Whither Thou Goest

Moreno was disturbed with remorsefulthoughts of Valerie Delmonte. If the Chief of Police had found thosebombs in her pocket, it was he who had told that somewhat slow-movingofficial he would find them there.

  Then he comforted himself. If he had betrayed Valerie, he had preventedher from hurling to destruction a dozen or more innocent people. Hisconscience was quite clear. If she had been a very ugly woman, insteadof a very pretty one, perhaps his conscience might not have beentroubled at all.

  "I didn't think much of that Chief of Police at first," he murmureddrowsily, as he turned on his pillow. "But he seems to have managed itall right. Still, on the whole, I would rather deal with Scotland Yard,or the Surete in Paris."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

  Lord Saxham and his daughter had left Ticehurst Park. They were intheir town house in Belgrave Square. They were neither of them veryfond of London.

  The Earl, in his youth and middle age, had experienced all the fleetingjoys of the Metropolis. Mary, after the experience of her unfortunatelove-affair, had definitely resolved that she would retire into aconvent and devote herself to good works as soon as her father died.

  Belgrave Square was even a little duller than Ticehurst Park. They werein the midst of a crowd that had forgotten them.

  Lord Saxham was, to put it vulgarly, a back number, and was quite out ofthe modern whirl. Lady Mary, during her brief season, had fallen headover ears in love with the handsome young Guardsman, and had buried herheart in his grave.

  The only thing that had drawn them up from the sylvan shades ofTicehurst Park was this--they wanted to be near Greatorex, that theycould know what was happening to Guy at first hand.

  The eldest son of the house. Viscount Ticehurst, dropped inoccasionally, and deigned to spare them a few moments of his valuabletime. As a matter of fact, at the present moment he was occupied with aparticularly pretty chorus-girl, whom he was half inclined to marry.

  Mary was fond of both her brothers, but she recognised the difference inthem. Eric was as weak as water and destitute of brains. He wascapable of marrying any chorus-girl on the sly, and then rushing herdown home and presenting her as his wife, to the terrible consternationof his poor old father, who thought that people should always marry intheir own class.

  Guy was different--there was just a little bit of common sense in him.He had fallen violently in love with Isobel Clandon--a girl not quite inhis own world, from the Earl's point of view--but a sweet and lovablegirl, and above all a lady.

  And Guy had waited for the parental consent, which had been wrung undersomewhat false pretences. But he had been content to wait until hisfuture wife would be received under proper auspices. He would not rushher down and take his father by storm, as Ticehurst would do when thetime came for him to present his chorus-girl to a justly offendedparent.

  Father and daughter sat at luncheon in the dining-room of the house inBelgrave Square.

  Very terribly did Lady Mary miss her beautiful gardens, her flowers, herdogs, her aviary of little songsters. She was essentially a countrygirl. She hated any city, with its cramped and narrow streets. EvenParis had no attractions for her. Vienna and Berlin left her cold.

  "You have seen Greatorex this morning, father?" she questioned when theservants had withdrawn.

  Lord Saxham frowned. He had realised, in this his latest visit to theMetropolis, that he was a back number. He remembered the years long agowhen he was the most golden of the gilded youth. Then his name was oneto conjure with. He led the revels; if it pleased him, he painted thetown red. Now, except for a few ancient cronies, nobody recognised him.

  "Yes, I saw Greatorex," he answered gloomily. "He was always as closeas wax. He is closer than ever. He comes of an infernally closefamily. That family has never been anything great." He was gettinginto his explosive vein. "Always underlings and jackals--always contentto serve."

  "What did he say about Guy?" asked Mary softly.

  "Only that he was quite happy and well. He did vouchsafe to volunteerthe information that some great anarchist _coup_ had failed."

  "Well, that was about as much as you could expect," said Mary in herquiet, gentle tones. "He is not going to give information toeverybody."

  "To everybody?" spluttered the Earl, in his most fiery mood. "Am Ieverybody? I have supported this Government through thick and thin. Ihave backed them up through everything. Why do they withhold theirconfidence from me, at this important moment?"

