The Golden Face Part 17

I waited with curiosity. Next day Lola, who with her woman's intuition had scented that something sinister was intended, expressed surprise to me that Mr. Lloyd was going to Spain.

We were walking together across the park beyond the lower gardens on our way to the village.

"Mr. Lloyd told me that he was going to Spain at father's suggestion,"

she said. "It seems to me rather strange that I should have been the means of bringing father and him together. I can't understand the reason of it all," she added, evidently much puzzled.

"Perhaps your father has some idea of transacting some lucrative business with him. Remember, he has a lot of financial interests in Spain."

"Ah! yes," replied the girl. "Of course. I never thought of that!

Father has been to Madrid several times of late."

I feared to tell her what I suspected of the secret visit of that handsome Spanish woman, or of how we had been observed at the Unicorn at Ripon.

On that same day Duperre returned. He had been abroad, for when I met him at the station I noticed that his luggage bore fresh labels of the Palace Hotel, at Brussels, and some railway destinations. At ten o'clock that night, after Lola had retired to bed, I was called to consult with Rayne and Duperre, who were smoking together in the billiard-room. Duperre had evidently related to him the result of his mysterious journeyings, and Rayne seemed in an unusually good humor.

"Sit down, George, and listen," he said. "We have a little piece of important business to transact--something that will bring in big money. Duperre will explain."

Vincent turned, and looking at me through the haze of his cigarette-smoke, said:

"There's not much to explain, George. You have only to act on Rayne's instructions. The matter does not concern you as, after all, you're only a p.a.w.n in this merry little game which will do no harm to anyone----"

"Only to old Lloyd," I interrupted.

"To his pocket, perhaps," Duperre laughed.

"Frankly, you mean to rob him, as you have so many others."

Duperre frowned darkly, and exchanged angry glances with Rayne.

"I think that remark is entirely uncalled for," Rayne said resentfully. "You have thrown in your lot with us, as I have told you before, and with your eyes wide open have become one of my trusted a.s.sistants. As such you will receive my instructions--and act upon them without question. That is your position. And now," he added, turning to Duperre, "please explain."

Duperre laid down his cigarette-end in the tray, and said:

"Well, look here, George. What you must do is this. You will write to old Lloyd at the Reform Club to-morrow and tell him that you are leaving for Madrid on Tuesday week upon important business for our friend Rayne. You will suggest that he goes to the Ritz while you go to the Hotel de la Paix in the Puerta del Sol, as being less expensive. You, as Rayne's secretary, cannot afford to stay at the Ritz, you understand?"

"Then there is a specific reason why we should not stay at the same hotel, eh?" I asked.

Duperre hesitated, and then nodded.

"I may come out to Spain and join you in a few days after your arrival. At present I don't exactly know."

So, though full of resentment, I was compelled to the inevitable. Next day I wrote to the Reform Club, and in reply received a letter appointing to meet me at Charing Cross Station on the following Tuesday week.

Lola became even more inquisitive next day. Whether her father had inadvertently dropped a word in her presence I know not, but she had somehow become aware that I had received orders to travel with Mr.

Lloyd to Spain.

What was intended? The "business" upon which I was being sent to Spain was some _coup_ which Rayne's ever-active brain had carefully conceived. He had used his daughter's bright and winning manners in order to become friendly with the wealthy and somewhat mysterious old man whom I was to conduct to Spain.

Naturally I was evasive as usually. I loved her, it was true. She was all the world to me. And my love was, I believed, reciprocated, but how could I admit my shameful compact with her father? I was now a thief, having been drawn into that insidious plot which I described in the previous chapter of my reminiscences as a servant to the King of Crookdom.

So we walked pleasantly along to the white-headed old village clockmaker, who was grandson of a well-known man who had fashioned the little grandmother clocks which to-day are so rare--the pet timekeepers of our bewigged ancestors. The name of the old fellow's grandfather was on the list of famous makers of clocks in the days of George the Third, which you can find in any book upon old clocks.

On our walk back to the Hall we chatted merrily.

"I rather envy you your run out to Madrid," Lola laughed. "I wish I could go to Spain."

She was wearing a canary-colored jersey, stout boots, and carried a hefty ash stick, for she was essentially an out-of-door girl, though at night she could put on a short and flimsy dance frock and look the perfection of charm.

I took no notice of her remark, but purposely turned the conversation, and as we strolled back together we discussed a dance which was to be given two nights later by her friends the Fishers at Atherton Towers, about five miles distant.

On the morning appointed I met old Mr. Lloyd, who, to my surprise, had with him his niece, Miss Sylvia Andrews, a smart and pretty dark-haired girl of about twenty-five.

"At the last moment Sylvia wanted to come with me to see Spain," the old gentleman explained as we sat in the boat-train speeding towards Dover. "I managed yesterday to get an extra sleeping-berth in the Sud Express."

"I hope you will like Madrid, Miss Andrews," I said gallantly. "You will find life there very bright and gay--quite an experience."

"I'm greatly looking forward to it," she said. "I've read all about it, and though I've been in France and in Italy quite a lot, I've never been in Spain, though I've always longed to see it."

"I propose we break our journey at San Sebastian," said Mr. Lloyd. "I want to see the place, and the Casino which is making such a bid against the counter-attraction of Monte Carlo. What do you say?"

"I'm quite agreeable," I replied. "A couple of days' delay makes no difference to me. As long as I am in Madrid on the sixteenth it will be all right. I have to attend a directors' meeting on behalf of Mr.

Rayne on that day."

"Good! uncle," cried the girl. "Then we'll break our journey at San Sebastian, eh?"

And so it was arranged.

Two days later we stepped from the dusty sleeping-car in which we had traveled from Paris, and soon found ourselves driving around a wide bay with calm sapphire sea and golden sands--the far-famed La Concha.

We remained for two days at that luxurious hotel the Continental, on the Paseo, and visited all the sights, including the Casino, where we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Old Mr. Lloyd was an amusing companion, as I well knew, a man who seemed never tired notwithstanding his advanced age, while his niece was a particularly jolly girl who enjoyed every moment of her life.

Then we proceeded by the night express to Madrid.

Mr. Lloyd insisted that I should stay with them at the Ritz, but, compelled to obey Rayne's instructions, I was forced to excuse myself on the plea that two of Rayne's co-directors were to stay at the Hotel de la Paix, and Rayne had wished me to stay with them for certain business reasons.

With this explanation the old gentleman was satisfied, so when at last we arrived in the Spanish capital I saw them safely to the Ritz, then went on alone to the Puerta del Sol.

That night we dined together, and afterwards we went to the opera at the Teatro Real. Next day we met again, and on several days that followed. I took them to see the sights of the capital, the sights which everyone visits, the Armeria, the Academy, the Naval Museum, the street life of the Plaza Mayor and the Calle de Toledo, the afternoon promenades in the Retiro Park and the Paseo de Fernan Nunez.

In all they evinced the greatest interest. To both uncle and niece it presented fresh scenes such as neither had before seen, and I realized that old Mr. Lloyd had become brighter and far more cheerful than when with us at Overstow.

I had been at the Hotel de la Paix for about ten days, when on returning late one night from visiting with Miss Andrews the celebrated Verbena de la Paloma--the famous fair held in the Calle de la Paloma--I found, to my surprise, Duperre awaiting me.

I explained the situation, but when I mentioned the presence of old Lloyd's niece his countenance instantly fell.

"Why in the name of Fate did the old fool bring her here?" he exclaimed. "I thought he would come alone!"

"She's quite a nice girl," I remarked. "Full of high spirits and vitality."