Inclination prompted me strongly to throw my engagement with the Count to the winds and to place myself under Lord Langerdale’s guidance. But, after all, the sole purpose of my journey to London was to discover Mr. Marx, and if I neglected this opportunity I might lose sight of the only man who could help me in my search. Clearly, therefore, my duty was to fulfil my prior engagement.
“If M. de Cartienne cannot wait,” I said regretfully, “I am afraid, Lord Langerdale, that the pleasure you offer me must be deferred. Would Lady Langerdale allow me to call at your rooms to-morrow?”
Evidently he was displeased, for his manner changed at once.
“I will leave a note for you with the hall porter,” he said. “Good-night.”
I turned away with the Count, who preserved a perfectly unmoved countenance. Before we had taken half a dozen steps, however, he was accosted by a gentleman entering the hotel, and, turning round, he begged me to excuse him for a moment.
I strolled away by myself, waiting. Suddenly, I felt a light touch on my arm, and, looking round, I found Lord Langerdale by my side.
“I just want to ask you a question, Mr. Morton, if you’ll allow me,” he said kindly. “Remember that I’m an old man—old enough to be your father—and a man of the world, and you are a very young one. You won’t mind a word of advice?”
“Most certainly not!” I assured him heartily.
“Well, then, Count de Cartienne is quite a new acquaintance of yours, is he not?”
“I never saw him before this evening,” I admitted.