The Datchet Diamonds Part 20

"To look for Cyril. Do you object? I will try to induce him not to hurt you, when I find him."

"You understand that you will have to endure the ignominy of having the man outside following you wherever you may go."

"Ignominy, you call it! Why, the man may actually be to me as a protection from my friends."

"You use hard words. I enter into your feelings sufficiently to understand that, from your own point of view, they may not seem to be unjustified. But at the same time I am sufficiently your friend, and Cyril's friend, to decline to allow you, if I can help it, to throw dust in your own eyes. That Cyril has been guilty of actual theft, I do not for a moment believe. That he may have perpetrated some egregious blunder, I fear is possible. I know him probably as well as you do. I know John Ireland too, and I am persuaded that he would not bring a charge of this kind without having good grounds to go upon.

Indeed, I may tell you plainly--slurring over the truth will do no good to any one--Cyril is known to have been in actual possession of one of the missing jewels."

"I don't believe it."

"Best a.s.sured you will do good neither to Cyril's cause nor to your own by a refusal to give credence to actual facts. It is only facts which a judge and jury can be induced to act upon. Satisfactorily explain them if you can, but do not suppose that you will be able to impress other people with the merits of your cause by declining to believe in their existence. I do entreat you to be advised by me before, by some rash, if well-meaning act, you do incalculable mischief to Cyril and yourself."

"Thank you, Mr. Franklyn, but one does not always wish to be advised even by one's legal adviser. Just now I should be obliged by your confining yourself to answering questions. Perhaps you will be so good as to tell me where I am most likely to find John Ireland, that immaculate policeman?"

"When I left him he was just going to Makell's Hotel to make inquiries as to Cyril's whereabouts upon his own account."

"Then I will go to Makell's Hotel to make inquiries of John Ireland upon my account."

"In that case you must excuse me if I come with you. I warn you again, that if you are not careful you may do Cyril more mischief than you have any notion of."

"I shall come too."

This was Miss Wentworth. Miss Strong bowed.

"If you will, you will. Evidently the man on the doorstep is not likely to serve me as an adequate protection against my friends."

Miss Strong put on her hat and mackintosh in what was probably one of the shortest times on record. Miss Wentworth generally dressed more quickly than her friend; on such an occasion she was not likely to be left behind. The curious procession of three pa.s.sed through the door and down the steps in Indian file, Miss Strong first, Mr. Franklyn last.

At the bottom of the steps stood Mr. Hollier. The leader looked him up and down.

"Is your name Hollier?"

The man touched his hat.

"That's my name, miss."

"I am Daisy Strong, Mr. Cyril Paxton's promised wife." She seemed on a sudden to be fond of advertising the fact. "I am going to look for Mr.

Paxton now. You may, if you choose, play the part of spy, and follow me; but let me tell you that if he comes to harm through you, or through any of your a.s.sociates, there'll be trouble."

"I see, miss."

Mr. Hollier grinned, hurting, as it seemed, the lady's sense of dignity.

"I don't know what you see to smile at. A woman has given a man sufficient cause for tears before to-day. You may find, in your own case, that she will again."

CHAPTER XIII

THE DETECTIVE AND THE LADY

Mr. Ireland marched into Makell's Hotel as if he owned the building.

He created a sensation in the office.

"You know me?"

The clerk, who was a good-looking young gentleman, with a curled moustache, eyed the speaker with somewhat supercilious curiosity. Mr.

Ireland's manner was more suggestive of his importance than was his appearance. The clerk decided that he did not know him. He owned as much.

"I'm Inspector Ireland, of the Criminal Investigation Department. I hold a warrant for the arrest of Cyril Paxton. He is stopping in your hotel. I don't want to cause any more trouble than necessary--my a.s.sistants are outside--so, perhaps, you will tell me whereabouts in the house I am likely to find him."

The clerk looked the surprise which he felt.

"Mr. Paxton is out."

"Are you sure?"

"I will make inquiries if you wish it. But I know that he is out. I saw him go, and, as I have not left the office since he went, if he had returned I could not have helped seeing him."

"Has he any property here?"

"I will speak to the manager."

The clerk turned as if to suit the action to the word. Reaching through the office window, Mr. Ireland caught him by the shoulder.

"All right. You send for him. I'll speak to him instead."

The clerk eyed the detaining hand with an air of unconcealed disgust.

"Very good. Have the kindness to remove your hand. If you are a policeman, as you say you are, yours is not the kind of grasp which I care to have upon my shoulder."

"Hoity-toity! Don't you injure yourself, young man. All I want is to have the first talk with the manager. Are you going to send for the manager, or am I?"

"Here is the manager."

As the clerk spoke, and before he had had time to properly smooth his ruffled plumes, the dignitary in question entered the office from an inner room. John Ireland accosted him.

"Are you the manager of this hotel--name of Treadwater?"

"I am Mr. Treadwater."

Ireland explained who he was, and what he wanted. Mr. Treadwater was evidently even more surprised than the clerk had been.

"You have a warrant for the arrest of Cyril Paxton! Not our Mr.

Paxton, surely?"