Mr. Kessner sucked the breath in between his teeth. Then, as though with some super-human effort, he recovered himself.
'Say, young fellow, won't you come in and talk this out?' he invited.
'"Won't you walk into my parlour?"' he quoted mockingly. 'No, thank you, Mr. Kessner! You know where we stand now. Let me give you a word of warning. London isn't New York. A very little of this sort of thing and you'll find the hand of a law that can't be bought or bribed or evaded in any way, tapping upon your shoulders. You understand?'
'You are a foolish young man,' he said, 'and you've been reading a little too much modern fiction.'
He slammed the door and Lavendale descended to the street. The courtyard was empty.
'The car didn't wait for me, I suppose?' he inquired of the porter.
'The fellow drove off directly you went upstairs, sir. I shouted after him but he took no notice. Shall I get you a taxi, sir?'
Lavendale fumbled in his pocket, found a cigarette and lit it.
'Thank you,' he replied, 'I think I'll walk.'
Lavendale walked slowly down the sunny side of Pall Mall. It was early in August, and for the first time he seemed to notice some reflection in the faces of the passers-by of the burden under which the country was groaning. The usual fashionable little throng about the entrance to the Carlton, was represented by a few sombrely-dressed women and one or two wounded warriors. The glances of the passers-by towards the contents bill of the evening papers had in them a certain furtive eagerness, the fear of evil news triumphing now over the sanguine optimism of earlier days. It was just at that tragical epoch when Russia, to the amazement of the whole world, was being swept back from her frontier cities, when there were murmurs of an investment of Petrograd. Lavendale, in his light grey suit and straw hat, sunburnt, over six feet tall, broad and athletic, seemed somehow a strange figure as he passed along through streets which appeared destitute of a single man under middle-age who was not in khaki. The recruiting sergeant at the corner of Trafalgar Square, where Lavendale paused for a moment to cross the road, caught his eye and smiled insinuatingly.
'Fine figure for a uniform, sir,' he ventured.
