Her Forbidden Knight Read Online Free PDF Page B

only too evident.”
    “Well?”
    “Every evening,” Knowlton continued, “Miss Williams’s roses are left to adorn the lobby of this hotel. It is by her order, as you know. But as she is at home on Sunday she wants them on that day for herself.
    “So every Saturday evening she takes them home. That must be the correct explanation. She can’t even know that I bought them.”
    Dumain’s little round face was filled with light.
    “Of course!” he exclaimed. “What an ass am I! Forgive me, Knowlton. Zen she doesn’t care for you?”
    “I’m afraid not.” Knowlton smiled. But the smile was not an easy one.
    “And you haven’t been trying to—”
    “My good fellow,” Knowlton interrupted him, “as long as I am an Erring Knight I shall act only in the role of protector.”
    At that moment Driscoll approached and the interview was ended. Knowlton wandered over to the cigar stand, bought a packet of cigarettes, and, lighting one, transferred the remainder to a silver-mounted leather case. Then strolling past Lila’s desk with a nod, he stopped in front of the lounge in the corner and exchanged the time of day with Harry Jennings and Billy Sherman.
    After a few minutes of desultory conversation with Jennings, during which Sherman sat noticeably silent, Knowlton, glancing at his watch and observing that he had an engagement, left the lobby of the hotel, and started up Broadway.
    He had no sooner disappeared man Sherman sprang up from the lounge, left by the side door, and followed him some twenty paces in the rear.
    Broadway was crowded and Sherman was forced to keep close to his quarry in order not to lose sight of him. Knowlton walked with a swinging, athletic stride, looking neither to right nor left—ordinarily the gait of a man who has nothing to fear and nothing to be ashamed of. Now and then the pressure of the crowd caused him to make a detour, and Sherman dodged in and out behind him.
    At Madison Square Knowlton stopped abruptly and looked first to one side, then the other. On account of the congested traffic at that point the action was perfectly natural, and Sherman, who had darted quickly behind a standing cab, was convinced that he had not been seen. After a short wait Knowlton stepped off the curb, crossed the square, and proceeded up Broadway.
    At Twenty-eighth Street he turned suddenly and disappeared through the swinging doors of a café.
    Sherman approached, and halted a foot from the door.
    “Now,” he muttered, “if I only dared go in! I’d give a ten-spot to know who he’s with in there. That would settle it. But they’ll probably come out together, anyway.” He retired to a doorway nearby and waited.
    In a few minutes Knowlton emerged alone. Sherman, cursing under his breath, hesitated and appeared ready to give it up; then, with a gesture of decision, he resumed the chase with an air of determined resolve. Knowlton had quickened his step, and Sherman had to move swiftly to overtake him.
    At Thirtieth Street Knowlton turned westward. At once the pursuer’s task became more difficult. There was no crowd of pedestrians here, as on Broadway, and there was imminent danger of discovery. Twice when Knowlton halted he was forced to dodge aside into a doorway.
    At Sixth Avenue Sherman found his passage obstructed by a passing cab. It was empty. Struck by a sudden thought, he sprang inside and, thinking thus to lessen the chances of detection, pointed to Knowlton and instructed the driver to follow him.
    The driver grinned, wheeled his cab sharply, and turned down Thirtieth Street.
    They crossed Seventh Avenue and Eighth, past rows of five-story apartment houses, with their narrow brass-railed stoops and air of dingy respectability. Straight ahead at a distance the Hudson could be seen shimmering in the light of the winter sun; from the rear came the sounding rumble and rattle of an Elevated train above the low, never-ceasing hum of the great city.
    Knowlton continued his rapid stride to Ninth