The next morning the _St. Paul_ arrived at Southampton, but Beaumanoir
contrived to secure a seat in the same compartment of the boat-train,
and his parting with his new friends was therefore deferred till they
reached Waterloo.
He was sorely tempted to enlist the elder lady's favor by making known
his proper style and rank; though, to do her justice, Mrs. Sherman's
fondness for the peerage was largely a humorous fiction on her
daughter's part. The Senator's wife was really a simple-minded body,
with an abiding admiration for the unattainable, and the British
aristocracy was naturally included in that category.
But the sight of Mr. Marker's covert-coat hovering near them on the
arrival platform checked the Duke's intention, which the next moment was
rendered unnecessary by Mrs. Sherman herself.
"Come and see us, Mr. Hanbury," she said, extending the tips of her
fingers in farewell. "We are to be the guests of some good friends of
ours at 140 Grosvenor Gardens, and we know them well enough to make
ourselves at home. The Senator will be over in a week or two, and he'll
be glad to thank you for your politeness."
"I will pay my respects without fail," Beaumanoir responded; and a
minute later, after a warmer pressure of Leonie's well-gloved hand, he
stood watching their cab with its load of "saratogas" drive down the
incline. By the void in his heart he knew that the girl in the
coquettish toque, who had just repeated her mother's invitation with her
eyes, was all the world to him.
He turned to look after his scanty baggage with a sigh. How different it
would all have been if he had chosen some other route to his Brooklyn
boarding-house on the eventful night when the plausible Jevons had
waylaid him! All would have been plain sailing, and he could have asked
Leonie with a clear conscience to share his new-found honors and wealth.
As it was he stood committed to a felonious enterprise which would fill
her with contempt and loathing did she know of it; though, if he
abandoned it, instinct told him he was a doomed man.
The sight of the insignificant spy Marker lurking behind a pile of
luggage reminded him that his peril might commence at any moment if he
showed any sign of inconstancy to his pledge. Not that he anticipated
trouble from the covert-coated whippersnapper himself; but the mere fact
of it having been thought worth while to shadow him across the Atlantic
spelled danger, and suggested an organization that would stop at nothing
to safeguard itself.
However, he had made up his mind to call on the mysterious Ziegler, and
by doing so at once he might prove his fidelity and secure a respite
from this unpleasant espionage. Summoning a hansom, he bade the driver
take him to the Hotel Cecil, and looking back he saw Marker following in
another cab.
In the few minutes that elapsed before he was driven into the courtyard
of the palatial hotel he settled a problem that had been vexing him not
a little during the voyage. Should he introduce himself to Ziegler as
the Duke of Beaumanoir or as plain Charles Hanbury, the name by which he
had been "engaged"? If he was for a brief space to be the consort of
professional thieves, he would prefer to lead a double life--to perform
his misdeeds as a commoner, and to keep his dukedom spotless. So it was
that he gave his name as Hanbury to the clerk in the bureau of the
hotel.
While waiting the return of the bell-boy who was sent to announce his
arrival, Beaumanoir looked about for Marker, but the spy was nowhere
visible in or from the entrance-hall. Having shepherded him to the fold,
it was evidently no part of his duty to obtrude himself till further
orders.
A minute later the neophyte in crime was limping up the grand staircase
in wake of the bell-boy, who conducted him to one of the best private
suites on the first floor overlooking the Embankment. It was a moment
charged with electricity as the Duke of Beaumanoir found himself face to
face with the man who had hired him in his poverty, and now held him
fetter-bound in his good fortune.
"Yet could this be he--this personification of aged helplessness lying
among the cushions of an invalid chair, who, in a thin, piping treble,
requested his visitor to come closer? Beaumanoir had pictured all sorts
of ideals of the master in crime, but Mr. Clinton Ziegler in the flesh
resembled none of them. A snowy beard covered the lower half of his
face, drooping over his chest, but the puffy cheeks were visible, and
their full purple hue betokened some cutaneous affection. The eyes were
shaded by blue glasses.
