“Absolutely out of the question,” Fenn declared. “The people would lose faith in the whole thing in a minute. The person who throws down the gage to the Prime Minister must have the direct mandate of the people.”
They finished dinner presently. Fenn looked with admiration at the gold, coroneted case from which Catherine helped herself to one of her tiny cigarettes. He himself lit an American cigarette.
“I had meant, Miss Abbeway,” he confided, leaning towards her, “to suggest a theatre to you to-night--in fact, I looked at some dress circle seats at the Gaiety with a view to purchasing. Another matter has cropped up, however. There is a little business for us to do.”
He produced a folded paper from his pocket and passed it across the table. Catherine read it with a slight frown.
“An order entitling the bearer to search Julian Orden’s apartments!” she exclaimed. “We don’t want to search them, do we? Besides, what authority have we?”
“The best,” he answered, tapping with his discoloured forefinger the signature at the foot of the strip of paper.
“But how did this come into your possession?” she asked.
“By asking for it,” he replied bluntly. “And between you and me, Miss Abbeway, there isn’t much we might ask for that they’d care to refuse us just now.”
“But the police have already searched Mr. Orden’s rooms,” she reminded him.
“The police have been known to overlook things. Of course, what I am hoping is that amongst Mr. Orden’s papers there may be some indication as to where he has deposited our property.”
“But this has nothing to do with me,” she protested. “I do not like to be concerned in such affairs.”
“But I particularly wish you to accompany me,” he urged. “You are the only one who has seen the packet. It would be better, therefore, if we conducted the search in company.”
Catherine made a little grimace, but she objected no further. She objected very strongly, however, when Fenn tried to take her arm on leaving the place, and she withdrew into her own corner of the taxi immediately they had taken their seats.
“You must forgive my prejudices, Mr. Fenn,” she said--“my foreign bringing up, perhaps--but I hate being touched.”
“Oh, come!” he remonstrated. “No need to be so stand-offish.”
