His eyes roved absently about the richly appointed place, and almost instantly, associated in his mind with these very surroundings, came the recollection of a former breakfast, at the same place some months previous.
He was breakfasting with a friend who had just returned from America, and in relating the news of their mutual acquaintances, mentioned the approaching reception of Mrs. Sinclair's adopted daughter.
Almost simultaneous with the mention of her name, a young man rose from another table and took a seat nearer the ones occupied by his friend and himself.
The young man was slight, but athlete in build, and his face, although dark and sunburned, would have been extremely pleasing, but for a suspiciously unnatural moustache, that drooped heavily over his mouth, completely hiding that feature and thereby seriously injuring the amiability of his expression.
The young man was evidently interested in their conversation, but Sir Frederic at the time gave it little thought, and the matter slipped from his mind a moment after. The occurrence returning to his memory so vividly at just this time, impressed him strangely.
Could this young man have been Maurice Sinclair, disguised and under an assumed name, masquerading about London, in search of information regarding his mother's household before returning thereto?
Then another idea, relative to the flight of Maurice and Stella, occurred to him, and suddenly springing to his feet he exclaimed excitedly, "I'll try it. It can do no harm." A week later he embarked incog. on a transatlantic steamer bound for New York.
Something seemed to tell him that Maurice Sinclair, hunted as he was by every police officer and detective in London, was sure, sooner or later, to fly to America for protection. Of course, the usual information had been cabled to American ports, but detection could be so easily avoided, that Sir Frederic felt that Maurice would take the risk as a choice between two evils. Then again he reasoned, that a man familiar, as Maurice was, with the ports of Hong Kong and Calcutta (and his blood ran cold at the very thought), would naturally return thereto if circumstances forced his departure from London. But obeying the whisper that had so plainly suggested America to his mind, he found himself, after a rapid passage, safely landed in New York, and shortly after, comfortably situated in the Brunswick, one of its most spacious hotels.
To a man like Sir Frederic, the encumbrance of an assumed name was a never ceasing annoyance. His was a nature wholly antagonistic to deception of any sort, but he knew that in this manner only could he outwit so clever a rascal as the one he was pursuing.