“Aynesworth,” he said, “if you are ready, will you get in and tell the man to drive to Cadogan Square? Good night, Mr. Lovell!”
Lovell re-entered the club with a queer little smile at his lips. The brougham glided up into the Strand, and turned westwards.
“We are going straight to the Barringtons’?” Aynesworth asked.
“Yes,” Wingrave answered. “While I think of it, Aynesworth, I wish you to remember this. Both Lady Ruth and her husband seem to think it part of the game to try and make a cat’s paw of you. I am not suggesting that they are likely to succeed, but I do think it possible that one of them may ask you questions concerning certain investments in which I am interested. I rely upon you to give them no information.”
“I know very little about your investments—outside the mine,” Aynesworth answered. “They couldn’t very well approach a more ignorant person. Are you going to help Barrington to make a fortune?”
Wingrave turned his head. There was a slight contraction of the forehead, an ominous glitter in his steel grey eyes.
“I think,” he said, “you know that I am not likely to do that.”
The two men did not meet again till late in the evening. Lady Ruth’s rooms were crowded for it was the beginning of the political season, and her parties were always popular. Nevertheless, she found time to beckon Wingrave to her before they had been in the room many minutes.
“I want to talk to you,” she said a little abruptly. “You might have come this afternoon as you promised.”
Lady Ruth was a wonderful woman. A well-known statesman had just asked a friend her age.