isaac isidore was lunching at his chambers in his own simple way. a hard trying life like his, to say nothing of half his nights spent in society, called for a careful regime. plain food and a total absence from intoxicants enabled the man to get through an enormous amount of work and pleasure.
he was glad to see lawrence as usual. had he not preferred the atmosphere of finance, isidore would have made a fine novelist of the sensational order. his fine imagination enabled him to bring off so many of the surprises with which he constantly terrified his brother capitalists.
"anything to do with the mystery?" he asked.
"i should say a great deal," lawrence chuckled. "in the first place, i should like to hear something of the history of one maitrank."
"you don't mean to say he's in it!" isidore cried, grimly amused. "the cunningest fox in all europe. truly the lalage is a wonderful woman! but i see our friend dr. bruce is burning to tell me a story. pray go on."
bruce proceeded to relate all that had happened the previous evening. isidore shook with suppressed laughter, though he never spoke a word. the narrator quite failed himself to see the humorous side of the matter.
"what do you think of it?" lawrence asked at length.
"i think that but for the pluck and courage of a girl friend maitrank would have gone to his account before now," isidore said more seriously. "i must confess that i find the mystery of it all exceedingly fascinating. maitrank is not the kind of man who forgets and forgives in a moment. what on earth could have induced him to grow so friendly with that fellow balmayne all at once?"
"that i leave you to guess," bruce replied. "it is beyond me."
"but it is not in the least beyond me," lawrence remarked coolly, as he reached for a cigarette. "to a certain extent i hold the key to the situation. accident strengthens my hands, as it generally does in dealing with people of this kind. and i am going to make a powerful new ally in this new business. i need not ask you if you are personally acquainted with maitrank, isidore?"
"oh, i know the man well enough," isidore replied. "i will give you an introduction to him right enough. but you won't get much from that quarter."
lawrence begged to differ. in the first place, he anticipated considerable entertainment. he was not selfish, he said, and had no desire to keep it to himself.
"you must have your comic relief to every drama," he said. "we haven't had much humour up to now, but that is coming. by the way, i hope your continental friend is not subject to apoplexy?"
lawrence chuckled to himself with the air of a man who has a joke which is too good for the world in general. isidore was puzzled and interested.
"tell you what," he exclaimed, "i'll try and get maitrank on the telephone. he has a sort of office at the metropole."
it was a little before five when the trio reached the metropole. a suite of rooms had been chartered by the hungarian capitalist, and there he had already established a secretary and a clerk or two to look after his affairs. he was seated in his shirtsleeves, with a big black cigar in his mouth, when his visitors entered. he extended two fingers to isidore, to the others he merely bowed.
"and what can i do for you?" he asked.
"you might be disposed to answer a few questions," said bruce, quietly. "i was the doctor who was called in to see you last night. but for the courage of a young girl, i might today have given evidence at the inquest held on the body of a most distinguished capitalist called maitrank."
lawrence nodded approvingly. bruce had struck the right note.
"i should like to hear more of this," maitrank cried.
bruce plunged into his story. he had a most interested listener. the small grey eyes of the listener were fixed intently on the narrator's face. the black cigar died out between his fingers.
he had no questions to ask; there was no doubt on his face. if ever a man was telling the simple truth it was bruce at that moment. there was something like a smile on maitrank's face when bruce came to the part that hetty had played in the stirring drama of the previous night.
"i never forget a favour," said maitrank, hoarsely. "the young lady shall have a very practical evidence of my gratitude. she saved my life, and she ended up by getting my property returned to me."
"i don't want to pry into your affairs," said lawrence. "but would you mind telling me one thing? the countess owes you money?"
"well, yesterday she owed me nearly ￡100,000. i have got part of that back in the way of the jewels, hence my change of attitude last night. by a clever trick, that woman robbed me of a fortune. when i found it out i said nothing. it was no cue of mine to make a fuss about it. if i had done so i should have lost everything. so i came to england. by way of a start i obtained possession of diamonds to the value of some ￡30,000."
"you are quite certain of that?" lawrence asked, meaningly.
"my dear sir, they are in my possession. if you are still cynical on the point i will show them to you."
lawrence desired nothing better. in a few minutes the stones lay on the table. the novelist picked them up, and took from his pocket a small file which he coolly rubbed on the facet of two of the larger stones. maitrank smiled. any diamond would stand that test. with a grave look, lawrence handed the stones back--the tested diamonds were dull and flat.
"paste!" maitrank cried, with a yell that rang through the building. "paste, as i am a sinner. deluded and fooled again. rich as i am i would sacrifice every penny to be even with that woman."