  Lady Mary used all her _finesse_. She knew too well why Greatorex didnot trust him. He was an open sieve. All news would filter through himin five minutes, at all his clubs, to the first acquaintance he met.

  "You must not blame Greatorex, dear; he carries a very heavy burden. Hedare not give an incautious confidence, drop a random word."

  "But why this reticence to me, of all people?" thundered Lord Saxham, inhis most indignant tones. "Am I not the soul of discretion? Should Ibetray a confidence?"

  Mary made no answer. She knew her father well. Privately he was thesoul of honour. He would not betray a confidence wilfully. But he wasloose of speech, and he was quite vain. He would drop a few hints,perhaps unconsciously, from which attentive listeners might gather much.

  She let the stormy ebullition pass. Then she spoke.

  "I wish we could hear some really authentic news of dear old Guy."

  The Earl grunted.

  "You hear daily from Isobel?"

  "Of course, but Isobel is a woman. She tells me what she is allowed toknow. Because she is a woman, Guy and Moreno keep everything from her.They make out the path is strewn with roses. They will not tell her thetruth, for fear of frightening her."

  "Then where are you going to get your information from?" asked the Earlquerulously.

  There was a long pause. When she spoke, a faint colour dyed Lady Mary'scheek.

  "I wonder if that young barrister would know anything; I almost forgethis name--you remember, Isobel's cousin who came down to Ticehurst andarranged her journey to Spain. Yes, I remember, Maurice Farquhar. Heis a bosom friend of that Spanish man, Moreno, who, I fancy, is tryinghis best to defeat the anarchists."

  The Earl was, fortunately, very unobservant to-day.

  "Yes, I remember him quite well, a perfectly decent sort of youngfellow. A rather forlorn hope, eh?"

  The flush had died away from Mary's cheek. She had regained herself-control. She spoke quite calmly.

  "Yes, I agree, but drowning people catch at a straw. Let me ask him todinner, and find out if he knows anything."

  Lord Saxham was certainly in his most benignant mood.

  "By all means. He might be useful."

  Lady Mary wrote a note to Farquhar, addressed to his chambers in theTemple. It was a somewhat formal letter--when she put pen to paper,Mary was always formal--inviting him to dine in Belgrave Square.

  Farquhar's first impulse was to refuse. He had no wish to mingle withthe aristocracy on unequal terms. When he became Lord Chancellor, itwould be a different matter.

  Then he thought of Lady Mary's winsome appearance, and he altered hismind. He sent a note accepting the invitation. But of course he knewwhy he was being asked. They wanted to know if he could give anyreliable information about Guy Rossett.

  He presented himself at Belgrave Square on the tick of the clock. Notfor him the _mauvais quart d'heure_ consecrated to meaninglessconversation in the drawing-room.

  Lord Saxham shook him kindly by the hand. Lady Mary was graciousnessitself. Could she ever be anything but kind, even if there was, at theback, a little subtle feminine diplomacy.

  It was a party of three, waited on in solemn state by the butler and twofootmen. There was not even a fourth to make matters even. Farquharsmiled inwardly. These two guileless persons, father and daughter, musthave desired his company exceedingly! Well, he would learn all about itlater on.

  The servants had withdrawn. The men smoked. Lady Mary did not leavethe room. It was an informal party
. Farquhar puffed leisurely at hiscigar. He was awaiting developments.

  Saxham opened the ball. He was a most undisciplined person. He wasalways like a bull in a china shop, charging with blind fury.

  "It's about Guy, we're awfully anxious, you know," he said in his loud,resonant tones. "I wonder if you can help us at all. My daughter andIsobel tell me you are a great friend of Moreno."

  Beneath his somewhat pachydermatous exterior; Farquhar had a certainvein of sensitiveness. He was now sure of what he had suspected. Hehad been asked to dine for the purposes of being pumped for theinformation he could or could not give them. Lord Saxham, in his blunt,vulgar fashion, had so unsuccessfully masked his hospitality. Then hecaught Lady Mary's pleading, almost shamefaced glance.

  "I can quite guess what is in your mind, Mr Farquhar, but I beg you toforgive our anxiety. We are very pleased to see you