“What kind of mission?” I inquired with curiosity, as we sat together in the lounge prior to going out to idle at the shop windows.
“I don’t know its object at all,” was her reply. “But from what I’ve gathered it is something most important. I—I do hope you will take care of yourself—won’t you?” she asked appealingly.
“Why, of course,” I laughed. “I generally manage to take care of myself. I’d do better, however, if—well, if I were not associated with Duperré and the rest,” I added bitterly.
The pretty girl was silent for a few moments. Then she said:
“Of course you won’t breathe a word of what I’ve said, will you?”
“Certainly not, Lola,” was my reply. “Whatever you tell me never passes my lips.”
“I know—I know I can trust you, Mr. Hargreave,” she exclaimed. “Well, in this matter there are several mysterious circumstances. I believe it is something political my father wants to work—some business which concerns something in the Near East. That’s all I know. You will, in due course, hear all about it. And now let’s go along to Deansgate. I want to buy something.”
In consequence we strolled along together, Rayne having gone out an hour before to keep an appointment—with whom he carefully concealed from me.
That same night Rayne disclosed to me the mission which he desired me to carry out. He was a man of a hundred moods and as many schemes.