“None... Only I shall get the papers before six months are up.”
“You are very confident,” the Colonel said.
Lawless looked thoughtful.
“I take a peculiar personal interest in this affair,” he said. “If I did not I should not go on with it... I told you I would get those papers for you, or kill your man... I mean to do one or the other—or both.”
Colonel Grey scrutinised him earnestly. His lips parted as though he would say something, and then shut with a snap on the unspoken words. Lawless sat up suddenly.
“There isn’t any use in your seeing me,” he said. “Give me my head, the funds to go on with for a few months, and then leave the matter in my hands. You shall have those papers... It’s not that I take a particular interest in them, or in your client, but it pleases me to do this thing. When I make up my mind to carry a thing through I do it. You may call that tall talking—but it amounts simply to this, that I hold life cheaply; the only law I recognise is the unwritten law. I’ve lived among the social outcasts—I’m one of them, and so, perhaps, I am well suited to carry through a matter that is outside the law. You don’t trust me... Because of what you have heard you doubt even that I have the courage which this affair may demand. It’s natural that you should doubt. But if you can bring yourself to accept my word, this matter is safe in my hands.”
There was a long silence. Then the Colonel spoke abruptly, and, as it sounded, greatly against his inclination. But in spite of himself, in spite of all the evidence against him, he liked and trusted this man. Perhaps the fact that he had not attempted to explain, or to excuse an inexcusable crime, prejudiced him favourably.
“I do accept your word,” he said bluntly. “I confess I have entertained misgivings... That is hardly surprising, I think, considering how much is at stake. But I’ll take your word, Mr Lawless... And I accept your conditions. When you have anything of importance to communicate you will let me hear from you...”
When Lawless got back to his hotel that night he was astonished to find a visitor waiting for him—a woman. She had been shown into a private room. The hour was unusual, so were the circumstances; but the management had no wish to offend so good a client as Lawless; therefore the lady was, after a little difficulty, admitted; and Lawless on his return was discreetly informed of her presence. He received the information in silence, betraying none of the astonishment that moved him, which was considerable. He could not for the life of him imagine who the lady could be.
He was no wiser on entering the room where she was. She was a tall woman of commanding presence, very fashionably dressed—almost too fashionably to suggest a perfect taste. There was—Lawless was quick to observe it—the unmistakable stamp of the demi-mondaine about her. She looked round as he entered and closed the door behind him, and then very slowly got up from the sofa on which she had been seated. Her movements were extraordinarily languid for a woman of such splendid physique, and less graceful than deliberately sensuous, Lawless decided. Something about the woman stirred a chord of memory in his mind, as he stood critically surveying her with a look of cool inquiry in his eyes. The figure was vaguely familiar. The face he could not see; she was so heavily veiled that he could only trace a shadowy outline of her features.