Arthur determined to discover the history of the scarf on the next day, and if he should find it at all fit in with his ideas to take it back to its owner in triumph. For that night it was too late to do anything. He looked despairingly at the little French clock over the chimney-piece. It was two o'clock a. m., and an absolute silence reigned in the house.
But he possessed the sanguine nature of youth. He could not doubt that he had found a solution to the problem which had been agitating his mind. His anxieties being thus partially set at rest, he began to feel tired. With the silk scarf close to his hand he fell asleep; its colors mingled in confusion inextricable with all his dreams; it was the first object that met his gaze on the following morning.
He felt inclined to ring at once and make inquiries, but on second thought he decided that to take such a step would scarcely be wise. Young men in Arthur Forrest's position are keenly susceptible to ridicule. Undue anxiety might possibly seem suspicious. He controlled himself so far as to dress, to walk into his sitting-room, and to restore the scarf to the place it had occupied on the previous evening; then he rang for breakfast.
While the waiter was busy about the table he looked across the room as though for the first time the appearance of the scarf had struck him; then he took it up and examined it with apparent curiosity.
The waiter noticed his movement. "Ah! sir," he said briskly, "queer thing that."
"This scarf?" said Arthur carelessly; "it's certainly a very handsome one."
"I didn't mean the scarf, sir, but the tale, as one may say, that hangs on to it. It was left in this very room, identical, some four or five days ago, it may be, and I was the waiter as attended on the gentleman and little girl: a pretty creature she was too, with—"
"A gentleman and little girl?" broke in Arthur, forgetful of his prudence in his astonishment.
"Yes, sir; a gentleman not young, as one might say, to be the father of the little lady; and a lady she was, every inch of her, so pretty and well-behaved. It's my belief"—here the waiter lowered his voice and looked confidential—"there was somethink there over and above what met the eye, as one might say, sir." Then he disappeared to fetch the tea-pot.
Arthur was strangely interested in the little tale. "Stop," he said as the waiter was about to leave the room again; "what makes you think there was something mysterious about these people?"