Her Forbidden Knight by Rex Stout Read Free Book Online

trying to tell me that I have become persona non grata. In other words, the Erring Knights have seen fit to expel their youngest member.”
    “Right,” said Dougherty, inexpressibly relieved. “If I could have said it like that I would have had no trouble.”
    Knowlton cut off the end of a cigar and lit it.
    “And now,” he said between puffs, “what is it— puff —you want?”
    “That’s not the question. It’s what we don’t want.”
    “All right.” Knowlton waved aside the distinction. “Go on.”
    “In the first place,” Dougherty began, “there’s Miss Williams.”
    “I see her,” said Knowlton gravely. “She’s sending a telegram. Probably mine. See how the light plays on her hair? Well, what about her?”
    “You are not to go near her,” said Dougherty with emphasis.
    “Ever?”
    “Never.”
    Knowlton blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.
    “I see. And what else?”
    “You are to stay away from the Lamartine.”
    “M-m-m. Anything else?”
    “That is all.”
    Knowlton rose, walked to a cuspidor and knocked the ashes from his cigar, then returned to his seat. For another minute he smoked in silence.
    “And if I refuse?” he said finally.
    “There are six of us,” said Dougherty with meaning.
    “Then, if I enter the doors of the Lamartine I displease the Erring Knights?”
    “You do.”
    “In that case,” Knowlton again rose, “I have to announce that in the future the Erring Knights will be displeased on an average of fourteen times a week. It pains me to cause my old friends so much displeasure, but you leave me no choice.” He hesitated a moment, then added: “You should have known better than to try to frighten me, Dougherty.” With that he walked away.
    Dougherty saw him go to the cigar stand, relight his cigar, start toward Lila’s desk, suddenly change his direction, and leave the hotel by the Broadway door. Then the ex-prizefighter hurried over to Dumain.
    “I told you so,” he said gloomily.
    “What deed he say?” asked Dumain.
    “Just what I said he’d say.”
    “Well?” Dumain passed over the fact that Dougherty had said nothing whatever about it.
    “He ignores us. He intends to do just as he pleases. We’re in for it.”
    “It seems to me,” Dumain retorted, “eet would be better to say he’s in for it. We’ll have to show him we are not to be trifled wiz. Come on; I have zee idea.”
    They seated themselves on the lounge in the corner and proceeded to a discussion of the plan of battle.
    In the meantime Knowlton was striding swiftly toward his rooms on Thirtieth Street. His face wore a worried frown, and every now and then he glanced nervously to the rear. Occasionally, too, his lips parted in an amused smile; possibly whenever he thought of the quixotic chivalry of the Erring Knights.
    The streets and sidewalks were covered with snow—the first of the season. Surface cars clanged noisily; voices sounded in the crisp, bracing air with the sharp clarity of bell tones; faces glowed with the healthful exhilaration of quickened steps and the rush of inward warmth to meet the frosty attack of old winter. The vigor of the north and the restlessness of the great city combined to supply the deficiencies of the November sun, ineffectual against the stern attack of his annual enemy.
    Knowlton turned in at the same door on Thirtieth Street we have seen him enter before, and mounted the stairs to an apartment on the second floor.
    Once inside he locked the door carefully behind him, then walked to a wardrobe in a corner of the adjoining room and took from it a small black bag. His hand trembled a little as he placed the bag on a table in the center of the room.
    “My good friend,” he said aloud, “I am inclined to believe that they are trying to separate us. The little comedy just performed at the hotel must have resulted from the good offices of a certain Mr. Sherman.
    “Now, the question is, shall I remain true to you or not? You must admit that