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Updated: May 17, 2025
He left his coat and hat in charge of the attendant, and entered the grill room. Here, however, he met with disappointment. The place was crowded but his search was methodical. There was no sign there of Nora Sharey. He climbed the few stairs and entered the smoking room. Seated in an armchair, reading a novel, he discovered the young lady of whom he was in search.
"Miss Sharey?" he murmured, bending down to her as he held the door open. "I don't mind confessing that it depends a great deal upon what brand of champagne you fancy." "Mum cordon rouge?" he suggested. She made a little grimace as she turned away. "I am rather beginning to fancy your chance," she declared.
"The face of the man in khaki seems familiar," she admitted. "That's Crawshay, the fellow whom Jocelyn Thew fooled. He was married last week to the girl with him. Nora Sharey, her name was. She came from New York." "They seem very happy," Katharine observed, watching them as they left the room.
Crawshay accepted the compliment with a smile. "If you will permit me to say so, Miss Sharey," he declared, "you are what we call in this country a good sportsman." "Oh, I can keep on the tracks all right," she assented. "I guess I am a little easier to deal with, for instance, than your friend Mr. Jocelyn Thew." Crawshay frowned. His expression became gloomier.
"There is just one question," Crawshay said, after a moment's pause, "which I'd like to ask. It's about Nora Sharey." Sir Denis glanced at his companion with a faint smile. He suddenly realised the purport of his lingering. "Well, what about her?" "She seems to have followed you very quickly from New York." "Must you put it like that?
"Will you excuse me for one moment, Miss Sharey?" he said. "Perhaps Mr. Thew will take care of you." "Perhaps," Jocelyn Thew observed, as he watched Crawshay disappear, "you need some taking care of, eh, Nora?" She shrugged her shoulders. Her eyes sought his. She looked at him defiantly. "Well," she exclaimed, "London's a dull place all alone. So's life."
Crawshay glanced lazily around and assured himself that they were unobserved. "Anything fresh?" he asked laconically. "Nothing. We have searched Miss Sharey's rooms thoroughly, and two of our men have been over Thew's apartments again." "Miss Sharey up-stairs?" The young man shook his head. "Hasn't been up for some hours," he reported. Crawshay nodded and strolled on.
"I am bound to confess, Miss Sharey," he sighed, "that your friend Mr. Jocelyn Thew has been the disappointment of my life." "Some brains, eh?" "He has brains, courage and luck," Crawshay pronounced. "Against these three things it is very hard work to bring off shall I say a coup?" "The man who gets the better of Jocelyn Thew," she declared, with a little laugh, "deserves all the nuts.
"How long was he suspected of being in the pay of our enemies before this thing transpired?" "Only a very short time. There was a little gang in New York Rentoul, the man who had the wireless in Fifth Avenue, was in it and they used to meet at a place in Fourteenth Street, belonging to an old man named Sharey. That's where Miss Sharey comes into the business.
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