CHAPTER XIX
MRS. SMITH-LESSING
Ray and I left the building together. As we turned into Pall Mall he glanced at his watch.
"You have missed the six o'clock train," he remarked. "I suppose you know that there is nothing now till the nine-twenty. Will you come to the club with me, and have some dinner?"
It was less an invitation than a command. I felt a momentary impulse of rebellion, but the innate masterfulness of the man triumphed easily. I found myself walking, a little against my will, down Pall Mall by his side. A man of some note, he was saluted every minute by passers-by, whom, however, he seemed seldom to notice. In his town clothes, his great height, his bronzed face, and black beard made him a sufficiently striking personality. I myself, though I was little short of six feet, seemed almost insignificant by his side. Until we reached the club he maintained an unbroken silence. He even ignored some passing comment of mine; but when once inside the building he seemed to remember that he was my host, and his manner became one of stiff kindness. He ordered an excellent dinner and chose the wine with care. Then he leaned a little forward across the table, and electrified me by his first remark.
"Ducaine," he said, "what relatives have you with whom you are in any sort of communication?"
"None at all!" I answered.
"Sir Michael Trogoldy was your mother's brother," he remarked. "He is still alive."
"I believe so," I admitted. "I have never approached him, nor has he ever taken any notice of me."
"You did not write to him, for instance, when Heathcote absconded, and you had to leave college?"