thrust into his hand. He read it with a slight start.
We regret to announce that owing to indisposition Mademoiselle Idiale will not be able to appear this evening. The part of Delilah will be taken by Mademoiselle Blanche Temoigne, late of the Royal Opera House, St. Petersburg.
Ten minutes later, Laverick rang the bell of her flat in Dover Street. A strange man-servant answered him.
“I came to inquire after Mademoiselle Idiale,” Laverick said.
The man held out a tray on which was already a small heap of cards. Laverick, however, retained his.
“I should be glad if you would take mine in to her,” he said. “I think it is just likely that she may see me for a moment.”
The servant’s attitude was one of civil but unconcealed hostility. He would have closed the door had not Laverick already passed over the threshold.
“Madame is not well enough to receive visitors, sir,” the man declared. “She shall have your card as soon as possible.”
“I should like her to have it now,” Laverick persisted, drawing a five-pound note from his pocket.
The man looked at the note longingly.
“It would be only waste of time, sir,” he declared. “Mademoiselle is confined to her bedroom and my orders are absolute.”
“You are not the man who was here earlier in the day,” Laverick remarked. “I wonder,” he continued, with a sudden inspiration, “whether you are not Mr. Bellamy’s servant?”
“That is so, sir. Mr. Bellamy has sent me here to see that no one has access to Mademoiselle Idiale.”
“Then there is no harm whatever in taking in my card,” Laverick declared convincingly. “You can put that note in your pocket. I am perfectly certain that Mademoiselle Idiale will see me, and that your master would wish her to do so.”
“I will take the risk, sir,” the man decided, “but the orders I have received were stringent.”
He disappeared and was gone for several moments. When he came back he was accompanied by a pale-faced woman dressed in black, obviously a maid.
“Monsieur Laverick,” she said, “Mademoiselle Idiale will receive you. If you will come this way?”
She opened the door of the little reception-room, and Laverick followed her. The man returned to his place in the hall.
“Madame will be here in a moment,” the maid said. “She will be glad to see you, but she has been very badly frightened.”
Laverick bowed sympathetically. The woman herself was gray-faced, terror-stricken.
“It is Monsieur Lassen, the manager of Madame, who has caused a great deal of trouble here,” she said. “Madame never trusted him and now we have discovered that he is a spy.”
The woman seemed to fade away. The door of the inner room was opened and Louise came out. She was still exceedingly pale, and there were dark rims under her eyes. She came across the room with outstretched hands. There was no doubt whatever as to her pleasure.
“You have seen Mr. Bellamy?” she asked.
Laverick shook his head.
“No, I have seen nothing of Bellamy to-day. I came to call upon you this afternoon.”
She wrung her hands.
“You understand, of course!” she exclaimed. “I did not trust Lassen, but I never imagined anything like this. He is an Austrian. Only a few hours ago I learned that he is one of their most heavily paid spies. Streuss got hold of him. But there, I forgot—you do not understand this. It is enough that he laid a plot to get that document from you. Where is it, Mr. Laverick? You have brought it now?”
“Why, no,” Laverick answered, “I have not.”
Her eyes were round with terror. She held out her hands as though to keep away some tormenting thought.
“Where is it?” she cried. “You have not parted with it?
“I have not,” Laverick replied gravely. “It is in the safe deposit of a hotel to which I have moved.”
She closed her eyes and drew a long breath of relief.
“You are not well,” Laverick said. “Let me help you to a chair.”
She sat down wearily.
“Why have you moved to a hotel?” she asked.
“To tell you the truth,” Laverick answered, “I seem to have wandered into a sort of modern Arabian Nights. Three times to-day attempts have been made to get that document from me by force. I have been followed whereever I went. I felt that it was not safe in my chambers, so I moved to a hotel and deposited it in their strong-room. I have come to the conclusion that the best thing I can do is to open it to-morrow morning, and decide for myself as to its destination.”
Louise sat quite still for several moments. Then she opened her eyes.
“What you say is an immense relief to me, Mr. Laverick,” she declared. “I perceive now that we have made a mistake. We should have told you the whole truth from the first. This afternoon when Mr. Bellamy left me, it was to come to you and tell you everything.”
Laverick listened gravely.
“Really,” he said, “it seems to me the wisest course. I haven’t the least desire to keep the document. I cannot think why Bellamy did not treat me with confidence from the first—”
He stopped short. Suddenly he understood. Something in Louise’s face gave him the hint.
“Of course!” he murmured to himself.
“Mr. Laverick,” Louise said quietly, “in this matter I am no man’s judge, yet, as you and I know well, that paper could have come into your hands in one way, and one way only. There may be some explanation. If so, it is for you to offer it or not, as you think best. Mr. Bellamy and I are allies in this matter. It is not our business to interfere with the course of justice. You will run no risk in parting with that paper.
“Where can I see Bellamy?” Laverick Inquired, rising and taking up his hat.
“He would go straight to your rooms,” she answered. “Did you leave word there where you had gone?”
“Purposely I did not,” Laverick replied. “I had better try and find him, perhaps.”
“It is not necessary,” she announced. “No wonder that you feel yourself to have wandered into the Arabian Nights, Mr. Laverick. There are two sets of spies who follow you everywhere—two sets that I know of. There may be another.”
“You think that Bellamy will find me?” he asked.
“I am sure of it.”
“Then I’ll go back to the hotel and wait.”
She
