"Good! Then your Grace will go on as you have begun. Gain the girl's confidence, and that of her mother—the latter will be easy under the auspices of your new dignity—and come here again at twelve o'clock on Saturday morning, three days hence. I may then have further instructions for you."
And Mr. Clinton Ziegler waved a white, well-formed hand in dismissal.
[CHAPTER IV—The Lady in the Landau]
Beaumanoir passed into the corridor with unsteady steps, dazed by the enormity of his entanglement. He had been caught so easily, yet he was held so firmly. His first impulse was to rush off to Scotland Yard, expose the white-bearded wire-puller in the invalid chair, and claim protection. But that course would entail confession of his engagement as a criminal instrument, to the everlasting disgrace of the great family of which he was now the head. The alternatives were foul treachery to the girl of his heart or almost certain death at the hands of Ziegler's disciplined ruffians.
He had reached the top of the broad staircase when a step, almost inaudible on the thick pile carpet, sounded behind him and a hand fell on his shoulder.
"Charley, old boy! Or is it 'your Grace' I should be calling you? What the dickens are you doing here?" said the young man who had overtaken him.
Beaumanoir's harassed brows cleared as he met Alec Forsyth's honest gaze and he felt the grip of his honest hand. Their ways had lain apart for the last few years, but a very real friendship, begun in the Eton playing fields, had survived separation. Of all his acquaintances, Alec had been the only one to go down to Liverpool twelve months before to bid scapegrace Charles Hanbury farewell.
"I had a call to make, before going to Pattisons' in Lincoln's Inn," said the Duke. And then with quick apprehension he added, pointing to the door he had just left: "Have you come from there? Have you business with Ziegler too?"
"Ziegler? Who's Ziegler?" asked Forsyth, looking puzzled by his sudden confusion. "No, I haven't been to those rooms, but to the suite beyond. A duty call on a certain Mrs. Talmage Eglinton, but, thank goodness, she wasn't at home. Now about yourself, Charley. Fortune smiles again, eh?"
"It's only a sickly grin at present," Beaumanoir replied, dejectedly. "See here, Alec; I've got my bag on a cab outside. I landed at Southampton too early for lunch. Come and talk to me while I get a snack before going to the lawyers."