An Old Betrayal

CHAPTER FIVE

The gentleman in the door of Gilbert’s — dressed well, with a recent shave that had left his blond mustache in fine trim — made no movement to pursue the woman. He stood and stared after her for a moment and then sighed and turned back through the door.

Lenox stood up and, just as the woman had, dropped a few distracted coins on the table. “Sir,” he called out.

He might have given chase to the woman, but in all likelihood he wouldn’t have caught up to her, and if he had it might have frightened her. If only she had left a return address with Dallington.

“Yes?” said the man, who had paused in the doorway upon hearing Lenox’s voice.

“May I impose upon you to ask that young woman’s name, sir?”

“You may not,” said the man coldly.

“Is it too much trouble?”

“I do not believe we are acquainted, and I cannot imagine that she would wish her identity trusted to a stranger. Plainly, since you were seated only a table apart from each other and therefore had the opportunity to speak, she did not desire conversation with you.”

Nor you, thought Lenox. Time to pantomime harmlessness, however; after all, this man might be the danger of which the young woman was afraid. “I thought her exceptionally pretty.”

“You are not the first.”

“But then, perhaps it was some lovers’ quarrel that drove her away at the sight of you.”

“You are impertinent, sir. Good day.”

“Will you take my card?” asked Lenox.

The man hesitated. He was well bred, clearly, his voice aristocratic, his features even and strong, his watch chain and shoes both finely made, and as clearly as Lenox could perceive these small signs in him, he could no doubt perceive them in Lenox. The rules were the rules. “Very well,” he said, taking Lenox’s without looking at it, then reaching into his own pocket. He couldn’t find a card, checked another pocket with no more success, and then, his face puzzled, searched all of his pockets, pulling out a billfold, until at last he gave up the task as a bad job and said, “My name is Archie Godwin. You may find me at White’s.”

This was a gentleman’s club. “As you can see, letters to the Commons will reach me,” said Lenox. “Whatever your relation to the young woman, I would like to meet her again.”

The man nodded curtly and stalked away.

Lenox could have cursed. It had been a blundering performance all around — first in missing the young woman, then in the faintly ridiculous pretense that he, a man past forty, would pursue a young woman of twenty. To be sure, such marriages existed, but they rarely began at Gilbert’s. She would never have condescended to meet him — no matter that he was a Junior Lord of the Treasury now, as his card said — if the introduction did not come through her friends or family. Beyond that, even the most cursory investigation into his background would reveal that he was a married man. Men had affairs, it was true, but to initiate one after such a fashion would have been bizarrely indiscreet for a man of his position.

He returned to the table. The whole situation left him deeply uneasy: He had revealed himself to this Godwin out of a misplaced sense that he must act. In fact, it would in all likelihood have been better had he remained quiet. Dallington would have handled it more adroitly. Or even Miss Strickland, with her agency for detectives. Damn it all.

As he tore moodily at his toast, Lenox thought the encounter over. Was it suspicious that Godwin had been unable to find a card? Was it a name that he ought to have known? He would have to check in at White’s.

At least he could do the intelligent thing now. He remained at his table and sat for another ten minutes. He was impatient to leave for every second of them, but if he had returned to his carriage too quickly, and Godwin had stayed to watch, it might have given away that his presence in the restaurant where the young woman took her breakfast was not accidental.

Finally he went out to his waiting carriage. “Half Moon Street,” he said. “Quickly if you can.”

The driver did his work well, and soon Lenox was at Dallington’s flat. The young lord looked even worse than the day before, pale and perspiring, with a white film around his lips. For the first time Lenox felt half-worried, and for a moment forgot Gilbert’s. Perhaps he ought to consult with McConnell. It would be best to chase down the doctor anyway, to see what might be found out — discreetly.

Despite his condition Dallington rose when Lenox arrived. “How was it?”

“Disastrous, I’m afraid.”

