"I am bothered," I admitted. "I don"t quite know what I ought to do!"
"Explain!"
"It seemed to me," I said, "that the man was neither more nor less than a prisoner there in the hands of those who, for some reason or other, are his enemies."
"That," she admitted, "is fairly obvious; what of it?"
"Well," I said, "the most straightforward thing for me to do, I believe, would be to go to the nearest police-station and tell them all I know."
She laughed softly.
"What an Englishman you are!" she exclaimed. "The law, or a letter to the _Times_. These are your final resources, are they not? Well, in this case, let me a.s.sure you that neither would help you in the least."
"I am not so sure," I answered. "At any rate, I do not see the fun of letting him remain there, to be done to death by those mysterious enemies of his."
"Then why not take him away?" she asked quietly.
"Where to?" I asked.
"Your own home, if you are sufficiently interested in him!"
"Do you mean that?" I asked.
"I do! Listen! I have no pity for the man who calls himself Leslie Guest!
Death he has deserved, and his fate, whomever might intervene, is absolutely inevitable. But I do not wish him to die--at present!"
"Why not?"
"You can imagine, I think. He has the secret."
"He does not seem to me," I remarked, "the sort of man likely to part with it."
"Not to me," she answered quickly, "not to those others. From us he would guard it with his life! With you it is different."
"I am not sure," I said slowly, "that I wish to become a sharer of such dangerous knowledge."
"You are afraid?" she asked coldly.
"I do not see what I have to gain by it," I admitted. "I am not curious, and the possession of it certainly seems to entail some inconvenience, if not danger."
Her lip curled a little. She nodded as though she quite understood my point of view.
"You have said enough," she declared; "I perceive that I was not mistaken! You are exactly the sort of man I thought you were from the first. It is better for you to return to your cricket and your sports.
You are at home with them; in the great world you would soon be weary and lost. Call for your bill, please, and put me in a cab. I have a call to make before I return to the hotel"
"One moment more," I begged. "You have not altogether understood me! I have spoken from my own point of view only. I have no interest in the salvation of Leslie Guest, beyond an Englishman"s natural desire to see fair play. I have no wish to be burdened with a secret which seems to spell life or death in capital letters. But show me where your interest lies, and I promise you that I will be zealous enough! Tell me what to do and I will do it. My time and my life are yours. Do what you will with them! Can I say more than that?"
She flashed a wonderful look at me across the table--such a look that my heart beat, and my pulses flowed to a strange, new music. Her tone was soft, almost caressing.
"You mean this?"
"Upon my honor I do!" I answered.
"Then take Leslie Guest with you back to your home in the country," she said. "Keep him with you, keep every one else away from him. In less than a week he will tell you his secret!"
"I will do it," I answered.
CHAPTER VIII
IN THE TOILS
"This," the nurse said, after a moment"s somewhat awkward pause, "is the doctor--Dr. Kretznow!"
A tall, awkwardly built man, wearing heavy gla.s.ses, turned away from the bedside, and looked at me inquiringly.
"My name is Courage, doctor," I said; "I am an acquaintance of your patient"s."
The doctor frowned on me as he picked up his hat.
"I have given no permission," he said, "for my patient to receive visitors."
"I trust that you don"t consider him too ill," I answered. "I was hoping to hear that he was better!"
"He is doing well enough," the doctor declared, "if he is left alone.
But," he added, in a lower tone, "he is a sick man--a very sick man."
I glanced towards the bedside, and was shocked at the deathly pallor of his face. His eyes were half closed. He had not the air of hearing anything that we said. I walked towards the door with the doctor.
"What is the matter with him, doctor?" I asked.
He glanced towards me suspiciously.
"I was told," he said, "that my patient was without friends here, or any one for whom he could send."
"I have only known him a very short time," I answered, "but I am interested in him. If I may be allowed to say so, I am perfectly willing to defray any charges--"
He stopped me impatiently.
"I am physician to the hotel," he said, "Mr. Blumentein arranges all that with me!"
"Then perhaps as I have told you I am interested in him, I can trespa.s.s so far upon your courtesy as to inquire into the nature of his ailment,"
I said.
"I am afraid," he said, "that as you are not a medical man, I could scarcely make you understand."