"Very easily. By putting myself in your place, and imagining how I
should think and act under similar circumstances."
Then Wingate followed his sweetheart's lead.
"Well, Mr Varney, I agree with Miss Monkton. We accept you as an ally,
without reference to Smeaton. What do you want us to do?"
"I want you to tell me, as fully as you can, everything that has
happened, in the minutest detail, from the night of Mr Monkton's
strange disappearance until the present moment."
It was a long recital. Varney listened attentively and made notes from
time to time, as some point struck him. But he did not make many. He
seemed to possess a marvellous and retentive memory.
The narrative finished, Varney rose.
"Thanks, I have got it all clear. Now, all this will want thinking
over, and it will take me some hours. As soon as I have established
something to work upon I will communicate with you. We don't often see
you at the Savage, Mr Wingate, or we might meet there."
"I have not much leisure," was Wingate's reply, "and all I have at my
disposal is at Miss Monkton's service for the present."
"I quite understand." He could not fail to read in the slight glow on
Sheila's cheek that the pair were lovers. "Well, good-night. Many
thanks for the cordial reception you have given me. I shall do my best.
I shall hope to earn the compliments of my old friend Smeaton once
again."
It was close upon ten o'clock when he left the house in Chesterfield
Street. Though it was summer time, the night was a dark one. There was
no moon, and heavy clouds obscured the stars.
A man stepped out from under the street lamp nearly opposite, and walked
quickly in the direction of Curzon Street. Varney had seen him many
times in the House of Commons, and recognised him at once. It was James
Farloe, the secretary.
Varney followed him up Curzon Street, through the narrow passage that
runs past Lansdowne House. For a moment Farloe halted, as if undecided
which direction to take. Then, his mind made up, he turned northward,
and made his way into Oxford Street.
He walked along there for a little while, then crossed over to the north
side, and, turning up one of the numerous side streets, took a devious
route into Edgware Road.
It immediately struck Varney that he was going to visit Mrs Saxton at
Hyde Park Mansions. In that case, he would have had his hunt for
nothing. Smeaton had his men stationed there, and he was not wanted.
However, he would make sure, before he gave up the chase, and he was
afterwards glad that he had not jumped too readily at conclusions.
It soon became apparent that this was not Farloe's destination, for he
passed Chapel Street, and continued straight along the Edgware Road till
he came to where it joins on to Maida Vale. Here he turned to the
right, and was immediately in the St John's Wood district.
Varney was now pretty certain in his own mind as to the secretary's
goal, and a few moments more confirmed his conjectures. He halted at a
house in the Boundary Road, and knocked gently at the door. It was
opened by a tall man, whom Varney at once recognised as Bolinski, from
the description given of him by Wingate.
He waited about for an hour, but Farloe did not come out. Theirs was
evidently a long conference. The secretary was apparently the channel
of communication between the Russian and Mrs Saxton. This accounted
for the sudden cessation of telegrams. The astute lady had found out
she was being watched.
Varney walked back to Baker Street Station, where he took a ticket for
Charing Cross, the nearest halting-place for the Savage Club in the
Adelphi.
"I wonder if Smeaton has left Farloe altogether out of his
calculations," was his inward comment on the night's proceedings. "But
it can't be; he is too old a bird for that. Well, it's evident he is in
with the gang, whoever they are--as well as his sister."