The Mystery of the Four Fingers | Page 5

the manner of his old
chum that he had not seen before.
He waited now, naturally enough, for the other to give some
explanation of his extraordinary statement, but Venner appeared to
have forgotten all about Gurdon. He sat there shielding one side of his
face, heedless of the attentions of the waiter, who proffered him food

from time to time.
"Is that all you are going to tell me?" Gurdon asked at length.
"Upon my word, I am very sorry," Venner said. "But you will excuse
me if I say nothing more at present. You can imagine what a shock this
has been to me."
"Of course. I don't wish to be impertinent, old chap, but I presume that
there has been some little misunderstanding--"
"Not in the least. There has been no misunderstanding whatever. I
honestly believe that the woman over yonder is still just as passionately
fond of me as I am of her. As you know, Gurdon, I never was much of
a ladies' man; in fact, you fellows at Oxford used to chaff me because I
was so ill at ease in the society of women. Usually a man like myself
falls in love but once in his lifetime, and then never changes. At any
rate, that is my case. I worship the ground that girl walks upon. I would
have given up my life cheerfully for her; I would do so now if I could
save her a moment's pain. You think, perhaps, that she saw me when
she came in here to-night. That is where you have got the impression
that there is some misunderstanding between us. You talked just now of
dramatic surprises. I could show you one even beyond your powers of
imagination if I chose. What would you say if I told you that three
years ago I became the husband of that beautiful girl yonder, and that
from half-an-hour after the ceremony till the present moment I have
never set eyes on her again?"
"It seems almost incredible," Gurdon exclaimed.
"Yes, I suppose it does. But it is absolutely a fact all the same. I can't
tell you here the romance of my life. I couldn't do it in surroundings
like these. We will go on to your rooms presently, and then I will make
a clean breast of the whole thing to you. You may be disposed to laugh
at me for a sentimentalist, but I should like to stay here a little longer, if
it is only now and again to hear a word or two from her lips. If you will
push those flowers across between me and the light I shall be quite
secure from observation. I think that will do."

"But you don't mean to tell me," Gurdon murmured, "that the lady in
question is the daughter of that picturesque-looking old ruffian, Mark
Fenwick?"
"Of course, she isn't," Venner said, with great contempt. "What the
connection is between them, I cannot say. What strange fate links them
together is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. I do not like it, but I
let it pass, feeling so sure of Vera's innocence and integrity. But the
waiter will tell us. Here, waiter, is the lady dining over there with Mr.
Fenwick his daughter or not?"
"Certainly, sir," the waiter responded. "That is Miss Fenwick."
There was silence for a moment or two between the two friends.
Venner appeared to be deeply immersed in his own thoughts, while
Gurdon's eyes travelled quickly between the table where the millionaire
sat and the deep armchair, in which the invalid lay huddled; and Venner
now saw that the cripple on the opposite side of the room was
regarding Fenwick and his companion with the intentness of a cat
watching a mouse.
Dinner had now come pretty well to an end, and the coffee and liqueurs
were going round. A cup was placed before Fenwick, who turned to
one of the waiters with a quick order which the latter hastened to obey.
The order was given so clearly that Gurdon could hear distinctly what it
was. He had asked for a light, wherewith to burn the glass of Curacoa
which he intended to take, foreign fashion, in his coffee.
"And don't forget to bring me a wooden match," he commanded.
"Household matches. Last night one of your men brought me a vesta."
The waiter hurried off to execute his commission, but his intention was
anticipated by another waiter who had apparently been doing nothing
and hanging about in the background. The second waiter was a small,
lithe man, with beady, black eyes and curly hair. For some reason or
other, Gurdon noticed him particularly; then he saw a strange thing
happen. The little waiter with the snaky