We continued to talk of Mr. Devar and his liabilities, of which the least seemed to be the risk of a kicking from myself. The man had, it appeared, sailed too near the wind of fraud on several occasions, and John Turner held him in the hollow of his hand.
Alphonse, however, was not to be appeased. His honour had, as he imagined, been assailed by this insult to one upon whom he had bestowed his friendship, and he took no part in our talk when it was of Devar.
Turner did not stay long after we had finished our wine.
"No," he said, "if I do not keep moving I shall go to sleep."
When he had left us, Alphonse showed a restlessness which soon culminated in departure, and I sat down to write to Sander. The rapid exit (which ultimately proved to be as complete as it was sudden) of Mr. Devar could not fail to have some bearing on the quest in which Sander was engaged, and I now recapitulated in mind many suspicious incidents connected with the well-dressed adventurer who had so easily found an entrée to Isabella's house.
Alphonse went, as I later learnt, straight to Hyde Park Street, and found Isabella alone. For Madame de Clericy and Lucille were regular in their attendance at a neighbouring Roman Catholic Church, whither many Frenchwomen resorted at this time to pray for their friends and country.
"Howard," said Alphonse, "has grossly insulted Mr. Devar. In my country such an incident would not pass without bloodshed."
And he related, with considerable fire, the scene in the smoking-room at the club.
"But it was Mr. Turner and not Dick who insulted Mr. Devar."
"That is true, but Howard planned the whole—it was a trick, a trap."