Mr. Marx's Secret Part 34

"One cigarette," I a.s.sured her. "No more, upon my honour."

"Really! Then you won't get any more tea from me to unsteady your nerves.

Now tell me, Mr. Morton, do you know this country?"

"Every inch of it. No one better."

"Oh, how nice! And you'll give me a lead to-day, won't you? I do so want to do well."

"I should be delighted," I answered; "but, unfortunately, I'm not going to hunt."

"Not going to hunt! Then what are you going to do, pray?"

"Going for a ride with a young lady," I answered.

"Oh, indeed!"--with a toss of the head.

There was a short silence. Then curiosity conquered the fit of indignation which Miss Hamilton had thought well to a.s.sume.

"May I ask the name of the fortunate young lady?"

"You may," I answered calmly, helping myself to toast. "It is little Lady Beatrice."

She burst into a peal of laughter, but stopped suddenly.

"What nonsense! Are you going to take the groom's place, then, and hold the leading-rein?"

"If she rides with one, very likely," I answered.

There was a short silence. Then Miss Hamilton returned to the charge.

"How old is your inamorata?" she inquired. "Seven or eight?"

"Twelve next birthday," I answered promptly.

"It's quite too ridiculous!" she declared, tossing her head. "I really wanted you to come with me this morning, because you know the country,"

she added, with a sidelong glance from her dark eyes.

"Nothing would have given me greater pleasure," I declared; "but a promise is a promise, you know, and we made this one before we knew any thing about the meet."

"We! Who are we?" she asked quickly.

"Cis and I."

"Cecil won't go if I ask him to come with me," she said confidently.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Perhaps not. The more reason why I should."

She turned away from me half amused, half vexed. Just then Cecil appeared, and she beckoned him eagerly to her side.

"Cecil, Mr. Morton tells me that you have promised to ride with Beatrice this morning," she said.

"So we did," he exclaimed. "Awfully sorry to disappoint her, but, of course, I didn't know anything about the meet."

"Oh, I am glad that you are not going to desert me, then," she said, laughing. "Mr. Morton declares that he is going to keep his engagement."

"Very good of him, if he is," remarked Cecil, stirring his tea with great cheerfulness.

"Don't pity me," I said, rising. "I'm sure I shall enjoy it. _Au revoir_, Miss Hamilton."

And I did enjoy it. Many a time afterwards I thought of that slim little figure in the long riding-habit, her golden hair streaming in the breeze, and her dainty, flushed face aglow with excitement and delight, and of the pleasant prattle which her little ladyship poured into my willing ears. I remembered, too, her quaint, nave ways, and the grave way in which she thanked me for taking care of her--little mannerisms which soon yielded to familiarity and vanished altogether. And, strange though it may seem, I found always more satisfaction in recalling these things than the winged look and merry speeches of Miss Agnes Hamilton.

CHAPTER XL.

MY MISSION.

For the first time in my life I was in London--and alone. There had been no reply from Mr. Marx to the telegrams commanding his instant return, and so on the third morning after my arrival at Ravenor Castle I quitted it again to go in search of him. Accustomed though he was to conceal his feelings, and admirably though he succeeded in doing so in the presence of his guests, I could see that Mr. Ravenor was deeply anxious to have the suspicions which my story had awakened either dispelled or confirmed.

Nor, indeed, although their purport was scarcely so clear to me, was I less so.

I suppose that no one, especially if he had never before been in a great city, could pa.s.s across London for the first time without some emotion of wonder. To me it was like entering an unknown world. The vast throng of people, the ceaseless din of traffic, and the huge buildings, all filled me with amazement which, as we drove through the Strand to Northumberland Avenue, grew into bewilderment. Only the recollection of my mission and its grave import recalled me to myself as the cab drew up before the Hotel Metropole.

My bag was taken possession of at once by one of the hall-porters and I engaged a room. Then I made inquiries about Mr. Marx.

The clerk turned over two or three pages of the ledger and shook his head. There was no one of that name stopping in the hotel, he informed me.

"Can you tell me whether anyone of that name has been staying here during the last week?" I asked.

He made a further search and shook his head.

"We have not had the name of Marx upon our books at all, sir, during my recollection," he declared. "Quite an uncommon name, too; I should certainly have remembered it."

"There have been letters addressed to him here by that name," I said; "can you tell me what has become of them?"

He shook his head.

"That would not be in my department, sir; you will ascertain by inquiring at the head-porter's bureau round the corner."

I thanked him and made my way thither across the reception hall. The answer to my question was given at once.

"There are letters for a Mr. Marx nearly every morning, sir, and telegrams," said the official; "but I don't think that Mr. Marx himself is stopping at the hotel; another gentleman always applies for them and sends them on."

"And is the other gentleman staying here?" I asked.

"Yes, sir; No. 110."