Hushed Up! A Mystery of London Part 32

PROOF POSITIVE

I was greatly interested, even though I was now filled with suspicion.

Somehow I had become impressed with the idea that the stranger might have been one of the daring and dangerous a.s.sociation, and that he had related that strange story for the purpose of misleading me.

But the stranger, who had, in the course of our conversation, told me that his name was Pierre Delanne, only said--

"You could have read it all in the _Matin_, my dear monsieur."

His att.i.tude was that of a man who knew more than he intended to reveal. Surely it was a curious circ.u.mstance, standing there in the night, listening to the dramatic truth concerning the big-faced American, Harriman, whom I had for so long regarded as an enigma.

"Tell me, Monsieur Delanne," I said, "for what reason have you followed me to London?"

He laughed as he strode easily along at my side towards the Duke of York's steps.

"Haven't I already told you that I did not purposely follow you?" he exclaimed.

"Yes, but I don't believe it," was my very frank reply. He had certainly explained that, but his manner was not earnest. I could see that he was only trifling with me, trifling in an easy, good-natured way.

"_Bien!_" he said; "and if I followed you, Monsieur Biddulph, I a.s.sert that it is with no sinister intent."

"How do I know that?" I queried. "You are a stranger."

"I admit that. But you are not a stranger to me, my dear monsieur."

"Well, let us come to the point," I said. "What do you want with me?"

"Nothing," he laughed. "Was it not you yourself who addressed me?"

"But you followed me!" I cried. "You can't deny that."

"Monsieur may hold of me whatever opinion he pleases," was Delanne's polite reply. "I repeat my regrets, and I ask pardon."

He spoke English remarkably well. But I recollected that the international thief--the man who is a cosmopolitan, and who commits theft in one country to-night, and is across the frontier in the morning--is always a perfect linguist. Harriman was. Though American, with all his nasal intonation and quaint Americanisms, he spoke half-a-dozen Continental languages quite fluently.

My bitter experiences of the past caused considerable doubt to arise within me. I had had warnings that my mysterious enemies would attack me secretly, by some subtle means. Was this Frenchman one of them?

He saw that I treated him with some suspicion, but it evidently amused him. His face beamed with good-nature.

At the bottom of the broad flight of stairs which lead up to the United Service Club and Pall Mall, I halted.

"Now look here, Monsieur Delanne," I said, much puzzled and mystified by the man's manner and the curious story he had related, "I have neither desire nor inclination for your company further. You understand?"

"Ah, monsieur, a thousand pardons," cried the man, raising his hat and bowing with the elegance of the true Parisian. "I have simply spoken the truth. Did you not put to me questions which I have answered? You have said you are engaged to the daughter of my friend Penning-ton.

That has interested me."

"Why?"

"Because the daughter of my friend Penning-ton always interests me,"

was his curious reply.

"Is that an intended sarcasm?" I asked resentfully.

"Not in the least, m'sieur," he said quickly. "I have every admiration for the young lady."

"Then you know her--eh?"

"By repute."

"Why?"

"Well, her father was connected with one of the strangest and most extraordinary incidents in my life," he said. "Even to-day, the mystery of it all has not been cleared up. I have tried, times without number, to elucidate it, but have always failed."

"What part did Sylvia play in the affair, may I ask?"

"Really," he replied, "I scarcely know. It was so utterly extraordinary--beyond human credence."

"Tell me--explain to me," I said, instantly interested. What could this man know of my well-beloved?

He was silent for some minutes. We were still standing by the steps.

Surely it was scarcely the place for an exchange of confidences.

"I fear that monsieur must really excuse me. The matter is purely a personal one--purely confidential, and concerns myself alone--just--just as your close acquaintanceship with Mademoiselle Sylvia concerns you."

"It seems that it concerns other persons as well, if one may judge by what has recently occurred."

"Ah! Then your enemies have arisen because of your engagement to the girl--eh?"

"The girl!" How strange! Pennington's mysterious friends of the Brescia road had referred to her as "the girl." So had those two a.s.sa.s.sins in Porchester Terrace! Was it a mere coincidence, or had he, too, betrayed a collusion with those mean blackguards who had put me to that horrible torture?

Had you met this strange man at night in St. James's Park, would you have placed any faith in him? I think not. I maintain that I was perfectly justified in treating him as an enemy. He was rather too intimately acquainted with the doings of Harriman and his gang to suit my liking. Even as he stood there beneath the light of the street-lamp, I saw that his bright eyes twinkled behind those gold pince-nez, while the big old-fashioned amethyst he wore on his finger was a conspicuous object. He gave one the appearance of a prosperous merchant or shopkeeper.

"What makes you suggest that the attempt was due to my affection for Sylvia?" I asked him.

"Well, it furnishes a motive, does it not?"

"No, it doesn't. I have no enemies--as far as I am aware."

"But there exists some person who is highly jealous of mademoiselle, and who is therefore working against you in secret."

"Is that your opinion?"

"I regret to admit that it is. Indeed, Monsieur Biddulph, you have every need to exercise the greatest care. Otherwise misfortune will occur to you. Mark what I--a stranger--tell you."

I started. Here again was a warning uttered! The situation was growing quite uncanny.

"What makes you expect this?"