Suddenly, when she had dried her tears, she seemed full of apprehension concerning my welfare.
“Oh! do be careful of yourself, George!” she cried. “I am always so anxious about you when you are away. Father sends you on those strange and highly dangerous missions because he trusts you, and you, alas! are compelled to do his bidding. But do take care. You know well what the slightest blunder would mean—and you would never clear yourself, you know!”
I promised I would take great care always, and again we moved along. It was not, however, until dusk that we returned to the Manor.
I could not help wondering how Lola had discovered her father’s true character and the nature of his secret “business,” but on the whole I felt it was just as well that she knew, for she herself would exercise great care. And then I thought in ecstasy, “She is mine—mine!”
Just before midnight, soon after I had retired, the door of my room opened, and I found Rayne in his pajamas.
He placed his finger upon his lips with a gesture of silence. Then, closing the door noiselessly, he drew me to the opposite side of the room, and, showing me a photograph, said:
“Look at this well, George. You’d recognize him, wouldn’t you?”
It was a cabinet photograph of a good-looking gentlemanly, clean-shaven man of about twenty-five.
“Note his tiepin—a single moonstone!” added Rayne.