"You are the person sent by Jevons from New York?" he began in his
parrot-like tones. "Good! What is your name? For the moment I have
forgotten it, and I cannot lay my hand on the cablegram relating to
you."
Encouraged by the feeble senility of one whom he had expected to find a
tower of strength--a grim, inscrutable being with an inscrutable
manner--the Duke was confirmed in his intention to preserve the secret
of his rank.
"My name is Charles Hanbury," he answered, boldly.
But an awakening, instant and complete, was in store for him. The words
were hardly out of his mouth when Mr. Ziegler coughed a signal, and
three masked men rushed upon him from the adjoining bedroom, pinioning
his arms and stifling his sudden cry of alarm.
"What shall we do with him, sir?" asked one of the men.
"Chloroform him first; then you must dispose of him at leisure," came
the monotonous piping treble from the invalid chair.
One of the assailants made immediate preparations for obeying the
behest, but just as he was about to saturate a handkerchief Ziegler
laughed shrilly:
"Let him alone, boys. He lied to me, and I wanted to give him a
lesson--that's all."
The men, at a sign from their chief, retired into the bedroom.
"Now, perhaps you will recognize that I am not to be played with, _your
Grace_," squeaked Mr. Ziegler. "Also that my ears are as long as my
arms. I have known for some days that the gentleman whom my good friend
Jevons was able to procure has had a sudden change in his fortunes, and
I congratulate myself upon it. It doubles your value to us, all the more
since your early call upon me after landing shows that you mean to abide
by your bargain. But there must be no more petty reservations and
concealments like that. If you try them on, rest assured that they will
be detected and dealt with."
The Duke straightened his rumpled collar, and looked, as he felt, a
beaten man. The mass of infirmity in the wheel-chair held, without
doubt, a power with which he could not cope. On the face of it the
notion that a man could be violently made away with in a crowded London
hotel might seem melodramatic and improbable, but the experience of the
last few minutes had shown him how readily it could be done by a chief
as well served as Ziegler appeared to be. And if he was at the man's
mercy in a crowded hostelry like the Cecil, where would he be safe? Yes,
if he was to enjoy his dukedom, he would have to go through with his
task.
"Well, give me my instructions. What am I to do?" he said, stiffly.
"You have made a very good beginning already," replied Ziegler, watching
him narrowly through the tinted glasses. "A gentleman, acting on behalf
of the United States Government, will shortly bring to this country the
three million pounds' worth of Treasury bonds which we mean to have. It
will be your task to relieve him of the paper, substituting bonds of our
own make, which will be deposited at the Bank of England as security
against a shipment of gold."
"I see," the Duke murmured, mechanically. "But," he added with more
animation, "how have I made a beginning already?"
"By making yourself agreeable to Miss Leonie Sherman. It is her father,
Senator Sherman, who is bringing the real bonds," was the answer, which
struck a chill to the Duke's heart and kept him speechless with
amazement. This old scoundrel seemed to know everything, to have
arranged everything, irrespective of time and space.
"You ought to be grateful for my foresight in smoothing the way for
you," Ziegler croaked, in evident enjoyment of his perplexity. "It was
my agent who, by securing the good offices of a steward, had you placed
next Miss Sherman at the saloon table on the _St. Paul_, with the result
that he was able to report to me this morning from Southampton by
telegraph that you had made use of your opportunity."
"I see," was all the Duke could feebly repeat.
"You have been invited to call on the Shermans in London? You know where
they are staying, 140 Grosvenor Gardens?"
"Yes," said Beaumanoir.
"Good! Then your Grace will go on as you have begun. Gain the girl's
confidence, and that of her mother--the latter will be easy under the
auspices of your new dignity--and come here again at twelve o'clock on
Saturday morning, three days hence. I may then have further instructions
for you."
And Mr. Clinton Ziegler waved a white, well-formed hand in dismissal.