The Lost Ambassador written by E. Phillips Oppenheim

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"Mr. Delora has no desire to hide himself from any one," Louis
answered calmly.

"That is a statement which I may be permitted to doubt!" the visitor
answered. "Is that the door of his sleeping chamber? If so, I am going
in!"

He pointed to the door, through the transept of which I was looking
into the sitting-room. Louis moved on one side.

"That is Mr. Delora's room," he said softly. "Perhaps you had better
let me be sure that he is awake."

"You need not trouble," the other answered. "If he is asleep I shall
wake him. If he is awake he will know very well that there is no
escaping me."

He turned away from Louis. His hand was already outstretched toward
the handle of my door. Then I saw Louis snatch the Malacca cane from
its place and swing it behind his body. He was already poised for the
blow--a blow which would have killed any man breathing--when I sprang
to the ground and flung open the door.

"Look out!" I cried.

The newcomer sprang on one side. Louis, disturbed by my cry, lost his
nerve, and the blow fell upon a small side table, smashing it through,
and sending splinters flying into the air. Both men looked at me in
the blankest of amazement. I came out into the sitting-room.

"You coward!" I said to Louis.

He shrank back against the wall. He still held the stick in his hand,
but he showed not a sign of fight. The other man stood with clenched
fists, as though about to spring upon him, but I stepped between them.

"In the first place," I said to the newcomer, "you had better look
into that room. You will see that Mr. Delora is not there. I can
assure you, from my own knowledge, that he has never been there. When
you have finished, come back and tell me what you want with him."

Louis was still staring at me in amazement. The idea that I had
discovered his attempt to make a cat's-paw of me was dawning upon him
slowly, but knowing nothing of the transept, he could not account for
my unexpected appearance. For once, at any rate, he had lost his
nerve. I could see that he was shaking with fear.

"Come, Louis," I said, "put my stick down and talk like a man, if you
can."

The stick fell from his fingers. He had scarcely strength enough left
to hold it. Then the man who had been examining Delora's room came
back and stepped past Louis up to me.

"I do not know why you are here, sir," he said. "You may be mixed up
in this affair or you may not be. But if you are, let me warn you that
you are on the wrong side. You saw his attempt?" he added, pointing
to Louis. "I am going to wring the life out of him. He deserves it."

"No!" I answered, holding him back. "We will have no violence
here. Louis has a little account to settle with me yet."

"He has a more serious one with me," the other muttered.

"Settle it when and where you will," I said, "but not here. As for me,
I have no longer any interest in or concern with any of you. I came
into this thing by accident, and to-night I go out of it. You, sir,
must leave the hotel at once. I do not know your name or anything
about you. It is not my concern. If you have anything to say to
Louis, choose another time."

He looked at me curiously. I could see that with every nerve in his
body he was longing to spring upon Louis.

"You seem to be a masterful person, sir," he said. "Why should I obey
you?"

"Because I saved your life, for one thing," I answered, "and because I
will allow no violence in this room, for another. And if you need a
third reason," I added, "because I have the advantage of you in
strength. You need not be afraid of my further interference," I
continued. "I shall leave London to-morrow, and I hope that I may
never see one of you again. Now will you go?"

"Yes, I will go!" he said. "Let me tell you this, sir," he added, as
he neared the door. "Your decision is a wise one. If you knew whose
cause you had been aiding, whose tool you had very nearly become, I
think that your manner would be a little more apologetic."

"I have your word, sir, that you will leave the hotel?" I asked.

"At once," the other answered.

We heard him close the outer door and depart. Then I turned to Louis.

"Louis," I said, "so this is your adventure! This is the way you
proposed to make use of me! You got me into that room and drugged
me. I was to lie there while you murdered that man with my weapon.
Then you would creep away, and in the morning there was I and the dead
man! I was to be the tool,--the girl there the lure. It was well
worked out, Louis, but it was a coward's plan and a coward's trick!"

I reached out my hand and took him by the collar. I felt as though I
were grasping some unclean insect, from whom the sting might shoot out
at any moment.

"Have you anything to say?" I asked.

"You do not understand," he said, in a low tone. "I did not mean to
put this thing upon you. I meant, perhaps, to disable that man who has
just left. If you knew his history and mine, you would not wonder at
it. But I meant to see that he was safely removed."

