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Updated: August 31, 2025
The millstone was gone from around his neck, something new and incomprehensible had crept into his life. Yet for a background there was always this secret knowledge. A clerk announcing Mademoiselle Idiale broke in upon his reflections. Laverick rose from his seat to greet his visitor.
"Very well, then," she declared. "You shall come to my fiat at five o'clock this afternoon and bring that document. If it is possible, David Bellamy shall be there himself. We will try then and prove to you that you do no harm in parting with that document to us." "I will come," Laverick promised, "at five o'clock; but you must tell me where." "You will put it down, please," she said.
"Nothing at all," Laverick answered, with an inward sense of thankfulness. "To tell you the truth, though, I am afraid you are right and that he did get into some sort of trouble last night. He was just about to tell me something when he fainted." Upstairs they could hear him moaning. The girl listened with pitiful face. "What am I to do?" she asked.
The former was strikingly handsome and very wonderfully dressed. Her closely-clinging gown, cut slightly open in front, displayed her marvelous figure. She wore long pearl earrings, and a hat with white feathers which drooped over her fair hair. Laverick recognized her at once. "It is Mademoiselle Idiale," he said, "the most wonderful soprano in the world." "Why does she look so at you?"
"I will help, certainly," Laverick answered. "I have promised to. You must see that he is ready to leave here at seven o'clock to-morrow morning. He wants to go to New York, and the special to catch the German boat will leave Waterloo somewhere about eight to eight-thirty." "But his clothes!" she cried. "How can he be ready by then?"
I tell you frankly that Austria would give you almost any sum for it to-day." Laverick, strong man though he was, was conscious of a sudden weakness. He raised his hand to his forehead and drew it away wet. He struggled desperately for self-control. "Bellamy," he said, "here's truth for truth. I am not on my trial before you. Believe me, man, for God's sake!" "I'll try," Bellamy promised. "Go on."
That twenty thousand pounds, Laverick, is Secret Service money, paid by me to Von Behrling only half-an-hour before he was murdered, in a small restaurant there, for what I supposed to be the document. He deceived me by making up a false packet. The real one he kept. He deserved to die, and I am glad he is dead." Laverick's face was suddenly hopeful. "Then you can take these notes!" he exclaimed.
"You were always a good sort," Morrison continued, "much too good for me. It was a rotten partnership for you. We could never have pulled together." "Let that go," Laverick interrupted. "If you really mean getting away, that simplifies matters, of course. Have you made any plans at all? Where do you want to go?" "To New York," answered Morrison; "New York would suit me best.
The magistrate had received a communication direct from the Home Secretary concerning your case." "I am very grateful indeed," Laverick declared. "I tell you I think I am very lucky. I wish I knew what had become of Miss Leneveu. The usher told me she left the court before we came out." "I asked her to go straight back to her rooms," Bellamy said.
"Hall-porter, sir," was the answer. "Person here wishes to see you particularly." "A person!" Laverick repeated. "Man or woman?" "Man, sir. "Better send him up," Laverick ordered. "He's a seedy-looking lot, sir," the porter explained "I told him that I scarcely thought you'd see him." "Never mind," Laverick answered. "I can soon get rid of the fellow if he's cadging."
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