The Red Widow: or, The Death-Dealers of London. Le Queux William

A hitch had apparently occurred in the arrangements, which had been so thoroughly discussed and every detail considered.

      It was then six o'clock in the evening. Boyne could not be there until eight o'clock on the following morning. She glanced bewildered around the busy hall of the hotel, where men and women with piles of luggage were constantly arriving and departing.

      "Why is he not more explicit?" she asked herself in apprehension.

      What could have happened? she wondered. For yet another fourteen hours she must remain in suspense.

      Suddenly, however, she recollected that she could telephone to Lilla, and she put through a call without delay.

      Half an hour later she spoke to her friend over the wire, inquiring the reason of Boyne's journey north.

      "My dear, I'm sorry," replied Lilla in her high-pitched voice, "but I really cannot tell you over the 'phone. It is some very important business he wants to see you about."

      "But am I not to go to Ardlui?" asked Ena.

      "I don't know. Bernie wants to see you without delay – that's all."

      "But has anything happened?" she demanded eagerly.

      "Yes – something – but I can't tell you now. Bernie will explain. He'll be with you in Glasgow early to-morrow morning."

      "Is it anything very serious?"

      "I think it may be – very!" was Lilla's reply; and at that moment the operator cut off communication with London, the six minutes allowed having expired.

      CHAPTER V

      CONTAINS A NOTE OF ALARM

      Ena Pollen was on the platform when the dusty night express from London ran slowly into the Caledonian Station, at Glasgow.

      Bernard Boyne, erect and smartly-dressed, stepped out quickly from the sleeping-car, to be greeted by her almost immediately.

      "What's happened?" she demanded anxiously beneath her breath.

      "I can't tell you here, Ena. Wait till we're in the hotel," he replied. She saw by his countenance that something was amiss.

      Together they walked from the platform into the hotel, and having ascended in the lift to her private sitting-room, the man flung himself into a chair, and said:

      "A very perilous situation has arisen regarding the Martin affair!"

      "The Martin affair!" she gasped, instantly pale to the lips. "I always feared it. That girl, Céline Tènot, had some suspicion, I believe."

      "Exactly. She was your maid, and you parted bad friends. It was injudicious."

      "Where is she now, I wonder?"

      "At her home in Melun, near Paris. You must go at once to Paris, and ask her to meet you," Boyne said.

      "To Paris?" she cried in dismay.

      "Yes; not a second must be lost. Inquiries are on foot. I discovered the situation yesterday, quite by accident."

      "Inquiries!" she cried. "Who can be making inquiries?"

      "Some friend of that girl – a Frenchman. He has come over here to find me."

      "To find you! But she only knew you under the name of Bennett!"

      "Exactly. In that is our salvation," he said, with a grin. "But the affair is distinctly serious unless we can make peace with Céline, and at the same time make it worth her while to withdraw this inquiry. No doubt she's looking forward to a big reward for furnishing information."

      "But why can't we give her the reward – eh?" asked the shrewd, red-haired woman quickly.

      "That's exactly my argument. That is why you must leave this present little matter, turn back to Céline, and make it right with her."

      "How much do you think it will cost?"

      Bernard Boyne shrugged his shoulders.

      "Whatever it is, we must pay," he replied. "We can't afford for this girl to remain an enemy – and yours especially."

      "Of course not," Ena agreed. "What is her address?"

      Boyne took a slip of paper from his pocket-book and handed it to the handsome woman.

      "But what excuse can I possibly make for approaching her?" she asked bewildered.

      "Pretend you've come to Paris to offer to take her into your service again," Boyne suggested. "She will then meet you, and you can express regret that you sent her away so suddenly, and offer to make reparation – and all that."

      "There was an object in sending her away so peremptorily. You know what it was, Bernie."

      "I know, of course. She might have discovered something then. You adopted the only course – but, unfortunately, it has turned out to have been a most injudicious one, which may, if we are not very careful and don't act at once, lead to the exposure of a very nasty circumstance – the affair of old Martin."

      "I quite see," she said. "I'll go to Paris without delay."

      "You'll stay at the Bristol, as before, I suppose?"

      "Yes. I will ask her to come and see me there."

      Boyne hesitated.

      "No. I don't know whether it would not be better for you to go out to Melun for the day and find her there," he queried. "Remember, you must handle the affair with the greatest delicacy. You've practically got to pay her for blackmail which she has not sought."

      "That's the difficulty. And the sum must be equal, if not more, to that which she and her French friend who has come over here to seek and identify you hope to get out of it by their disclosures. Oh! yes," she said, "I quite see it all."

      "I admit that the situation which has arisen is full of peril, Ena," remarked the man seated before her, "but you are a clever woman, and with the exercise of tact and cunning, in addition to the disbursement of funds, we shall undoubtedly be able to wriggle out – as we always do."

      "Let's hope so," she said, with a sigh. "But what about Ardlui and Mrs. Morrison?"

      "Your visit to Paris is more important at the moment. You must lose no time in getting there. Before I left London, I instructed my bank to send five thousand pounds to you at the head office of the Credit Lyonnais. You will be able to draw at once when you get there, and it will give you time to get more money if you deem it wise to pay any bigger sum."

      "Really, you leave nothing undone, Bernie.

      "Not when danger arises, my dear Ena," he laughed. "In the meantime, I'll have to remain very low. That infernal Frenchman may be watching Lilla with the idea that I might visit Pont Street. But I shan't go near her again till the danger is past."

      "Then I'd better get away as soon as possible," she said. "I can be in London this evening, and cross to Paris by the night mail."

      "Yes," he replied. "Don't waste an instant in getting in touch with her. Have a rest in Paris, and then go to Melun. You can be there to-morrow afternoon."

      "Shall you go back to London with me?"

      "No. Better not be seen together," he said. "Let us be discreet. You can go by the ten o'clock express, which will just give you time to cross London to Victoria and catch the boat train, and I'll leave by the next express, which goes at one. The less we are together at present the better."

      "I agree entirely," Ena said, with a sigh. "But this affair will, I see, be very difficult to adjust."

      "Not if you keep your wits about you, Ena," he assured her. "It isn't half so difficult as the arrangements you made with that pious old fellow Fleming. Don't you recollect how very near the wind we were all sailing, and yet you took him in hand and convinced him of your innocence."

      "I was dealing with a man then," she remarked. "Now I have to deal with a shrewd girl. Besides, we don't know who this inquisitive Frenchman may be."

      "You'll soon discover all about him, no doubt. Just put on your thinking-cap on the way over to Paris, and doubtless before you arrive, you'll hit upon