"Then why did you bring me down into that room," I asked, "under a
false pretence? Why did you use that murderous cane of mine for your
crime? Why did you insist upon it that I should be seen dining with
the girl--God knows who she is!--who is in that room?"

"I can explain everything," Louis said. "I am confused! I cannot help
it--you came so unexpectedly!"

"Unexpectedly indeed," I answered, "because I poured your whiskey and
soda out of the window, and because I took an antidote to your coffee!"

"You speak of things which I do not understand," Louis declared.

"Oh! tell me no more lies!" I exclaimed. "Listen! You see I have you
by the collar, and I have my cane. Now I am going to beat you till
every bone in your body aches, till you will not be able to crawl
about, until you tell me the real history of these things. For every
lie--if I know it to be a lie--I shall strike you. Tell me who that
man Delora is? Tell me who the girl is, posing as his niece, who meets
you here after midnight? Tell me the name of that man who has just
left us? Tell me how you are all bound together, and what your quarrel
is? And tell me where Delora is now?"

"I have no strength," he gasped. "You are too rough. Let me sit down
quietly. I must think."

"No!" I answered. "Speak! Speak now!"

I raised the stick as though to strike him. Then I saw a sudden change
in his face. I looked toward the door. Almost as I did so I heard the
faint flutter of moving draperies. Felicia stood there looking in upon
us, her hands uplifted, her face full of terror.

"It is Capitaine Rotherby!" she cried. "Tell me, then, what has
happened? Capitaine Rotherby!"

She came a little toward us, but I think that she read in my face
something of what I was feeling, for she stopped suddenly and her lips
quivered.

"What has happened?" she demanded. "Will neither of you tell me? Is my
uncle worse? Has any one--any one tried to do him an injury?"

"Nothing is the matter," I answered, "except that we have come to an
end of this tissue of lies and plots and counterplots. There is no
uncle of yours in that room, nor ever has been. The man who was to
have been murdered here has gone. And for the rest, I saw you here
with Louis and I heard your conversation less than an hour ago."

"You saw us?" she gasped.

"From the transept there," I answered, pointing towards it. "I was
brought into that room to personate your uncle, to receive an attack
which was meant for him--a very clever scheme! I was drugged, and was
to have lain there to cover this fellow's crime. But there, I don't
suppose that I need tell you any of these things!" I added brutally.

She looked at me with horror.

"You do not believe--" she gasped.

"Oh! I believe nothing," I answered,--"nothing at all! Every word I
have been told by both of you is a lie! Your lives are lies! God
knows why I should ever have believed otherwise!" I said, looking at
her.

"Let me go," Louis pleaded, "and you shall hear the truth."

"I shall be more likely to feel the knife you have in your pocket," I
answered contemptuously, for I had seen his left hand struggling
downward for the last few moments. "Oh! I'll let you go! I have no
interest in any of you,--no interest in your cursed conspiracy,
whatever it may be! Keep your story. I don't care to hear it. Lie
there and talk to your accomplice!"

I sent him reeling across the room till he fell in the corner. Then I
walked out, closing the sitting-room door behind me,--out into the
corridor and up the stairs into my own room. Then I locked and bolted
my own door and looked at my watch. It was a quarter to three. I took
a Bradshaw from my bookcase, packed a few clothes myself, set an alarm
clock for seven o'clock in the morning, and turned into bed. I told
myself that I would not think. I told myself that there was no such
person in the world as Felicia, that she had never lived, that she was
only part of this nightmare from which I was freeing myself! I told
myself that I would go to sleep, and I stayed awake until
daylight. All the time there was only one thought in my brain!

CHAPTER XXI

A CHANGE OF PLANS

At a few minutes past nine on the following morning, I was standing
outside the front door of the Court watching the piling of my luggage
on to a four-wheel cab. The hall-porter stood by my side,
superintending the efforts of his myrmidons.

"You had better send my letters on," I told him. "I am going down into
Norfolk for several weeks,--perhaps longer."

"Very good, sir," he answered. "By the bye," he added, turning away,
"this morning's letters have just arrived. There was one for you, I
think."

He handed it to me, and I tore it open as I stepped on to the
pavement. It was written from Feltham Court, Norfolk, and dated the
previous day.

My Dear Austen,

I send you a hurried line in case you should be thinking of coming
down here. I have decided to come up to London for a few weeks,
and have lent the Court to Lady Mary, with the exception of the
shooting, which is reserved for you. If you are in town, do look
me up at Claridge's.

