I realized that some evil was intended. Yet it was prevented by the presence there of Sylvia Andrews. What could it be?
Next day I met uncle and niece as usual, and we went for a motor ride together out to Aranjuez, where we saw the Palacio Real, and then on to Toledo where we visited the wonderful cathedral and the great Elcazar. I did not get back to the hotel till past ten o’clock that night, but I found Duperré anxious and perturbed. Why, I failed to understand, except that he seemed filled with annoyance that his plans had somehow gone awry.
Two days later when I called at the Ritz with the intention of accompanying Mr. Lloyd and his niece over the mountains to Valladolid, I found them both greatly excited.
“Sylvia had a telegram an hour ago recalling her to London as her mother is ill, and I am going with her. I cannot allow her to travel alone. We leave by the express at six o’clock this evening,” Mr. Lloyd said. “I am so very sorry to depart so suddenly, Mr. Hargreave. We were both enjoying our visit so much,” he added apologetically.
This surprised me until I returned to my hotel to luncheon, when Duperré, meeting me eagerly in the hall, asked:
“Well, is the girl going?”
“Yes,” I said. “How do you know?”
He smiled meaningly, and I felt that in all probability the telegram recalling the girl had been sent at his instigation, as indeed I afterwards knew it had been. So cleverly had matters been arranged by the crooks that Mrs. Andrews was actually very unwell.
“Yes, she’s off to-night—and the old man also,” I said, glad that he was to get out of the mysterious danger that undoubtedly threatened him.
“What!” cried my companion, staggered. “Is the old fellow actually leaving also? At what time?”