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Updated: June 2, 2025
They reached their destination some time before Dory, whose horse fell down in the Strand, and who had to walk. They ascended to the fourth floor of the building and rang the bell of Vincent Cawdor's room no answer. They plied the knocker no result. Rounceby peered through the keyhole. "He hasn't come home yet," he remarked. "There is no light anywhere in the place."
Rounceby glanced suspiciously at the young man to whom Miss Brown was still devoting the whole of her attention. "Why don't he come out and talk like a man?" he asked. "What's the idea of his sitting over there with his back to us?" "I want him never to see your faces to deal only with me," Cawdor explained. "Remember that he is in an official position.
Marnstam, who had no nerves, twirled his moustache and watched his companion with wonder. "You look as though you saw a ghost," he remarked. "Perhaps I do!" Rounceby growled. "You had better finish your drink, my dear fellow," Marnstam advised. "Afterwards " Suddenly he stiffened into attention. He laid his hand upon his companion's knee. "Listen!" he said. "There is some one coming."
A big hotel like this is the safest and the most dangerous place in the world just how you choose to make it. You've got to bluff 'em all the time. That's why I brought the young lady particular friend of mine real nice girl, too!" "And the young man?" Rounceby asked, suspiciously. Cawdor grew more serious.
It was an uneasy hour for those whose consciences were not wholly at rest! The two men were in evening dress Rounceby in dinner coat and black tie, as befitted his role of travelling American. The glasses in front of them were only half-filled, and had remained so for the last hour. Their conversation had been nervous and spasmodic. It was obvious that they were waiting for some one.
Now it is possible that at this precise moment Marnstam would have made his spring for the window and Rounceby his running fight for liberty. The hands of both men were upon their revolvers, and John Dory's life was a thing of no account. But at this juncture a thing happened.
Rounceby rose to his feet and lit a cigar. Marnstam walked to the further window and back again. They stood side by side. Rounceby's whole frame seemed to have stiffened with some new emotion. "There's something wrong, Jim," Marnstam whispered softly in his ear. "You've got the old lady in your pocket?" "Yes!" Rounceby answered thickly, "and, by Heavens, I'm going to use it!"
"I had it direct from headquarters at Paris. What are you uneasy about, eh?" Rounceby pointed towards the clock. "Do you see the time?" he asked. "He said he'd be late," Marnstam answered. Rounceby put his hand to his forehead and found it moist. "It's been a silly game, all along," he muttered. "We'd better have brought the young ass up here and jostled him!" "Not so easy," Marnstam answered.
I will not trouble you with your aliases. You are known to-day, I believe, as James Rounceby and Richard Marnstam. Will you come quietly?" Marnstam's expression was one of bland and beautiful surprise. "My dear sir," he said, edging, however, a little toward the window "you must be joking! What is the charge?"
Side by side on one of the big leather couches in the small smoking room of the Milan Hotel, Mr. James P. Rounceby and his friend Mr. Richard Marnstam sat whispering together. It was nearly two o clock, and they were alone in the room. Some of the lights had been turned out. The roar of life in the streets without had ceased.
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