"One must be prepared for accidents," John had answered, quietly.
"I have lost two or three splendid fellows during the past year. I am telling you this," the chief resumed, "that you may remain always on your guard. Fate or Providence has placed you in a wonderful position with the aid of your acquaintance, Manwitz. I have the complete dossier in that cupboard over there." He pointed to a cabinet against the wall. "Your acquaintance with Manwitz gives you a splendid start. You will use it to acquire such information as will be useful to the Department, but in the first place you must discover all there is to know about the amiable and unexpected Cherriton. We shall at the same time be working to discover things from our end."
John thought of this conversation as Manners and Cherriton took their departure.
"You will come and see me again soon, will you not?" Manners had remarked at the moment of departure. He looked cunningly and meaningly into John's eyes. In effect he had been saying: "You will come and see me again immediately those cocaine tabloids have been consumed." Bernard Treves's craving for cocaine, both Manners and Cherriton knew, held that young man as by bonds of steel.
"I'll come again soon," John had answered, slipping the new address Manners had given him into his waistcoat pocket. He watched the two men pass into the street, then closed the door, and re-entered the empty parlour. The daintiness, the cleanliness, and the perfect taste of the little apartment had already won his appreciation. He wondered when Elaine Treves would descend from above, and what would happen then. Until now only a few fleeting words had passed between himself and the beautiful girl who was Treves's wife. What was to happen now in the intimacy that would ensue when she re-entered the room?
John was smoking one of Treves's cigarettes, with his back against the mantelshelf, when the door opened and Elaine quietly entered.
"So you have got rid of them, Bernard?"
She looked at him, he thought, a little shyly, with something of reserve in her glance. He watched her as she crossed to a chintz-covered wicker arm-chair, with its back to the window. At her side was a small work-table. She took out a needle, a thread, and various bits of coloured silk. A silence drew itself out that became awkward. John moved from one foot to another; then he made an effort to pick up the thread of what he believed to be Treves's life in relation to the girl who was so industriously sewing, with bowed head.
"I am sorry I wasn't able to come in answer to your wire."
"I think, Bernard, you might have answered it," returned Elaine, quietly, without raising her head.