"I am staying at Claridge's, or rather I was," Mr. Grooten remarked, as
we turned into Brook Street. "I saw you with Leibingen, and I have been
waiting for you. We will talk, I think, at your rooms."
Whereupon he lit a fresh cigarette, and did not speak a word until we
had reached our destination. Isobel had gone to bed, and our
sitting-room was empty. I turned up the lamp, and pushed a chair towards
him. In various small ways he seemed to have succeeded in effecting a
wonderful change in his appearance. His hair was differently arranged,
and much greyer. His face was pale and drawn as though with illness. But
for his voice and his broad, humorous mouth I doubt whether I should
immediately have recognized him.
"I perceive," he said, "that I am not forgotten. It is very flattering!
My friends abroad tell me that I have altered a good deal during the
last twelve months."
"You have altered, without a doubt," I admitted. "But the circumstances
connected with our first meeting were scarcely such as tend towards
forgetfulness. You remember my friend, Mr. Allan Mabane?"
"Perfectly," he assented, with a courteous little wave of the hand. "I
am very glad to have come across you both again so opportunely. I only
arrived in England a few days ago, but I did not hope to have this
pleasure until the morning at the earliest. You expected to have heard
from me, perhaps, before."
"I don't know about that," I answered, "but I can assure you that we are
both very glad to see you, for more reasons than one. There are a good
many things which we are anxious to discuss with you."
"The pleasure, then, is mutual," Mr. Grooten remarked affably. "Isobel
is, I trust, well?"
"She is quite well," I answered.
"You are helping her to spend her time profitably, I am glad to find,"
he continued. "I saw two miniatures of hers yesterday at the Mordaunt
Rooms."
"Isobel has gifts," I said. "We are doing our best to assist her in
their development."
Mr. Grooten raised his eyes to mine. He looked at me steadily.
"Why have you refused to use the money which I placed to your credit at
the National Bank for her?" he asked.
"Because," I answered, "we are not aware what right you have to provide
for her."
Mr. Grooten smiled upon us--much as a sphynx might have smiled. It had
the effect of making us both feel very young.
"My claim," he murmured, "must surely be as good as yours."
"Perhaps," I admitted. "At any rate, the money remains there in her
name. She may find herself in greater need of it later on in life."
Mr. Grooten seemed to find some amusement in the idea.
"No," he said, "I do not think that that is likely. You could safely
have used the money, but as you have not--well, it is of small
consequence. I presume that attempts have been made to withdraw the
child from your care?"
"Several," I told him. "Madame Richard and Lady Delahaye were equally
importunate."
Grooten nodded.
"You have shown," he said, "an admirable discretion in refusing to give
her up to either of them."
"And to-day," I continued, "a third claimant to the care of her has
intervened. The Archduchess of Bristlaw herself has offered to relieve
us of our guardianship."
Mr. Grooten dropped the cigarette which he had only just lit, and seemed
for the moment unconscious of the fact. He made no effort to pick it up.
He quivered as though someone had struck him a blow. For a man whose
impassivity was almost a part of himself he was evidently deeply
agitated.
"The Archduchess--has seen Isobel!" he muttered.
"They met by chance at the Mordaunt Rooms a few afternoons ago," I told
him. "The Archduchess was accompanied by a girl of about Isobel's age.
We came upon them suddenly, and the likeness was so marvellous that we
were all startled. There was something in the nature of a scene. We left
the Gallery at once, but the Archduchess sent one of her suite for me. I
had some conversation with her concerning Isobel."
"Can you repeat it?" Grooten asked.
"In substance--yes," I told him. "The Archduchess plainly hinted that
she believed Isobel to be connected morganatically with her family. She
wished to take her under her own charge and provide for her."
"And you?"
"I thought it best to take some time for reflection. I had some idea of
looking up the history of the Archduchess's family."
"You made no promise?"
"Certainly not. To tell you the truth, I was influenced by the presence
of Lady Delahaye amongst the royal party. I have no faith in Lady
Delahaye's good intentions with regard to Isobel."
Mr. Grooten flashed a quick glance upon me.
