Its secret arrival at night had evidently been witnessed, and had given rise to strange and embellished stories.
The last occasion Max had seen Adam was one night three weeks before when, dining with two other men in the gallery of the Trocadero Restaurant, he had seen him below seated with a rather young and good-looking lady in an evening-dress of black net. The pair were laughing together, and it struck him that the companion of the adventurer might be French. He had afterwards discovered that she was Lorena Lyle, daughter of the old hunchback engineer who was his partner in certain ventures.
“The girl who met me in Paris and gave me warning!” Rolfe exclaimed.
“Yes, the same. They dined together that night and hurried out to get to the theatre.”
“And you’ve never seen him since?”
“No. Ten days ago, I wrote to the National Liberal Club giving him an appointment, but he never kept it.”
“Because he was lying here, I suppose,” remarked Charlie with bated breath, adding: “This, Max, is all utterly incomprehensible. How dare the old man do such a thing?”
“He’s been driven into a corner, and as long as he preserves his secret he will still remain a power in the land.”
“But his secret is out—we have laid it bare.”
“At risk of our lives—eh?” remarked Max, shuddering again as he recollected his own narrow escape of a few minutes before.