonly short time, close beside them. An active man, in theusual driver's disguise of the modern motorist, jumped down, and atthe same instant pushed his goggles up over the visor of his capand loosened the collar of his wide coat, displaying the face ofConstantino Logotheti.

  'Oh, it's you, is it?' Mr. Van Torp asked the wholly superfluousquestion in a displeased tone. 'How did you get in? I've givenparticular orders to let in no automobiles.'

  'I always get in everywhere,' answered Logotheti coolly. 'May I seeyou alone for a few minutes?'

  'If it's business, you'd better see Mr. Bamberger,' said Van Torp.'I came here for a rest. Mr. Bamberger has come over for a few days.You'll find him at his chambers in Hare Court.'

  'No,' returned Logotheti, 'it's a private matter. I shall not keep youlong.'

  'Then run us up to the house in your new go-cart.'

  Mr. Van Torp lifted little Ida into the motor as if she had been arather fragile china doll instead of a girl nine years old and quiteable to get up alone, and before she could sit down he was beside her.Logotheti jumped up beside the chauffeur and the machine ran up thedrive at breakneck speed. Two minutes later they all got out more thana mile farther on, at the door of the big old house. Ida ran away tofind Miss More; the two men entered together, and went into the study.

  The room had been built in the time of Edward Sixth, had beendecorated afresh under Charles the Second, the furniture was of thetime of Queen Anne, and the carpet was a modern Turkish one, wovenin colours as fresh as paint to fit the room, and as thick as a downquilt: it was the sort of carpet which has come into existence withthe modern hotel.

  'Well?' Mr. Van Torp uttered the monosyllable as he sat down in hisown chair and pointed to a much less comfortable one, which Logothetitook.

  'There's an article about you,' said the latter, producing a paper.

  'I've read it,' answered Mr. Van Torp in a tone of stony indifference.

  'I thought that was likely. Do you take the paper?'

  'No. Do you?'

  'No, it was sent to me,' Logotheti answered. 'Did you happen to glanceat the address on the wrapper of the one that came to you?'

  'My valet opens all the papers and irons them.'

  Mr. Van Torp looked very bored as he said this, and he stared stonilyat the pink and green waistcoat which his visitor's unfastened coatexposed to view. Hundreds of little gold beads were sewn upon it atthe intersections of the pattern. It was a marvellous creation.

  'I had seen the handwriting on the one addressed to me before,'Logotheti said.

  'Oh, you had, had you?'

  Mr. Van Torp asked the question in a dull tone without the slightestapparent interest in the answer.

  'Yes,' Logotheti replied, not paying any attention to his host'sindifference. 'I received an anonymous letter last winter, and thewriting of the address was the same.'

  'It was, was it?'

  The millionaire's tone did not change in the least, and he continuedto admire the waistcoat. His manner might have disconcerted a personof less assurance than the Greek, but in the matter of nerves the twofinanciers were well matched.

  'Yes,' Logotheti answered, 'and the anonymous letter was about you,and contained some of the stories that are printed in this article.'

  'Oh, it did, did it?'

  'Yes. There was an account of your interview with the Primadonna at ahotel in New York. I remember that particularly well.'

  'Oh, you do, do you?'

  'Yes. The identity of the handwriting and the similarity of thewording make it look as if the article and the letter had been writtenby the same person.'

  'Well, suppose they were--I don't see anything funny about that.'

  Thereupon Mr. Van Torp turned at last from the contemplation of thewaistcoat and looked out of the bay-window at the distant trees, as ifhe were excessively weary of Logotheti's talk.

  'It occurred to me,' said the latter, 'that you might like to stop anyfurther allusions to Miss Donne, and that if you happened to recognizethe handwriting you might be able to do so effectually.'

  'There's nothing against Madame Cordova in the article,' answered Mr.Van Torp, and his aggressive blue eyes turned sharply to his visitor'salmond-shaped brown ones. 'You ca
n't say there's a word against her.'

  'There may be in the next one,' suggested Logotheti, meeting the lookwithout emotion. 'When people send anonymous letters about broadcastto injure men like you and me, they are not likely to stick at such amatter as a woman's reputation.'

