"You will be true to your word," he said, pressing her hand as he gave her his card.
"I will," she whispered. "Perhaps it may prove fortunate that I have met you."
"God grant it," he returned; then drawing back, said aloud, for the benefit of the driver, "You will let me know if you arrive all right;" and waited till the man had ascended the box, when he asked and obtained his ticket. That at least was something to have and to hold. Elsie drew up the window and leaned back well out of sight. The cab rolled away into the darkness, and Glynn was left standing alone. Collecting himself, he walked briskly away in a southwesterly direction. Lady Gethin was right, a mere accident brought him the fulfilment of his passionate desire—that which he had sought for with such agonizing eagerness. How strange that Deering should have been with him when he caught sight of something familiar in the neck and shoulders of the cloaked figure! He would not soon forget the torment of that walk along the dusky street, the dread of drawing Deering's attention to the object of his own intense observation, the difficulty of getting rid of him. Surely the stars in their courses fought for him (Glynn). Good must come out of so strange a turn of fortune's wheel. At least he had found Elsie safe—safe apparently from any pressing danger, and though looking ill and worn, comparatively well. He had therefore room for hope.
But she was evidently under the influence of some strong will, the pressure of some great necessity. Would she be true to her promise? Yes, a thousand times yes! With the sight of her fair, sad face, the sound of the tremulous voice, all his faith in her returned. It was marvellous the sort of tender reverence she inspired in him—this inexperienced creature, who was almost young enough to be his daughter, and utterly unlearned in the world's lore which was so familiar to himself! She was not even a highly-accomplished, deeply-read young lady. There was an old-fashioned charm of sincerity and earnestness about her infinitely attractive. But she must have undergone some severe shock, or trial. Her nerves seemed shattered. When should he know all? Would any blame attach to her? And Glynn answered his own question with a resolute "No." Then giving himself up to the first real intense passion he had ever felt, he resolved to win her, to wed her, to know even a few months' entire happiness—if she would share that happiness—unless the secret to be revealed hid some insurmountable barrier.
So far sure of his own consent, Glynn felt more composed; but the hours dragged fearfully.
The next day he had a visit in his private room from Deering, who was at the office on business, and said he was going to Denham for a few days. He then added that Vincent had presumed to call on him, to his great surprise, his excuse being, that he had heard from St. Louis that Lambert was there under another name, and had a wife and daughter with him; that the police were following him close, but could find no pretext at present for arresting him.
Glynn said very little in reply. He watched Deering keenly as he spoke, and came to the conclusion that he had no suspicion that Elsie was so near.
"I don't suppose we shall ever get to the bottom of the affair 'Rue de L'Evêque,' as the French detectives call it, till the law has got its grip on that scoundrel Lambert."
"I think he is more an adventurer than a scoundrel," said Glynn coldly; "and I confess I see no reason for supposing he is in the secret of his daughter's disappearance; but perhaps you know more than I do."
Deering looked at him with a quick, keen glance—a glance of dislike and distrust. "On the contrary, you were the intimate friend, the favored guest of Lambert, and of his charming daughter, of whom I suspect he made a profitable investment."