The Lost Ambassador Part 17

"Very likely," I answered. "I should suggest that you go and interview Miss Delora. She will probably tell you all about it."

They were both silent. I felt quite certain that they had already done so. At that moment my own telephone bell rang. The two men exchanged quick glances. I took up the receiver.

"Is that Capitaine Rotherby?"

I recognized the voice at once. It was Miss Delora speaking.

"Yes!" I answered.

"I thought I should like to let you know," she continued, "that I am no longer in the least anxious about my uncle. He is always doing eccentric things, and I am sure that he will turn up,--later to-night, perhaps, or at any rate to-morrow. I do not wish any inquiries made about him. It would only annoy him very much when he came to hear of it."

"I am very glad to hear you say so, Miss Delora," I answered. "To tell you the truth, there are some men here at present who are asking me questions. I have told them, however, that you are the only person to whom they should apply."

Her voice, when she answered me, showed some signs of agitation.

"I have not asked the help of the police," she declared, "and I do not need it! They would have come to my rooms, but I refused to receive them."

"I quite agree with you, Miss Delora," I answered. "Good night!"

"Good night, Capitaine Rotherby!" she said softly. I laid down the receiver.

"You have probably overheard my conversation," I said to the inspector. "After that, I can only wish you good night!"

He moved at once to the door in stolid, discontented fashion. The detective, however, lingered.

"Captain Rotherby," he said, "I cannot blame you for your decision. I think, however, it is only fair to warn you that you will probably find yourself better off in the long run if you do not mix yourself up in this affair."

"Indeed!" I answered.

"There are wheels within wheels," the man continued. "I have no charge to make against Mr. Delora. I have no charge to make against any one. But I think that so far as you are concerned, you would be well advised to remember that these are merely travelling companions, and that even the most accomplished man of the world is often deceived in such. Good night, sir!"

They left me then without another word. I heard their footsteps die away along the corridor, the ring of the lift bell, the clatter of its ascent and descent. Then I undressed and went to bed.

I awoke the next morning rather late, dressed and shaved in my rooms, and descended to the cafe for breakfast. The waiter who usually served me came hurrying up with a welcoming smile.

"Monsieur Louis," he announced, "returned early this morning."

"He is not here now?" I asked, looking around the room.

The waiter smiled deprecatingly.

"But for the early breakfast, no, sir!" he said. "Monsieur Louis will come at one o'clock, perhaps,--perhaps not until dinner-time. He will be here to-day, though."

I unfolded my paper and looked through the list of accidents. There was nothing which could possibly have applied to Mr. Delora. I waited until eleven o'clock, and then sent up my name to Miss Delora. A reply came back almost at once,--Miss Delora had gone out an hour ago, and had left no word as to the time of her return. Once more I was puzzled. Why should she go out unless she had received some news? She had told me that she had no friends in London. It was scarcely likely that she would go out on any casual expedition in her present state of uncertainty. I made my way to the manager's office, whom I knew very well, and with whom I had often had a few minutes' talk. He received me with his usual courtesy, and gave me a handful of cigarettes to try. I lit one, and seated myself in his easy-chair.

"Mr. Helmsley," I said, "you know that I am not, as a rule, a curious person, and I should not like to ask you any questions which you thought improper ones, but you have some guests staying here in whom I am somewhat interested."

Mr. Helmsley nodded, and by his genial silence invited me to proceed.

"I mean Mr. Delora and his niece," I continued.

The smile faded from the manager's face.

"The gentleman who did not arrive last night?" he remarked.

I nodded.

"I travelled up with them," I said, "from Folkestone, and certainly Mr. Delora's behavior was a little peculiar as we neared London. He seemed nervous, and anxious to quit the train at the earliest possible moment. I brought his niece on here, as you know, found that he had not arrived, and I understand that, up to the present, nothing has been heard of him."

"It is quite true," Mr. Helmsley admitted thoughtfully. "The matter was reported to me last night, and very soon afterwards an inspector from Scotland Yard called. I gave him all the information I could, naturally, but on reference to the young lady she declined to consider the matter seriously at all. Her uncle, she said, had probably met some friends, or had made a call upon the way. Under the circ.u.mstances, there was nothing else to do but to drop the matter, so far as any direct inquiries were concerned."

I nodded.

"But the man himself?" I asked. "What do you know of him?"

"I have always understood," Mr. Helmsley said slowly, "that he was a gentleman from South America who had large coffee plantations, and who came over every year to sell his produce. He has stayed at the hotel about this time for the last four years. He has always engaged a good suite of rooms, has paid his accounts promptly,--I really do not know anything more about him."

"Has his niece accompanied him always?" I asked.

"Never before," Mr. Helmsley answered,--"at least, not to my recollection."

"You do not know what part of South America he comes from?" I asked.

"I have no idea," Mr. Helmsley declared. "His letters are always forwarded to an agent."

"So practically you can tell me nothing," I said, rising.

"Nothing at all, I fear," Mr. Helmsley answered. "I shall make it a point of calling upon the young lady within an hour or so, to inquire again about her uncle."

"The young lady has gone out," I remarked. "I have just sent my own name up."

Mr. Helmsley raised his eyebrows. He, too, was surprised.

"Then she has probably heard something," he remarked.

"Perhaps," I answered. "By the bye, I understand that Louis is back."

"He came by the night train," Mr. Helmsley answered. "I scarcely expected him so soon. You will probably see him in the cafe at luncheon-time."

I took my leave of the manager and returned to my own side of the hotel.

"If Miss Delora should come in," I said to the hall-porter on my way to the lift, "please let me know. I shall be in my room, writing letters."

"Miss Delora came in just after you crossed the courtyard, sir," the man answered. "She is in her room now."

"Alone?" I asked.

"I believe that she came in with a gentleman, sir. Shall I ring up and ask for her?"