  'Well--maybe not.' Mr. Van Torp turned his sharp eyes elsewhere. 'Youseem to take quite an interest in Madame Cordova, Mr. Logotheti,' heobserved, in an indifferent tone.

  'I knew her before she went on the stage, and I think I may callmyself a friend of hers. At all events, I wish to spare her anyannoyance from the papers if I can, and if you have any regard for heryou will help me, I'm sure.'

  'I have the highest regard for Madame Cordova,' said Mr. Van Torp, andthere was a perceptible change in his tone; 'but after this, I guessthe best way I can show it is to keep out of her track. That's aboutall there is to do. You don't suppose I'm going to bring an actionagainst that paper, do you?'

  'Hardly!' Logotheti smiled.

  'Well, then, what do you expect me to do, Mr. Logotheti?'

  Again the eyes of the two men met.

  'I'll tell you,' answered the Greek. 'The story about your visit toMiss Donne in New York is perfectly true.'

  'You're pretty frank,' observed the American.

  'Yes, I am. Very good. The man who wrote the letter and the articleknows you, and that probably means that you have known him, though youmay never have taken any notice of him. He hates you, for some reason,and means to injure you if he can. Just take the trouble to find outwho he is and suppress him, will you? If you don't, he will throw moremud at honest women. He is probably some underling whose feelings youhave hurt, or who has lost money by you, or both.'

  'There's something in that,' answered Mr. Van Torp, showing a littlemore interest. 'Do you happen to have any of his writing about you?I'll look at it.'

  Logotheti took a letter and a torn piece of brown paper from hispocket and handed both to his companion.

  'Read the letter, if you like,' he said. 'The handwriting seems to bethe same as that on the wrapper.'

  Mr. Van Torp first compared the address, and then proceeded to readthe anonymous letter. Logotheti watched his face quietly, but it didnot change in the least. When he had finished, he folded the sheet,replaced it in the envelope, and returned it with the bit of paper.

  'Much obliged,' he said, and he looked out of the window again and wassilent.

  Logotheti leaned back in his chair as he put the papers into hispocket again, and presently, as Mr. Van Torp did not seem inclined tosay anything more, he rose to go. The American did not move, and stilllooked out of the window.

  'You originally belonged to the East, Mr. Logotheti, didn't you?' heasked suddenly.

  'Yes. I'm a Greek and a Turkish subject.'

  'Do you happen to know the Patriarch of Constantinople?'

  Logotheti stared in surprise, taken off his guard for once.

  'Very well indeed,' he answered after an instant. 'He is my uncle.'

  'Why, now, that's quite interesting!' observed Mr. Van Torp, risingdeliberately and thrusting his hands into his pockets.

  Logotheti, who knew nothing about the details of Lady Maud's pendingdivorce, could not imagine what the American was driving at, andwaited for more. Mr. Van Torp began to walk up and down, with hisrather clumsy gait, digging his heels into vivid depths of the newSmyrna carpet at every step.

  'I wasn't going to tell you,' he said at last, 'but I may just aswell. Most of the accusations in that letter are lies. I didn't blowup the subway. I know it was done on purpose, of course, but I hadnothing to do with it, and any man who says I had, takes me for afool, which you'll probably allow I'm not. You're a man of business,Mr. Logotheti. There had been a fall in Nickel, and for weeks beforethe explosion I'd been making a considerable personal sacrifice tosteady things. Now you know as well as I do that all big accidentsare bad for the market when it's shaky. Do you suppose I'd havedeliberately produced one just then? Besides, I'm not a criminal. Ididn't blow up the subway any more than I blew up the Maine to bringon the Cuban war! The man's a fool.'

  'I quite agree with you,' said the Greek, listening with interest.

