"Got the hump, an' pretty bad," soliloquized the man. "Gimme a bob over the fare, an' all, so can't be stony. But Lord love a duck, you never can tell!"
Theydon was about to unlock the door of his flat when it opened in his face, and his sister nearly collided with him. She screamed slightly, a certain quality of alarm in her exclamation merging instantly into joyful recognition.
"So you have come home!" she cried. "My goodness! What a fright you've given me!"
"Why?" he said, with a reassuring and brotherly hug.
"I've had horrid dreams. I couldn't rest all last night for thinking of you."
"Is George absent?" George was her husband, a consulting engineer, whose professional duties often took him to distant parts of the country.
"Yes."
"Then you and Miss Beale have been living on tea and scraps. Really, Mollie, I credited you with more sense. Tell me what you ate last night, and I'll diagnose your dreams."
"We dined at a first-class restaurant in the West End," said Mrs. Paxton indignantly. "It would be much more to the point if you explained how you have been living the past few days. I have not been so worried about anything since George was trapped in that horrid mine."
Mollie was on the verge of tears. Her brother resolved instantly to minimize matters, or she would fret more than ever on his account.
"Now, look here, old girl," he said, meeting her critical glance steadily. "Miss Beale has been putting absurd notions into that stylish little head of yours. By the way, is that the latest thing in hats? It suits you admirably."
Mrs. Paxton smiled, though her eyes were glistening suspiciously.
"You can't humbug me, Frank, so please don't try," she protested. "Why are you mixed up in this dreadful business? Why are you constantly meeting detectives? Why did you rush off to Eastbourne yesterday? When did you become acquainted with this Mr. Forbes? Have you seen his daughter?"
Theydon was at least sufficiently well versed in the peculiarities of the feminine temperament to know that he would, be safe in answering the last question first.
"Yes," he said. "I have seen a good deal of Miss Forbes recently. Have you ever met her?"
"She was at the horse show last year with Lady de Winton's party. She's an awfully pretty girl, and will be worth millions, I suppose. Some one said that young de Winton was simply crazy about her, but he looks such a sloppy youth that I could hardly imagine those two getting married. Of course, there's the title, yet a title is not everything."
Young de Winton! Theydon had not even been aware hitherto of the existence of a marriageable scion of that noble house.
"That particular young spark has not been in evidence during the past few days at any rate," he commented, and his voice was not so nonchalant as he imagined, because Mrs. Paxton looked up quickly.
"Perhaps it was only idle gossip," she said. "Is Miss Forbes a nice girl to talk to? She struck me as being very animated."
"Animated"—while in the company of that undoubted oaf, de Winton! Theydon choked back something tinged with gall as he replied quietly:
"She could not well help being highly intelligent. Her father and mother are charming people. I was introduced to Mr. Forbes owing to a magazine commission to write an article about his interest in aviation. Now you see how promptly even the most gorgeous bubble bursts when it impinges against a solid little fact. As it happens, Mr. Forbes and I will have so much in common during the next day or two that I am now going to stay with him. I came here to pack a portmanteau. If you'll be a good little girl and listen while I'm at the telephone you will hear all about it."
The words were no sooner uttered than he wanted to recall them. It would be no easy matter to discuss Furneaux's suggestion with any one in Fortescue Square without letting his sister into the secret that the visit was necessitated by considerations of his own personal safety.
Mrs. Paxton's eyes were sparkling with a new interest.
"I had no idea you were on terms of such intimacy with the family," she cried. "Don't tell me, Frank, that your flights have taken you to the elevated region in which millionaires' daughters figure as possible brides!"
"Now you are making me out a Mormon," and Theydon grinned fiercely.
"You know what I mean. This Miss Forbes—by the way, what is her Christian name?"
"Let me see. I think I have heard it. Doris, is it, or Phyllis? No, I remember now—Evelyn."
"O, then, if you are so vague on that point I suppose I must reconcile myself to owning a bachelor brother again."
He shook his head at her.
"Ah, you women!" he said. "Yet I used to regard you as quite a sensible person, Mollie! Now, how in the name of goodness could I possibly entertain any notion of marrying the only daughter of a man in Forbes's position?"
"It all depends," was the illogical but crushing retort. "There are plenty of millionaires' daughters whom I would not regard as good enough for my brother. And, let me tell you, the family is making progress. A little bird whispered the other day that George's name will appear in the next list of honors. He is to receive a knighthood."
It was not new to Theydon to learn that his brother-in-law stood in high favor with the Government, because Paxton had been appointed on two Royal Commissions with reference to mining regulations, but he affected a surprised incredulity as offering a way of escape from an inquisition which he dreaded.
"Dear me!" he smirked.
Therein he erred. His sister gave him a puzzled glance.
"You are not yourself today, Frank," she said dubiously. "You are acting. For whose benefit? Not mine, surely!"
"If your prospective ladyship will pardon me I will now go to the telephone," he countered.
Anything, even a mad jumble of incoherence in his talk with the Forbes household, was better than the troubled scrutiny of those clear brown eyes. Leaving the door open so that his sister could hear his side of the conversation, he rang up No. 11 Fortescue Square.
The butler answered.
"That you, Tomlinson?" said Theydon. "Will you ask Mr. Forbes if I am to turn up in time for afternoon tea? If it is more convenient that I should arrive later I have lots of things to attend to, and can fill in a few hours easily."
"I really don't know what to say, sir," came the astounding answer. "Mrs. Forbes has been shot—"
"Great heavens!"
"Yes, sir. She was merely looking out through the drawing-room window, when some one fired at her from a passing motor car."
"Do you mean that she is dead?"
"No, sir—not quite so bad as that. The bullet struck her left shoulder. A few inches lower and it would have pierced her heart. The doctors are with her now. I—"
Some interruption took place on the line and the butler's voice ceased. Theydon, careless now as to what construction his sister might place on his words, was about to storm at the exchange for cutting the communication. He meant to say that on no consideration would he inflict the presence of a stranger at such a terrible moment, when a coldly metallic, almost harsh question reached him.
"That you, Theydon?"
"Yes," he said. Forbes was speaking.
"I was crossing the hall, and guessed it might be you. Come as soon as you are at liberty. You will be welcome. If we are to be besieged I want some one who will not be afraid to shoot. These policemen are too scrupulous. They saw some cursed Mongol leaning out through the window of the closed car, and could have either shot him or put a bullet so close that his aim would have been disturbed. As it was, my wife only escaped death by the mercy of Providence. She bent slightly at the very instant the would-be assassin fired, and the bullet simply lacerated her shoulder.