She shook her head.

"This morning," she said, "it seemed to me that I saw in one moment an epitome of your life. I saw every nerve of your body strained, I saw you wound up to a great effort. It was to catch a ball! You succeeded, I believe."

I laughed a little awkwardly.

"Yes! I caught it!" I remarked. "Success is something after all, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," she admitted. "Afterwards I spoke to your cousin about you. He told me that you lived on your estates, that you played games well, that you shot birds and rabbits, and sent to prison drunken men and poachers. 'But about his life?' I asked. 'This is his life,' your cousin answered. 'He has never gone in for a career!'"

"I suppose," I said slowly, "that this seems to you a very unambitious sort of existence!"

"Existence!" she answered scornfully, "it does not seem like existence at all! Your joys are the joys of a highly trained animal; your sorrows and your pa.s.sions and your disappointments--they are at best those of the yokel. What has life to do with games and sports? These things may have their place and their use, but to make them all in all! The men whom I have met are not like that!"

"I am sorry," I said. "You see the other things have not come my way!"

"You mean that you have not been out to seek them," she declared. "The pulse of the world beats only for those who care to feel it."

"Let us take it for granted, for a moment, that you are right," I said, "and that I am a convert. I am willing to abjure my sports and my quiet days for a plunge into the greater world. Who will be my guide? Which path shall I follow?"

"You are not in earnest," she murmured.

"Perhaps I am, perhaps not," I answered. "At any rate, there have been times when I have found life a tame thing. Such a feeling came to me two years ago, and I went to Africa to shoot lions."

She leaned towards me.

"You should hunt men, not lions," she whispered. "It is only the animal courage in you which keeps you cool when you face wild beasts. It is a different thing when you measure wits and strength with one of your own race!"

"Count me a willing listener and go on," I said. "If you can show me the way, I am willing to take it."

"Why not?" she said, half to herself. "You have strength, you have courage! Why shouldn't you come a little way into life?"

"If it is by your side," I began pa.s.sionately.

She stopped me with a look.

"Please go away," she said firmly. "You only weary me! If it is to gain an opportunity of saying this sort of rubbish that you have induced me to take you seriously, I can only say that I am sorry I have wasted a second of my time upon you!"

"The two things are apart," I answered. "I will not allude to the one again. My interest in what you have said is genuine. I am waiting for your advice."

She rose slowly to her feet. She looked me in the eyes, but there was no shadow of kindness in their expression.

"If I were a man," she said--"if I were you, I would seek out the person whom you befriended--he goes by the name of Guest--and I would learn from him--the secret!"

"Where can I find him?" I asked eagerly. "He seems to have disappeared entirely."

Her voice sank to a whisper. Her breath fanned my cheek, so that I felt half mad with the desire to hold her in my arms, if only for a moment. I think that she must have seen the light flash in my eyes, but she ignored it altogether.

"Go to your room," she said, "and wait till a messenger comes to you."

CHAPTER VI

"MR. GUEST"

I had been alone for nearly an hour before there came a cautious tapping at my door, I opened it at once, and stared at my visitor in surprise. It was the man in the grey tweed suit, who had broken into my room the night before.

"You!" I exclaimed; "what the mischief are you doing here?"

"If you will permit me to enter," he said, "I shall be glad to explain."

He stepped past me into the room. I closed the door behind him.

"What do you want with me?" I asked.

My visitor regarded me thoughtfully through his gold-rimmed spectacles.

I, too, was taking careful note of him. Any one more commonplace--with less of the bearing of a conspirator--it would be impossible to imagine.

His features, his clothes, his bearing, were all ordinary. His face had not even the shrewdness of the successful business man. His brown beard was carefully trimmed, his figure was a little podgy, his manner undistinguished. I found it hard to a.s.sociate him in my mind with such things as the woman whom I had left a few moments ago had spoken of.

"I understand," he said, "that you wish for an interview with your friend, Mr. Leslie Guest. His room happens to be close to mine. I shall be pleased to conduct you there!"

"You have seen Miss Van Hoyt then?" I exclaimed.

"I have just left her!" he answered.

I stared at him incredulously.

"Do you mean to tell me," I said, "that, after last night, you have dared to remain in the hotel--that you have a room here?"

My visitor smiled.

"But certainly," he said, "you are under some curious apprehension as to the events of last night. My friend and I are most harmless individuals.

We only wanted a little business conversation with Mr. Guest, which he was foolish enough to try and avoid. That is all arranged, now, however!"

"Is it?" I answered curtly. "Then I am sorry for Mr. Guest!"

Again my visitor smiled--quite a harmless smile it was, as of pity for some unaccountably foolish person.

"You do not seem," he remarked, "if I may be pardoned for saying so, a very imaginative person, Mr. Courage, but you certainly have some strange ideas as to my friend and myself. Possibly Mr. Guest himself is responsible for them! A very excitable person at times!"

"You had better take me to him, if that is your errand," I said shortly.

"This sort of conversation between you and me is rather a waste of time."

"Certainly!" he answered. "Will you follow me?"

We took the lift to the sixth floor, traversed an entire corridor, and then, mounting a short and narrow flight of stairs, we arrived at a pa.s.sage with three or four doors on either side, and no exit at the further end. We seemed to be entirely cut off from the main portion of the hotel, and I noticed that there were no numbers on the doors of the rooms. A very tall and powerful-looking man came to the head of the stairs, on hearing our footsteps, and regarded us suspiciously. Directly he recognized my companion, however, he allowed us to pa.s.s.