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He produced a folded paper from his pocket and passed it across the table. Catherine read it with a slight frown. "An order entitling the bearer to search Julian Orden's apartments!" she exclaimed. "We don't want to search them, do we? Besides, what authority have we?" "The best," he answered, tapping with his discoloured forefinger the signature at the foot of the strip of paper.
She examined it with a doubtful frown. "But how did this come into your possession?" she asked. He smiled at her in superior fashion. "By asking for it," he replied bluntly. "And between you and me, Miss Abbeway, there isn't much we might ask for that they'd care to refuse us just now." "But the police have already searched Mr. Orden's rooms," she reminded him.
Furley is making enquiries both at Mr. Orden's rooms and at his clubs." "You are perfectly satisfied, so far as I am concerned, I trust?" he persisted, as he opened the door for them. "Perfectly satisfied," Catherine replied, looking him in the face, "that you have told us as much as you choose to for the present."
She might have been the croupier and they the gamblers who had thrown upon the table their last stake. "In Julian Orden's rooms," she said, "I found a letter from the editor of the British Review, warning him that his anonymity could not be preserved much longer that before many weeks had passed the world would know that he was Paul Fiske. Here is the letter." She passed it around.
"Let me bring up a cup of strong coffee for you; then darken the room, and chafe your head until you fall asleep, since you turn a deaf ear to all proposals of mustard foot-baths and Dr. Van Orden's panacea pills." "No!" stubbornly. "Aylett and Clara would think it strange. They do not understand how a slight irregularity of diet or habit can produce such a result.
"The accident of birth counts for nothing," she replied, "you must know that those are my principles but it sometimes happens that birth and environment give one tastes which it is impossible to ignore. Please do not let us pursue this conversation any further, Mr. Fenn. We have had a very pleasant dinner, for which I thank you and here we are at Mr. Orden's flat."
Parker and Wight held our line in front of Peters-ville, and Orden's line reached to the crossing of Hatcher's Run. Hume had moved to the left of Orden, by change of orders, and Warner was on the left of the moving column. Sherlin was now at Dinwiddie, on our left flank, some five miles separated from the left of our infantry. This movement was made late in the afternoon.
Julian Orden," he announced, "better known to you all under the name of `Paul Fiske', has been chosen by a large majority as your representative to take the people's message to the Prime Minister." "I protest!" Fenn exclaimed passionately. "This is Mr. Orden's first visit amongst us. He is a stranger. I repeat that he is not one of us. Where is his power? He has none.
"Of course, you are a man of a sort and I am a woman, but I do not fancy that you would find, if it came to force, that you would have much of an advantage. However, we are wandering from the point. I claim an equal right with you to see anything which you may discover in Mr. Orden's papers. I might, indeed, if I chose, claim a prior right." "Indeed?" he answered, with an ugly scowl on his face.
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