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Chapter 14 Kindell As A Live:Bait

AS M. SAMUEL left, Mr. Thurlow and Irene returned to the room.

"I hope," the ambassador said, "that you have been able to give the police the information which they require."

His tone was that of one who is unsure whether he has cause for quarrel or complaint, or of how serious it may be; and there was no satisfaction to be found in Kindell's reply, "I told him what I told you, that I know nothing about it at all."

"But after he had heard you say that you knew the dead man he would want something better than that."

"Then it's something that he can't get."

"If he should arrest you, you'll find that that will be a very dangerous attitude to adopt."

"I'll worry about that if he tries it on."

"Will," Irene interposed, looking at him with troubled eyes, "I don't know why you're making such a mystery of it, but if you really weren't here when it happened, is it quite fair to Father - or me? It's plain to everyone that you know something you're holding back, and, if you'd be frank about it, whatever else it did, it couldn't help getting Father out of the mess."

"You're quite sure that that would be the result?"

"It seems sense to me."

"Well, I'm sorry I can't say more. The whole trouble is that M. Samuel heard me say more than I ought to have done to you."

"I don't see that you did. You said next to nothing. You only said that you knew M. Reynard. There's no crime in that."

"That is precisely the point of view which I recommended to M. Samuel's consideration."

"Well, it's sense. It isn't what you said but what you won't say that's making trouble."

"Rene," her father interposed, "it's no use arguing that Bill hasn't said anything. He's said a mouthful. I don't know why he won't trust us by spitting the whole tale out, but if he thinks it's better to keep it back, we're not going to press him to tell it because it might be helpful to us. . . . No, sir! If that's how you feel, we're not asking you to open anything up. Not for our sakes, that is. But if you did it for your own, you might be a wiser man than you are."

In the voice with which this was said, even more than the words themselves, there was an implication of offence, if not of distrust, which Kindell could not fail to hear. He looked at Irene, and it was plain that she shared her father's feelings.

They thought that he was leaving the ambassador under a cloud of unjust suspicion, which might be lightened, if not removed, by a frank statement of what he knew of the dead man. It was a natural presumption, for that he should have known him and yet had no connection with his presence there, and that such knowledge was of a nature he could not disclose either to his own friends or to those who were investigating the crime, were propositions of exceptional improbability And if they should seek in their own minds to excuse his reticence - the more substantial the excuse, the more seriously must they suppose him to be involved in some illicit activity, if not actually in the crime itself. Yet what more could he say?

"Well, if you won't trust me - - " he began.

Irene interrupted acutely. "You don't give us a chance. You're not trusting us."

"Yes," he said, "I can see how it looks to you."

He went back to his room, which was not the one he had had before, but one next to that which Professor Blinkwell still occupied, which he had given notice that he would be vacating on the following day, when he would return to England.

Kindell did not interpret the undertaking he had given to M. Samuel as a pledge that he would not leave the precincts of the hotel, but he had no inclination to go out into the crowded life of the Paris streets. He paced the room restlessly, debating what he could do in the enigmatic position in which he stood, either to regain Irene's confidence or to solve the mystery of Reynard's murder.

Finding no satisfaction in this solitude, and yet reluctant to put such thoughts aside, he ordered dinner to be served in his own room, and supposed, when he gave casual assent to a discreet knock, that the waiter was at the door. But it was M. Samuel who entered.

"You will spare me a few moments?" The tone was friendlier than he had expected to hear, but he did not feel an inclination for further verbal fencing with the self-c............

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