The Lost Ambassador Part 41

"He was a Frenchman," he said; "Bartot was his name. He had an apoplectic stroke in the cafe one day last week, and since then complications set in."

I turned away with a little s.h.i.+ver. It was not pleasant to reflect upon--this man's death!

CHAPTER XXIX

AN UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW

Before I was up the next morning I was informed that Fritz was waiting outside the door of my room. I had him shown in, and he stood respectfully by my bedside.

"Sir," he said, "I have once more discovered Mr. Delora."

"Fritz," I answered, "you are a genius! Tell me where he is?"

"He is at a small private hotel in Bloomsbury," Fritz declared. "It is really a boarding-house, frequented by Australians and Colonials. The number is 17, and the street is Montague Street."

I sat up in bed.

"This is very interesting," I said.

Fritz coughed.

"I trusted that you would find it so, sir," he admitted.

I thought for several moments. Then I sprang out of bed.

"Fritz," I said, "our engagement comes to an end this morning. I am going to pay you for two months' service."

I went to my drawer and counted out some notes, which Fritz pocketed with a smile of contentment.

"I am obliged to give up my interest in this affair," I said, "so I cannot find any more work for you. But that money will enable you to take a little holiday, and I have no doubt that you will soon succeed in obtaining another situation."

Fritz made me a magnificent bow.

"I am greatly obliged to you, sir," he announced. "I shall take another situation at once. Holidays--they will come later in life. At my age, and with a family, one must work. But your generosity, sir,"

he wound up, with another bow, "I shall never forget."

I dressed, and walked to the address which Fritz had given me. As I stood on the doorstep, with the bell handle still in my hand, the door was suddenly opened. It was Delora himself who appeared! He shrank away from me as though I were something poisonous. I laid my hand on his shoulder, firmly determined that this time there should be no escape.

"Mr. Delora," I said, "I want a few words with you. Can I have them now?"

"I am busy!" he answered. "At any other time!"

"No other time will do," I answered. "It is only a few words I need say, but those few words must be spoken."

He led the way reluctantly into a sitting-room. There were red plush chairs set at regular intervals against the wall, and a table in the middle covered by papers--mostly out of date. Delora closed the door and turned toward me sternly.

"Captain Rotherby," he said, "I am quite aware that there are certain people in London who are very much interested in me and my doings. Their interests and mine clash, and it is only natural that they should plot against me. But where the devil you come in I cannot tell! Tell me what you mean by playing the spy upon me? What business is it of yours?"

"You misunderstand the situation, sir," I answered. "More than ten days ago you left me in charge of your niece at Charing Cross, while you drove on, according to your own statement, to the Milan Hotel. You never went to that hotel. You never, apparently, meant to. You have never been near it since. You have left your niece in the centre of what seems to be a very nest of intrigue. I have the right to ask you for an explanation of these things. This morning I have a special right, because to-day I have promised to go away into the country, and to take no further interest in your doings."

"Let us suppose," Delora said dryly, "that it is already to-morrow morning."

"No!" I answered. "There is something which I mean to say to you. You need not be alarmed. The few words I have to say to you are not questions. I do not want to understand your secrets,--to penetrate the mystery which surrounds you and your doings. I will not ask you a single question. I will not even ask you why you left your niece in such a fit of terror, and have never yet dared to show your face at the Milan."

"A child would understand these things!" Delora exclaimed. "The Milan Hotel is one of the most public spots in London. It is open to any one who cares to cross the threshold. It is the last place in the world likely to be a suitable home for a man like myself, who is in touch with great affairs."

"Then why did you choose to go there?" I asked.

"It was not my choice at all," Delora answered. "Besides, it was not until I arrived in London that I understood exactly the nature of the intrigues against me."

"At least," I protested, "you should never have brought your niece with you. Frankly, your concerns don't interest me a snap of the fingers. It is of your niece only that I think. You have no right to leave her alone in such anxiety!"

"Nor can I see, sir," Delora answered, "that you have any better right to reproach me with it. Still, if it will shorten this discussion, I admit that if I had known how much trouble there was ahead of me I should not have brought her. I simply disliked having to disappoint her. It was a long-standing promise."

"Let that go," I answered. "I have told you that I have handed in my commission. I have nothing more to do with you or your schemes, whatever they may be. But I came here to find you and to tell you this one thing. Felicia says that you are her uncle, she scouts the idea of your being an impostor, she speaks of you as tenderly and affectionately as a girl well could. That is all very well. Yet, in the face of it, I am here to impress this upon you. I love your niece, Mr. Delora,--some day or other I mean to make her my wife,--and I will not have her dragged into anything which is either disreputable or against the law."

"Has my niece encouraged you?" Delora asked calmly.

"Not in the least," I answered. "She has been kind enough to give me to understand that she cares a little, and there the matter ends.

Nothing more could be said between us in this state of uncertainty.

But I came here for this one purpose. I came to tell you that if by any chance Felicia should be mistaken, if you play her false in any way, if you seek to embroil her in your schemes, or to do anything by means of which she could suffer, I shall first of all shake the life out of your body, and then I shall go to Scotland Yard and tell them how much I know."

"About Mr. Tapilow, also?" Delora asked, with a sneer.

"Do you think I am afraid to take the punishment for my own follies?"

I asked indignantly. "If I believed that, I would go and give myself up to-morrow. Louis can give me away if he will, or you. I don't care a snap of the fingers. But what I want you to understand is this.

Felicia is, I presume, your niece. I should have been inclined to have doubted it, but I cannot disbelieve her own word. I think myself that it is brutal to have brought such a child here and to have left her alone--"

"She is not alone," Delora interrupted stiffly. "She has a companion."

"Who arrived yesterday," I continued. "She has spent some very bad days alone, I can promise you that."

"I have telephoned," Delora said, "twice a day--sometimes oftener."

I laughed ironically.

"For your own sake or hers, I wonder," I said. "Anyhow, we can leave that alone. What I want you to understand is this, that if there is indeed anything illegal or criminal in your secret doings over here, you must take care that Felicia is safely provided for if things should go against you. She is not to be left there to be the b.u.t.t of a great criminal action. If I find that you or any of your friends are making use of her in any way whatever, I swear that you shall suffer for it!"

Delora smiled at me grimly. He seemed in his few dry words to have revealed something of his stronger and less nervous self.

"You terrify me!" he said. "Yet I think that we must go on pretty well as we are, even if my niece has been fortunate enough to enlist your sympathies on her behalf. Never mind who I am, or what my business is in this country, young man. It is not your affair. You should have enough to think about yourself in this country of easy extradition. My niece can look after herself. So can I. We do not need your aid, or welcome your interference."

"You insinuate," I declared indignantly, "that your niece is one of your helpers! I do not believe it!"

"Helpers in what?" he asked, with upraised eyebrows.