Lenox took five minutes to describe the sequence of events, careful to be very specific about the dress and appearance of both the man and the woman. At the end of the story Dallington, who had been closely attentive, smiled ruefully. “The first pretty girl to light along in all the years I’ve been doing this, and I have the galloping consumption. What rotten luck.”

“I’m sorry I mishandled it, John.”

“It can’t be helped. I don’t doubt I would have done as you did.”

“No, you’re in better practice than I am.”

Dallington waved a hand. “These situations are unpredictable.”

“It was particularly foolish of me because a woman is so much more likely than a man to carry an umbrella of such a description. Can you think of a man who possesses an umbrella in any color other than black?”

He admitted that he could not. “I would have made the same assumption, however. You cannot let it prey upon your mind.”

“Tell me, do you recognize the name Archie Godwin?”

“No. Or perhaps just, some minor echo — but I couldn’t tell you a single detail about him.”

“Do you have your Who’s Who handy?”

Dallington brightened. “I do! Look on the mantel above the fireplace there.”

Lenox went and fetched the book, thumbing through it to the G section. “Here it is,” he said, then read out loud.

Godwin, Archibald Paget, b. May 19, 1846, s. of Hon. Ernest Godwin and Abigail Paget, educ. Tonbridge School and Wadham College, Oxford. Wadham Cricket Club vice-captain, past president. Dir. Chepstow and Ely, Ltd. Recreation: Angling; cricket. Bugler, Hampshire Hunt. Clubs: White’s, Clinkard Meon Valley Beagles (Hants). Add. Raburn Lodge, Farnborough, Hants.

Lenox looked up. “An address in Hampshire, and none but his club in London. Perhaps we know why he frequents train station restaurants.”

“Hm. Do you know Chepstow and Ely?” asked Dallington.

“No, but it shouldn’t be difficult to find out what it is.”

“Nine to one Graham will know.”

“No doubt about it.” Lenox looked down at the book he was holding and glanced over the entry again. “Well, what do you make of Godwin?”

Dallington shrugged. “He seems quite ordinary, I suppose. I’ve yet to have the pleasure of meeting the beaglers of Clinkard Meon Valley, but I don’t question their general character. Their intelligence, perhaps, to go chasing about with dogs on cold mornings.”

“It’s really too bad that Hampshire is on the opposite end of England from Kent, where we suspected your correspondent might be going by train. It would have been tidier if Raburn Lodge were near Canterbury.”

“Quite.”

“No London address, either,” said Lenox again, looking at the book still. “I have a school friend who lives not far from Farnborough, Peter Hughes. Huge medieval castle and not a penny to his name to pay for its upkeep — they live in three of the rooms and keep the rest dark. Perhaps I’ll write and ask him about Godwin.”

“I would guess that he’s up in town briefly, and this girl felt some threat from him — that’s why she wanted to meet me.”

“Mm.”

“You say he didn’t give you a card?”

“He didn’t. I thought it rather odd.”

“I’ve been caught without mine often enough. It may be that this is merely, as you suggested to him, a quarrel between two estranged lovers.” Dallington took a sip of water, looking exhausted. Lenox realized he ought to leave. “It would explain why she felt she could not go to the police.”

“Yes, true,” said Lenox. “But lie down, would you, John — I will look into White’s this afternoon. Make sure you drink a great deal of water. It makes me uneasy to see you so ill. I think I had better send around a doctor.”

Dallington looked ready to object but then weakened. “You might as well, I suppose. Mrs. Lucas will fetch him if you tell her.”

“I will.”

A few minutes later, Lenox walked out into Half Moon Street and climbed into his carriage again. Dallington’s explanation was the most likely. A lovers’ tiff. Still, he wondered at the vagueness and fear of that initial letter, its strange tone, its enigmatic origin. Before getting into his carriage he paused on the pavement and smiled. What if Archie Godwin and the young woman who didn’t want to see him had nothing to do with the letter? The metropolis had offered forth stranger coincidences in its time, many of them.