Okewood of the Secret Service [39]
she awoke? They might, at least, throw some light on his relations with the dancer.
"She had her dinner here by the fire," old Martha resumed her narrative, "and about a quarter past nine comes your second tellygram, sir, saying as how you could not arrive till five o'clock in the morning."
Desmond glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. The hands pointed to a quarter past five! He had lost all count of the time in his peregrinations of the night.
"I comes in here and tells the young lady as how you wouldn't be back last night, sir," the old woman continued, "and she says, 'Oh,' she says, 'then, where shall I go?' she says. 'Why don't you go home, my dear?' says I, 'and pop round and see the master in the morning,' I says, thinking the pore young lady lives about here. And then she tells me as how she come all the way from Lunnon and walked up from the station. As well you know, sir, the last train up leaves Wentfield Station at five minutes to nine, and so the pore young lady couldn't get back that night. So here she had to stop. I got the spare room ready for her and lit a nice fire and all, but she wouldn't go to bed not until she had seen you. I do hope as how I've not done wrong, sir. I says to Mr. Hill, I says..."
Desmond held up his hand to restrain her toothless babble. Nur-el-Din had stirred and was sitting up, rubbing her eyes. Then she caught sight of Desmond and scrambled rather unsteadily to her feet.
"Monsieur Bellward?" she said in French, "oh, how glad I am to see you!"
"All right, Martha," said Desmond, "see that the spare room is ready for this lady, and don't go to bed just yet. I shall want you to take this lady to her room."
The old woman hobbled away, leaving the two alone. As soon as the door had closed behind her, Nur-el-Din exclaimed:
"You know me; hein!"
Desmond bowed in the most correct Continental manner.
"Who does not know the charming Nur-el-Din?" he replied.
"No!" Nur-el-Din commanded with flashing eyes, "no, not that name! I am Madame Le Bon, you, understand, a Belgian refugee, from Termonde!"
Rather taken aback by her imperious manner, Desmond bowed again but said nothing.
"I received your letter," the dancer resumed, "but I did not answer it as I did not require your assistance. But now I wish your help. It is unfortunate that you were absent from home at the very time I counted upon your aid."
She flashed a glance at him as though awaiting an apology.
"I am extremely sorry," said Desmond, "if I had but known..."
Nur-el-Din nodded carelessly.
"I wish to pass the night here," she went on, "in fact, I may be here for several days. They are becoming inconvenient in London, you understand."
"But the theatre, your professional engagements?"
"Bah, I have left the theatre. I have had enough of these stupid English people... they know nothing of art!"
Desmond reflected a moment. Nur-el-Din's manner was most perplexing. What on earth could induce her to adopt this tone of condescension towards him? It nettled him. He resolved to try and find out on what it was based.
"I am only too happy to be of assistance to you," he said, "especially in view of the letter of introduction you sent me, but I must tell you plainly that what you ask is impossible."
"Impossible?" repeated Nur-el-Din, stamping her feet. "Impossible? Do you know what you are saying?"
"Perfectly," replied Desmond negligently. "Obviously, you must stay here for the rest of the night since you cannot return to London until the trains start running, but to stay here indefinitely as you propose to do is out of the question. People would talk!"
"Then it is your business to see that they don't!"
"Your letter of introduction came from one whom I am always anxious to oblige," Desmond went on. "but the service he is authorized to claim from me does not entitle him to jeopardize my other activities."
He drew a breath. It was a long shot. Would it draw her?
It did. Nur-el-Din fumbled in her bag, produced a leather pocket-book and from it produced a slip of paper folded
"She had her dinner here by the fire," old Martha resumed her narrative, "and about a quarter past nine comes your second tellygram, sir, saying as how you could not arrive till five o'clock in the morning."
Desmond glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. The hands pointed to a quarter past five! He had lost all count of the time in his peregrinations of the night.
"I comes in here and tells the young lady as how you wouldn't be back last night, sir," the old woman continued, "and she says, 'Oh,' she says, 'then, where shall I go?' she says. 'Why don't you go home, my dear?' says I, 'and pop round and see the master in the morning,' I says, thinking the pore young lady lives about here. And then she tells me as how she come all the way from Lunnon and walked up from the station. As well you know, sir, the last train up leaves Wentfield Station at five minutes to nine, and so the pore young lady couldn't get back that night. So here she had to stop. I got the spare room ready for her and lit a nice fire and all, but she wouldn't go to bed not until she had seen you. I do hope as how I've not done wrong, sir. I says to Mr. Hill, I says..."
Desmond held up his hand to restrain her toothless babble. Nur-el-Din had stirred and was sitting up, rubbing her eyes. Then she caught sight of Desmond and scrambled rather unsteadily to her feet.
"Monsieur Bellward?" she said in French, "oh, how glad I am to see you!"
"All right, Martha," said Desmond, "see that the spare room is ready for this lady, and don't go to bed just yet. I shall want you to take this lady to her room."
The old woman hobbled away, leaving the two alone. As soon as the door had closed behind her, Nur-el-Din exclaimed:
"You know me; hein!"
Desmond bowed in the most correct Continental manner.
"Who does not know the charming Nur-el-Din?" he replied.
"No!" Nur-el-Din commanded with flashing eyes, "no, not that name! I am Madame Le Bon, you, understand, a Belgian refugee, from Termonde!"
Rather taken aback by her imperious manner, Desmond bowed again but said nothing.
"I received your letter," the dancer resumed, "but I did not answer it as I did not require your assistance. But now I wish your help. It is unfortunate that you were absent from home at the very time I counted upon your aid."
She flashed a glance at him as though awaiting an apology.
"I am extremely sorry," said Desmond, "if I had but known..."
Nur-el-Din nodded carelessly.
"I wish to pass the night here," she went on, "in fact, I may be here for several days. They are becoming inconvenient in London, you understand."
"But the theatre, your professional engagements?"
"Bah, I have left the theatre. I have had enough of these stupid English people... they know nothing of art!"
Desmond reflected a moment. Nur-el-Din's manner was most perplexing. What on earth could induce her to adopt this tone of condescension towards him? It nettled him. He resolved to try and find out on what it was based.
"I am only too happy to be of assistance to you," he said, "especially in view of the letter of introduction you sent me, but I must tell you plainly that what you ask is impossible."
"Impossible?" repeated Nur-el-Din, stamping her feet. "Impossible? Do you know what you are saying?"
"Perfectly," replied Desmond negligently. "Obviously, you must stay here for the rest of the night since you cannot return to London until the trains start running, but to stay here indefinitely as you propose to do is out of the question. People would talk!"
"Then it is your business to see that they don't!"
"Your letter of introduction came from one whom I am always anxious to oblige," Desmond went on. "but the service he is authorized to claim from me does not entitle him to jeopardize my other activities."
He drew a breath. It was a long shot. Would it draw her?
It did. Nur-el-Din fumbled in her bag, produced a leather pocket-book and from it produced a slip of paper folded