"But Seymour must be dead," the violinist said hoarsely. "We know he is dead; did we not read it in the papers? It may be that some friends stole his body for purposes of their own, but dead he is. If I thought he was still alive, I should have to leave London; I dare not stay here with a horror like that hanging over me."
"You are absolutely wrong," Carrington cried. "Seymour is still alive; he is still in London, thirsting for vengeance. He is rich, he has the courage of a lion, and the mind of a Machiavelli. You smile, my friend, but it is the smile of a thoroughly frightened man. Seymour is after you; he is after me. Look at this. Don't say you fail to recognize it."
"It is his tobacco pouch," Padini faltered.
"Yes; I thought you would recognize it. And where do you suppose I found that to-night? In my own room, lying on the floor. Do you want any greater proof than that, that Seymour was working in my own rooms to-night?"
Padini nodded moodily. Jack noticed how his hand trembled as he helped himself to the whiskey and soda. "I am sick of this," he muttered. "I mean to get out of it--I am as anxious as you are to get outside Anstruther's influence. That is why I am here to-night. I am going to tell you my plan--call it murderous and treacherous if you like--which is the only way of settling Anstruther's claims upon us. If you have any pluck at all--if there is anything of the man about you----"
"No, no," Carrington faltered. "I tell you I dare not."
As the speaker broke off, Jack was conscious of something like an altercation outside his door. The night porter was protesting that something or other was not his fault; the other man's voice was equally sure that it was. It did not require much intelligence to discover that the newcomer wanted that particular room. With a thrill Jack recognized the voice of Anstruther. In an instant he had made up his mind what to do. Like a flash he came down from the top of the wardrobe, switched on the light over the bed, and proceeded softly to unlock the door. There was a knock on the panel at the same moment. Jack glanced hastily round, and bundled one or two of his belongings into the wing of the wardrobe. He had barely time to conceal himself there, before the handle of the door turned and Anstruther entered.
"You can see it is exactly as I said," the latter remarked. "I engaged this room an hour ago. It is quite evident that no other guest has taken this apartment. If he were here, surely there would be a portmanteau, or a dressing-case, or something of that kind. Take this half-sovereign, and say no more about it. If there is any fuss I will take the blame."
The man departed; the door was locked behind him, and a moment later Jack could feel the heavy form of Anstruther climbing to the top of the wardrobe.