  'Then there's another thing. That about poor Mrs. Moon, who's goneout of her mind. It's nonsense to say I was the reason of Bamberger'sdivorcing his wife. In the first place, there are the records of thedivorce, and my name was never mentioned. I was her friend, that'sall, and Bamberger resented it--he's a resentful sort of man anyway.He thought she'd marry me as soon as he got the divorce. Well, shedidn't. She married old Alvah Moon, who was the only man she evercared for. The Lord knows how it was, but that wicked old scarecrowmade all the women love him, to his dying day. I had a high regard forMrs. Bamberger, and I suppose she was right to marry him if she likedhim. Well, she married him in too much of a hurry, and the child thatwas born abroad was Bamberger's and not his, and when he found it outhe sent the girl East and would never see her again, and didn't leaveher a cent when he died. That's the truth about that, Mr. Logotheti. Itell you because you've got that letter in your pocket, and I'd ratherhave your good word than your bad word in business any day.'

  'Thank you,' answered Logotheti. 'I'm glad to know the facts in thecase, though I never could see what a man's private life can have todo with his reputation in the money market!'

  'Well, it has, in some countries. Different kinds of cats havedifferent kinds of ways. There's one thing more, but it's not in theletter, it's in the article. That's about Countess Leven, and it's theworst lie of the lot, for there's not a better woman than she is fromhere to China. I'm not at liberty to tell you anything of the mattershe's interested in and on which she consults me. But her father ismy next neighbour here, and I seem to be welcome at his house; he's apretty sensible man, and that makes for her, it seems to me. As forthat husband of hers, we've a good name in America for men like him.We'd call him a skunk over there. I suppose the English word ispolecat, but it doesn't say as much. I don't think there's anythingelse I want to tell you.'

  'You spoke of my uncle, the Patriarch,' observed Logotheti.

  'Did I? Yes. Well, what sort of a gentleman is he, anyway?'

  The question seemed rather vague to the Greek.

  'How do you mean?' he inquired, buttoning his coat over the wonderfulwaistcoat.

  'Is he a friendly kind of a person, I mean? Obliging, if you take himthe right way? That's what I mean. Or does he get on his ear rightaway?'

  'I should say,' answered Logotheti, without a smile, 'that he gets onhis ear right away--if that means the opposite of being friendly andobliging. But I may be prejudiced, for he does not approve of me.'

  'Why not, Mr. Logotheti?'

  'My uncle says I'm a pagan, and worship idols.'

  'Maybe he means the Golden Calf,' suggested Mr. Van Torp gravely.

  Logotheti laughed.

  'The other deity in business is the Brazen Serpent, I believe,' heretorted.

  'The two would look pretty well out there on my lawn,' answered Mr.Van Torp, his hard face relaxing a little.

  'To return to the point. Can I be of any use to you with thePatriarch? We are not on bad terms, though he does think me a heathen.Is there anything I can do?'

  'Thank you, not at present. Much obliged. I only wanted to know.'

  Logotheti's curiosity was destined to remain unsatisfied. He refusedMr. Van Torp's not very pressing invitation to stay to luncheon, givenat the very moment when he was getting into his motor, and a fewseconds later he was tearing down the avenue.

  Mr. Van Torp stood on the steps till he was out of sight and then camedown himself and strolled slowly away towards the trees again, hishands behind him and his eyes constantly bent upon the road, threepaces ahead.

  He was not always quite truthful. Scruples were not continuallyuppermost in his mind. For instance, what he had told Lady Maud abouthis engagement to poor Miss Bamberger did not quite agree with what hehad said to Margaret on the steamer.

  In certain markets in
New York, three kinds of eggs are offered forsale, namely, Eggs, Fresh Eggs, and Strictly Fresh Eggs. I have seenthe advertisement. Similarly in Mr. Van Torp's opinion there werethree sorts of stories, to wit, Stories, True Stories, and StrictlyTrue Stories. Clearly, each account of his engagement must havebelonged to one of these classes, as well as the general statement hehad made to Logotheti about the charges brought against him in theanonymous letter. The reason why he had made that statement was plainenough; he meant it to be repeated to Margaret because he reallywished her to think well of him. Moreover, he had recognised thehandwriting at once as that of Mr. Feist, Isidore Bamberger's formersecretary, who knew a good many things and might turn out a dangerousenemy.

