“Occasionally, when I have time, which I seldom have—for instance, not at present. I must therefore beg of you to follow me without delay.”
“And leave my guests? But, Herr Müller, just imagine—four hundred people, and no host! It is absolutely impossible!”
“It must be possible.”
“But it is not necessary. You are my guest. Toilette at this hour is of no consequence; besides, you are got up regardless. Remain by my side, of course—a cousin who has just arrived—what you will! Your men, in plain clothes I take it for granted, can amuse themselves finely meanwhile with my people. Afterwards we can drive together in my carriage—”
“You are very kind, but a carriage is already provided, and now stands in the courtyard amongst a number of equipages, so that we need not again pass through the vestibule. You see, Herr Schmidt, I go to work with the greatest consideration; but I must now really beg that you will not put my patience to a longer test.”
Philip rolled the ball which he held in his hand from him at random, and turned round.
“Well, if nothing else will satisfy you; but I hope I may change my dress?”
“I have no objection to that, only you must submit to my presence meanwhile.”
“No apologies, Herr Müller, between men! Will you be so good?”
And he led the way, the officer following on his steps. In the library, which opened out of the billiard-room, an assistant officer was waiting, who now joined them.
“You are very cautious, Herr Müller,” said Philip over his shoulder,
“My duty, Herr Schmidt!”
He touched Philip’s arm, and said in a low voice, “If you will give me your word of honour to make no attempt at escape, which would moreover be quite fruitless, I can”—and the inspector made a sign over his shoulder—“spare you at least this escort.”
“No attempt at escape!” said Philip laughing; “oh! Herr Müller, I can think of nothing else. I would vanish through the floor or the walls if I only could.”
The officer could not help smiling.
“Go back into the vestibule again, Ortmann,” he said.
“Thank you for your confidence,” said Philip, as they went up a winding staircase, guarded by a handsome richly-gilt railing, by means of which the library was connected with the upper story of the right wing, which was separated from the ballroom by the whole width of the courtyard, that was partially glazed like the conservatory.
“The fact is, Herr Müller, that inconvenient as it certainly is to me, I cannot take this episode really in earnest—”
Philip had opened a door in the corridor in which they now stood.
“This is a passage-room,” he said in an explanatory tone; “I should prefer to turn to the right, through that door into my living rooms, which are today being used also as company rooms. But as there is no help for it, we must go through the one on the left to my bedroom.”
He pushed the door open. “Pray go first; for the time being, at least, I am still the host here.”
The officer did as he was asked, ready, if his prisoner should attempt to shut the door upon him, which opened inwards, to stop it with his outstretched foot. But Philip followed him close, shutting the door behind him.
“My bedroom!” said Philip, waving his right hand, whilst the left still played with the lock, to the magnificent apartment, which, like all they had passed through, was brilliantly lighted with wax candles; “furnished in French style, and as if it were for a young lady who had just returned home from school! but these upholsterers are autocrats. This way, please, Herr Müller—my dressing-room—the last in the row—and dark—but that we can rectify.”
Philip held up the branch candlestick, which he had taken from the console under the looking-glass in the bedroom, and threw the light all round as if to assure the Inspector that there was no second door in the space left free by the carved oak wardrobes, and that the one they had come in by was the only entrance and exit. He put the candlestick down on a table, took off his coat, and opened one of the cupboards.
“I will wait in your bedroom while you are dressing,” said the officer.
“Pray do,” said Philip, as he took off his white waistcoat and undid his tie; “I hope you will find the armchairs to your taste—”
The officer returned to the bedroom without quite shutting the door, and took his place on one of the magnificent sofas.
“From Delorme in Paris,” said Philip, opening and shutting the cupboards in the dressing-room; “it is supposed to be something quite out of the way, although I cannot see it. Only a few minutes, Herr Müller; I am just as if I had come out of the river. My whole house is ventilated after the newest principles, and yet this awful heat! Apropos, I suppose I may give notice downstairs that I have been taken suddenly unwell, and so forth.”
“I have no objection,” said the officer. “I am only afraid that, discreet as I have been, the rumour will have spread; it is generally so at least.”
“It can’t be helped then,” said Philip, who seemed busy with his boots; “will the thing never come out? There, at last! What a pity that it is midnight, and the magistrates cannot be got hold of, or I should certainly be back again in half an hour. I have never asked what it is about. I know without asking; it is some wretched trick of Lübbener’s, to drive me out of the board of directors. I knew that he had been for some days in frightful difficulties, and was certain that our preference shares were not safe from him. No respectable bank would advance him a farthing upon the whole four million; but some swindling firm—he knows plenty of them—might advance him six or eight hundred thousand—a mere nothing in his position, but when there is nothing better to be had the devil himself
