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It was nearly dusk when Honor and Vivian Standish landed at Mr. Rayne's boat-house, near the bridge. The night air was growing cooler, and the stars were breaking through the cloudless sky in quiet succession.
All this, however, was, I saw, preliminary and in preparation for some great coup. I suppose I had been kicking my heels about Folkestone for perhaps ten days when, without warning, Rayne and Lola arrived with Tracy and a quantity of luggage. No doubt the mysterious Dutchman had returned to the Continent by the fishing-boat in which he had come over to act at Rayne's orders.
The one fact that I did not like was that a quiet, middle-aged man seemed always to be watching our movements, for whether we chatted together in the lounge, went out motoring, walking on the promenade, or dancing, he always appeared somewhere in the vicinity. But on the day I received Rayne's note he had paid his bill and left the hotel, a fact by which my mind was much relieved.
Later, when we had finished our tea, I went to the office in order to pay for on such excursions I always paid on Rayne's behalf and when doing so, I asked casually: "Have you a Spanish gentleman staying here a Mr. Larroca?" "No, sir," replied the rather stout, pleasant bookkeeper. "We have a Mr. Bellido, a Spanish gentleman.
She read it with dilated eyes and confused look generally, and laid it down only with this difference actually to her, that she had in her own realization, in one short moment been suddenly transformed from Mr. Rayne's dependent waif into a richly endowed heiress, independent and free. A small change indeed for Honor Edgeworth.
"We have a little piece of important business to transact something that will bring in big money. Duperré will explain." Vincent turned, and looking at me through the haze of his cigarette-smoke, said: "There's not much to explain, George. You have only to act on Rayne's instructions.
That night the moon-light streamed broadly into my window through the apple-boughs that showed black shadows on the floor. About midnight I opened my eyes suddenly. Mrs. Libby in a much-frilled night-dress was shaking my shoulder vigorously. "You'll have to get up. Agnes Rayne's dyin', 'n' she's took a notion to see you.
This attempt upon me at once proved that I was on the right scent, and according to Rayne's instructions I that day followed Madame and Lola back to Salerno. On changing trains at the Central Station at Rome I bought a newspaper, and the first heading that met my eyes was one which told of a mysterious robbery of the wonderful pearls of the Princess di Acquanero.
This was my plot: Mrs. Rayne had been reading a book that I had bought for the home-voyage, and was to finish it before evening. I selected the duplicate of the paper which "Waitstill Atwood Eliot" had put in a bottle and cast adrift when her case had been desperate, and laid it in the book a page or two beyond Mrs. Rayne's mark.
Rayne's house. He had counted on meeting an ordinary society girl, but had been greatly, though not at all unpleasantly disappointed. He did not dislike Honor Edgeworth in any way. He felt rather attracted towards her than otherwise, but he felt uneasy about the little plans he had cherished and encouraged for so long.
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