"The plot thickens," he murmured, as he walked rapidly away in the direction of the Planet office, there to lay his most recent discoveries before Rigby. "What an ingenious rascal we have to deal with, to be sure!"
Rigby was emphatically of the same opinion. He did not see how it was possible to better Jack's suggestion that he should dine at Anstruther's that night and ascertain all he could as to Anstruther's past, and especially as to whether the latter had ever been in Mexico.
"There is one little thing we have quite overlooked," Jack suggested as he rose to depart. "We have got to get inside that study. Anstruther's game is to lock himself in and pretend that his violin soothes his mind and induces a proper train of thought. That's his story, of course. I have ascertained that Padini is doing nothing to-night, but that will not prevent the music going on all the same. Now if you could hit upon some scheme whereby----"
"I know exactly what you mean," Rigby said; "you want to see the inside of the study just at the critical moment. I think our game is to make a diversion outside. I'll just turn over the matter in my mind, and if I can see a really artistic way of doing it, I will send you a telegram just before you go to dinner. The diversion, of course, will come from the outside of the house."
Jack felt sure that the matter was quite safe in the capable hands of Dick Rigby. He was surer still when a little before eight o'clock his landlady handed him a telegram containing just three words from Rigby. Before he slept that night, Jack felt pretty sure that the mystery of Anstruther's violin practice would be a secret from him no longer.
It was hard work to keep his feelings under control, to sit in the drawing-room before dinner was announced and exchange commonplaces with his brilliant host. Anstruther had rarely been in better form; he had the air and mien of a man with whom the world goes very well indeed; success seemed to stand out in big letters upon him. Usually Anstruther was a man of moods; to-night he was merely a society creature with apparently no heed of the morrow.
If Jack had any misgivings on the subject of Claire's behavior towards her guardian, his uneasiness was speedily set at rest. The most critical observer could not have detected the slightest jarring note. It was all the same through dinner: Anstruther monopolized most of the conversation, and Claire followed every word with flattering attention. Dessert was on the table at length before Jack carefully led up the conversation to foreign travel. He had seen much of the world himself, so that there were several places of mutual interest to be discussed with Anstruther.
"There is one part of the world, however," Jack said, as he carelessly peeled a peach, "that I have always been curious to see. I allude to the land of the Aztecs, those wonderful ruined cities of Mexico, of which we know so little and profess to know so much. Now, don't you think that those people must have been of an exceedingly high state of civilization?"
The question was so innocently asked, and Jack's artistic deference was so subtly conveyed, that Anstruther fell headlong into the trap.
"I should say there is not the slightest doubt about it," the host responded. "I have been there; indeed, I spent a goodish part of my time in and about Montezuma."