“You see I’m back!” she said with a faint smile. “We can’t talk here. Somebody may overhear us! Let us walk around the Square--eh?”
This they did. They walked together slowly four times round the Square, though the night was very cold and windy. Neither thought of the weather, for the girl was too perturbed and excited, and the man too annoyed and astounded at what she revealed to him.
The facts which, in desperation she disclosed, staggered him. He promised to assist her, while she, on her part, thanked him profusely and revealed certain extraordinary circumstances which held him dumbfounded and fiercely angry.
At last they turned back into the hotel, and after sitting with her in the lounge for some time, he rose, and gripping her gloved hand, thanked her for her confidence.
“I shall really go to Paris to-morrow morning,” she said. “But remember all that I have said, and respect my confidence--won’t you, Mr. Falconer?”
“I certainly will, Miss Farncombe. Good-bye. You have all my sympathy, I assure you. But keep a stout heart, for I hope in the end all will be well,” he said reassuringly.
“Leave that to me. Good-bye,” he repeated, and turning he left her.
A week later Geoffrey received a note from Paget asking him to dine with him at the Bath Club, an invitation which he accepted. Another and rather older man named Owen, to whom he had been introduced about a fortnight before, dined with them. Afterwards they went round to Paget’s rooms for an hour, and later Geoffrey left by ’bus to catch his train from Liverpool Street.
He was walking along the platform and about to enter the train when Owen, accompanied by a tall, clean-shaven man, came up breathlessly.
“This is the man!” Owen cried, pointing to Falconer. “I give him into custody for stealing my pocket-book! He must have stolen it while we were at the club!”
“What!--what do you mean?” gasped the young radio-engineer, turning upon him aghast.
“I mean that you have my pocket-book upon you--a brown _suède_ one, with sixty pounds in Treasury notes.”
“It’s untrue!” declared Geoffrey. “I know nothing of your pocket-book. But look!” he exclaimed, utterly confounded. “A crowd is collecting. Let’s go somewhere and argue it out.”
