“Mr. Delora has returned, sir,” he said.

For the moment I had forgotten the sensation which Delora’s non-arrival on that first evening had made, and which had always left behind it a flavor of mystery.  I could see from Ashley’s face that he was puzzled.

“Is Mr. Delora with his niece?” I asked.

“They have moved into Number 35, sir,” Ashley told me.  “Mr. Delora complained very much of his rooms, said they were too small, and threatened to move to Claridge’s.  Number 35 is the best suite we have.”

I stood, for a moment, thinking.  Ashley, meanwhile, had retreated to his place behind the counter.  I approached him slowly.

“Ashley,” I said, “ring up and tell Mr. Delora that I have called.”

Ashley went at once to the telephone.

“Don’t be surprised,” I said, “if his reply isn’t exactly polite.  I don’t think he is very well pleased with me just now.”

I strolled away for a few minutes to look into the cafe, where the waiters were preparing for luncheon.  There was no sign of Louis.  When I returned, Ashley leaned forward to me from the other side of the desk.

“Mr. Delora wishes you to step up, sir,” he said.

I was a little surprised, but I moved promptly to the lift.

“On the third floor, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Exactly, sir,” Ashley answered.  “Shall I send a page with you?”

I shook my head.

“I can find it all right,” I said.

My knock at the door was answered by a dark-faced valet.  He ushered me into a large and very handsome sitting-room.  Felicia and Delora were standing talking together near the mantelpiece.  They both ceased at my entrance, but I had an instinctive feeling that I had been the subject of their conversation.  Felicia greeted me timidly.  There were signs of tears in her face, and I felt that by some means or other this man had been able to reassert his influence over her.  Delora himself was a changed being.  He was dressed with the almost painful exactness of the French man of fashion.  His slight black imperial was trimmed to a point, his moustache upturned with a distinctly foreign air.  He wore a wonderful pin in his carefully arranged tie, and a tiny piece of red ribbon in his button-hole.  The manicurist whom I had met in the passage had evidently just left him, for as I entered he was regarding his nails thoughtfully.  He did not offer me his hand.  He stared at me instead with a certain restrained insolence.

“I should be glad to know, Captain Rotherby,” he said calmly, “to what I owe this intrusion?”

“I am sorry that you look upon it in that light, sir,” I answered.  “My visit, as a matter of fact, was intended for your niece.”

She took a step towards me, but Delora’s outstretched arm barred her progress.

“My niece is very much honored,” he answered, “but her friends and her acquaintances are mine.  You were so good as to render me some service on our arrival at Charing Cross a few days ago, but you have since then presumed upon that service to an unwarrantable extent.”