Geoffrey was surprised at this. But, as usual, he kept his own counsel. It seemed that his old school chum, Jack, had got mixed up with a very queer set. But in the West End there are queer sets on every hand, the dancing and drug-taking degenerates of both sexes who live upon their wits, and live very well, too. In certain circles within a mile of Piccadilly Circus, thieves and blackmailing vampires hobnob with young and pretty women of title, while innocent persons of both sexes fall into the vortex of vice and gaiety.
Presently Geoffrey asked, glancing across at Beryl:
“What do you really know about her? She’s rather fond of a great pal of mine.”
“Then I pity your pal, my dear Falconer,” was the elderly man’s reply. Franks was a member of Wells’ and the Bachelors’, and he moved in a very fast, go-ahead set.
“Because of the past record of the crowd of which she is the decoy-duck. That’s all,” was his friend’s reply. “Daddy Whittaker, who is sitting yonder with her, is an old gaol-bird who still directs the nefarious operations of a dozen men and women. And woe betide anyone who falls into that girl’s net.”
Falconer, full of thought, went on with his dinner. They were out of hearing of the girl and her companion. At last the young fellow related how he had been at Bevin’s Club with his old schoolfellow, Halliday, where Beryl and Gilbert Farrer had also been.
“Well, all I hope is that your friend Halliday will keep clear of that unholy organisation,” said his companion. “They’ll stick at nothing. But why are they friendly with your old schoolfellow? What is the motive--eh?”
“I don’t know. He’s a mining engineer, and has just gone to the Red Sea prospecting for a gold mine of the ancient Egyptians.”
“Ah! Then he should beware. There’s no doubt some very subtle plot afoot. You should warn your friend to have a care.”
“I can’t get at him. He’s gone out to Cape Ras Benas, and, like all prospectors, has not left an address.”
“That’s a pity. But when you get in touch with him again, warn him at once to avoid Daddy and his crowd as he would a poison bowl. They’re dangerous--very dangerous. I heard from my old friend, Superintendent Tarrant, of Scotland Yard, all about them. You recollect the Alleyn scandals in the papers about nine months ago? Well, old Whittaker and the girl yonder were at the bottom of it all. They escaped prosecution for blackmail, but they had netted over ten thousand pounds out of old Mr. Alleyn.”