“I expect you’ll have to be making some rather rapid journeys soon, George. Better be up early to-morrow. Good night.” And then dismissing me, he asked Duperré to go with him to the smoking-room.
“I’ve heard from Tracy,” I overheard him say as I followed them along the softly carpeted corridor. “We’re up against that infernal Benton again because of old Moody’s blunder. I never expected he’d be caught, of all men. Benton is now looking for Moody’s guiding hand.”
“Well, I hope he won’t get very far,” Duperré replied.
“We must make certain that he doesn’t, Vincent, or it will go badly—very badly—with us! That’s what I want to discuss with you.”
Of the result of the consultation I, of course, remained in ignorance, but next morning Rayne sent for me and said he had decided to meet his friend Tracy at the Unicorn Hotel at Ripon.
“I telephoned him to the Station Hotel at York during the night,” he added. “He’ll have a lady with him. I want you to drive me over to Ripon and drive the lady back here.”
So an hour later we set out across country and arrived in Ripon in time for lunch.
Gerald Tracy I had met before, a big, stout, round-faced man of prosperous appearance, bald-headed and loud of speech. That he was a crook I had no doubt, but what his actual métier was I could not discover. He met us on the threshold of the old-fashioned hotel in that old-fashioned Yorkshire town, and with him was a well-dressed young woman, Italian or Spanish, I saw at a glance.
When Tracy introduced her to Rayne she was apparently much impressed, replying in very fair English. Her name, I learnt, was Signorina Lacava, and she was Italian.