He scribbled hastily in his memorandum book, tore out the leaf, and handed it to his companion. "He confesses his sins and commends his soul to 'le bon Dieu.'" He laid a hand upon the door.
"You will leave me here--alone?" asked Baggin.
"But yes! Nothing can harm you from within, and you bolt the door from without--until the preconcerted signal. It should not be long now." He drew out his watch.
"But--I wish you to remain--I command it!" Despite his efforts at composure, Baggin's voice quavered.
His companion laughed. "A Roland for your Oliver, my friend!" he cried. "Favour for favour! You grant my small request?"
"You will be king, eh?--and alone? Good!"
He put on his top hat, adjusted his silk muffler about his throat, and with an amiable nod to his companion, stepped out into the night.
The fog had thinned to a nebulous haze, fine as a lady's veil, and the young man strode along briskly. Ten minutes brought him to the waiting hansom.
"Covent Garden," he directed the driver. He sprang in and leaned back against the cushions.
"So Baggin would be king!" He smiled with a certain grimness.
IN WHICH A CERTAIN MOMENTOUS QUESTION IS ASKED
At precisely ten o'clock, as the curtain came reefing slowly down upon the first act of _I Pagliacci_, Lady Dinsmore turned with outstretched hand to greet a newcomer who had just entered the box.
"My dear count," she exclaimed, "I am disappointed in you! Here I have been paying you really quite tremendous compliments to these young people--which for an old woman, you know, is very proper--and you show your complete indifference to me by committing the worst crime in the calendar!"
"I am desolated!" The stranger who was bowing over her hand, a trifle lower than an Englishman would have done, was slender and distinguished looking, faultlessly dressed, and wearing a bunch of Parma violets. He had a way of looking at one gravely with an air of concentrated attention, as if he were seeing through the words, into the very soul of the speaker. He was, indeed, a wonderful listener, and this quality, added to a certain boyish candour of temperament, accounted perhaps for Count Poltavo's popularity in society.
"Before I ask you to name the crime, Lady Dinsmore," he said, "or to inform me if the calendar is a lady's, permit me to offer my humblest apologies for my lateness."