The Moving Finger Part 46

Saton nodded.

"It isn't that I want to," he declared, "only, as you know, I must have money. I can't marry you without it, can I, Violet? We should only be miserable. You understand that?"

"Yes, I understand!" she answered.

She was turning one of her rings round, looking down at her hands with downcast head.

"You're upset, Violet," he said, soothingly. "I'm sorry. You see I can't help myself, don't you?"

"Oh, I suppose so!" she answered. "Who is the young lady?"

"A Miss Lois Champneyes," Saton said. "She is a ward of a Mr. Henry Rochester, who has been my enemy all along. It is he, I believe, who has stirred up these detectives to keep watching us."

"Henry Rochester," she repeated. "Yes, I remember the name! He lives at the great house near Blackbird's Nest."

Saton nodded.

"He showed you the way to my cottage once there," he reminded her.

"Well, I'm glad I've told you, Violet. I hope you understand exactly how much it means. It's Rachael's doings, of course, and I daren't go against her."

"No, I suppose not!" she answered.

They parted in the street. Saton called a taximeter and drove off.

Violet walked slowly down Bond Street. As she pa.s.sed the corner of Piccadilly, she was suddenly aware that the man who had visited her that afternoon was watching her from the other side of the street. She hesitated for a moment, and then, standing still, deliberately beckoned him over.

"You are a detective, are you not?" she asked, as he approached, hat in hand.

He smiled.

"You are a very clever young lady," he remarked.

"I don't want any compliments," she answered. "Did you come to my show this afternoon hoping just to catch me tripping, or are you engaged in a larger quest altogether?"

"In a larger quest," he answered. "I want some information, and if you can give it me, I can promise that you will be remarkably well paid."

"And the information?" she asked.

"I want," he said slowly, "to be able to connect the young man who came in and pretended to be a stranger, and who has just been having tea with you--I mean Mr. Bertrand Saton--I want to connect him with your establishment, and also with a little office where some very strange business has been transacted during the last few months. You know where I mean. What do you say? Shall we have a talk?"

She walked by his side along Piccadilly.

"We may as well," she said. "We'll go into the Cafe Royal and sit down."

CHAPTER x.x.xV

ON LOIS' BIRTHDAY

"Lois is late this morning," Vandermere remarked, looking up at the clock.

"And on her birthday, too!" Lady Mary declared. "Young people, nowadays, are so _blase_. Look at all those presents on the table for her, and here the breakfast gong has rung twice, and there is no sign of her."

Vandermere turned to his host.

"You haven't heard anything about that fellow Saton?" he asked. "You don't know whether he is in the neighborhood or not?"

"I have not heard," Rochester answered. "To tell you the truth, if he has as much sense as I believe he has, he is probably on his way to the Continent by now."

"I have an idea, somehow," Vandermere continued, "that Lois is afraid he'll turn up to-day."

"If Lois is afraid," Rochester remarked, "let me tell you in confidence, Vandermere, that I don't think you need be."

"My dear girl!" Lady Mary exclaimed, looking toward the staircase. "We were just going in to breakfast without you, and on your birthday, too!"

Lois came slowly down the broad stairs into the hall. It was impossible to ignore the fact that she was pale, and that she walked as one in fear. Her eyes were sunken, and spoke of a sleepless night.

Her manner was almost furtive. She scarcely glanced, even, at the little pile of packages which stood upon the table.

"How nice of you all to wait!" she said. "Good morning, everybody!"

"Good morning, and many happy returns to you!" Lady Mary called out.

"Will you look at your presents now or after breakfast?"

"I think after breakfast," she said. "Are there any letters?"

"They are on the table," Rochester said.

She glanced them through eagerly. When she had come to the last one, she drew a little breath of relief. A tinge of color came into her cheeks.

"You dear people!" she exclaimed, impulsively. "I know I am going to have ever such nice things to thank you for. May I be a child, and put off looking at them until after breakfast? Do you mind, all of you?"

"Of course not," Vandermere answered. "We want you to tell us how you would like to spend the day."

"I would like to ride--a long way away," she declared, breathlessly.

"Or the motor-car--I shouldn't mind that. I should like to go as far away as ever we can, and stay away until it is dark. Could we start directly after breakfast?"

Rochester smiled.

"You can have the car so far as I am concerned," he said. "I have to go over to Melton to sit on the Bench, and your aunt and I are lunching with the Delameres afterwards. But if you can put up with Vandermere as an escort!"

"I'll try," she answered. "Dear Maurice, do order the car for half-an-hour's time, will you?"

He laughed.

"Why this wild rush?" he inquired.