“Some day I hope that we may,” Lutchester
declared. “For the moment, however, we
want him undisturbed. You would scarcely believe
it, perhaps, if I told you that the theft of your
formulas is only a slight thing compared to the bigger
business that man has on hand. There is something
else at the back of his head which is worth heaven
and earth to us to understand. We want the formula
and we shall have it, but more than anything else
in the world we want to know why Fischer has pledged
his word in Berlin to bring this war to an end within
three months. We have to find that out, and we
are going to find it out—from him.
You see, I have treated you with confidence, Captain
Graham. Now let me show you to your room.”
Graham put his hand to his forehead.
“I feel as though this were some sort of nightmare,”
he muttered. “I’ve known you for
several months, Mr. Lutchester, and I have never heard
you say a serious word. You dance at Henry’s;
you made a good soldier, they said, but you’d
had enough of it in twelve months; you play auction
bridge in the afternoons; and you talk about the war
as though it were simply an irritating circumstance.
And to-night—”
Lutchester threw open the door of his own bedroom
and pointed to the bathroom beyond.
“My man has put out everything he thinks you
may want,” he said. “Try and get
a good night’s sleep. And, Graham.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t bother your head about me, and
don’t ask any more questions.”
CHAPTER VII
The Lapland was two days out from Tilbury before
Pamela appeared on deck, followed by her maid with
an armful of cushions, and the deck steward with her
rugs. She had scarcely made herself comfortable
in a sunny corner when she was aware of the approach
of a large, familiar figure. Her astonishment
was entirely genuine.
“Mr. Fischer!” she exclaimed. “Why,
how on earth did you catch this steamer? I thought
you were coming on the Thursday boat?”
“Some inducement to change my mind,” Mr.
Fischer replied, drawing a chair up to her side.
“Meaning me?”
“I guess that’s so!”
“Of course, I’m exceedingly flattered,”
Pamela observed, “or rather I should be if I
believed you, but I don’t see how you could leave
a supper-party at Henry’s and go straight to
Tilbury.”
“Say, how did you know I was supping at Henry’s?”
he inquired.
“Because I was there for luncheon myself, as
you know,” she answered carelessly, “and
I heard you order your table for supper.”
Mr. Fischer nodded reminiscently.
“I always wind up with a little supper at Henry’s,
on my last night in London,” he remarked.
“It left me two hours to get down to Tilbury,
but it don’t take me long to start for anywhere
when I once make up my mind. That’s the
American of us, I suppose. Besides, I never need
much in the way of luggage. I keep clothes over
on the other side and clothes in New York, and a grip
always ready packed for a journey.”
