Part 23

"She lived somewhere near Detroit, I believe. That's all I know about her. I believe her people are motor-car makers and extremely wealthy. At least, somebody said so--and she's very free with tips to the under-servants."

"When did she leave here?"

"When the master went to London. I was to go too, but I had influenza and had to remain here."

"And where was Mrs. De Gex?" I inquired.

"She was already at Stretton Street. She and the little boy went to London early in October, but came back at the end of the month."

Then I questioned the estimable Robertson concerning the domestic happiness of his master. I said I had heard rumours in London of matrimonial differences.

"Well, that's a lie," he replied quickly. "There isn't a pair in the whole of London Society who are more devoted to each other."

This greatly surprised me after the words that had fallen from the millionaire's lips.

Again I referred to the mysterious Gabrielle whom I described as minutely as I was able, and apparently my description fitted that of Rose Thurston, save for the colour of her hair.

"You have no idea where she is, I suppose?"

"Not the slightest. Back in America, perhaps. She seems to come over every year."

"I wonder if you could find out her address?" I asked. "If you could, it would be of very great service to me," and I handed him my card, expressing a hope that he would refrain from mentioning the matter to his master.

"I'll try," he said. "But I fear I shan't succeed. Mr. Henderson, the master's secretary, would know, of course."

The point at issue now was whether the young American girl, who had been the millionaire's guest at the villa, and Gabrielle Engledue were actually one and the same person. If they were, then I had made one step towards the solution of the enigma.

I confess to utter bewilderment. My brain was still confused. Sometimes my skull seemed wrapped in cotton wool. From a mere unimportant person in the world of electrical engineering I had suddenly become a man upon whom rested a great and criminal responsibility!

In that huge, garish café, with its great arc lamps glowing though night had not yet fallen, and with a noisy orchestra playing selections from the latest crazes of music from the revues in London, I sat with a perfectly open mind. I had been the victim of some extremely clever plot. But of its motive, of its ramifications, or of its conception, I had no knowledge. Even my wildest imagination was at fault.

All I knew was that the sallow-faced De Gex--the millionaire who lived up at the huge Villa Clementini--had plotted against the handsome girl, and she had died in his wife's bedroom in Stretton Street.

"Well, Mr. Robertson, how can I find out anything more about Miss Thurston? Give me your advice."

"I'll try and see what I can do," he said. "Perhaps I may be able to get a glance at the mistress's address book. I have seen it. I'll try."

"Yes--do!" I said very anxiously. "It means so very much to me."

"Why?"

I hesitated. My intention was to mislead both of my companions.

"Well," I said with a laugh, "the fact is, I--I'm very fond of her!"

Both men exchanged glances. Then they smiled, almost imperceptibly, I know, but it struck them as humorous that I had fallen in love with the daughter of a wealthy American.

"Of course I'm not yet certain whether she is the same lady," I went on. "She may not be. But on calm consideration I believe she is. The description you give of her is exact."

"Well," exclaimed the butler, "I'll see if I can get at the address book. She keeps it in a drawer in her boudoir, which is usually locked. But sometimes she leaves it open. At any rate, I'll see what I can do and let you know."

I thanked him and told him that I was staying at the Savoy. Then I was compelled to discuss with the estate-agent's clerk the pretended renting of an apartment out by the Porta Romana, which, he said, was vacant.

On the following day, in order to still sustain the deception, I went and viewed the place, and found it really quite comfortable and very reasonable. But, of course, I was compelled to express dislike of it. Whereupon my friend promised to find me another.