A POWERFUL ALLY.
Isaac Isidore was lunching at his chambers in his own simple way. A
hard trying life like his, to say nothing of half his nights spent in
society, called for a careful regime. Plain food and a total absence
from intoxicants enabled the man to get through an enormous amount of
work and pleasure.
He was glad to see Lawrence as usual. Had he not preferred the
atmosphere of finance, Isidore would have made a fine novelist of the
sensational order. His fine imagination enabled him to bring off so
many of the surprises with which he constantly terrified his brother
capitalists.
"Anything to do with the mystery?" he asked.
"I should say a great deal," Lawrence chuckled. "In the first place, I
should like to hear something of the history of one Maitrank."
"You don't mean to say he's in it!" Isidore cried, grimly amused. "The
cunningest fox in all Europe. Truly the Lalage is a wonderful woman!
But I see our friend Dr. Bruce is burning to tell me a story. Pray go
on."
Bruce proceeded to relate all that had happened the previous evening.
Isidore shook with suppressed laughter, though he never spoke a word.
The narrator quite failed himself to see the humorous side of the
matter.
"What do you think of it?" Lawrence asked at length.
"I think that but for the pluck and courage of a girl friend Maitrank
would have gone to his account before now," Isidore said more
seriously. "I must confess that I find the mystery of it all
exceedingly fascinating. Maitrank is not the kind of man who forgets
and forgives in a moment. What on earth could have induced him to grow
so friendly with that fellow Balmayne all at once?"
"That I leave you to guess," Bruce replied. "It is beyond me."
"But it is not in the least beyond me," Lawrence remarked coolly, as
he reached for a cigarette. "To a certain extent I hold the key to the
situation. Accident strengthens my hands, as it generally does in
dealing with people of this kind. And I am going to make a powerful
new ally in this new business. I need not ask you if you are
personally acquainted with Maitrank, Isidore?"
"Oh, I know the man well enough," Isidore replied. "I will give you an
introduction to him right enough. But you won't get much from that
quarter."
Lawrence begged to differ. In the first place, he anticipated
considerable entertainment. He was not selfish, he said, and had no
desire to keep it to himself.
"You must have your comic relief to every drama," he said. "We haven't
had much humour up to now, but that is coming. By the way, I hope your
Continental friend is not subject to apoplexy?"
Lawrence chuckled to himself with the air of a man who has a joke
which is too good for the world in general. Isidore was puzzled and
interested.
"Tell you what," he exclaimed, "I'll try and get Maitrank on the
telephone. He has a sort of office at the Metropole."
It was a little before five when the trio reached the Metropole. A
suite of rooms had been chartered by the Hungarian capitalist, and
there he had already established a secretary and a clerk or two to
look after his affairs. He was seated in his shirtsleeves, with a big
black cigar in his mouth, when his visitors entered. He extended two
fingers to Isidore, to the others he merely bowed.
"And what can I do for you?" he asked.
"You might be disposed to answer a few questions," said Bruce,
quietly. "I was the doctor who was called in to see you last night.
But for the courage of a young girl, I might today have given evidence
at the inquest held on the body of a most distinguished capitalist
called Maitrank."
Lawrence nodded approvingly. Bruce had struck the right note.
"I should like to hear more of this," Maitrank cried.
Bruce plunged into his story. He had a most interested listener. The
small grey eyes of the listener were fixed intently on the narrator's
face. The black cigar died out between his fingers.
He had no questions to ask; there was no doubt on his face. If ever a
man was telling the simple truth it was Bruce at that moment. There
was something like a smile on Maitrank's face when Bruce came to the
part that Hetty had played in the stirring drama of the previous
night.
"I never forget a favour," said Maitrank, hoarsely. "The young lady
shall have a very practical evidence of my gratitude. She saved my
life, and she ended up by getting my property returned to me."
"I don't want to pry into your affairs," said Lawrence. "But would you
mind telling me one thing? The Countess owes you money?"
"Well, yesterday she owed me nearly £100,000. I have got part of that
back in the way of the jewels, hence my change of attitude last night.
By a clever trick, that woman robbed me of a fortune. When I found it
out I said nothing. It was no cue of mine to make a fuss about it. If
I had done so I should have lost everything. So I came to England. By
way of a start I obtained possession of diamonds to the value of some
£30,000."
"You are quite certain of that?" Lawrence asked, meaningly.
"My dear sir, they are in my possession. If you are still cynical on
the point I will show them to you."
Lawrence desired nothing better. In a few minutes the stones lay on
the table. The novelist picked them up, and took from his pocket a
small file which he coolly rubbed on the facet of two of the larger
stones. Maitrank smiled. Any diamond would stand that test. With a
grave look, Lawrence handed the stones back--the tested diamonds were
dull and flat.
"Paste!" Maitrank cried, with a yell that rang through the building.
"Paste, as I am a sinner. Deluded and fooled again. Rich as I am I
would sacrifice every penny to be even with that woman."