  But Logotheti, who knew something of men, and had dealt with somevery accomplished experts in fraud from New York and London toConstantinople, had his doubts about the truth of what he had heard,and understood at once why the usually reticent American had talkedso much about himself. Van Torp, he was sure, was in love with thesinger; that was his weak side, and in whatever affected her he mightbehave like a brute or a baby, but would certainly act with somethinglike rudimentary simplicity in either case. In Logotheti's opinionNorthern and English-speaking men might be as profound as Persians inmatters of money, and sometimes were, but where women were concernedthey were generally little better than sentimental children, unlessthey were mere animals. Not one in a thousand cared for the societyof women, or even of one particular woman, for its own sake, for thecompanionship, and the exchange of ideas about things of which womenknow how to think. To the better sort, that is, to the sentimentalones, a woman always seemed what she was not, a goddess, a saint, ora sort of glorified sister; to the rest, she was an instrument ofamusement and pleasure, more or less necessary and more or lesspurchasable. Perhaps an Englishman or an American, judging Greeks fromwhat he could learn about them in ordinary intercourse, would getabout as near the truth as Logotheti did. In his main conclusion thelatter was probably right; Mr. Van Torp's affections might be of suchexuberant nature as would admit of being divided between two or threeobjects at the same time, or they might not. But when he spoke ofhaving the 'highest regard' for Madame Cordova, without denying thefacts about the interview in which he had asked her to marry him andhad lost his head because she refused, he was at least admitting thathe was in love with her, or had been at that time.

  Mr. Van Torp also confessed that he had entertained a 'high regard'for the beautiful Mrs. Bamberger, now unhappily insane. It wasnoticeable that he had not used the same expression in speaking ofLady Maud. Nevertheless, as in the Bamberger affair, he appeared asthe chief cause of trouble between husband and wife. Logotheti wasconsidered 'dangerous' even in Paris, and his experiences had notbeen dull; but, so far, he had found his way through life withoutinadvertently stepping upon any of those concealed traps through whichthe gay and unwary of both sexes are so often dropped into the divorcecourt, to the surprise of everybody. It seemed the more strange tohim that Rufus Van Torp, only a few years his senior, should now findhimself in that position for the second time. Yet Van Torp was nota ladies' man; he was hard-featured, rough of speech, and clumsy offigure, and it was impossible to believe that any woman could thinkhim good-looking or be carried away by his talk. The case of Mrs.Bamberger could be explained; she might have had beauty, but shecould have had little else that would have appealed to such a man asLogotheti. But there was Lady Maud, an acknowledged beauty in London,thoroughbred, aristocratic, not easily shocked perhaps, but easilydisgusted, like most women of her class; and there was no doubt butthat her husband had found her under extremely strange circumstances,in the act of receiving from Van Torp a large sum of money for whichshe altogether declined to account. Van Torp had not denied that storyeither, so it was probably true. Yet Logotheti, whom so many womenthought irresistible, had felt instinctively that she was one of thosewho would smile serenely upon the most skilful and persistent besiegerfrom the security of an impregnable fortress of virtue. Logotheti didnot naturally feel unqualified respect for many women, but since hehad known Lady Maud it had never occurred to him that any one couldtake the smallest liberty with her. On the other hand, though he wasgenuinely in love with Margaret and desired nothing so much as tomarry her, he had never been in the least afraid of her, and he haddeliberately attempted to carry her off against her will; and if shehad looked upon his conduct then as anything more serious than a madprank, she had certainly forgiven it very soon.

  The only reason for his flying visit to Derbyshire had been his desireto keep Margaret's name out of an impending scandal in which heforesaw that Mr. Van Torp and Lady Maud were to be the centralfigures, and he believed that he had done something to bring aboutthat result, if he had started the millionaire on the right scent. Hejudged Van Torp to be a good hater and a man of many resources, whowould not now be satisfied till he had the anonymous writer of theletter and the article in his power. Logotheti had no means ofguessing who the culprit was, and did not care to know.

