But when he tore it open and saw the handwriting
he permitted himself a little groan of disappointment. It was not
from her. He read the few lines and crushed the sheet of paper in
his hand.
"I am having supper at the Carlton with some friends on our way
to C. H. I want to speak to you for a moment. Be in the Palm
Court at 12.15, but do not recognise me until I come to you. If
possible keep out of sight. If you should have left my maid will
bring this on to your hotel.
"M. C."
Mr. Sabin leaned back in his carriage, and a frown of faint
perplexity contracted his forehead.
"If I were a younger man," he murmured to himself, "I might believe
that this woman was really in earnest, as well as being Saxe
Leinitzer's jackal. We were friendly enough in Paris that year.
She is unscrupulous enough, of course. Always with some odd fancy
for the grotesque or unlikely. I wonder--"
He pulled the check-string, and was driven to Camperdown House. A
great many people were coming and going. Mr. Sabin found Helene's
maid, and learnt that her mistress was just going to her room, and
would be alone for a few minutes. He scribbled a few words on the
back of a card, and was at once taken up to her boudoir.
"My dear UNCLE," Helene exclaimed, "you have arrived most
opportunely.
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