Ever yours,

Ralph.

I was on the point of having the cab unloaded and reconsidering my
plans. Suddenly, however, like an inspiration there flashed into my
mind the thought that it would not, perhaps, be such a very bad thing
if, under the circumstances, I kept my altered plans to myself. So I
stuffed the letter into my pocket and stepped into the four-wheeler.

"You understand, Ashley?" I said. "Send everything on to Feltham
Court,--cards, letters, or anything."

"Perfectly, sir," the man answered. "I hope you will have a pleasant
time, sir."

"Tell the cabman Liverpool Street," I ordered, and got in.

We rolled out of the courtyard, and I drove all the way to Liverpool
Street as though to catch my train. Arrived there, however, I
deposited my luggage in the cloak-room and drove back to Claridge's in
a hansom. I found that my brother was installed in a suite of rooms
there, and his servant, who came into the sitting-room to me at once,
told me that he believed they were up for at least a month.

"His Lordship has nearly finished dressing, sir," he added. "He will
be in, in a few minutes."

I took up the morning paper, but found nothing of interest there. Then
my brother came in, leaning heavily on two sticks, and moving
slowly. He was not more than ten years older than I was, but the shock
of his accident and subsequent sufferings had aged him terribly. His
hair had gone prematurely gray, and his face was deeply lined. I
stepped forward and took him by the hand.

"My dear Ralph," I said, "this is really first-class. The last time I
saw you, you scarcely expected to be out of your bath-chair in six
months."

"I am getting on, Austen," he answered, "thanks! I am getting on. I
will sit in that easy-chair for a few minutes. Thanks! Then we will
have some breakfast."

"I was starting for Feltham this morning," I told him, "when I got
your letter."

"When did you get back from Paris?" he asked.

"Three or four days ago," I answered.

He raised his eyebrows.

"I know that I ought to have come at once," I said, "but there were
several things in London. I found it hard to get away."

"Well?" he said.

"I met Tapilow face to face at a little French cafe," I told him.
"They tell me that he will recover, but he is maimed and scarred for
life."

My brother showed no excitement--scarcely, even, any interest in my
information. His face, however, had darkened.

"I am glad that you did not kill him outright," he said. "Tell me,
are you likely to get into any trouble for this?"

"No!" I assured him. "The affair happened in a very dubious sort of
place. I don't think I shall hear anything more about it unless from
Tapilow himself."

Ralph nodded.

"We will close the chapter," he said.

"You have no news--"

"None!" he interrupted me, shortly. "We will close the chapter."

So I spoke to him no more on his own affairs. His servant brought in
the letters and papers, poked the fire, and announced that breakfast
was ready.

"You will have something, Austen?" he asked.

"I have only had a continental breakfast," I answered. "I dare say I
can manage to eat something."

"I have a letter from Dicky," he remarked, later on. "Asks me to be
civil, if I can, to some people who have been remarkably kind to him
out in Brazil. They have an estate there."

I nodded.

"Dicky doing all right?" I asked.

"Seems to be," Ralph answered.

Dicky was our younger brother, and rather a wanderer.

"What is the name of the people who are coming over?" I asked.

"Some odd name," Ralph answered,--"Delora, I think."

Ralph had drawn the _Times_ towards him, and he did not notice my
start. I sat looking at him in blank amazement.

"Ralph!" I said presently.

My brother looked up.

"Have you got Dicky's letter on you?" I asked.

He passed it over to me. I skimmed through the first part until I came
to the sentence which interested me.

I have been out staying at an awfully fine estate here, right on
the Pampas. It belongs to some people called Delora. One of the
brothers is just off to Europe, on some Government business, and
will be in London for a few days with his niece, I expect. He is
going to stay at the Milan Hotel, and it would be awfully good of
you if you would look him up, or drop him a line. They really have
been very kind to me out here.

I pushed the letter back to Ralph.

"Have you done anything yet," I asked, "about this?"

Ralph shook his head.

"I thought you would not mind calling for me," he remarked. "I would
like to be civil to any one who has done anything for Dicky. If he
shoots, you might take him down to the Court. Mary's there, of course,
but that would not matter. There is the whole of the bachelor wing at
your disposal."

I nodded.

"I will look after it for you," I said. "You can leave it in my
hands. It is rather an odd thing, but I believe that I have met this
man in Paris."

