The four who sat at the table uttered no sound.
Black was the first to recover his self-possession. He started forward, then stopped. His face worked, his mouth opened, but he could frame no words.
“What—what?” he gasped.
The masked man who sat at the head of the table turned his bright eyes upon the proprietor of the establishment.
“You did not expect me, Mr. Olloroff?” he said bluntly.
“My name is Black,” said the other violently. “What are you doing here?”
“That you shall discover,” said the masked man. “There are seats.”
Then Black saw that seats had been arranged at the farther end of the table.
“First of all,” the masked man went on, “I will relieve you of your prisoner. You take those handcuffs off, Sparks.”
The man fumbled in his pocket for the key, but not in his waistcoat pocket—his hand went farther down.
“Keep your hand up,” said the man at the table, sharply. He made a little gesture with his hand, and Black’s servant saw the gleam of a pistol.
“You need have no fear,” he went on, “our little business will have no tragic sequence tonight—tonight!” he repeated significantly. “You have had three warnings from us, and we have come to deliver the last in person.”
Black was fast recovering his presence of mind.
“Why not report to the police?” he scoffed.
“That we shall do in good time,” was the polite reply, “but I warn you personally, Black, that you have almost reached the end of your tether.”
In some ways Black was no coward. With an oath, he whipped out a revolver and sprang into the room.
As he did so the room went dark, and Frank found himself seized by a pair of strong hands and wrenched from the loose grip of his captor.
He was pushed forward, a door slammed behind him. He found himself tumbling down the carpeted stairs into the hall below. Quick hands removed the handcuffs from his wrists, the street door was opened by somebody who evidently knew the ways of the house, and he found himself, a little bewildered, in the open street, with two men in evening dress by his side.
They still wore their masks. There was nothing to distinguish either of them from the ordinary man in the street.
“This is your way, Mr. Fellowe,” said one, and he pointed up the street in the direction of Victoria.
Frank hesitated. He was keen to see the end of this adventure. Where were the other two of this vigilant four? Why had they been left behind? What were they doing?
His liberators must have guessed his thoughts, for one of them said, “Our friends are safe, do not trouble about them. You will oblige us, constable, by going very quickly.”
With a word of thanks, Frank Fellowe turned and walked quickly up the street. He looked back once, but the two men had disappeared into the darkness.
V
The Earl of Verlond
Colonel Black was amused. He was annoyed, too, and the two expressions resulted in a renewed irritation.
His present annoyance rose from another cause. A mysterious tribunal, which had examined his papers, had appeared from and disappeared to nowhere, had annoyed him—had frightened him, if the truth be told; but courage is largely a matter of light with certain temperaments, and strong in the security of the morning sunshine and with the satisfaction that there was nothing tangible for the four men to discover, he was bold enough.
He was sitting in his dressing-gown at breakfast, and his companion was Sir Isaac Tramber.
Colonel Black loved the good things of life, good food and the comforts of civilization. His breakfast was a very ample one.
Sir Isaac’s diet was more simple: a brandy and water and an apple comprised the menu.
“What’s up?” he growled. He had had a late night and was not in the best of tempers.
Black tossed a letter across to him.
“What do you think of that?” he asked. “Here’s a demand from Tangye’s, the brokers, for ten thousand pounds, and a hint that failing its arrival I shall be posted as a defaulter.”
“Pay it,” suggested Sir Isaac languidly, and the other laughed.
“Don’t talk rot,” he said, with offensive good humour. “Where am I going to get ten thousand pounds? I’m nearly broke; you know that, Tramber; we’re both in the same boat. I’ve got two millions on paper, but I don’t think we could raise a couple of hundred ready between us if we tried.”
The baronet pushed back his plate.
“I say,” he said abruptly, “you don’t mean what you said?”
“About the money?”
“About the money—yes. You nearly gave me an attack of heart disease. My dear chap, we should be pretty awkwardly fixed if money dried up just now.”
Colonel Black smiled.
“That’s just what has happened,” he said. “Fix or no fix, we’re in it. I’m overdrawn in the bank; I’ve got about a hundred pounds in the house, and I suppose you’ve got another hundred.”
“I haven’t a hundred farthings,” said the other.
“Expenses are very heavy,” Black went on; “you know how these things turn up. There are one or two in view, but beyond that we have nothing. If we could bring about the amalgamation of those Northern Foundries we might both sign cheques for a hundred thousand.”
“What about the City?”
The Colonel sliced off the top of his egg without replying. Tramber knew the position in the City as well as he did.
“H’m,” said Sir Isaac, “we’ve got to get money from somewhere, Black.”
“What about your friend?” asked Colonel Black.
He spoke carelessly, but the question was a well-considered one.
“Which friend?” asked Sir Isaac, with a hoarse laugh. “Not that I have so many that you need particularize any. Do you mean Verlond?”
Black nodded.
“Verlond, my dear chap,” said the baronet, “is the one man I must not go to in this world for money.”
“He is a very rich man,” mused Black.
“He is a very rich man,” said the other grimly, “and he may have to leave his money to me.”
“Isn’t
