Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source:
http://www.archive.org/details/affairatsemirami00maso
Mr. Ricardo, when the excitements of the Villa Rose were done with,returned to Grosvenor Square and resumed the busy, unnecessary life ofan amateur. But the studios had lost their savour, artists theirattractiveness, and even the Russian opera seemed a trifle flat. Lifewas altogether a disappointment; Fate, like an actress at arestaurant, had taken the wooden pestle in her hand and stirred allthe sparkle out of the champagne; Mr. Ricardo languished--until oneunforgettable morning.
He was sitting disconsolately at his breakfast-table when the door wasburst open and a square, stout man, with the blue, shaven face of aFrench comedian, flung himself into the room. Ricardo sprang towardsthe new-comer with a cry of delight.
"My dear Hanaud!"
He seized his visitor by the arm, feeling it to make sure that here,in flesh and blood, stood the man who had introduced him to theacutest sensations of his life. He turned towards his butler, who wasstill bleating expostulations in the doorway at the unceremoniousirruption of the French detective.
"Another place, Burton, at once," he cried, and as soon as he andHanaud were alone: "What good wind blows you to London?"
"Business, my friend. The disappearance of bullion somewhere on theline between Paris and London. But it is finished. Yes, I take aholiday."
A light had suddenly flashed in Mr. Ricardo's eyes, and was now noless suddenly extinguished. Hanaud paid no attention whatever to hisfriend's disappointment. He pounced upon a piece of silver whichadorned the tablecloth and took it over to the window.
"Everything is as it should be, my friend," he exclaimed, with a grin."Grosvenor Square, the Times open at the money column, and a falseantique upon the table. Thus I have dreamed of you. All Mr. Ricardo isin that sentence."
Ricardo laughed nervously. Recollection made him wary of Hanaud'ssarcasms. He was shy even to protest the genuineness of his silver.But, indeed, he had not the time. For the door opened again and oncemore the butler appeared. On this occasion, however, he was alone.
"Mr. Calladine would like to speak to you, sir," he said.
"Calladine!" cried Ricardo in an extreme surprise. "That is the mostextraordinary thing." He looked at the clock upon his mantelpiece. Itwas barely half-past eight. "At this hour, too?"
"Mr. Calladine is still wearing evening dress," the butler remarked.
Ricardo started in his chair. He began to dream of possibilities; andhere was Hanaud miraculously at his side.
"Where is Mr. Calladine?" he asked.
"I have shown him into the library."