E. Phillips Oppenheim - 21 Greatest Spy Thrillers in One Premium Edition (Mystery & Espionage Series)

“After all, though,” murmured Zoe, “she is a woman. See, your friend is coming to speak to you.”

Bellamy was indeed crossing the room. He nodded to Laverick and bowed to his companion.

“Forgive my intruding, Laverick,” he said. “You do remember me, I hope? Bellamy, you know.”

“I remember you quite well. We used to play together at Lord’s, even after we left school.”

Bellamy smiled.

“That is so,” he answered. “I see by the papers that you have kept up your cricket. Mine, alas! has had to go. I have been too much of a rolling stone lately. Do you know that I have come to ask you a favor?”

“Go ahead,” Laverick interposed.

“Mademoiselle Idiale has a fancy to meet you,” Bellamy explained. “You know, or I dare say you have heard, what a creature of whims she is. If you won’t come across and be introduced like a good fellow, she probably won’t speak a word all through supper-time, go off in a huff, and my evening will be spoiled.”

Laverick laughed heartily. A little smile played at the corner of Zoe’s lips—nevertheless, she was looking slightly anxious.

“Under those circumstances,” remarked Laverick, “perhaps I had better go. You will understand,” he added, with a glance at Zoe, “that I cannot stay for more than a second.”

“Naturally,” Bellamy answered. “If Mademoiselle really has anything to say to you, I will, if I am permitted, return for a moment.”

Laverick introduced him to Zoe.

“I am sure I have seen you at the Universal,” he declared. “You’re in the front row, aren’t you? I have seen you in that clever little step-dance and song in the second act.”

She nodded, evidently pleased.

“Does it seem clever to you?” she asked wistfully. “You see, we are all so tired of it.”

“I think it is ripping,” Bellamy declared. “I shall have the pleasure again directly,” he added, with a bow.

The two men crossed the room.

“What the dickens does Mademoiselle Idiale want with me?” Laverick demanded. “Does she know that I am a poor stockbroker, struggling against hard times?”

Bellamy shrugged his shoulders.

“She isn’t the sort to care who or what you are,” he answered. “And as for the rest, I suppose she could buy any of us up if she wanted to. Her interest in you is rather a curious one. No time to explain it now. She’ll tell you.”

Louise smiled as he paused before her. She was certainly exquisitely beautiful. Her dress, her carriage, her delicate hands, even her voice, were all perfection. She gave him the tips of her fingers as Bellamy pronounced his name.

“It is so kind of you,” she said, “to come and speak to me. And indeed you will laugh when I tell you why I thought that I would like to say one word with you.”

Laverick bowed.

“I am thankful, Mademoiselle,” he replied, “for anything which procures me such a pleasure.”

She smiled.

“Ah! you, too, are gallant,” she said. “But indeed, then, I fear you will not be flattered when I tell you why I was so interested. I read all your newspapers. I read of that terrible murder in Crooked Friars’ Alley only a few days ago,—is not that how you call the place?”

Laverick was suddenly grave. What was this that was coming?

“One of the reports,” she continued, “says that the man was a foreigner. The maker’s name upon his clothes was Austrian. I, too, come from that part of Europe—if not from Austria, from a country very near—and I am always interested in my country-people. A few moments ago I asked my friend Mr. Bellamy, ‘Where is this Crooked Friars’ Alley?’ Just then he bowed to you, and he answered me, ‘It is in the city. It is within a yard or two of the offices of the gentleman to whom I just have said good-evening.’ So I looked across at you and I thought that it was strange.”

Laverick scarcely knew what to say.

“It was a terrible affair,” he admitted, “and, as Mr. Bellamy has told you, it occurred within a few steps of my office. So far, too, the police seem completely at a loss.”

“Ah!” she went on, shaking her head, “your police, I am afraid they are not very clever. It is too bad, but I am afraid that it is so. Tell me, Mr. Laverick, is this, then, a very lonely spot where your offices are?”

“Not at all,” Laverick replied. “On the contrary, in the daytime it might be called the heart of the city—of the money-making part of the city, at any rate. Only this thing, you see, seems to have taken place very late at night.”

“When all the offices were closed,” she remarked.

“Most of them,” Laverick answered. “Mine, as it happened, was open late that night. I passed the spot within half-an-hour or so of the time when the murder must have been committed.”

“But that is terrible!” she declared, shaking her head. “Tell me, Mr. Laverick, if I drive to your office some morning you will show me this place,—yes?”

“If you are in earnest, Mademoiselle, I will certainly do so, but there is nothing there. It is just a passage.”

“You give me your address,” she insisted, “and I think that I will come. You are a stockbroker, Mr. Bellamy tells me. Well, sometimes I have a good deal of money to invest. I come to you and you will give me your advice. So! You have a card!”

Laverick found one and scribbled his city address upon it. She thanked him and once more held out the tips of her fingers.

“So I shall see you again some day, Mr. Laverick.”

He bowed and recrossed the room. Bellamy was standing talking to Zoe.

“Well,” he asked, as Laverick returned, “are you, too, going to throw yourself beneath the car?”

Laverick shook his head.

“I do not think so,” he answered. “Our acquaintance promises to be a business one. Mademoiselle spoke of investing some money though me.”

Bellamy laughed.

“Then you have kept your heart,” he remarked. “Ah, well, you have every reason!”

He bowed to Zoe, nodded to Laverick, and returned to his place. Laverick looked after him a little compassionately.

“Poor fellow,” he said.

“Who is he?”

“He has some sort of a Government appointment,” Laverick answered. “They say he is hopelessly in love with Mademoiselle Idiale.”

“Why not?” Zoe exclaimed. “He is nice. She must care for some one. Why do you pity him?”

“They say, too, that she has no more heart than a stone,” Laverick continued, “and that never a man has had even a kind word from her. She is very patriotic, and all the thoughts and love she has to spare from herself are given to her country.”

Zoe shuddered.

“Ah!” she murmured, “I do not like to think of heartless women. Perhaps she is not so cruel, after all. To me she seems only very, very sad. Tell me, Mr. Laverick, why did she send for you?”

“I imagine,” said he, “that it was a whim. It must have been a whim.”

Table of Contents

Laverick, on the following morning, found many things to think about. He was accustomed to lunch always at the same restaurant, within a few yards of his office, and with the same little company of friends. Just as he was leaving, an outside broker whom he knew slightly came across the room to him.

“Tell me, Laverick,” he asked, “what’s become of your partner?”

“He has gone abroad for a few weeks. As a matter of fact, we shall be announcing a change in the firm shortly.”

“Queer thing,” the broker remarked. “I was in Liverpool yesterday, and I could have sworn that I saw him hanging around the docks. I should never have doubted it, but Morrison was always so careful about his appearance, and this fellow was such a seedy-looking individual. I called out to him and he vanished like a streak.”