‘This is no place to discuss this matter. If you can suggest any place where we can hold a few minutes’ conversation, I shall be obliged.’
Le Gautier mused a moment; he had a good knowledge of London, but hesitated to take a lady to any place so late. The only suggestion he could make was the Embankment; and apparently this suited his companion, for, bowing her head, she took the proffered arm, walked out from the station, down Villiers Street, and so on to the waterside. Le Gautier noticed how the fingers on his arm trembled, attributing this to natural timidity, never dreaming that the emotion might be a warmer one. He began to feel at home now, and his tongue ran on accordingly. ‘Ah! how good of you,’ he exclaimed, pressing the arm lying in his own tenderly—‘how angelic of you to come to my aid! Tell me how you knew I was so rash, so impetuous?’
‘Men who carry their lives in their hands always are,’ Isodore replied. ‘The story does not need much telling. I was in the Kursaal at the time, and had my eyes on you. I saw you detach the insignia from your watchchain; I saw you hand it to a woman to stake; in short, I can put my hand upon it now.’
‘My protector, my guardian angel!’ Le Gautier cried rapturously; and then, with a sudden prosaic touch, added: ‘Have you got it with you?’
Isodore hesitated. If he could only have seen the smile behind the thick dark veil which hid the features so tantalisingly!
‘I have not your insignia with me,’ she said; ‘that I must give you at some future time, not now. Though I am alarmed for you, I cannot but admire your reckless audacity.’
‘I thought perhaps you might,’ Le Gautier observed in a disappointed tone, and glancing at the clasp of his companion’s cloak.
‘That is mine,’ she explained, noting his eager look. ‘I do not part with it so recklessly as you. I, too, am one of you, as you see. Ah, Monsieur le Gautier, how truly fortunate your treasure fell into a woman’s hands!’
‘Indeed, yes,’ he replied gravely, a little puzzled, nevertheless, by the half-serious, half-mocking tone of these last words. ‘And how grateful I am! Pardon me if, in my anxiety, I ask when I may have it?’
‘It may be some days yet. It is not in my hands; but be assured that you shall have it. I always keep my promises—in love or war, gratitude or revenge, I never forget.—And now I must leave you.’