At the Seraphim Hotel the oval of the great dining-hall was almost empty. An army of waiters stood ready to advance upon their customers. But the customers were few, and many of the beautifully appointed tables had remained unoccupied for the day’s lunch. On the raised amphitheatre which circled the outer extremities of the hall only about half a dozen tables were occupied, while in the central space one solitary couple sat lunching.
It was a man and a woman. The girl was exquisitely gowned in a quiet, unassuming fashion. A woman might have appraised the costliness of her equipment at its true value. To a man she appeared to be just well turned out in something that was sufficiently diaphanous for the temperature all must endure in July in New York. But her hat—well, even a man could not have made any miscalculation as to her hat. It was exquisite, and added a wealth of charm to the beautiful, smiling face beneath it.
She was regarding her companion with almost hungry interest. Her blue eyes were gravely smiling, for all a certain anxiety was gazing out of them. She was eyeing his well-barbered, snow-white hair that was a never-ending source of admiring concern for her. Then, too, the deeply-lined, clean-shaven face left her not a little troubled. He was dressed well in well-cut summer suiting, and his broad shoulders and strong, shapely hands told of work they could never have encountered in New York.
The man had been talking for some time in a tone which was never permitted to reach beyond his companion’s ears, and the twinkle of a smile lit eyes that were twin in colour to those he was gazing into.
He had been recounting the details of a long story that held his companion completely enthralled. There were moments when he had to break off to remind her of the food that no longer made any claim upon her appetite. And as he finished a deep sigh proclaimed the breathless interest in which the girl had been held.
“It’s all amazing, dreadful,” she breathed, in a suppressed tone. “If it weren’t you, Jim, sitting there telling me I could never have believed it. I just hadn’t a notion when I got your letter asking for those five thousand dollars. You never gave me an inkling. You never said a thing. And now you tell me all this.”
She made a gesture that expressed her amazement.
“Eddie hunted for killing the man who had broken up his home-life. Poor, dear, weak, foolish Mary gone—goodness knows where. And you, my dear old brother and best of all playmates, convicted and sentenced for—for—as a price for that fool loyalty which has always been your besetting curse. The disaster of it is unspeakable. It’s—it’s dreadful. And look at you,” she went on, with that final touch of the woman which she found impossible to resist. “Your hair snow-white, and not a single curl remaining. Your poor thin face lined like a man of more than twice your years. And you have come here with—with a price on your head. Jim—Jim, you must get away. You must get away to a place of safety. Your money’s been safe with me. I’ll hand it over. And you must get away.”
Jim Pryse’s eyes twinkled humorously.
“That’s what I came here for.”