Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo Part 39

As soon as the meal was over, and the two ladies had left the room, he poured out a gla.s.s of port and turning to the young fellow, remarked:

"Don't you think it's a bit dangerous to go to town, Hugh?"

"It may be, but I must take the risk," was the other's reply.

"What are you going up for?" asked Benton bluntly.

"To see somebody--important," was his vague answer. And though the elder man tried time after time to get something more definite from him, he remained silent. Had not his unknown friend urged him to say nothing to anybody wherever he might be?

So at nine Mead drove up the car to the door, and Hugh, slipping on his light overcoat, bade his hostess good-night, thanked her for allowing him the use of the limousine, and promised to be back soon after midnight.

"Good-night, Hugh!" cried Louise from the other end of the fine old hall. And a moment later the car drove away in the darkness.

Along the Hog's Back they went, and down into Guildford. Then up the long steep High Street, past the ancient, overhanging clock at the Guildhall, and out again on the long straight road to Ripley and London.

As soon as they were beyond Guildford, he knocked at the window, and afterwards mounted beside Mead. He hated to be in a car alone, for he himself was a good driver and used always to drive his father's old "'bus."

"I'll go to the Berkeley Hotel," he said to the man. "Drop me there, and pick me up outside there at twelve, will you?"

The man promised to do so, and then they chatted as they continued on their way to London. Mead, a Guildfordian, knew every inch of the road.

Before entering Mrs. Bond's service he had, for a month, driven a lorry for a local firm of builders, and went constantly to and from London.

They arrived at the corner of St. James's Street at half-past ten. Hugh gave Mead five shillings to get his evening meal, and said:

"Be back here at midnight, Mead. I expect I'll be through my business long before that. But it's a clear night, and we shall have a splendid run home."

"Very well, sir. Thank you," replied his hostess's chauffeur.

Hugh Henfrey, instead of entering the smart Society hotel, turned up the street, and, walking quickly, found himself ten minutes later in Ellerston Street before a s.p.a.cious house, upon the pale-green door of which was marked in Roman numerals the number fourteen.

By the light of the street lamp he saw it was an old Georgian town house. In the ironwork were two-foot-sc.r.a.pers, relics of a time long before macadam or wood paving.

The house, high and inartistic, was a relic of the days of the dandies, when country squires had their town houses, and before labour found itself in London drawing-rooms. Consumed by curiosity, Hugh pressed the electric b.u.t.ton marked "visitors," and a few moments later a smart young footman opened the door.

"Mr. George Peters?" inquired Hugh. "I have an appointment."

"What name, sir?" the young, narrow-eyed man asked.

"Henfrey."

"Oh, yes, sir! Mr. Peters is expecting you," he said. And at once he conducted him along the narrow hall to a room beyond.

The house was beautifully appointed. Everywhere was taste and luxury.

Even in the hall there were portraits by old Spanish masters and many rare English sporting prints.

The room into which he was shown was a long apartment furnished in the style of the Georgian era. The genuine Adams ceiling, mantelpiece, and dead white walls, with the faintly faded carpet of old rose and light-blue, were all in keeping. The lights, too, were shaded, and over all was an old-world atmosphere of quiet and dignified repose.

The room was empty, and Hugh crossed to examine a beautiful little marble statuette of a girl bather, with her arms raised and about to dive. It was, no doubt, a gem of the art of sculpture, mounted upon a pedestal of dark-green marble which revolved.

The whole conception was delightful, and the girl's laughing face was most perfect in its portraiture.

Of a sudden the door reopened, and he was met by a stout, rather wizened old gentleman with white bristly hair and closely cropped moustache, a man whose ruddy face showed good living, and who moved with the brisk alertness of a man twenty years his junior.

"Ah! here you are, Mr. Henfrey!" he exclaimed warmly, as he offered his visitor his hand. Upon the latter was a well-worn black glove--evidently to hide either some disease or deformity. "I was wondering if you received my letter safely?"

"Yes," replied Hugh, glancing at the shrewd little man whose gloved right hand attracted him.

"Sit down," the other said, as he closed the door. "I'm very anxious to have a little chat with you."

Hugh took the arm-chair which Mr. Peters indicated. Somehow he viewed the man with suspicion. His eyes were small and piercing, and his face with its broad brow and narrow chin was almost triangular. He was a man of considerable personality, without a doubt. His voice was high pitched and rather petulant.

"Now," he said. "I was surprised to learn that you had left your safe asylum in Kensington. Not only was I surprised--but I confess, I was alarmed."

"I take it that I have to thank you for making those arrangements for my escape from Monte Carlo?" remarked Hugh, looking him straight in the face.

"No thanks are needed, my dear Mr. Henfrey," replied the elder man.

"So long as you are free, what matters? But I do not wish you to deliberately run risks which are so easily avoided. Why did you leave Abingdon Road?"

"I was advised to do so by a friend."

"Not by Miss Rans...o...b.. I am sure."

"No, by a Mr. Benton, whom I know."

The old man's eyebrows narrowed for a second.

"Benton?" he echoed. "Charles Benton--is he?"

"Yes. As he was a friend of my late father I naturally trust him."

Mr. Peters paused.

"Oh, naturally," he said a second later. "But where are you living now?"

Hugh told him that he was the guest of Mrs. Bond of Shapley Manor, whereupon Mr. Peters sniffed sharply, and rising, obtained a box of good cigars from a cupboard near the fireplace.

"You went there at Benton's suggestion?"

"Yes, I did."

Mr. Peters gave a grunt of undisguised dissatisfaction, as he curled himself in his chair and examined carefully the young man before him.

"Now, Mr. Henfrey," he said at last. "I am very sorry for you. I happen to know something of your present position, and the great difficulty in which you are to-day placed by the clever roguery of others. Will you please describe to me accurately exactly what occurred on that fateful night at the Villa Amette? If I am to a.s.sist you further it is necessary for you to tell me everything--remember, _everything_!"

Hugh paused and looked the stranger straight in the face.

"I thought you knew all about it," he said.

"I know a little--not all. I want to know everything. Why did you venture there at all? You did not know the lady. It was surely a very unusual hour to pay a call?" said the little man, his shrewd eyes fixed upon his visitor.