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"I have fallen head over heels in love with the young lady," he confessed. "Don't think I am a confounded jackass. I am not in the habit of doing such things. I'm twenty-seven and I have never gone out of my way to meet a girl yet. This is something different. I want to find out about them and get an introduction." Hunterleys shook his head regretfully.
"It concerns the affair in which we are interested. Linger over your coffee and I will return." Mr. Simpson nodded and Hunterleys left the restaurant with Felicia. His wife, at whom he glanced for a moment, kept her head averted. She was whispering in the ear of the gallant Monsieur Douaille. Selingman, catching Draconmeyer's eye, winked at him solemnly.
He came this morning about his business as usual, but, overcome by despair, stabbed himself, most regrettably in the apartments of monsieur." "Since you know all about him, perhaps you can tell me his name?" Hunterleys asked. "James Allen. Monsieur may recall him to his memory. He was tall and of pale complexion, respectable-looking, but a man of discontented appearance.
I only know that for some reason or other your presence here seems to be an annoyance to certain people. Why it should be I don't know, but I want to ask you about it. Will you tell me the truth? Are you sure that you did not come here to spy upon me?" "I certainly did not," Hunterleys answered firmly. "I had no idea that you were near the place. If I had " She turned her head.
"I can't get interested in anything, Hunterleys," he declared. "You could tell me the most amazing things in the world and they'd pass in at one ear and out at the other. Kind of a blithering idiot, eh? You know what I did last night after dinner. If you'll believe me, when I got to the villa, I found the place patrolled as though they were afraid of dynamiters.
Throw a few hundred thousand of your dollars away at the tables, if you must do something foolish. You'll get into far less trouble." Richard made no direct reply. He watched Hunterleys depart and took up his place opposite the door to await his sister's arrival. It was a quarter to five before she appeared and found him waiting for her in the doorway. "Say, you're late, Flossie!" he grumbled.
"I have just been across to the Opera House," she explained, "to enquire about some properties for to-night. I have had all the lunch I want and I am on my way to the hospital now again. I came here on the chance of finding you. They told me at the Hotel de Paris that you were lunching out." Hunterleys turned and whispered to Simpson. "This is very important," he said.
A bullet struck the back of the car and another whistled over their heads. Then they dashed around the corner, and Richard, turning on the lights, jammed down his accelerator. "Gee whiz! that's a bloodthirsty crew!" the young man exclaimed, his eyes fixed upon the road. "Is he hurt?" Roche was lying back on the seat. Hunterleys was on his knees, holding on to the framework of the car.
Draconmeyer said calmly, "that we must get rid of Hunterleys." Mr. Grex looked out of the window for a moment. "To some extent," he observed, "I am a stranger here. I come as a guest to this conference, as our other friend from Paris comes, too. Any small task which may arise from the necessities of the situation, devolves, I think I may say without unfairness, upon you, my friend."
"In a plain political discussion, or an argument with Monsieur Douaille well, I am ready to bear my part. But this sort of thing lifts me off my feet. I can only trot along at your heels." They entered the Hotel de Paris. Hunterleys made a few breathless enquiries. Nothing, alas! was known of Mr. Richard Lane. He came back, frowning, to the steps of the hotel.
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