"Well, I rather wish I were coming with you for a fortnight on Loch Lomond," said Lilla.
"No, my dear, you have no place in the picture at present. Much as I would like your companionship, you are far better here at home."
"Yes, I suppose you are right!" answered her friend, sighing. "But I long for Scotland in these warm summer days."
"Get Bernie to take you to the seaside for a bit. There's nothing urgent doing just now."
"Bernie is far too busy in Hammersmith, my dear," Lilla laughed. "He wouldn't miss his weekly round for worlds. Besides, he's got some important church work on helping the vicar in a series of mission meetings."
"Bernie is a good Churchman, I've heard," said Ena.
"Of course. That, too, is part of the big bluff. The man who carries round the bag every Sunday is always regarded as pious and upright. And Bernie never loses a chance to increase his halo of respectability."
Ena remained at Pont Street for about half an hour longer, and then, returning to her own flat, she set about sorting out the dresses she would require for Scotland, and assisted her elderly maid to pack them.
Afterwards she returned into her elegant little drawing-room and seated herself at the little writing-table, where she consulted a diary. Then she wrote telegrams to the hotels at Glasgow and at Ardlui, engaging rooms for dates which, after reflection, she decided upon.
Ena Pollen was a woman of determination and method. Her exterior was that of a butterfly of fashion, careless of everything save her dress and her hair, yet beneath the surface she was calm, clever, and unscrupulous, a woman who had never loved, and who, indeed, held the opposite sex in supreme contempt. The adventure in which she was at that moment engaged was the most daring she had ever undertaken. The unholy trio had dabbled in small affairs, each of which had brought them profit, but the present undertaking would, she knew, require all her tact and cunning.
The real Mrs. Augusta Morrison, the widow of Carsphairn, was one of Boyne's discoveries, and by judicious inquiry, combined with other investigations which Ena herself had made, they knew practically everything concerning her, her friends, and her movements. The preliminaries had taken fully three months, for prior to going to Llandudno, there to assume the widow's identity, Ena had been in secret to New Galloway, and while staying at the Lochinvar Arms, at Dairy, she had been able to gather many facts concerning the rich widow of Carsphairn, a copy of whose birth and marriage-certificate she had obtained from Somerset House.
After writing the telegrams, she took a sheet of notepaper and wrote to Mr. Emery in Manchester, telling him that she had passed both doctors, and asking him to hurry forward the policy.
"My movements during the next fortnight or so are a little uncertain," she wrote, "but please always address me as above, care of my friend, Mrs. Pollen. Please give my best regards to your dear wife, and accept the same yourself. Yours very sincerely,AUGUSTA MORRISON."
Three nights later, Ena left Euston in the sleeping-car for Glasgow, arriving early next morning, and for a couple of days idled away the time in the great hotel, the Central, eagerly awaiting a telegram.
At last it came.
The porter handed it to her as she returned from a walk. She tore it open, and when she read its contents, she went instantly pale.
The message was disconcerting, for instead of giving information regarding the movements of the woman she had been impersonating, it read:
"Remain in Glasgow. Am leaving to-night. Will be with you in morning. Urgent. BERNARD."
What could have happened? A hitch had apparently occurred in the arrangements, which had been so thoroughly discussed and every detail considered.
It was then six o'clock in the evening. Boyne could not be there until eight o'clock on the following morning. She glanced bewildered around the busy hall of the hotel, where men and women with piles of luggage were constantly arriving and departing.
"Why is he not more explicit?" she asked herself in apprehension.
What could have happened? she wondered. For yet another fourteen hours she must remain in suspense.
Suddenly, however, she recollected that she could telephone to Lilla, and she put through a call without delay.
Half an hour later she spoke to her friend over the wire, inquiring the reason of Boyne's journey north.
"My dear, I'm sorry," replied Lilla in her high-pitched voice, "but I really cannot tell you over the 'phone. It is some very important business he wants to see you about."
"But am I not to go to Ardlui?" asked Ena.
"I don't know. Bernie wants to see you without delay that's all."
"But has anything happened?" she demanded eagerly.
"Yes something but I can't tell you now. Bernie will explain. He'll be with you in Glasgow early to-morrow morning."
"Is it anything very serious?"
"I think it may be very!" was Lilla's reply; and at that moment the operator cut off communication with London, the six minutes allowed having expired.
CHAPTER V
CONTAINS A NOTE OF ALARM
Ena Pollen was on the platform when the dusty night express from London ran slowly into the Caledonian Station, at Glasgow.
Bernard Boyne, erect and smartly-dressed, stepped out quickly from the sleeping-car, to be greeted by her almost immediately.
"What's happened?" she demanded anxiously beneath her breath.
"I can't tell you here, Ena. Wait till we're in the hotel," he replied. She saw by his countenance that something was amiss.
Together they walked from the platform into the hotel, and having ascended in the lift to her private sitting-room, the man flung himself into a chair, and said:
"A very perilous situation has arisen regarding the Martin affair!"
"The Martin affair!" she gasped, instantly pale to the lips. "I always feared it. That girl, Céline Tènot, had some suspicion, I believe."
"Exactly. She was your maid, and you parted bad friends. It was injudicious."
"Where is she now, I wonder?"
"At her home in Melun, near Paris. You must go at once to Paris, and ask her to meet you," Boyne said.
"To Paris?" she cried in dismay.
"Yes; not a second must be lost. Inquiries are on foot. I discovered the situation yesterday, quite by accident."
"Inquiries!" she cried. "Who can be making inquiries?"
"Some friend of that girl a Frenchman. He has come over here to find me."
"To find you! But she only knew you under the name of Bennett!"
"Exactly. In that is our salvation," he said, with a grin. "But the affair is distinctly serious unless we can make peace with Céline, and at the same time make it worth her while to withdraw this inquiry. No doubt she's looking forward to a big reward for furnishing information."
"But why can't we give her the reward eh?" asked the shrewd, red-haired woman quickly.
"That's exactly my argument. That is why you must leave this present little matter, turn back to Céline, and make it right with her."
"How much do you think it will cost?"
Bernard Boyne shrugged his shoulders.
"Whatever it is, we must pay," he replied. "We can't afford for this girl to remain an enemy and yours especially."
"Of course not," Ena agreed. "What is her address?"
Boyne took a slip of paper from his pocket-book and handed it to the handsome woman.
"But what excuse can I possibly make for approaching her?" she asked bewildered.
"Pretend you've come to Paris to offer to take her into your service again," Boyne suggested. "She will then meet you, and you can express regret that you sent her away so suddenly, and offer to make reparation and all that."