He started, and looked at me with wild eyes.
“I never said anything about any ship!”
“No? Then I was dreaming it. You yourself were to return to Paris viâ Havre and Southampton, I think; while this fellow Rouge la Gloire, he went from Newhaven.”
“How did you know that?”
“Oh, I know many things. The ship, then, is waiting for him—shall we say in Shoreham harbour?”
It was a pure guess upon my part, but I have never seen a man so struck by astonishment and wonder. For some minutes he could not say a single word. When he replied, it was in the tone of one who could contest with me no longer.
“If you know, you know,” he said. “But look here, Dr. Fabos; you have spoken well to me, and I’ll speak well to you. Leave Val Imroth alone. You haven’t a month to live if you don’t.”
I put my hand upon his shoulder, and turned him round to look me full in the face.
“Harry Avenhill,” said I, “did they tell you, then, that Dr. Fabos was a woman? Listen to me, now. I start to-morrow to hunt these people down. You shall go with me; I will find a place for you upon my yacht. We will seek this Polish Jew together—him and others, and by the help of God above me, we will never rest until we have found them.”
He could not reply to me. I summoned Okyada, and bade him find a bedroom for Mr. Harry Avenhill.