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To Arnold, with this man by his side, the amazing story which he had gathered from those ill-written pages, with their abrupt words and brutal cynicism, still ringing in his brain, their errand seemed like some phantasmal thing. The familiar streets bore a different aspect; the faces of the people whom they passed struck him always with a curious note of unreality. Ruth was Sabatini's daughter!
He stooped towards her and lowered his voice. "Murder," he whispered; "the murder of Mr. Rosario!" Through the winding lanes, between the tall hedges, honeysuckle wreathed and starred with wild roses, out onto the broad main road, Sabatini's great car sped noiselessly on its way back to London.
"We are too late!" he exclaimed. "They have found him! They must be making the arrest even now!" The two men stood up in the automobile. Sabatini's face had darkened. He leaned over and said something to the chauffeur. They drove on through the press of people, who gave way sullenly. A police inspector came to the side of the car. "This way is blocked for the present, sir," he said to Sabatini.
In any case, it would have been a perfectly reasonable and even commendable deed. One can scarcely understand your agitation. If you are really accused of having been concerned in that little contretemps, why, here is our friend Mr. Arnold Chetwode, who was present. No doubt he will be able to give evidence in your favor." Arnold was speechless for a moment. Sabatini's manner was incomprehensible.
She is a woman, with a woman's sensibility and all that goes with it. It troubles her to be living alone with me." A shadow of perplexity passed across Sabatini's face. This young man was very much in earnest and spoke as though he had good reasons for these explanations, yet the reasons themselves were not obvious and the minutes were passing.
Then, as he hesitated, the memory of Sabatini's words, so recently spoken, came into his mind. Almost he could see him leaning back in his chair with the faint smile upon his lips. "You have not the spirit for adventure!" Then Arnold hesitated no longer.
Then the door was suddenly opened, and Fenella appeared. She rang a bell. "I am going to order luncheon," she announced. "My brother will be here directly." Arnold bowed, a little absently. Against his will, he was listening to voices on the landing outside. One he knew to be Starling's, the other was Count Sabatini's.
One gets fancies sometimes, and there are some strange doings not that they concern you, however," he added, hurriedly; "only you are a young man with your way to make in the world, and every chance of making it, I should think; but it won't do for you to get too many of Count Sabatini's ideas into your head if you are going to do any good at a wholesome, honest business like this."
Sabatini's lips parted in the faintest of smiles. One could well have imagined that he would have devised some prompter means to have secured this man if he had been in command. "You will not forbid my making the attempt, I trust?" he said, courteously. "I do so at my own risk, of course." The inspector hesitated. Sabatini, with a sudden swing of his powerful arm, made his way into the front rank.
Starling no one knows anything about; Count Sabatini's record is something awful." "But there is Rosario," Arnold protested. "Rosario goes into all the odd corners of the world," she replied. "Sometimes the corners are respectable and sometimes they are not. It really doesn't matter so far as he is concerned. Supposing, in return for all this information, you tell me something about yourself?"
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