"You are a South American?" I asked quickly.
"By birth," he answered. "I have lived chiefly in Paris, and here in London."
"You knew Mr. Delora at Brazil, then?" I asked.
"I know the family quite well," he answered. "They are very influential people. I have told you my name, Captain Rotherby," he continued, "because I see no reason why we two should not be frank with one another. I am of necessity interested in the movements and doings of Mr. Delora and his niece. You," he continued, "appear to have been drawn a little way into the mesh of intrigue by which they are surrounded."
I drew my arm through his. We were walking now side by side.
"Look here," I said, "you were quite right in what you said. There is no reason why we should have secrets from one another. Tell me about these people, and why on earth they have any connections at all with persons of the class of Louis and those others."
My companion spread out his hand. He stopped short on the pavement, and gesticulated violently.
"It is you who ask me these things!" he exclaimed. "Yet it is from you I hoped to obtain information. I know nothing,—absolutely nothing! Simply my instructions were to meet Mr. Delora on his arrival in London, to show him every possible civility, and to assist him in any purpose where my help would be useful. I go to meet him—he has disappeared! I haunt his rooms—he has not returned! His niece knows nothing. I try to force my way into his rooms, and my life is attempted!"
"Wait a moment," I said. "You spoke of instructions. From whom do you receive them?"
"From my government," he answered a little shortly. "Mr. Delora has some private business of importance here in England, in which they are interested."