“Mr. Sabin interests you professionally?” he repeated slowly. “Then you have learnt something. Mr. Sabin has an identity other than his own.”
“I suspect him to be,” Harcutt said slowly, “a most important and interesting personage. I have learnt a little concerning him. I am here to learn more; I am convinced that it is worth while.”
“Have you learnt anything,” Wolfenden asked, “concerning his niece?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Harcutt answered decidedly. “I may as well repeat that my interest is in the man alone. I am not a sentimental person at all. His niece is perhaps the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life, but it is with no thought of her that I have taken up this investigation. Having assured you of that, I want to know if you will help me?”
“You must speak a little more plainly,” Wolfenden said; “you are altogether too vague. What help do you want, and for what purpose?”
“Mr. Sabin,” Harcutt said; “is engaged in great political schemes. He is in constant and anxious communication with the ambassadors of two great Powers. He affects secrecy in all his movements, and the name by which he is known is without doubt an assumed one. This much I have learnt for certain. My own ideas are too vague yet for me to formulate. I cannot say any more, except that I believe him to be deep in some design which is certainly not for the welfare of this country. It is my assurance of this which justifies me in exercising a certain espionage upon his movements—which justifies me also, Wolfenden, in asking for your assistance.”
“My position,” Wolfenden remarked, “becomes a little difficult. Whoever this man Sabin may be, nothing would induce me to believe ill of his niece. I could take no part in anything likely to do her harm. You will understand this better, Harcutt, when I tell you that, a few hours ago, I asked her to be my wife.”
“You asked her—what?”
“To be my wife.”
“And she?”