Then he went to his room, changed his clothes, and came down to lunch in very bright spirits. It seemed that by the Italian’s visit he was now not in the least perturbed.
I drove him with Lola to York, where he went to London and Lola to Scarborough. Afterwards I dined at the Station Hotel alone, and returned to Overstow, which seemed chill and lonely. The local doctor happily looked in during the evening, and I played him a game at billiards.
In impatient curiosity I waited until next day, when, punctually at six o’clock, Signor Gori was shown into a little room adjoining the great hall, and there I joined him in the capacity of a busy man’s secretary.
“I much regret, Signor Gori,” I said, after we had bowed, “but Mr. Rayne was called to London quite unexpectedly upon some very urgent business. He presents his apologies and asks whether you can manage to meet him in London when it is convenient to you. Will you telephone to him?” And I gave him the address of Rayne’s rooms.
“His apologies!” echoed the Italian, with a very marked accent and a gesture of ridicule. “The apologies of ‘The Golden Face’! Ah! my dear friend, you are his secretary; you are not the principal in this very serious affair.”
“Serious. How?” I asked in pretense of ignorance, and hoping thereby to learn something.
“Madonna Santa! You do not know—you do not realize the depths of that man’s villainy! I do! I am the one person who has penetrated the veil of secrecy beneath which he has so long remained hidden. Quérot, of the Paris Sûreté, and Tetani, of the Public Security of Italy, are my friends. I can now go to them, as I shall.”
“My dear sir!” I exclaimed. “The matter is no affair of mine! I am simply a paid secretary to do Mr. Rayne’s correspondence, and sometimes to drive his car. There my engagement ends.”
“Then be very careful! Be warned by me!” the Italian cried, gazing at me very seriously. “This man, your employer, is the leader of the most wonderfully organized gang of criminals in Europe. I happen to know.”
“How?” I asked.