"Yet," he said softly, "report says that you and Lady Delahaye have been
very good friends."
"That," I answered, "is beside the mark. I knew her before her marriage,
but I have seen very little of her since. As a matter of fact, our
relations at the present time are scarcely amicable. We have had a
difference of opinion concerning our guardianship of Isobel. Lady
Delahaye does not approve of her presence here with us."
Mr. Grooten smiled.
"That," he said, "is probable. May I proceed to ask a somewhat
impertinent question? You were the guests to-night, I believe, of the
Baron von Leibingen, who is, I understand, a _persona grata_ with the
Archduchess. I presume that your meeting in some way concerned Isobel?"
"Isobel was the sole cause of it," I answered. "The Archduchess is a
woman who perseveres. She declined to consider that my reply to her
first tentative offer was in any way final. She passed the matter on to
the Baron, and certainly until he lost his temper towards the end of our
interview, he was a very efficient ambassador. He proved to us quite
clearly that it was our duty to give Isobel up to those who had a better
right to assume the charge of her, and he wound up by handing us cheques
for--I think it was five thousand pounds each, wasn't it, Allan?"
Mr. Grooten leaned back in his chair and laughed silently, yet with
obvious enjoyment.
"That poor von Leibingen," he murmured, "how he blunders his way through
life! Yet, my friend, I am afraid that this charge which I so
thoughtlessly laid upon you is proving very troublesome. And you
perceive that I do not even offer you a cheque."
Allan suddenly rose up and knocked the ashes from his pipe into the
fire.
"You do not offer us a cheque, Mr. Grooten," he said quietly, "because
you have perceptions. But there is another way in which you can
recompense us for the trifling inconveniences to which we have been put.
You can make our task easier--and more dignified; you can answer a
question which I think I may say that we have an absolute right to ask
you."
Mr. Grooten inclined his head slightly. He made no remark. Allan turned
to me.
"Arnold," he said, "this is more your affair than mine, for it is you
who have borne the brunt of it from the first. I do not wish to
interfere in it unduly. But from every point of view, I think that the
time has come when all this mystery concerning Isobel's antecedents
should be, so far as we are concerned at any rate, cleared up. Our hands
would be immensely strengthened by the knowledge of the truth. Your
friend here, Mr. Grooten, can tell us if he will. Ask him to do so. I
will go further. I will even say that we have a right to insist upon
it."
Mr. Grooten sat immovable. One could scarcely gather from his face that
he had heard a word of Allan's speech.
"You are quite right, Allan," I answered. "Mr. Grooten," I continued,
turning towards him, "you are the best judge as to whether your presence
in this country is altogether wise, but I can assure you that for the
last six months we have looked for you every day, and for this same
reason. We want that question answered. The time has come when, in
common justice to us and the child, the whole thing should be cleared
up. Whatever knowledge rests with you is safe also with us. I think that
we have proved that. I think that we have earned our right to your
complete confidence. Mabane and I you can consider as one in this
matter. You can speak before him as though we were alone. Now tell us
the whole truth."
"I cannot," Mr. Grooten answered simply.
There was a certain crisp definiteness about those two words which
carried conviction with them. Mabane and I were a little staggered. Our
position was such a strong one, our request so reasonable, that I think
that we had never realized the possibility of a refusal.
"May I ask you this?" Mabane said. "Do you expect that we shall continue
our--I suppose we may call it guardianship--of Isobel in the face of
your present attitude?"
"I hope so, for the present," our visitor admitted softly.
"Notwithstanding," Mabane continued, "our absolute ignorance of
everything connected with her, our lack of any sort of claim or title to
the charge of her, and the increasing number of people who still persist
in trying to take her from us?"
Mr. Grooten shrugged his shoulders.
"You omit to mention the factors in the situation which may be said to
be on your side," he murmured.
"I should be interested to know what those are," I remarked.
"Certainly. The first and most powerful of all is, of course,
possession."
Mabane nodded.
"And after that?"
"The fact that not one of the three people who have appealed to you for
the charge of the child is in a position to use the only real force
which exists in this land. I mean the law," Grooten continued.
