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Updated: June 13, 2025
On our way back I racked my brain to discern the nature of the latest plot, but could see nothing tangible. Mr. Blumenfeld had been taken suddenly ill while playing billiards with me, and Rayne, when summoned, had done his best to resuscitate him. Yet Rayne's manner was triumphant and he was in most excellent spirits.
With old Blumenfeld was his faithful valet who looked especially after two battered old leather kitbags, a fact which, I noticed, did not escape Rudolph's watchful eye.
As a perfect stranger he apologized in French as he passed us and walked to the little compartment at the end of the car where he ordered a drink from the conductor. Hence old Mr. Blumenfeld was in ignorance that Vincent had any knowledge of us, or that Signorina Lacava, who was another of the passengers, was our friend.
"Dr. Blumenfeld. He was working on infantile paralysis." He nodded. "Blumenfeld; yes, I know him. He's on the wrong tack." Slowly he hoisted his big body up out of the chair, giving the impression that the interview was finished. "What am I to understand, then, doctor? Do you think you will want me?" He bent his cold and impersonal gaze on her and again she felt oppressed.
It was evident that the great financier regarded Rudolph Rayne as his friend, for he promised to pay us a visit at Overstow in return. "Remember what Mr. Blumenfeld has promised us, George!" said Rayne as he turned to me merrily. "Make a note of it!"
I was not long in finding the butler, and quickly we went to the library and spoke to the doctor, who lived about five miles away. He was already in bed, but would, he said, motor over immediately. On our return to the billiard-room we found, to our relief, that Mr. Blumenfeld had recovered consciousness. He was still lying upon the floor, Rayne having forced some brandy between his lips.
As we sat gossiping over our port after the ladies had left the table, I began to wonder why the grey-eyed master-crook, whom not a soul suspected, was so eager to ingratiate himself with Edward Blumenfeld. The motive was, however, not far to seek.
As a matter of fact, I remained because I believed, vainly perhaps, that I might one day be able to shield Lola from becoming their accomplice and thus culpable. According to Rayne's instructions I next day made myself as affable as possible to Mrs. Blumenfeld, but later in the afternoon I had an opportunity of chatting with Lola alone.
I did not reply. I was constantly puzzled and bewildered by the actions and movements of Rayne and his questionable friends. That evening after dinner, while old Blumenfeld played billiards with his guest, I marked. They played three closely contested games, for both were good players; until at eleven o'clock we all three went to the great drawing-room to bid the ladies good night.
That evening Tracy left us and crossed to Boulogne, while two days later we went on board the morning cross-Channel steamer, where, to my surprise, we met Mr. and Mrs. Blumenfeld. The encounter was a most unexpected and pleasant one. The great financier and his wife were on their way to the Riviera, and we were going as far as Cannes.
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