He then decided that he would go to his greatly-neglected rooms in Bruton Street in order to obtain some additions to his all-too-scanty wardrobe, for, with the exception of a few things he had purchased when he left Walter's Hotel, he practically had nothing but the clothes he stood up in; and these were the clothes with which he had been so mysteriously furnished while he lay chloroformed at Mme. Estelle's.
On arriving at Bruton Street the doorkeeper surveyed him with astonishment.
“Why, sir! I was told that you had gone abroad.”
“Gone abroad!” exclaimed Westerham. “Gone abroad! Nothing of the kind.”
He denied the suggestion flatly, and, indeed, was so taken aback by the man's manner that for the moment he quite forgot he had in reality not only been abroad but had returned again from abroad in the space of twenty-four hours.
The man stared at him steadily, and for all his self-possession, Westerham felt himself colour a little. But he reflected that it was no business of the man's whether he went abroad or not. He requested him to take him up to his rooms in the lift.
The man stared at him in greater astonishment than ever.
“Empty!” cried Westerham. “What on earth do you mean?”
“I mean, sir,” said the man, in an excited voice, “that your furniture has been taken away. I understood that it was warehoused. A gentleman called here this afternoon, paid your valet and dismissed him, and this afternoon a pantechnicon came and took away your things. The gentleman gave his card to the manager of the flat and told him that he was a solicitor. It all seemed fair and square, and as we knew—begging your pardon, sir—that you were an eccentric gentleman, we were not surprised to hear that you were not coming back. As a matter of fact, sir,” the man concluded lamely, “we thought that you had been a little put out by the affair here a few days ago.”
“Do you really mean to tell me,” said Westerham, slowly, as though he could not believe his ears, “that everything has been taken away, even my clothes?”
“Even your clothes, sir. Your valet packed them himself.”
“Good gracious!” said Westerham, more to himself than to the man, “and I have nothing but what I stand up in?”
Then it struck him that he must take immediate action in the matter. He suspected Melun was at the bottom of this too, but could not conceive what motive the captain could possibly have for this last extraordinary move.