This kept us silent again for a moment. Mabane, I could see, was getting
a little ruffled.
"You pelt us with enigmas, sir," he said. "You answer our questions only
by propounding fresh conundrums. One thing, at least, you may feel
disposed to tell us. What is your own relationship to Isobel?"
"None," Mr. Grooten answered.
"Your interest, then?"
Mr. Grooten remained silent. He sat in his chair, very still and very
quiet. Yet in his eyes there shone for a moment something which seemed
to bring into the little room the shadow of great things. Mabane and I
both felt it. We had the sense of having been left behind. The little
man in his chair seemed to have been lifted out of our reach into the
mightier world of passion and suffering and self-conquest.
"I loved her mother," he said softly. "I was the man whom her mother
loved."
There was a silence between us then. We had no more to say. We were at
that moment his bounden slaves. But by some evil chance, after a
lengthened pause, he continued--
"I, alas, could do little for the child. Yet when I heard that harm was
threatened to her through that scamp Delahaye, I crossed the ocean at an
hour's notice. I saved her from him. He deserved his fate, but I am no
murderer by profession, and the shock unnerved me for a time. Then----"
"Hush!" Mabane cried.
I sprang to the door. It had been thrust about a foot open. From outside
came the sound of angry voices, followed by a moment's silence. Then a
quick, shrill cry of triumph.
"Let me in. Oh, you shall not stop me now. I am going to see the man who
boasts of being my husband's murderer!"
It was the voice of Lady Delahaye. She was already upon the threshold. I
sprang to the table and saw her coming. Already she was behind the
screen, stealing into the room, her head thrust forward, her lips
parted, a peculiar glitter in her eyes. For a moment I stood rigid. The
sight of her fascinated me--there was something so wholly animal-like in
the stealthy triumph of her tiptoe approach. I recovered myself just in
time. One more step, a turn of her head, and she would have seen
Grooten. My finger pressed down the catch of the lamp, and a sudden
darkness filled the room.
She stopped short. Her fierce little cry of anger told me exactly where
she was. I stepped forward and caught her wrists firmly. Then I faced
where I knew Grooten was still sitting. I could see the red end of his
cigarette still in his mouth.
"Leave the room at once," I said. "You can push the screen on one side,
and you are within a yard of the door then. Please do exactly as I say,
and don't reply."
"Let go my hands, sir! Arnold, how dare you! Let me go, or I'll scream
the place down. Mr. Mabane, you will not permit this?" she cried, in a
fury.
Mabane closed the door through which Grooten had already issued, and I
heard the key turn in the lock. I released Lady Delahaye's hands, and
she sprang away from me. As the flame from the lamp which Allan had just
rekindled gained in power we saw her, still shaking the handle, but with
her back now against the wall turned to face us. She was calmer than I
had expected, but it was a terrible look which she flashed upon us.
[Illustration: She was calmer than I had expected, but it was a terrible
look which she flashed upon us.]
"In how many minutes," she asked, "may I be released?"
Allan whispered in my ear.
"In five minutes, Lady Delahaye," I said. "I regret very much the
necessity for keeping you at all. May I offer you a chair?"
"You may offer me nothing, sir, except your silence," she answered
swiftly.
She meant it too. I know the signs of anger in a woman's face as well as
most men, and they were written there plainly enough. So for a most
uncomfortable period of time we waited there until Allan, after a glance
at his watch, went and opened the door. She passed out without remark,
but from the threshold outside she turned and looked at me.
"I warned you once before, Arnold Greatson," she said, "that you were
meddling with greater concerns than you knew of, and that harm would
come to you for it. Now you have chosen to shield a murderer, and to use
your strength upon a woman. These things will not go unforgotten!"
Mabane closed the door, and threw himself into an easy chair.
"For two easy-going sort of fellows, Arnold," he said to me, "we seem to
be making a lot of enemies. Don't you think it would be a good idea if
we drew stumps for a bit?"
"Meaning?" I asked.
"Roseleys!"
"We'll go to-morrow," I declared.