  He reached town late in the afternoon, having covered something likethree hundred miles since early morning. About seven o'clock hestopped at Margaret's door, in the hope of finding her at home and ofbeing asked to dine alone with her, but as he got out of his hansomand sent it away he heard the door shut and he found himself face toface with Paul Griggs.

  'Miss Donne is out,' said the author, as they shook hands. 'She's beenspending the day with the Creedmores, and when I rang she had justtelephoned that she would not be back for dinner!'

  'What a bore!' exclaimed Logotheti.

  The two men walked slowly along the pavement together, and for sometime neither spoke. Logotheti had nothing to do, or believed sobecause he was disappointed in not finding Margaret in. The elder manlooked preoccupied, and the Greek was the first to speak.

  'I suppose you've seen that shameful article about Van Torp,' he said.

  'Yes. Somebody sent me a marked copy of the paper. Do you know whetherMiss Donne has seen it?'

  'Yes. She got a marked copy too. So did I. What do you think of it?'

  'Just what you do, I fancy. Have you any idea who wrote it?'

  'Probably some underling in the Nickel Trust whom Van Torp hasoffended without knowing it, or who has lost money by him.'

  Griggs glanced at his companion's face, for the hypothesis struck himas being tenable.

  'Unless it is some enemy of Countess Leven's,' he suggested. 'Herhusband is really going to divorce her, as the article says.'

  'I suppose she will defend herself,' said Logotheti.

  'If she has a chance.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Do you happen to know what sort of man the present Patriarch ofConstantinople is?'

  Logotheti's jaw dropped, and he slackened his pace.

  'What in the world--' he began, but did not finish the sentence.'That's the second time to-day I've been asked about him.'

  'That's very natural,' said Griggs calmly. 'You're one of the very fewmen in town who are likely to know him.'

  'Of course I know him,' answered Logotheti, still mystified. 'He's myuncle.'

  'Really? That's very lucky!'

  'Look here, Griggs, is this some silly joke?'

  'A joke? Certainly not. Lady Maud's husband can only get a divorcethrough the Patriarch because he married her out of Russia. You knowabout that law, don't you?'

  Logotheti understood at last.

  'No,' he said, 'I never heard of it. But if that is the case I maybe able to do something--not that I'm considered orthodox at thePatriarchate! The old gentleman has been told that I'm trying torevive the worship of the Greek gods and have built a temple toAphrodite Xenia in the Place de la Concorde!'

  'You're quite capable of it,' observed Griggs.

  'Oh, quite! Only, I've not done it yet. I'll see what I can do. Areyou much interested in the matter?'

  'Only on general principles, because I believe Lady Maud is perfectlystraight, and it is a shame that such a creature as Leven should beal
lowed to divorce an honest Englishwoman. By the bye--speaking of herreminds me of that dinner at the Turkish Embassy--do you remember adisagreeable-looking man who sat next to me, one Feist, a countrymanof mine?'

  'Rather! I wondered how he came there.'

  'He had a letter of introduction from the Turkish Minister inWashington. He is full of good letters of introduction.'

  'I should think they would need to be good,' observed Logotheti.'With that face of his he would need an introduction to a Port Saidgambling-hell before they would let him in.'

  'I agree with you. But he is well provided, as I say, and he goeseverywhere. Some one has put him down at the Mutton Chop. You never gothere, do you?'

  'I'm not asked,' laughed Logotheti. 'And as for becoming a member,they say it's impossible.'

  'It takes ten or fifteen years,' Griggs answered, 'and then you won'tbe elected unless every one likes you. But you may be put down asa visitor there just as at any other club. This fellow Feist, forinstance--we had trouble with him last night--or rather this morning,for it was two o'clock. He has been dropping in often of late, towardsmidnight. At first he was more or less amusing with his stories, forhe has a wonderful memory. You know the sort of funny man who rattleson as if he were wound up for the evening, and afterwards you cannotremember a word he has said. It's all very well for a while, but yousoon get sick of it. Besides, this particular specimen drinks like awhale.'

  'He looks as if he did.'