My brother was not much interested. I was glad of the excuse to bury
myself in the pages of the _Daily Telegraph_. Here at last, then,
was something definite. The man Delora was not a fraud. He was
everything that he professed to be--a wealthy man, without a doubt. I
suddenly began to see things differently. What a coward I had been to
think of running away! After all, there might be some explanation,
even, of that meeting between the girl and Louis.

We finished our breakfast, and my brother hobbled over to the
window. For several minutes he remained there, looking out upon the
street with the aimless air of a man who scarcely knows what to do
with his day.

"What are you thinking of doing, Austen?" he asked me.

"I had no plans," I answered. "Some part of the day I thought I would
look up these people--the Deloras."

Ralph nodded and turned to his servant.

"Goreham," he said, "I will have the motor in an hour. Come and dine
with me, will you, Austen?" he said, turning to me. "I don't suppose
you will go down to Feltham for a day or two."

"I will come, with pleasure," I answered. "Where are you going to
motor to?"

Ralph answered a little vaguely. He had some calls to make, and he was
not altogether sure. I left him in a few minutes and descended to the
street. I turned westward and walked for some little distance, when
suddenly I was attracted by the sight of a familiar figure issuing
from the door of a large, gray stone house. We came face to face upon
the pavement. It was the man whose life I had probably saved only a
few hours ago.

He lifted his hat, and his dark eyes sought mine interrogatively.

"You were not, by chance, on the way to call upon me?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Not only," I answered, "was I ignorant of where you lived, but I do
not even know your name."

"Both matters," he remarked quietly, "are unimportant."

I glanced at the house from which he had issued.

"It would seem," I remarked, "that you have diplomatic connections."

"Why not?" he answered. "Indeed," he continued thoughtfully, "I do not
see, Captain Rotherby, why my name should remain a secret to you."

He drew a card from his pocket, and handed it to me. I read it with
ill-concealed curiosity.

MR. ALFONSE LAMARTINE

Brazilian Legation.

12, Porchester Square.

"You are a South American?" I asked quickly.

"By birth," he answered. "I have lived chiefly in Paris, and here in
London."

"You knew Mr. Delora at Brazil, then?" I asked.

"I know the family quite well," he answered. "They are very
influential people. I have told you my name, Captain Rotherby," he
continued, "because I see no reason why we two should not be frank
with one another. I am of necessity interested in the movements and
doings of Mr. Delora and his niece. You," he continued, "appear to
have been drawn a little way into the mesh of intrigue by which they
are surrounded."

I drew my arm through his. We were walking now side by side.

"Look here," I said, "you were quite right in what you said. There is
no reason why we should have secrets from one another. Tell me about
these people, and why on earth they have any connections at all with
persons of the class of Louis and those others."

My companion spread out his hand. He stopped short on the pavement,
and gesticulated violently.

"It is you who ask me these things!" he exclaimed. "Yet it is from you
I hoped to obtain information. I know nothing,--absolutely nothing!
Simply my instructions were to meet Mr. Delora on his arrival in
London, to show him every possible civility, and to assist him in any
purpose where my help would be useful. I go to meet him--he has
disappeared! I haunt his rooms--he has not returned! His niece knows
nothing. I try to force my way into his rooms, and my life is
attempted!"

"Wait a moment," I said. "You spoke of instructions. From whom do you
receive them?"

"From my government," he answered a little shortly. "Mr. Delora has
some private business of importance here in England, in which they are
interested."

"Do you know anything of his niece?" I asked.

"Nothing whatever," the young man answered, "except that she seems a
very charming young lady, and will, I believe, inherit a great
fortune."

"Do you know of any enemies that he might have?" I asked. "For
instance, is this business of his connected with any affairs which
might bring him into touch with such people as Louis and his
associates?"

"I will be frank with you," the young man said. "I do not know what
his business was. Neither, curiously enough, does my chief. My
instructions simply were to meet him, and to see him day by day. You
yourself can judge how well I have succeeded!"

"Have you been to the police?" I asked.

"I have not," Lamartine answered. "We have written out to Brazil
explaining the circumstances, and asking for a cablegram in reply. By
the bye," he continued, a little diffidently, "did it strike you last
night that Miss Delora must have been associated with that blackguard
Louis in his little attempt upon me?"

"I do not believe anything of the sort!" I answered shortly.

The young man smiled cynically.

