I should have recognised him at once from the panel portrait, though he
looked some years older than when that photograph had been taken.
Of medium height, and rather broadly built, he had all the appearance of
a gentleman. His hair was very short, with dark grey, rather deep-set
eyes, and thick dark eyebrows. The hair was parted in the middle, and
plastered down, but he was not in evening clothes, as were the men to
whose conversation I had been listening.
He shook hands cordially with his friend, nodded to the good-looking
young man, and called to the waiter to bring him a chair, those near by
being all occupied. While waiting for the chair to be brought, he
suddenly caught sight of me, evidently in recognition, for he turned
quickly and spoke in a low tone to his friend, who at once glanced in my
direction.
All this! "felt" rather than saw, for I was not looking directly at the
two men.
Where had Paulton seen me before? That was the first thought that
occurred to me, and of course I could not answer it. I had no
recollection of having ever seen him previously. Suddenly, he crossed
over to me.
"Mr. Richard Ashton, I think?" he said in a genial tone, and with a
smile.
"Yes," I answered rather stiffly, none too pleased at his addressing me.
I certainly had no wish to know him.
"My name's Paulton," he said, ignoring my coldness. "I've seen you
before. You were pointed out to me one night at the Savoy. I want to
introduce my friend. Henderson, let me present you to Mr. Richard
Ashton. Mr. Ashton--Mr. Henderson."
It was done before I could say anything--before I could avoid it. There
was nothing for it, therefore, but to pretend to appear pleased.
He asked me what I would drink, and I had to say something--though I
hated drinking with the fellow. Put yourself in my place--drinking with
a man who had tried in cold blood to kill me, and who had shot an
innocent man dead! I felt it had been weak of me not to ignore his
greeting and meet his look of recognition with a stony stare. But
regret for a mistake was useless now. I had made a false step when I
spoke to him, and I couldn't suddenly, apparently for no reason, turn my
back upon him.
A sudden terrific gust of wind shook the heavy windows, and a sheet of
rain splashed against the panes like a great wave, distracting, for the
moment, every one's attention. A storm on the Riviera is always heavy
and blustering.
"I have just come in," Paulton said. "In all my life I don't recollect
such an awful storm as this, except once in the Jura, when I was out
boar-shooting. How fortunate it didn't start while the pigeon-shooting
was on to-day."
He turned to me suddenly.
"By the way, Ashton," he said familiarly, "we have a mutual friend, I
think."
"Indeed?" I answered drily. "Who is that?"
"Sir Charles Thorold's daughter, Miss Vera."
I was astonished at this effrontery--so astounded that my surprise
outweighed my feeling of indignation at the tone of familiarity in which
he spoke of Vera. He might have been referring to some barmaid we both
knew.
I think he detected my annoyance, but he said nothing. After a pause I
replied, keeping myself in check--
"Is Miss Thorold a friend of yours?"
"A friend of mine? Rather. I should say so!"
He glanced across at Henderson, and they both smiled significantly.
This was intolerable.
"I do know Miss Thorold," I remarked, emphasising the "Miss Thorold,"
"but I don't remember that she has ever mentioned your name to me."
"No, probably she wouldn't mention it. Vera is discreet, if she is
nothing else."
The impertinence of this reply was so obvious, so pointed, that I knew
it must have been intentional.
"Really, I don't follow you," I said icily. "What, pray, has Miss
Thorold to say to you, and what have you to say to her?"
"Oh, a very great deal, I can assure you."
"Indeed? How intensely interesting!"
"It is, very. Her flight from Houghton that night must have astonished
you."
I could bear the fellow's company no longer. Emptying my tumbler, I
rose with deliberation, and, excusing myself with frigid politeness,
strode out of the fumoir.
In the vestibule I met the good-looking young Englishman. He had left
the room soon after Paulton had entered. Now he came up and spoke to
me.
"I hope you'll forgive my addressing you," he said in well-bred accents,
raising his hat, "but I heard your name mentioned when Paulton
introduced Henderson to you. May I ask if you are _the_ Mr. Richard
Ashton?"
"It depends what you mean by `the' Richard Ashton," I answered. This
young man attracted me; he had done so from the first.
"Do you happen to live in King Street, St. James's?" he inquired
abruptly.
"Yes, I do."
"Then you're the man I have for weeks past been wanting to meet. I
believe you know Miss Thorold--Miss Vera Thorold."
"I do."
"She wants particularly to see you."
"How do you know that?"
"Because she told me, or rather a friend of hers--to whom I am engaged
to be married--did. They are together at the _Alexandra Hotel_, in
Mentone. My friend is staying there with an aunt of mine."
"Surely if Miss Thorold wished to meet me she could have written to me,
or telegraphed," I said rather frigidly.
"No. I think I ought to tell you that the man who introduced himself to
you some minutes ago--the man Dago Paulton--has entire control over
her--she goes in fear of him! She did not dare write to you, or even
send you a wire. She knew that if she did he would find out. The lady
to whom I am engaged told me this some days ago, and told me a great
deal about you that had been told to her by Miss Thorold."
"Do you mind telling me your name?" I said, looking at him squarely.
"Faulkner--Frank Faulkner. Paulton is a man of whom you ought to be
very careful. He is really a scoundrel, that I don't mind telling you.
I have just been told by a man who really knows, that he has forced Miss
Thorold to take an active interest in a rascally scheme of some kind
that he and Henderson have devised. I am told by my lady friend--her
name is Gladys Deroxe--that Miss Thorold tried her utmost to have
nothing to do with it, but Paulton threatened to reveal something he
knows concerning her father, so in the end she consented. Paulton has
no longer a card for the Rooms; he was shut out last year for some
reason, and he has lately been compelling Miss Thorold to go and play
there in his place. Her luck at trente-et-quarante has been phenomenal,
but all the money she has won he has of course at once taken from her,
she is his factotum. I am very glad for her sake that you have come
out. I suppose it was by accident you came? You didn't expect to find
her here--eh?"
"On the contrary," I said, "I chanced to hear only last Sunday that Miss
Thorold was staying on the Riviera--so I decided to come over at once,"
I said.
"She knows that you are here, you know."
"She knows? Why, who on earth can have told her?"
"I have just been telephoning to Miss Deroxe over at the _Bristol_ at
Beaulieu. Miss Thorold is there with her. I told them that a man named
Ashton was here, and I described your appearance. Miss Thorold said at
once it must be you. Unfortunately she leaves to-night for Paris, and
Miss Deroxe goes with her."
"But why is she going to Paris?" I exclaimed eagerly.
"Who? Miss Thorold? She's acting on Paulton's orders. Her visit has
some mysterious bearing upon the scheme I have just spoken about."
The door of the fumoir opened at that moment, and Paulton and Henderson
came out into the vestibule. At once they must have seen Faulkner and
myself conversing, and for an instant a look of anger flashed into
Paulton's eyes. The expression subsided quickly, and he and Henderson
approached smiling calmly.
"I'm prepared to bet that I know what you two were talking about,"
Paulton said lightly, addressing Faulkner. "You were talking of Vera.
Ah! Am I wrong? No, I see I'm not. You have told our friend Ashton
that she goes to Paris to-night. Well, you are mistaken. Information
has reached me that there has been a landslip on the line beyond
Beaulieu, and it is blocked in consequence."
Then he turned to me.
"Would you like to come over to Beaulieu, Ashton?" he said, as though
making some quite ordinary request. "My car will be here presently. I
can take you too, Faulkner, if you wish to see Miss Deroxe. I am going
straight to the _Bristol_."