extraordinaryprejudice. Fathers do this often towards the men who love theirdaughters, you know. They are sometimes apt to be over-cautious, withthe result that the girl loses a very good chance of marriage," headded. "I've known several similar cases."
"Well," said Charlie thoughtfully, "that's quite new to me. I hadflattered myself that the Doctor was very well disposed towards me.This is quite a revelation?"
"Didn't Maud ever tell you?"
"Not a word."
"She feared, of course, to hurt your feelings. It was quite natural.She loves you."
"If what we fear be true, you should put your words into the past tense,Max," was his reply in a hard voice. Barclay knew that his friend lovedthe sweet-faced girl with the stray, unruly wisp of hair which fellalways across her white brow and gave her such a piquante appearance.And if he loved her so well, was it possible that he could have beenauthor of, or implicated, in a foul and secret crime?
Recollection of that dress-bodice with the ugly stain still wet upon itflashed upon him. Was it not in itself circumstantial evidence thatsome terrible crime had been committed?
The man before him denied all knowledge of the disappearance of hiswell-beloved, and yet Max, with his own eyes, had seen him slinking fromthe house!
Had he spoken the truth, or was he an ingenious liar?
Such was the problem which Max Barclay put to himself--a question whichwas the whole crux of the extraordinary situation. If what Rolfe haddeclared was the truth, then the mystery became an enigma beyondsolution.
But if, on the other hand, he was now endeavouring to shield himselffrom the shadow of guilt upon him, then at least one fact was renderedmore hideous than the rest.
The question was one--and only one.
Had this man, brother of his own dear Marion, sworn falsely upon what hehad held to be most sacred--his love for Maud?
What was the real and actual truth?
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
IN THE WEB.
It was four o'clock on the following afternoon, dark and threateningoutside, precursory of a thunderstorm.
In that chair in Max's room, where Charlie Rolfe had sat on the previousmorning, was the polished cosmopolitan, Jean Adam, lazily lolling back,smoking a cigarette.
Max had lunched over at White's, and just come in to find Adam awaitinghim. The Frenchman had risen and greeted him merrily, took theproffered Russian cigarette, and they; had settled themselves to chat.
"I've been expecting every day to hear from you," Adam exclaimed atlast. "When do you propose starting for Constantinople?"
"Well, I've been thinking over the matter, and I've come to theconclusion that just at present it is impossible for me to leave London.I have other interests here."
Adam stirred uneasily in his chair. This reply filled him with chagrin,yet so clever was he, and such a perfect type of ingenious adventurer,that he never showed the least trace of surprise.
"Really," he laughed, "that's very unfortunate--for you!"
"Why, for me?"
"Well, the missing of such a chance would be unfortunate, even to aRothschild," he said. "There's hundreds of thousands in the deal, ifyou'll only go out with me. You're not a man of straw. You can affordto risk a thousand or two, just as well as I can--even better."
"I would willingly go if it were not for the fact that I find I mustremain in London."
Adam laughed, with just a touch of sarcasm.
"Ah! the lady! I quite understand, my dear fellow. The charming younglady whom I met with you the other night does not wish you to leave herside--eh? We have all of us been through that stage of amorous ecstasy.I have myself, I know that; and if I may tell you with the frankness ofa friend, I've regretted it," he added, holding up his white palms.
"All men do not regret I hope to be the exception," remarked MaxBarclay, pensively watching the smoke from his lips rise to the ceiling.
"Of course. But is it wise to turn one's back upon Fortune in thisway?" asked Adam, in that insidious manner by which he had entrappedmany a man. "Review the position calmly. Here is a project which, bygood luck, has fallen into my hands. I want somebody to go shares withme in it. You are my friend, I like you. I know you are an uprightman, and I ask you to become my partner in the venture. Yet you refuseto do so because--well, merely because a woman's pretty face hasattracted you, and you think that you please her by remaining here inLondon!
"Is it not rather foolish in your own interests? Constantinople is notthe Pole. A fortnight will suffice for you to get there and back andclinch the bargain. Muhil is awaiting us. I had a wire only yesterday.Do reconsider the whole question--there's a good fellow."
Max had said nothing about the meeting with Marion. Therefore hebelieved that she had not told her lover. Adam was reflecting whethershe might not, after all, be a woman to be trusted. This refusal ofMax's to go out to Turkey interfered seriously with the plans he hadformed. Yet what those plans actually were he had not even told thehunchback. He was a man who took counsel of nobody. His ingeniousschemes he evolved in his own brain, and carried them into effect by hisown unaided efforts.
The past history of Jean Adam, alias John Adams, had been one of amazingups-and-downs and clever chicanery. He knew that Samuel Statham heldhim in awe, and was now playing upon his fears, and gloating over thesuccess which must inevitably be his whenever he thought fit to deal theblow. It would be irresistible and crushing. He held the millionairein his power. But before he moved forward to strike, he intended thatMax should be induced to go abroad. And if he went--well, when hethought of his victim's departure his small, near-set eyes gleamed, andabout the corners of his mouth there played an expression of evil.
"My decision does not require any reconsideration," said the youngfellow, after a pause. "I shall remain in London."
"And lose the chance of a lifetime--eh?" exclaimed Adam, as thoughperfectly unconcerned.
"I have some very important private matters to attend to."
"I, too, used to have when I was your age."
"They do not concern the lady," Max said quickly. "It is purely apersonal matter."
"Of business? Why, you'd make as much in an hour over this Railwaybusiness as you'd make in twenty years here in London," Adam declared."Besides, you want a change. Come out to the Bosphorus. It's charmingbeside the Sweet Waters."
"All sounds very delightful; but even though I may let the chance of afortune slip through my fingers, I cannot leave London at present."
"But why?"
"A purely private matter," was his reply, for he did not wish to tellthis man anything concerning the strange disappearance of the Doctor andhis grave suspicions of Charlie Rolfe. "I can tell you nothing morethan that."
"Well, I'm sure the lady, if she knew that it was in your interests togo to Turkey, would urge you to go," declared Adam. "She would neverkeep you here if she knew that you could pull off such a deal as I haveput before you."
"She does know."
"Oh! And what does she say?"
"She suggested that I should go with you."
"Then why not come?"
"Because, as I've already told you, it is impossible. I am kept inLondon by something which concerns the welfare of a very dear friend,"Max answered. "You must put it before somebody else. I suppose theaffair cannot wait?"
"I don't want to put it before anybody else. If we do business, I wantyou and I to share the profits."
"Very good of you, I'm sure; but at present I am quite unable to leaveLondon."
Max was wondering for the first time why this man was so pressing. Ifthe thing was a really good one--as it undoubtedly was, according to thefriend he had consulted in the City--then there could not be any lack ofpersons ready to go into the venture. Was it sheer luck that had ledthis man Adam to offer to take him into it, or had the man some ulteriormotive? Max Barclay was no fool. He had sown his wild oats in London,and knew the ways of men. He had met many a city shark, and had bee
nthe poorer in pocket through the meeting. But about this man Adam wassomething which had always fascinated him. The pair had been drawntogether by some indescribable but mutual attraction, and the concessionby the Sultan which must result in great profits was now within hisreach. Nevertheless, he felt that in the present circumstances it wasimpossible to leave London. Before doing so he was desirous of solvingthe problem of the disappearance of Doctor Petrovitch, and clearing upthe question of whether or not there had been foul play.
Rolfe's denial of the previous day had complicated matters even further.He was convinced, now that he had reflected calmly, that his friend wasconcealing something