"She is hardly the type of American one expects to meet in such a house as this—or wants to meet anywhere," said the Senator. "And," he added, poising the match with which he was about to light another of his own green Havanas, "she is the cause of prejudice in a usually unbiased mind. She has the misfortune to be fashioned in the likeness of one Cora Lestrade, a person of note in my country, whom I once saw in my capacity of Visiting Prison Commissioner. That was three years ago, but of course it can't be the same woman."
"It would be a curious coincidence," was all the General would admit. "She was taken up by Lord and Lady Roseville, impecunious folk who would take up anyone for value received. What was this Cora Lestrade's particular line of business?"
The Senator reflected for a moment.
"I don't think she specialized herself," he said. "Her forte was organization, and I heard that at the time she was taken she bossed a complete outfit, comprising forgers, confidence-men, train-robbers, and high-grade criminals of all sorts, who operated over the entire universe. They used to regard her as a queen. It was hinted at her trial that they were all fascinated by the spell of her charms, though she would never favor any of the crew in that way. Probably that was the secret of her power over them."
"You don't happen to know when her sentence expired?" the General asked, after a pause.
"It didn't expire; she broke jail—an easy matter for one as well served as she was by a clever crowd with unlimited financial resources."
The two old cronies relapsed into a thoughtful silence, neither of them showing a disposition to retire for the night, though the intense stillness prevailing in the great house implied that everyone else was asleep. Yet it was not so, for Alec Forsyth was at that moment uncommonly busy before the looking-glass in his bedroom. On the toilet-table there lay open a theatrical "make-up" box, from which he was putting the finishing touches to a very creditable transformation of himself into a semblance of the Duke. His deft usage of the various pigments revealed him as no tyro at the task, for which, indeed, his proficiency as an amateur actor had inspired the idea.
"That will do, I think," he said to himself after a final survey. "It is a good thing that the scene is to be played without limelight effects; but it is my voice that will give me away if anything does."
He rose and crossed the room once or twice, copying Beaumanoir's slight limp to the life. Then, having consulted his watch, he took from his pocket-book a letter, addressed to the man he was about to personate, and refreshed his memory.
"I congratulate you on this return to your senses," the writer began. "My agents inform me that the gentleman in whom we are interested is expected to stay at Prior's Tarrant as your guest on arrival, being due on Tuesday. On Tuesday night you will leave unfastened the door leading into the crypt from the Dutch garden, so that I and my assistants may obtain access secretly. You will come down into the crypt an hour after midnight, when I will hand you the documents for substitution. Do not fail to make your arrangements so that the exchange may be effected without a hitch, and as rapidly as possible. As host you should have no difficulty in inspiring the necessary confidence to put the business through, and you will then be troubled no further by us.—C. Z."