Читать книгу Passers-By - E. Phillips Oppenheim - Страница 11

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The marquis glanced from the card which he held toward the man whom his secretary had just ushered in.

"This is Mr. Hannaway, sir," the latter remarked.

The marquis inclined his head very slightly. "I do not understand the purpose of your visit, sir," he said, "and I am exceedingly occupied just now. If you will kindly explain in a few words what I can do for you, I shall be glad."

Gilbert Hannaway bowed, and glanced toward the secretary.

"Do you wish me to stay, sir?" the latter asked.

The marquis hesitated for a moment. Then he shook his head. "No," he said. "You had better type those letters I gave you before dinner. Bring them to me in a few minutes, and I will sign them."

The secretary bowed and withdrew, closing the door carefully behind him. The marquis, who was still regarding his visitor with a slight frown, motioned him to take a seat.

"Sit down, if you will, sir," he said. "I can spare you only a very few minutes. First of all, let me ask you what is the meaning of that extraordinary message which I understand came from you last night?"

Hannaway accepted a chair, and laid his hat and stick upon the table. He drew up one knee and clasped his hands around it. "A hunchback, a singing girl, and a monkey!" he murmured. "You see, I had been searching for them, and they appeared unexpectedly. It occurred to me that you, too, might be interested to know that they were in London."

"But why?" the marquis asked. "What has such a company as this to do with me?"

Hannaway was silent for a moment. "Your lordship," he said, "are we to talk as men who feel for the point of the other's rapier in the dark? Or are we to lay our cards upon the table? We may, perhaps, each be able to help the other."

The marquis glanced toward the door. "Mr. Hanna-way," he said, "you comport yourself like a sane man, but I frankly admit that your words seem to me to qualify you for a lunatic asylum. Frankly, I have no idea what you mean."

Hannaway nodded thoughtfully. "Ah!" he said, "you prefer that way. Well, it is your choice of weapons, for it is I who have sounded the tocsin. I understand that your lordship is leaving England to-morrow."

"If I am," the marquis answered, "I do not conceive it to be any concern of yours."

"One cannot tell," Hannaway answered. "Sometimes the little webs of fate which connect our lives are almost invisible. There may be something which brings us into closer touch than you are willing to admit. Five years ago, for instance, my lord, things were different with both of us."

The marquis looked at his visitor long and steadily. "Listen," he said. "Five years ago I was a penniless man. I was leading an adventurous life, and I was to be found in strange places. It is possible that I may have seen you in some of them. It is possible that I have met you under circumstances which seem to you scarcely in keeping with my present position. What of it? What concern is it of yours? Are you here to ask for blackmail?"

"You do me an injustice," Hannaway answered, without any sign of anger. "I, too, only five years ago, was a wanderer, something of an adventurer, perhaps. It was about that time that I began to find life more than ordinarily interesting. I was in Paris five years ago."

The marquis bowed.

"It is possible," he said indifferently, "that I may even have had the pleasure of seeing you there. If so, I do not remember it. You must permit me to remind you, Mr. Hannaway, that you have not as yet given me any excuse, call it reason if you will; for your visit."

"There was a girl," Hannaway murmured, "a singing girl, a hunchback, and a monkey. To-night I had dinner with the singing girl. We talked of many things."

The marquis did not at once reply. He turned his back a little upon his visitor, and moved toward a chair. "You have read in the papers, perhaps," he-said, a little hoarsely, "that I am ill. I am not fit to be about. You say that you dined with a singing girl, and you tell me that as though it were likely to interest me. What do you mean?"

"Your lordship," Hannaway said, "I dined with the girl whose life is a search. You know whom she seeks. You know why she seeks him. You know more than I do of these matters, but I know enough to make me sure that you are leaving England to-morrow to avoid an unpleasant encounter."

"Mr. Hannaway—" the marquis began.

"We are alone," Hannaway said. "There is no need to waste our words. There is a man in France sighing out his life behind the walls of a prison. This girl seeks, perhaps, for some one to take his place."

"Really," the marquis declared, "you are becoming quite interesting."

"I am thankful for so much of your lordship's consideration," Hannaway answered.

"She is looking, do I understand, for a substitute?" the marquis asked.

"She is looking for a criminal," Hannaway answered. "She is looking for the man who should be in the place of a certain Vicomte de Neuilly."

"You have come here to tell me these things, Mr. Hanna-way," the marquis said. "Why?"

"Because," Hannaway answered, "I expect for my information a quid pro quo."

"Naturally," the marquis answered. "In the shape of a check, may I ask?"

"I am no blackmailer," Hannaway said sternly, "but I was in the house at the corner of the Place Noire on the night when twenty gendarmes were foiled by one man. I set myself to find out who that man was. I have even visited the prison. I know that the man who lies there is not the man they think."

"Indeed?" the marquis answered.

"The police themselves know it," Hannaway continued, "but they are vain, and they will not admit that they failed to secure the man with whose name all France was ringing during those few months. Only a few people know that the man who lies in the jail at Enselle is not the terrible Jean. I am one of the few who know how he made his escape that night. I was lying with a bullet in my thigh, or I should have followed even then. Some of you others must have known. Tell me who that man was, Lord Ellingham. Tell me where I can lay my hands upon him. You owe me that much for the warning I have given you to-night."

The marquis had settled down in his easy chair. He lighted a cigarette, and looked across at his companion with a curious smile. "My dear Mr. Hannaway," he said, "I am delighted that I decided to see you. No one has amused me so much for a very long time. Pray go on. Tell me more about this Jean the Terrible, I think you called him. Who was he, and why was he terrible? And above all, why do you come to me for information about him?"

"Because you knew him," Hannaway answered. "Because you were one of that band of ruffians. There, you see, I am not over-jealous of my secret. I have no grudge against you. I understand that things have changed with you, so that you would prefer to look upon the past as though it had not been. But my silence is worth something. The man may be dead, or he may be alive. Anyhow, his whereabouts interest me. Tell me, even, what his haunts were, what he was like to look at, anything that can help me in my search."

The marquis shook his head.

"Mr. Hannaway," he said, "you have amused me exceedingly, and I am very much obliged for your call, and also for the warning concerning the young lady and the dwarf and the monkey. I fancy that you have been taking an overdose of Heine. Let me recommend you to go back to that young lady, and get rid of your illusions. She will probably be able to help you to do so."

Hannaway nodded, as he stretched out his hand reluctantly for his hat and stick. "Ah, well," he said, "I am not disappointed. The old fear still remains, I suppose. The old bonds are still tightly drawn. There are ways, though, without your lordship's help."

The marquis touched the bell. "I have enjoyed your call immensely, Mr. Hannaway," he said. "Pray come again some day, when I have returned from abroad."

"I shall certainly do myself the honor," Hannaway answered, as he followed the footman out of the room.