  'Last night he had been talking a good deal, and most of the men whohad been there had gone off. You know there's only one room at theMutton Chop, with a long table, and if a man takes the floor there'sno escape. I had come in about one o'clock to get something to eat,and Feist poured out a steady stream of stories as usual, though onlyone or two listened to him. Suddenly his eyes looked queer, and hestammered, and rolled off his chair, and lay in a heap, either deaddrunk or in a fit, I don't know which.'

  'And I suppose you carried him downstairs,' said Logotheti, for Griggswas known to be stronger than other men, though no longer young.

  'I did,' Griggs answered. 'That's usually my share of the proceedings.The last person I carried--let me see--I think it must have been thatpoor girl who died at the Opera in New York. We had found Feist'saddress in the visitors' book, and we sent him home in a hansom. Iwonder whether he got there!'

  'I should think the member who put him down would be rather annoyed,'observed Logotheti.

  'Yes. It's the first time anything of that sort ever happened at theMutton Chop, and I fancy it will be the last. I don't think we shallsee Mr. Feist again.'

  'I took a particular dislike to his face,' Logotheti said. 'I rememberthinking of him when I went home that night, and wondering who he wasand what he was about.'

  'At first I took him for a detective,' said Griggs. 'But detectivesdon't drink.'

  'What made you think he might be one?'

  'He has a very clever way of leading the conversation to a point andthen asking an unexpected question.'

  'Perhaps he is an amateur,' suggested Logotheti. 'He may be a spy. IsFeist an American name?'

  'You will find all sorts of names in America. They prove nothing inthe way of nationality, unless they are English, Dutch, or French, andeven then they don't prove much. I'm an American myself, and I feelsure that Feist either is one or has spent many years in the country,in which case he is probably naturalised. As for his being a spy, Idon't think I ever came across one in England.'

  'They come here to rest in time of peace, or to escape hanging inother countries in time of war,' said the Greek. 'His being at theTurkish Embassy, of all places in the world, is rather in favour ofthe idea. Do you happen to remember the name of his hotel?'

  'Are you going to call on him?' Griggs asked with a smile.

  'Perhaps. He begins to interest me. Is it indiscreet to ask what sortof questions he put to you?'

  'He's stopping at the Carlton--if the cabby took him there! We gavethe man half-a-crown for the job, and took his number, so I supposeit was all right. As for the questions he asked me, that's anothermatter.'

  Logotheti glanced quickly at his companion's rather grim face, and wassilent for a few moments. He judged that Mr. Feist's inquiries musthave concerned a woman, since Griggs was so reticent, and it requiredno great ingenuity to connect that probability with one or both of theladies who had been at the dinner where Griggs and Feist had firstmet.

  'I think I shall go and ask for Mr. Feist,' he said presently. 'Ishall say that I heard he was ill and wanted to know if I could doanything for him.'

  'I've no doubt he'll be much touched by your kindness!' said Griggs.'But please don't mention the Mutton Chop Club, if you really seehim.'

  'Oh no! Besides, I shall let him do the talking.'

  'Then take care that you don't let him talk you to death!'

  Logotheti smiled as he hailed a passing hansom; he nodded to hiscompanion, told the man to go to the Carlton, and drove away, leavingGriggs to continue his walk alone.

  The elderly man of letters had not talked about Mr. Feist with anyspecial intention, and was very far from thinking that what he hadsaid would lead to any important result. He liked the Greek, becausehe liked most Orientals, under certain important reservations and at acertain distance, and he had lived amongst them long enough not to besurprised at anything they did. Logotheti had been disappointed in notfinding the Primadonna at home, and he was not inclined to put up withthe usual round of an evening in London during the early part of theseason as a substitute for what he had lost. He was the more put out,because, when he had last seen Margaret, three or four days earlier,she had told him that if he came on that evening at about seveno'clock he would probably find her alone. Having nothing that lookedat all amusing to occupy him, he was just in the mood to do anythingunusual that presented itself.

  Griggs guessed at most of these things, and as he walked along hevaguely pictured to himself the interview that was likely to takeplace.