“I am very hopeful,” Lutchester replied,
as he turned away.
At five-and-twenty minutes past eight that evening
Lutchester, who was waiting in the entrance hall of
the Ritz-Carlton, became just a little restless.
At half-past, his absorption in an evening paper, over
the top of which he looked at every newcomer, was
almost farcical. At five-and-twenty to nine Pamela
arrived. He advanced down the lounge to meet
her. Her face was inscrutable, her smile conventional.
Yet she had come! He looked over his shoulder
towards the men’s coat room.
“Your brother?”
“I sent Jim to his club,” she said.
“I want to have a confidential talk with you,
Mr. Lutchester.”
“I am very flattered,” he told her, with
real earnestness.
She vanished for a few moments in the cloakroom, and
reappeared, a radiant vision in deep blue silk.
Her hair was gathered in a coil at the top of her
head, and surmounted with an ornament of pearls.
“You are looking at my headdress,” she
remarked, as they walked into the room. “It
is the style you admire, is it not?”
He murmured something vague, but he knew that he was
forgiven. They were ushered to their places by
a portly maitre d’hotel, and she approved of
his table. It was set almost in an alcove, and
was partially hidden from the other diners.
“Is this seclusion vanity or flattery?”
“As a matter of fact, it is rather a popular
table,” he told her. “We have an
excellent view of the room, and yet one can talk here
without being disturbed.”
“To talk to you is exactly what I wish to do,”
she said, as they took their places. “We
commence, if you please, with a question. Mr.
Fischer thought that he had that formula and he hasn’t.
I could have sworn that it was in my possession—and
it isn’t. Where is it?”
“I took it to the War Office before I left England,”
he told her simply. “They will have the
first few tons of the stuff ready next month.”
“You!” she cried, “But where did
you get it?”
“I happened to be first, that’s all,”
he explained. “You see, I had the advantage
of a little inside information. I could have exposed
the whole affair if I had thought it wise. I
preferred, however, to let matters take their course.
Young Graham deserved all he got there, and I made
sure of being the first to go through his papers.
I’m afraid I must confess that I left a bogus
formula for you.”
“I had begun to suspect this,” Pamela
confessed. “You don’t mind being
put into the witness box, do you?” she added,
as she pushed aside the menu with a little sigh of
satisfaction. “How wonderfully you order
an American dinner!”
“I am so glad I have chosen what you like,”
he said, “and as to being in the witness box—well,
I am going to place myself in the confessional, and
that is very much the same thing, isn’t it?”
