“He will be pleased to see you at any time you may appoint! Why not ring me up on the telephone—if you are not able to make an appointment now?”
“Very well,” he replied, “I will.”
He saw that she wanted to ask him something, but was hesitating, as though not daring to put her question.
At last she asked:
“Mr Mullet, will you not reveal to me in confidence who it is who is thus working against us?”
“A person of highest reputation as far as financial reputation in London goes, and of enormous influence. He has at his service every power that wealth can command.”
“And is he nameless?”
“Alas! he must be,” was “Red Mullet’s” decisive answer. The truth was that he feared to tell the girl, lest her surprise might lead her to expose the secret, which must at once reflect upon herself. He was glad that she had not recognised Challas from the many photographs which so constantly appeared in the illustrated papers.
A door somewhere in the small flat clicked again, but neither took any notice of it, attributing it to the wind from the open window.
They had no suspicion of an eavesdropper who had silently entered after them with the latch-key he possessed, and had just as silently left again, and crept down the stairs.