"Mr. Van Helder?" he queried, as he shook hands and motioned his visitor to a seat.
"We shall not be overheard, no?" interrogated Van Helder.
Mr. Naylor shook his head, transferring his eyes from a paper-weight before him to his visitor"s face and back again to the paper-weight.
"These London suburbs!" exclaimed Van Helder, as he drew a silk handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to wipe his face. "I seem to have pursued you to everywhere. I crossed from Bergen on the 21st,"
he added with a smile.
"The 21st," repeated Mr. Naylor.
"Just ten days ago," continued Van Helder. "I came not before because----" He raised his eyes suddenly and looked straight at Mr.
Naylor, who smiled; but there was guile behind the momentary exposure of his yellow teeth.
"The crossing," continued Van Helder, "three times the alarm of U-boats." He smiled a crafty little smile. "The Germans they make the sea unsafe." Again he smiled.
"So you have been in London since the 21st." Mr. Naylor"s tone was casual; but his eyes glinted.
Van Helder nodded indifferently.
"Where are you staying?" Mr. Naylor"s eyes never left his visitor"s face.
"At the Ritzton."
"You have been comfortable?" The tone was conversational.
Again Van Helder shrugged his shoulders.
"You have been seeing the sights?" Again the tone was casual; but in Mr. Naylor"s eyes there was a crafty look.
"It is as I have been told," said Van Helder with a smile. "Always cautious. You are fond of dogs," he added irrelevantly, "I heard one."
"James does not like strangers." This with a sinister smile.
"No?" continued the other; taking a cigarette-case from his pocket and offering it to Mr. Naylor who declined. "I may smoke?"
Mr. Naylor nodded.
Van Helder lighted a cigarette and proceeded to blow smoke rings with quiet content. He wanted to think. It was obvious to him that something was wrong, something lacking. There was the suggestion in his host"s manner of a cat watching a mouse, watching and waiting.
"You are becoming, how do you call it, ungeschickt," he said with a disarming smile, as he blew three rings in rapid succession.
"You think so?" Mr. Naylor smiled amiably.
"Yes, how do you call it, awkward, clumsy. You have lived long in England," he continued a little contemptuously, as he ejected more smoke-rings.
"You find London interesting?" asked Mr. Naylor, with ominous calm. He was determined to pick up the thread of conversation that had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from his hand.
"You are a fool." Van Helder turned just as he emitted a smoke-ring.
At the calm insolence of his tone Mr. Naylor started slightly, but quickly recovered himself.
"What do you mean?"
"I have been in the Tower." For the fraction of a second Van Helder"s eyes sought those of Mr. Naylor. Was it relief that he saw? The change was only momentary, just a flash.
Van Helder continued to blow smoke-rings as if entirely indifferent alike to his host"s presence and emotions. "I was released yesterday morning. They apologised for my detention."
"And you came here?" f Mr. Naylor"s voice was even and devoid of inflection.
Deliberately Van Helder took from his pocket a gold ring set with three turquoises in the form of a triangle. It was his last card.
"Ah! I see you look at my ring," he said, seeing Mr. Naylor"s eyes fix greedily upon it. "It was given to me by one whom I serve."
Deliberately he drew it from his finger again and handed it to Mr.
Naylor, who took it casually and proceeded to examine it. The other watched him closely. Yes; he was looking at the inscription on the inside.
"They are not my initials," said Van Helder.
Mr. Naylor looked up quickly. "No," he said, returning the ring.
The other shrugged his shoulders without replying. Mr. Naylor"s manner had undergone a change.
"And now about John Dene. Ah!" as one smoke-ring pa.s.sed through another.
"John Dene!"
"Yes, of Toronto," continued Van Helder, smiling and continuing to blow rings with apparent enjoyment. "He is staying at the Ritzton, too."
"London is full of visitors."
"My friend, we waste time. There is such a thing as over-caution. As I say you are ungeschickt. There was that affair of John Dene"s lunch.
Such things will not please those----" He shrugged his shoulders.
For fully a minute Naylor gazed at him quietly, searchingly.
"There was then the chocolates and the girl."
"I do not understand." Mr. Naylor looked across at him craftily.
"We waste time, I know. I will tell you. The secretary, you make your woman offer her chocolates at a tea-shop, and to go for a ride in a taxi. The chocolates----" He shrugged his shoulders expressively.
"She refuses. You are clumsy."
The contemptuous insolence of his visitor seemed to impress Mr. Naylor.
The look of suspicion in his eyes became less marked.
"How did you know?" he asked, still wary.
"We waste time," was the response with a wave of the hand.
For a few moments Mr. Naylor sat watching Van Helder as he continued to blow rings with manifest content.