This time the faintest flicker of a smile appeared.
"A dreadful fate, truly, sir."
"Still you do not shrink from it, Darby?"
The Sphinx shrugged his shoulders.
"Duty is duty, sir. I shall play the cards to win."
"You are to represent me—for the time you will look and act and think as Roderic Owen."
"I leave it to you whether I am able."
"My dear fellow there is nothing you could not accomplish, if you set your mind to it. I warrant that even Jerome will be deceived should he personally take a hand in the game of abduction."
"He will know the truth to-morrow when he meets you here?"
"True—and will be stunned, unable to comprehend the facts. Thus, you will be at liberty to do as you please after once reaching French territory. You know how to find me again."
"Just so, sir. Is that all?"
"Only that I wish you the best of success," taking the cold hand of the Sphinx and squeezing it.
There was actually a faint response.
And yet strange to say, this naturally reserved and passionless man was so great an actor that when duty compelled he could imitate even the most hot-blooded Spanish wooer, and sue with song and story for a dusky senorita's love.
That was genius rising above nature, a carefully trained gift such as few men possess.
"The hour grows late, and you will need some time to make your preparations, so there is no need of my detaining you longer. As to money—"
"I have more than enough, sir."
"Good. Besides, if you turn up at Monte Carlo you may have a chance to apply some of the tactics you once used in breaking a faro bank in New Orleans. It would perhaps be rare sport to you for a change."
Again Darby showed the limit of his emotion, this time it being a chuckle that escaped him.
"Then good-bye and good luck. Beware lest you fall in love with the charmer, my boy. Such a Lurline may storm the ramparts of your flinty old heart, and once lodged therein, heaven help you."
"Just so, sir. I am too old a bird to be caught with chaff. I have been through the mill. Don't waste any sympathy on Joel Darby, sir. But, there is an old acquaintance of yours here."
"Ah! who may that be—male or female?" for his mind instantly reverted to the girl from Porto Rico, and he wondered if Darby could have run across her by chance.
"You once showed me a group picture of a very delightful scene in a West Indian flower court, with the fountain and bird cages. Besides yourself and a young Spanish captain there were a charming girl and an old hidalgo with a fierce beard and a mass of iron gray hair—a man once seen never forgotten."
"Ah! Yes, General Porfidio de Brabant, the noblest Roman of them all, whose voice is like the thunder burst of his tropical home, and yet who obeys her slightest wish as meekly as a lamb."
"Just so—sweet Porfidio is in Dublin."
"I am not surprised, since I have reason to believe she is here. In fact the woman disguised as a Sister of the Holy Grail was Georgia, his niece, and the girl in the picture."
Darby's thin lips gathered as though prepared to emit a whistle, for like a flash he comprehended a very important matter in connection with his employer; but his will got the better of his inclination and not the faintest sound followed.
"More than this, sir, I am afraid he has some connection with these reckless schemers you have come here to watch."
"It would not surprise me—the senor general is of Spanish descent and doubtless loves the institutions of Spain, so that with his generous and ardent nature he is ready to risk all he has in order to help the wretched mother country in her great hour of need. It does not matter, since they will accomplish nothing here. These Irish plotters are master masons in the art of promising much and having some one else pull their chestnuts from the fire. Still, it is our duty to know the many strings perfidious Spain has to her bow."
"Just so, sir. I am going now."
"My blessing go with you, Darby. I shall anticipate a rich and racy story when we twain meet again. Meanwhile, again farewell."
When he stood alone Roderic heard a clock in a not distant belfry chime the hour.
"Eleven—plenty of time for a man of his superior intelligence to accomplish it all. By Jove! I would like to see the result. I would wager he does it to the queen's taste, and that with two Richmonds in the field Warwick or Jerome or any other man would find it hard to tell the genuine from the artificial. Reminds me of Shakespeare's two Dromios. Well, there's nothing for me to do but take it quietly until morning, when I'll give my noble duke a run for his money. Ye gods, I can imagine his amazement. But he is not the man to let one failure daunt him. I rather imagine we two may yet face each other with sword or pistol in hand. That, gives me little concern just now, however much it may later on. All seems quiet around the hotel, so I presume the coast is clear."
He found no difficulty in gaining his apartment unobserved, and there proceeded to woo the gentle goddess of sleep.
A methodical man, he was able to awaken at just the hour he desired.
Perhaps a somewhat superficial knowledge of Wellington's usual habits guided him in this matter quite as much as his own desires.
An observation convinced him that the day had broken fair and singularly cool, so that all nature appeared to rejoice.
He dressed with perhaps a little more care than ordinary and stood before the glass arranging the ends of his four-in-hand.
"I wonder if her eyes still glow with their old intoxicating light?" he muttered.
From which one might readily imagine the dreams that had accompanied his slumber must have dealt more or less with the owner of those heavenly orbs.
"And I kissed her hand again as of yore. Jove! how it thrilled me. Did that kiss wipe out the past—is it possible for us both to forgive and again be more than friends? The very thought gives my heart hope. And yet what a fool I am to forget—those magnificent rings—perhaps one or more of them came from the bolero dancer, the dashing Julio who took San Juan hearts by storm. Heaven only knows—in my mad jealousy I accused her of encouraging his attentions. Perhaps I was wrong, and again I may have been right, for I never heard more of either after I shook the red dust of San Juan from my feet. She may have wedded him, and now be wife or widow. Ugh! to the devil with such thoughts. Now to give dear old Jerome a shake up he will never forget."
The idea afforded him some pleasure—at least it banished that other hideous nightmare.
Wife or widow were the words he did not care to hear used in connection with the owner of those magnificent midnight orbs.
Jerome breakfasted at eight o'clock.
He was clockwork itself in regularity, no matter where or under what conditions he spent the night, and when Roderic glanced into the breakfast room there was his victim busily engaged, his back to the door.
Jerome was something of a gourmand, and had a really remarkable fondness for all the good things that tickle the palate and appeal to a cultivated taste. He knew the value of every wine on the list, and could distinguish various brands of champagne with his eyes closed, for, tell it not in Gath, Jerome had once upon a time been reduced to making an honest livelihood as an expert wine taster.
Owen sauntered into the almost deserted room, and came up behind the dashing Adonis.
"Good morning, Wellington," he said briskly, as he dropped into a chair just across from Jerome.
The latter started to make a civil reply, but when his