CHAPTER X

Ten minutes later, Bobbie walked into his brother’s room without knocking, and interrupted what seemed to be a very confidential interview. Trenter pocketed a sheaf of telegrams in haste, but not so quickly that Bobbie did not see them. He made no comment until Mr. Trenter, in his best suit and looking unusually spruce, had made a hurried departure.

“Trenter’s going down to see his sick aunt,” explained his master.

“He looks like that,” said Bobbie. “The chrysanthemum in his buttonhole will cheer her immensely. Is the faithful Trenter in the swindle too?”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘swindle,’” said Gordon loudly. “I wish I hadn’t told you anything about it!”

“You wouldn’t, only you wanted somebody to stand by you in case anything went wrong. That is, anything but you.”

Gordon glared at him.

“I shall not go wrong, believe me!”

“I don’t,” said Bobbie. And then, hastily: “At least, I do, but nobody else would.”

“You can’t understand these--it’s a hateful word, but there is no better--affinities,” said Gordon, “these understandings and yearnings for something which--which--well, somebody else can’t give you. Some magic that draws a man’s confidence and kills all sense of time and obligation.”

Bobbie nodded wisely.

“I know--a woman.”

Gordon stood erect.

“Bobbie,” he said awfully, “I tell you this is not an affair--at any rate, it is different from other kinds of affairs.”

“So are all other kinds of affairs,” said Bobbie. “That’s why the judges have been working overtime. I dare say I _am_ cynical: I can afford to be, I’m a bachelor. The lady has a husband?”

“Heloise is married,” said Gordon gravely.

“Heloise? I must remember that name. And Trenter, I presume, is going into the country to post the necessary telegrams to give verisimilitude to an otherwise unconvincing narrative. I hate quoting Gilbert at you, but the situation is a little Gilbertian. What is she like?”

Gordon was not inclined to particularise.

“Of course, if you’re going to make trouble----”

“Don’t be an ass,” said Bobbie. “I’m not going to give you away because, for some extraordinary reason, I believe you.”

A knock at the door: it was Eleanor.

“Will you see Mr. Superbus?” she said.

“No,” snapped Gordon. “Get me a cab.”

“Who’s Mr. Superbus?”

“He’s the detective I told you about; the man that is watching for Double Dan.”

Bobbie whistled: it was an exasperating trick of his.

“Double Dan? By Jove! I didn’t think of him. Gordon, you’re taking a risk. Is there any money in the house?”

“I told you.”

“You keep telling me you’ve told me things. I think your mind is wandering.”

“There’s fifty thousand dollars in the safe. Diana’s looking after it. The combination word is ‘Telma’--I told her, and I might as well tell you. It is for Tilmet, who’s calling on Sunday, but Diana will look after that.”

“Double Dan,” repeated Bobbie softly. “And you’re the very bird he could impersonate to the life! Sometimes I do it myself unconsciously. A little pomp, a little strut, a little preciousness of speech----”

Gordon waved him out of the room. He had reached the limit of his patience.

Diana was out when he came down, and he was not sorry. Also, the telephone receiver was on the table; he replaced it in the hook.

“Where is Miss Ford?” he asked.

“Miss Ford had to go out. She asked me to say good-bye to you, sir,” said Eleanor. “Will you see Mr. Superbus?”

“No, I will not see Mr. Superbus. Tell him--well, tell him anything you like. I’ve got a train to catch.”

He was gone in such a hurry that Bobbie had not time to get the information he had come to procure--Gordon had not told him the address to which he was to wire. There was time to go after him, but his immediate objective was unknown. It was obviously too early for the train, and Bobbie had such a sense of delicacy that he would not take the risk of a chance meeting with the fascinating Mrs. van Oynne. He sat down, waiting for Diana’s return, and puzzling over the change which a letter had wrought in her. That it was a letter, he knew. Sharper of eye than his brother, he had noticed the closely written page beneath her hand. Diana had her secrets too.

As for Gordon, he was a fool, an utter, hopeless, dithering maniac! Bobbie got up and walked across to the safe, hesitated a moment, then manipulated the dial and pulled the door open.

Except for a receipt form and a four page contract, the safe was empty. Of money there was none!