beatrice turned once more to her companion. the look of fear was in her eyes again. no sooner had the charm of uzali's appearance been removed than it seemed that she had done wrong. perhaps wilfrid guessed her thoughts.
"i don't think so," he said. "it certainly was a most surprising thing to happen. but i have come across more extraordinary coincidences in my life, and, do you know, i rather like our friend. he seems to be a gentleman."
"i think so," beatrice said doubtfully, "but i am frightened all the same. he was so like the man——"
"who tried to get into maldon grange the other night. but you surely do not believe that a man like mr. uzali could be guilty of burglary. i am disposed to believe what he said. if i were you i should think no more of the matter."
"that is all very well," beatrice protested, "but i am bound to tell my uncle."
"then tell him," wilfrid said, growing rather impatient. "it is clear that you have nothing to fear. when you mentioned your uncle's name, mr. uzali gave no sign that he had ever heard it before. don't you think we are in the way of these people here?"
beatrice glanced round her to see that most of the tables and chairs had disappeared and that the stage was nearly ready for dancing. the guests had increased considerably and the theatre appeared to be filled with visitors. they had overflowed into the auditorium and already many had gathered in stalls and boxes to watch the entertainment. as beatrice moved away with her companion a man came up and accosted her.
"i think you are miss galloway," he said politely. "i don't suppose you remember me, though i have dined more than once at your house in town. your uncle sent me to look for you. he is in one of the boxes. if you will allow me to show you the way. from what i understand he has not been very well. i don't think there is anything to be alarmed about; only he wanted you."
beatrice waited for no more. she hurried off with her new companion until they came to a box at the back of the dress circle. here one or two men were talking somewhat earnestly to flower, but he dismissed them with a gesture as beatrice came in. there were one or two shaded electric lights behind flower's head, but subdued as they were beatrice did not fail to notice the pallor of her uncle's face. there was a quick irritation in his manner which she had never noticed before.
"i have sent for you everywhere," he said. "where have you been? and tell me, who was the man you were supping with? now don't prevaricate. tell me at once."
beatrice's face flushed with indignation.
"there is no reason why i should not tell you," she said. "i went into supper with mr. mercer. he is a guest here as well as ourselves. perhaps we stayed too long——"
flower waived the suggestion aside impatiently.
"oh, why do you waste my time like this?" he asked. "i don't mean mercer at all. i want to know who was the other man who sat at the same table with you?"
once again the old dread was closing in upon beatrice. she glanced at her guardian with troubled eyes.
"i have never seen him before," she said. "it was no fault of mine that he sat at the same table. he came in with miss marcombe, the actress, who, as you know, has been a guest of ours at maldon grange. she introduced him as mr. uzali. he is not an englishman, but i found him very entertaining, and a gentleman. moreover, he surprised me by saying he had seen my moth brooch before. he declared he had a piece which would match the broken part and took it from his pocket. it seems almost incredible, but the match was perfect."
"you let him have it?" flower asked hoarsely.
"what else could i do? he promised that he would return it in a day or two completely restored."
flower said nothing for a moment or two. he sat looking gloomily at the glittering stage below. beatrice could see that his hands were clenched so that the muscles stood out strong and blue. it was not for her to deduce anything from these signs, but she knew that flower was moved to the very core of his being. he turned to the girl with an effort.
"was my name mentioned between you?" he asked.
"certainly, i told him who you were," beatrice said, "but it did not strike him as familiar. you might have been perfect strangers from the way in which he spoke of you. but why all this mystery, uncle? what have i done that is wrong?"
flower pulled himself together with an effort, but there was an unsteady smile on his thick lips. he tried to speak gaily, but beatrice noted how forced his words were.
"another romance!" he said. "i must make the acquaintance of your friend. no, i am not in the least angry; only one comes in contact with such strange people at this sort of an affair that you cannot be too careful. and now if you are ready i should like to go home. somebody will call a carriage for us. i'll stay here till you come back."
for some reason the man was afraid to move as beatrice could plainly see. she wondered at his want of strength, at his sudden display of cowardice. she had never seen him in this mood before. she had never known him to display anything that savoured of terror.
"just as you like," she said coldly. "i daresay i can manage."
the carriage came at length and flower moved reluctantly from the shadow of the box. the night was not cold, but he huddled himself in a big coat so that he might not be recognized. but as they walked through the hall to the portico beatrice saw that mercer was not far away. the latter waited until they had vanished, then he made his way back to the stage again. the first person he encountered in the wings was russell.
"i have been looking for you everywhere," the latter said. "i saw you on the stage just now when you were having supper, but it was not policy to come near you. what has become of flower and his niece? have they left?"
"some few moments ago," mercer explained. "i think i shall have enough information even to satisfy you. if you were watching us at supper i suppose you saw whom we sat down with?"
"that was why i was looking for you," russell said eagerly. "what a stroke of luck that our friend the malay should take a seat at the same table. what was he doing with that ornament which miss galloway was wearing?"
by way of reply mercer led the way to one of the refreshment-rooms. it would be much easier to talk the matter over a cigarette than stand chattering where they were in everybody's way. russell was an attentive listener. he said nothing whilst wilfrid poured out his story.
"splendid!" he muttered under his breath. "nothing could have happened better. i came here on the off-chance of picking up some information, but i never expected to gather as much as this. but i will explain all in good time. now let us get as near that party by the alcove as we can. unless i am mistaken uzali is in the midst of them. we don't want to arouse his suspicions, but i am going to let him know that he has friends here. we can hear what is going on without appearing to listen."
there were four or five men in the alcove and room for as many more. russell and his companion pushed their way in casually and lighted their cigarettes. uzali appeared to be finishing some anecdote, for he stopped presently and smote emphatically with his fist on the table before him.
"not a sign, gentlemen, i assure you," he said, "not so much as a single clue. but i am not the man to be rebuffed at the first disappointment. no, i would rather not go back to the stage if you don't mind. i will stay here till you are ready to go. i am not a dancing man."
the alcove speedily cleared, leaving wilfrid and russell opposite uzali, who smoked his cigarette as placidly as if nothing had happened to upset the even tenor of his way. russell reached out his hand to an empty chocolate box around which a silk string was still attached. he took the string in his hand and tied it into a variety of knots.
"that was a strange story you told just now, sir," he said coolly. "you will pardon my friend and myself if we listened."
uzali looked up sharply with a challenge in his eyes.
"i was wondering," russell went on, "if the clue was anything like this which i hold in my hand." with apparent carelessness he tossed the string across the table and waited for the malay to speak.
"you have said too much," uzali murmured, "or too little."
