THE PAINTED ENVELOPE
On my return I told Rayne of the old man’s invitation, whereat he rubbed his hands in warm approval.
“Excellent!” he cried. “You must travel with him and keep an eye upon him—just to see that nobody—well, that nobody molests the poor old fellow,” he laughed grimly.
I saw his meaning, but I was in no way anxious to become the traveling companion of a man who had, without doubt, been marked down as the next victim.
A fact that aroused my curiosity was that all the time Mr. Lloyd had been with us Duperré had been absent—in Brussels, I believe. His identity was evidently being concealed with some distinctly malicious purpose.
I waited with curiosity. Next day Lola, who with her woman’s intuition had scented that something sinister was intended, expressed surprise to me that Mr. Lloyd was going to Spain.
We were walking together across the park beyond the lower gardens on our way to the village.
“Mr. Lloyd told me that he was going to Spain at father’s suggestion,” she said. “It seems to me rather strange that I should have been the means of bringing father and him together. I can’t understand the reason of it all,” she added, evidently much puzzled.
“Perhaps your father has some idea of transacting some lucrative business with him. Remember, he has a lot of financial interests in Spain.”