I had asked the Frenchman, rather angrily I fear, why he was following
me, whereat he merely bowed with the exquisite politeness of his race,
and replied in good English--
"I was not aware of following m'sieur. I regret extremely if I have
caused annoyance. I ask a thousand pardons."
"Well, your surveillance upon me annoys me," I declared abruptly. "I
saw you spying upon me in Manchester this afternoon, and you have
followed me to London!"
"Ah, yes," he replied, with a slight gesticulation; "it is true that I
was in Manchester. But our meeting here must be by mere chance. I was
unaware that monsieur was in Manchester," he assured me in a suave
manner.
"Well," I said in French, "yours is a very lame story, monsieur. I saw
you, and you also saw me talking to Mr. Pennington in the Midland
Hotel. Perhaps you'll deny that you know Mr. Pennington--eh?"
"I certainly do not deny that," he said, with a smile. "I have known
Monsieur Penning-ton for some years. It is true that I saw him at the
Midland."
"And you withdrew in order to escape his observation--eh?"
"Monsieur has quick eyes," he said. "Yes, that is quite true."
"Why?"
"For reasons of my own."
"And you deny having followed me here?"
He hesitated for a second, looking straight into my face in the
darkness.
"Come," I said, "you may as well admit that you followed me from
Manchester."
"Why should I admit what is not the truth?" he asked. "What motive
could I have to follow you--a perfect stranger?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, I'm a bit suspicious," I declared, still
speaking in French. "Of late there was a desperate attempt upon my
life."
"By whom?" he inquired quickly. "Please tell me, Monsieur Biddulph; I
am greatly interested in this."
"Then you know my name?" I exclaimed, surprised.
"Certainly."
"Why are you interested in me?"
"I may now have a motive," was his calm yet mysterious reply. "Tell me
in what manner an attempt has been made upon you?"
At first I hesitated, then, after a second's reflection, I explained
the situation in a few words.
"Ah! Of course, I quite see that monsieur's mind must be filled by
suspicion," he responded; "yet I regret if I have been the cause of
any annoyance. By the way, how long have you known Monsieur
Penning-ton?"
"Oh, some months," I replied. "The fact is, I'm engaged to his
daughter."
"His daughter!" echoed the Frenchman, looking at me quickly with a
searching glance. Then he gave vent to a low grunt, and stroked his
grey pointed beard.
"And it was after this engagement that the attempt was made upon
you--eh?" he inquired.
"No, before."
The foreigner remained silent for a few moments. He seemed
considerably puzzled. I could not make him out. The fact that he was
acquainted with my name showed that he was unduly interested in me,
even though he had partially denied it.
"Why do you ask this?" I demanded, as we still stood together at the
bottom of St. James's Street.
"Ah, nothing," he laughed. "But--well, I really fear I've aroused your
suspicions unduly. Perhaps it is not so very extraordinary, after all,
that in these days of rapid communication two men should catch sight
of each other in a Manchester hotel, and, later on, meet in a street
in London--eh?"
"I regard the coincidence as a strange one, monsieur," I replied
stiffly, "if it is really an actual coincidence."
For aught I knew, the fellow might be a friend of Pennington, or an
accomplice of those rascally assassins. Had I not been warned by
Shuttleworth, and also by Sylvia herself, of another secret attempt
upon my life?