"It is perhaps natural," he answered.

"You are not seriously suggesting," I asked, "that a young lady in the
position of Miss Delora would descend to scheming with a head-waiter?"

"Captain Rotherby," my companion said, "I do not know anything. I do
not understand anything. I only know that the Delora business has
puzzled me,--has puzzled my chief. We have important communications
for Mr. Delora, and he cannot be found."

"It is not possible," I declared, "for a man to disappear in London."

"A man may disappear anywhere," Lamartine said dryly, "when such
people as Louis are interested in him! However, we do no good by
comparing notes when we neither of us know anything. If I should gain
any information of Mr. Delora's whereabouts--"

I gave him my card quickly.

"We will exchange our news," I assured him. "It is a promise."

He bowed, and left me with a little farewell wave of the hand.

CHAPTER XXII

A FORMAL CALL

I changed my mind about calling at the Milan that morning, but toward
five o'clock in the afternoon I presented myself there, and gave the
hall-porter my card to send up to Miss Delora. He received me with
some surprise, but I explained that I had been obliged to postpone my
visit into the country.

"Miss Delora has asked twice about you this morning, sir," he
announced. "I gave her your country address."

"Quite right," I answered. "By the bye, is Mr. Delora visible yet?"

"Not yet, sir," the man answered. "Rather a curious thing about his
return, sir," he added. "Not a soul has even seen him yet."

I nodded, but made no remark. Presently the boy who had taken my card
up returned.

"Miss Delora would be glad if you would step upstairs, sir," he
announced.

I followed him into the lift and up to number 157. Felicia was there
alone. She rose from the couch as I entered, and waited until the door
had closed behind the disappearing page. Then she held out her hands,
and there was something in her eyes which I could not resist. I was
suddenly ashamed of all my suspicions.

"So you have come back," she said softly. "That is very kind of you,
Capitaine Rotherby. I have been lonely--very lonely, indeed."

"I have come back," I answered, taking her hands into mine and holding
them for a moment.

"I am nervous all the time, and afraid," she continued, standing close
by my side and looking up. "Only think of it, Capitaine Rotherby,--it
is this journey to London to which I have been looking forward for so
many, many years, and now that it has come I am miserable!"

"Your uncle--" I asked.

"They told me what was not true!" she exclaimed. "He is not back. I am
here all alone. He does not come to me, and he will not let me go to
him. But you will sit down, Capitaine Rotherby?" she added. "You are
not in a hurry? You are not going away again?"

"Not just yet, at any rate," I admitted. "Do you know that after all
this is a very small world! I have come to pay you a formal call on
behalf of my brother who is an invalid."

Her eyes grew round with surprise.

"But I do not understand!" she said.

I told her of my brother's letter from South America. She listened
with interest which seemed mingled with anxiety.

"It is very strange," she said, when I had finished,--"very
delightful, too, of course!" she added hurriedly. "Tell me, is it my
uncle Maurice or my uncle Ferdinand of whom your brother spoke most in
his letter?"

"He did not mention the Christian names of either," I told her. "He
simply said that one of the Mr. Deloras and his niece were coming to
London, and he begged us to do all we could to make their visit
pleasant. Do you know," I continued, "that as I came along I had an
idea?"

"Yes?" she exclaimed.

"Why shouldn't you come down into the country," I said, "to my aunt's?
She will send you a telegram at once if I tell her to, and we could
all stay together down at Feltham,--my brother's house in Norfolk. You
are out of place here. You are not enjoying yourself, and you are
worried to death. Beside which," I added more slowly, "you are mixed
up with people with whom you should have nothing whatever to do."

"If only I could!" she murmured. "If only I could!"

"Why not?" I said. "Mr. Delora comes here with an introduction which
precludes my criticising his friends or his connections, however
strange they may be, but it is very certain that you ought not to be
left here alone to rely upon the advice of a head-waiter, to be
practically at the beck and call of men of whose existence you should
be unconscious. I want you to make up your mind and come away with
me."

A little flush of color stole into her cheeks, and her eyes danced
with excitement.

"I do no good here!" she exclaimed. "Why not? You, too, Capitaine
Rotherby,--you would come?"

"I would take you there," I answered, "and I would do my best, my very
best, to keep you entertained."

"I shall ask!" she exclaimed. "To-night I shall ask."

"Ask whom?" I inquired. "Louis?"

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