In eagerness I took a few quick steps after him, but halted as a sudden suggestion arose within me. If Jeanjean had been there it was for consultation with his chief--the man he regarded as his master--the master-mind of that daring and dangerous association. Was it possible, therefore, that these two men had left the place at long intervals, because of the suspicion in which they held the curate who had called for a subscription? Was it possible that Gregory Vernon, alias Gregory, and alias a dozen other names, no doubt, was still safe in his high-up dingy little office wherein lay concealed stolen gems of untold value?
Rayner was, without doubt, hot upon the track of the elusive bandit whose _empreintes digitales_, and whose _cliches_ and _relevés_ were so carefully preserved in that formidable dossier at the Prefecture of Police of the Seine. Rayner was a past master in the art of observation, and I felt convinced that ere long I should learn where Jeanjean made his headquarters in London.
Therefore, after a second's reflection, I decided not to follow Bertini, but to still remain on and watch for the clever old rascal to whose plots so many jewel robberies in Europe, with and without violence, were due. By some vague intuition I felt that if Jeanjean dared to go to the offices of Loicq Freres, then certainly the elder man would have no hesitation. But their daring was astounding in face of the circumstances.
Perhaps, so completely and entirely did they hold Lola in their grip, that they felt confident she dare not reveal the truth. Was it not a fact, alas! that the sweet, dainty little girl was actually a thief, forced into crime and trained by her uncle to act the part of decoy, her very innocence disarming suspicion? Her youth was her protection, for nobody would believe that she was actually a clever adventuress and a professional thief.
Ah! how I pitied her, knowing all that I did. How often recollections arose in my mind of that never-to-be-forgotten night in Scotland when she had inadvertently entered my bedroom, and I had seized her--of her piteous appeal to me, and of her expression of heartfelt thanks when I allowed her her liberty. Yes, assuredly Lola Sorel was to be pitied, not blamed. She had been struggling all along to free herself from those bonds of guilt which had bound her to that unscrupulous brutal gang of malefactors who were undoubtedly the most dangerous criminals in Europe. But, alas! all in vain. They had held her in their inexorable grip until, fearing lest she should appeal to me and make revelations, the sinister-faced old rascal who ruled them had ruthlessly struck her down and left her for dead.