He had bad luck hiring a burglar for you. He lost his head when he ran away with another person"s motor-car and had to hand the marked bill to a country justice. He showed bad judgment when he tried to fool me with a fancy lie. But you are the real bungler, Senhor Alcatrante. Any capable diplomat could tell you that."
Alcatrante"s yellow face grew white about the lips. His eyes flashed balefully.
"Curse you!" he exclaimed. "You know more than is good for you. Take care!"
Orme laughed in disgust. "Oh, drop this melodrama. I am not afraid of cheap Machiavellis. In this country there are some crimes that are not excused by high office."
The minister"s teeth showed. "You shall see, my young friend."
"Doubtless. But let me tell you one thing; if anything happens to me, my friends will know where to look for the criminal."
Alcatrante snarled. "Don"t be too sure----"
"If necessary," continued Orme, "a word to certain persons as to the commission for building warships--Five hundred thousand, is it not? by the new arrangement--in gold----"
Alcatrante, in ungovernable rage, raised his light cane and struck. Orme fended the blow with his arm, then wrenched the cane away and threw it into the street. A swarm of pa.s.sers-by gathered about them so quickly that in a moment they were the center of a circle.
"You dunce," said Orme. "Do you want the police?"
"No," muttered Alcatrante, controlling himself with a great effort. "You are right." He darted into the crowd at one side, and Orme, quick to take the hint, disappeared in the opposite direction, crossing the street and jumping into an empty cab, which had drawn up in antic.i.p.ation of a fight.
"To the Rookery," he ordered, naming the first office-building that came into his head.
"Sure," said the driver, and away they rattled.
A glance back showed Orme that the crowd was dispersing.
At a distance was Alcatrante. He had seen Orme"s escape, and was looking about vainly for another cab. But cabs are not numerous on North Parker Street, and Orme, so far as he could tell, was not followed.
When his cab drew up at the busy entrance on La Salle Street, he found his way to the nearest public telephone. The hour was close to five, and he must discover quickly where he could find the girl. He called up the Pere Marquette. "This is Mr. Orme," he explained to the clerk. "Have there been any calls or messages for me?"
"Yes, sir, Mr. and Mrs. Wallingham called up at twelve-thirty to know if you were going to Arradale with them."
The golfing engagement! Orme had not even thought of it since the evening before.
"Anything else?"
"Yes, sir. A j.a.panese came about one o"clock. He left no name."
"The same man who came last evening?"
"No, sir, an older man."
The j.a.panese minister had doubtless gone straight from Arima"s apartment to the Pere Marquette. "Anything else?" asked Orme.
"There was a "phone call for you about eleven o"clock. The party left no name."
"A woman"s voice?"
"Yes, sir. She said: "Tell Mr. Orme that I shall not be able to call him up at noon, but will try to do so as near two o"clock as possible.""
"Did she call up again at two?"
"No, sir. There"s no record of it."
Orme understood. In the interval after her attempt to reach him she had learned at Arima"s of his seeming treachery. "Very well," he said to the clerk, and hung up the receiver.
What should he do now? The girl had given him up. He did not know her name or where to find her, and yet find her he must and that within the next few hours. The unquestionably great importance of the papers in his pocket had begun to weigh on him heavily. He was tempted to take them out, there in the telephone-booth, and examine them for a clue. The circ.u.mstances justified him.
But--he had promised the girl! Stronger than his curiosity, stronger almost than his wish to deliver the papers, was his desire to keep that promise. It may have been foolish, quixotic; but he resolved to continue as he had begun. "At ten o"clock," he said to himself, "if I have not found her, I will look at the papers or go to the police--do whatever is necessary." He did not like to break promises or miss engagements.
There was his engagement with the Wallinghams. It had absolutely gone from his mind. Bessie would forgive him, of course. She was a sensible little woman, and she would know that his failure to appear was due to something unavoidable and important, but Orme"s conscience bothered him a little because he had not, before setting out that morning, telephoned to her that he might be detained.
Bessie Wallingham! She knew the girl! Why had he not thought of that before?
He got the Wallinghams" number. Were they at home? No, they had gone to Arradale and would probably remain until the last evening train. He rang off.
It remained to try Arradale. After some delay, he got the clubhouse. Mrs.
Wallingham? Yes, she had just come in. Would Mr. Orme hold the wire?
Mr. Orme certainly would, and presently he was rewarded for the delay by hearing Bessie"s brisk little voice.
"h.e.l.lo?"
"Who?"
"Bob?"
"Well you ought to be ashamed of yourself; we waited over and took the next train."
"Oh, yes, I know all about these very busy people."
"Nonsense! I was fooling, of course. But we were sorry you didn"t come."
"What?"
"That girl? Why, what"s the matter with you, Robert Orme?"
"Business importance? That won"t do, Bob. You"ll have to "fess up."
"Do I know such a girl? Are you serious?"
"Why, Bob, I can think of several. Shall I name them?"
"Not give their names! What on earth is the matter with you?"
"Oh, part of the business, is it? Well, let me see. Tall and beautiful, you say. Dark eyes and hair. A black touring-car. Hum! I know, three girls to whom the description applies. It might be--but you don"t wish me to mention the name. Well, you"ll have to think of something more distinctive."
Orme thought in vain. The image of the girl was ever in his mind, but describe her he could not. At last he said: "The girl I mean lives in one of the suburbs. She has a father who has lately undergone a slight operation. He is, I think, a man who is involved in negotiations with other countries."