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There was an odd pause, during which Wanda seemed to reflect. She was at the parting of the ways. Even Deulin had nothing to say. He could not point out the path. Perhaps Cartoner had already done so by his own life, without any words at all. "I shall go to Warsaw to-night," she said at last to Lady Orlay, "if you will not think me wanting in manners. Believe me, I do not lack gratitude.
Whereupon Deulin turned and took off his hat and apologized. "Yes," he said, ignoring the incident, "I would not presume to dictate. All I should do would be to present Wanda to her.
Deulin glanced at him as if there were matter for surprise in the sound of it. "Like a monstrosity going to a fair," he said. "And I shall go with you. I will even lunch with you at the station a station steak and a beery table. There is only one room at the station for those who eat and those who await their trains.
"I did not intend to," replied Deulin, "when I came out of my room this morning." "But you and Mr. Cartoner have Polish friends, have you not?" asked Netty. "Not in Warsaw," was the reply. "Suppose we shall meet again," broke in Joseph Mangles at this moment, halting on the threshold of the gorgeous apartment. He tapped the number on the door in order to draw Deulin's attention to it.
One or two carriages were allowed to come to the gate of the lawn, and of these one was Prince Bukaty's. "Come, Wanda," said Martin. "We must not keep him waiting. I can see him, with his two sticks, coming out of the club enclosure." "I will go with you to make sure that he is none the worse," said Deulin, "and then return to the assistance of these ladies."
Deulin was the first to speak. He had strong views upon last words and partings. The mere thought of such things made him suddenly energetic and active. He turned to Wanda with his watch in his hand. "Your mind is made up?" he asked. "You go to-night?" "Yes." "Then I must go at once to see to your passport and make arrangements for the journey. I take you as far as Alexandrowo.
"He is dead," he went on, after a pause, "and there is an end to it. I do not pray that he may go to eternal punishment. I only want him to be dead; and he is dead. Voila! It is a matter of rejoicing." "You are a ruffian; I always said you were a ruffian," said Deulin, gravely. "I am a man, my friend, who has an object in life.
He turned to the other, who had been moving surreptitiously round towards Cartoner, who had, indeed, come out to meet him; but the man turned and ran, followed closely by his companion. Deulin picked up the knife, which lay gleaming on the cobble-stones, and came towards Cartoner with it.
"I permit myself a question," he said. "When did you return from Cuba?" "I landed at Liverpool last night." Cartoner turned in his abrupt way and looked his companion up and down. Perhaps he was wondering for the hundredth time what might be buried behind those smiling eyes. "I am in London, as you see," said Deulin, as if he had been asked a question. "I am awaiting orders.
He spoke in French and named the man by his baptismal name; for this was a Frenchman, named Deulin, a person of mystery, supposed to be in the diplomatic service in some indefinite position. With him was an Englishman, who greeted Marcos as a friend.
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