An Old Betrayal: A Charles Lenox Mystery (Charles Lenox Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page A

around—first in missing the young woman, then in the faintly ridiculous pretense that he, a man past forty, would pursue a young woman of twenty. To be sure, such marriages existed, but they rarely began at Gilbert’s. She would never have condescended to meet him—no matter that he was a Junior Lord of the Treasury now, as his card said—if the introduction did not come through her friends or family. Beyond that, even the most cursory investigation into his background would reveal that he was a married man. Men had affairs, it was true, but to initiate one after such a fashion would have been bizarrely indiscreet for a man of his position.
    He returned to the table. The whole situation left him deeply uneasy: He had revealed himself to this Godwin out of a misplaced sense that he must act. In fact, it would in all likelihood have been better had he remained quiet. Dallington would have handled it more adroitly. Or even Miss Strickland, with her agency for detectives. Damn it all.
    As he tore moodily at his toast, Lenox thought the encounter over. Was it suspicious that Godwin had been unable to find a card? Was it a name that he ought to have known? He would have to check in at White’s.
    At least he could do the intelligent thing now. He remained at his table and sat for another ten minutes. He was impatient to leave for every second of them, but if he had returned to his carriage too quickly, and Godwin had stayed to watch, it might have given away that his presence in the restaurant where the young woman took her breakfast was not accidental.
    Finally he went out to his waiting carriage. “Half Moon Street,” he said. “Quickly if you can.”
    The driver did his work well, and soon Lenox was at Dallington’s flat. The young lord looked even worse than the day before, pale and perspiring, with a white film around his lips. For the first time Lenox felt half-worried, and for a moment forgot Gilbert’s. Perhaps he ought to consult with McConnell. It would be best to chase down the doctor anyway, to see what might be found out—discreetly.
    Despite his condition Dallington rose when Lenox arrived. “How was it?”
    “Disastrous, I’m afraid.”
    Lenox took five minutes to describe the sequence of events, careful to be very specific about the dress and appearance of both the man and the woman. At the end of the story Dallington, who had been closely attentive, smiled ruefully. “The first pretty girl to light along in all the years I’ve been doing this, and I have the galloping consumption. What rotten luck.”
    “I’m sorry I mishandled it, John.”
    “It can’t be helped. I don’t doubt I would have done as you did.”
    “No, you’re in better practice than I am.”
    Dallington waved a hand. “These situations are unpredictable.”
    “It was particularly foolish of me because a woman is so much more likely than a man to carry an umbrella of such a description. Can you think of a man who possesses an umbrella in any color other than black?”
    He admitted that he could not. “I would have made the same assumption, however. You cannot let it prey upon your mind.”
    “Tell me, do you recognize the name Archie Godwin?”
    “No. Or perhaps just, some minor echo—but I couldn’t tell you a single detail about him.”
    “Do you have your Who’s Who handy?”
    Dallington brightened. “I do! Look on the mantel above the fireplace there.”
    Lenox went and fetched the book, thumbing through it to the G section. “Here it is,” he said, then read out loud.
    Godwin, Archibald Paget, b. May 19, 1846, s. of Hon. Ernest Godwin and Abigail Paget, educ. Tonbridge School and Wadham College, Oxford. Wadham Cricket Club vice-captain, past president. Dir. Chepstow and Ely, Ltd. Recreation: Angling; cricket. Bugler, Hampshire Hunt. Clubs: White’s, Clinkard Meon Valley Beagles (Hants). Add. Raburn Lodge, Farnborough, Hants.
    Lenox looked up. “An address in Hampshire, and none but his club in London. Perhaps