Padini cowered before the flashing anger in Anstruther's eyes, and he muttered something to himself that might have been an apology; but the "listeners were a little too far away to hear.
"It is all very well for you," Padini whimpered. "You can call me a coward if you like--I am. It is not like you to run any risks at all. So long as I am at the Great Metropolitan Hotel, so sure is there danger."
"Send him off about his business," Carrington growled. "Why did you allow him to follow us here at all? He ought to have been in his own room by this time carrying on his share of the programme."
"Well, give me a programme," Padini said, with some show of spirit. "How am I to know what Anstruther wants unless he tells me beforehand? Is it to be nothing but Chopin to-night?"
In the same way that one humors a spoiled child, Anstruther took a note-book from his pocket and jotted a few names upon it.
"I think that will about do," he said. "Start with the 'Grand Polonaise,' and take the 'Fantasie in F' afterwards; then stick steadily to the programme I have marked on that sheet of paper."
Padini rose obediently enough now, and donned his hat and coat. He would have helped himself to a small modicum of refreshment, only Anstruther put him sternly aside. "None of that," he said, "and not one spot of anything till you have finished your night's work. We know what you are when you start. Now go at once."
[CHAPTER XXVIII.]
THE LAMP GOES OUT.
Meanwhile, Carrington had been pacing up and down the room, obviously troubled and ill at ease. Anstruther watched him with a gleam of malicious amusement in his dark eyes. This strong man liked to feel that he had everybody in his power; it was good to him to know that he could move others as the man behind the curtain moves the puppets in a marionette show. It was not particularly that Anstruther cared for crime for its own sake, but he loved to be subtle and mysterious; it was a joy to him to get the better of his fellow creatures. Had Carrington but known it, the major part of the trouble which was racking his mind now had been brought about by the very man to whom he turned most readily in the hour of his misfortunes. He poured himself out a liberal dose of whiskey, and gulped it down without the formality of adding anything to it. He flung himself angrily into a chair.