The Golden Face Part 16

"Really," said the merry old gentleman with his gla.s.s of '74 poised in his hand, "I don't know whether I shall go back to Colwyn Bay again this winter--or go abroad. I've no ties, and I'm getting fed up. I haven't been abroad since the war."

"Go abroad, my dear fellow," said Rayne. "The change would certainly do you good--go somewhere in the south. The Riviera is played out. Why not go to Sicily?"

"I've been there," replied old Mr. Lloyd as he sipped his gla.s.s of fine wine.

"Then why not try Italy? Glorious bright weather all through our foggy season--Rome or Florence, for instance?"

"No, I hate Italy."

"Spain, then? Good hotels in Madrid and Barcelona. In Madrid there is a small circle of English society, good opera, and lots of interesting places to visit by motor," Rayne suggested, for, as a rapid traveler all over Europe, he knew every Continental city of importance.

The old man was rather struck by the latter suggestion.

"I certainly am rather tired of Bournemouth and Colwyn Bay and Hove in winter," he admitted. "I've never been to Madrid."

"Then go, my dear fellow. Go by all means. The journey is quite easy.

Just the train by day to Paris, and then by sleeping-car on the Sud Express right through to Madrid."

"Yes. But it's an awful trouble," replied the rich old man.

"No trouble at all!" laughed Rayne as he pulled at his cigar. "I don't like to see you in this rut of hotels. It's bad for you! It only leads to drinks in the bar till late and bad headaches in the morning. You must buck up and get out of it."

"Well, I'll see," replied the old fellow, and then we all three rose and rejoined the ladies.

Oh, what a farce the whole thing was! I longed--I yearned to yell my disclosures against the man who like an octopus had now placed his tentacles around me. But I saw that it was futile to kick against the p.r.i.c.ks. I had only to wait and to watch.

For a whole week things proceeded in good, well-ordered regularity.

Mr. Lloyd was our guest and everyone made themselves pleasant towards him. Lola, with whom I had frequent chats in secret, had somehow become disarmed. She no longer suspected her father of any sinister intent, the reason being that he had taken the old man as his dearest and most intimate confidant.

One night after I had beaten old Mr. Lloyd at billiards and he had gone to bed, I pa.s.sed by the door of the library and saw a streak of light beneath the door.

Therefore, believing that the electric light had been inadvertently left on, I opened the door, when I had a great surprise.

Rayne was seated in an arm-chair chatting with Madame Martoz, while on a settee near the window sat Madame Duperre.

All three started up as I entered, but a word of apology instantly rose to my lips, and Rayne said: "That's all right, Hargreave. Indeed, I wanted to talk to you. Look here," he went on, "I want you to go to Madrid after old Mr. Lloyd goes there, as no doubt he will. You'll stay at the Ritz in the Plaza de Canovas, and ask no questions. I'll send you instructions--or perhaps Duperre may be with you."

"When?" I asked in surprise, as it appeared that the rich old gentleman had, after all, arranged to go to Spain.

"In ten days or so. When I tell you. Till then, don't worry, my dear boy. When I make plans you know that you have only to act."

"To the detriment of our unsuspecting guest, eh?" I remarked in a low bitter voice.

"That is not polite, George," he said sharply. "You are our paid servant, and such a remark does not befit you."

"Whether it does or not, Mr. Rayne, I repeat it," I said defiantly. "I am not blind to your subtle machinations by which I have become your accomplice."

He laughed triumphantly in my face.

"You are paid--and well paid for it all. Why should you resent? Are you an idiot?"

"I certainly refuse to be your tool!" I cried furiously.

"You have thrown in your lot with me as one who ventures constantly in big things just as any man who operates on the Stock Exchange. It is good sport. You, George, are a sportsman, as I am. And from one sport we both derive a good deal of fun."

"And the victim of our fun, as you term it, is to be old Mr. Lloyd!" I remarked, looking him straight in his face.

But he only laughed, and said:

"Don't be a fool. You are a most excellent fellow, Hargreave, except when you get these little fits of squeamishness."

It was on the tip of my tongue to roundly refuse to have anything further to do with him and leave the house, but I knew, alas! that now I had stolen the famous ruby in Paris he would have no compunction in giving me over to the police.

And if I, in turn, gave information against him, what could I really prove? Practically nothing! Rayne was always clever enough to preserve himself from any possibility of suspicion. It was that fact which marked him as the most amazing and ingenious crook.

So I was forced to remain silent, and a few minutes later left the room.

On the following Friday Mr. Lloyd left us. Rayne bade him a regretful farewell, after making him promise to return to us for a fortnight when he got back from Spain.

"Probably my secretary, Hargreave, will have to go to Madrid upon business for me. I have some interest in a tramway company at Salamanca. So you may possibly meet."

"I hope we do, Mr. Hargreave," said the old gentleman, turning to me warmly. "I shall certainly take your advice and try Madrid for a few weeks."

"Yes, do. You'll like it, I'm sure," his host a.s.sured him, and then we drove away.

"When are you going to Spain?" Mr. Lloyd asked me as he sat at my side on our way to Thirsk station.

"I really don't know," was my evasive reply. "Mr. Rayne has not yet fixed the date."

"Well, here's my address," he said, handing me a card with his name and "Reform Club" on it. "I wish you'd write me when your journey is fixed and perhaps we might travel together. I'd be most delighted to have you as my companion on the journey."

I took the card, thanked him, and promised that I would let him know the date of my departure.

CHAPTER X

THE PAINTED ENVELOPE

On my return I told Rayne of the old man's invitation, whereat he rubbed his hands in warm approval.

"Excellent!" he cried. "You must travel with him and keep an eye upon him--just to see that n.o.body--well, that n.o.body molests the poor old fellow," he laughed grimly.

I saw his meaning, but I was in no way anxious to become the traveling companion of a man who had, without doubt, been marked down as the next victim.

A fact that aroused my curiosity was that all the time Mr. Lloyd had been with us Duperre had been absent--in Brussels, I believe. His ident.i.ty was evidently being concealed with some distinctly malicious purpose.