Again she was silent.
“Well,” she said at last. “I really must fly now.”
“And you’ll do it, won’t you?” he urged.
“Well, if it’s only a joke, yes. I’ll—I’ll try to do it.”
“At the usual place at nine to-morrow night—eh?”
“All right,” she replied, and hurried away, while the man lit a cigarette, well satisfied, and then turned into a bar to get a drink.
The man was the blackmailer Richard Allen.
During Andrew Barclay’s journey home Allen and his woman accomplice had made a daring attempt to possess themselves of the valuable plan which had been given him by His Excellency. Barclay had broken his journey for a day in Paris, and had gone to the Grand Hôtel. During his absence Allen had applied at the bureau for the key of the room—explaining that he was Mr Barclay’s secretary—and had been given it.
Instantly he went up and ransacked the Englishman’s bags. But to his chagrin and annoyance the plan was not there.
As a matter of fact Barclay had placed it in his pocket-book and carried it with him. Again, next day, as he disembarked from the Channel steamer at Folkestone, Freda stumbled against him and apologised, and while his attention was thus attracted Allen made an attempt to possess himself of his wallet. But in that he was unsuccessful.