The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [4958]
Her own words reminded her of her humiliation, and tears came into her eyes.
"He threw me over! Honest he did. That's why I threw his watch out of the window. That's straight, Rudolph. That's straight goods. I'm not lying now."
"God!" said Rudolph. "The dirty pup. Then - then you're through with him, eh?"
"I'm through, all right."
Her tone carried conviction. Rudolph's face relaxed, and seeing that, she remembered her half-dressed condition.
"Throw me that waist," she said.
"Come around and get it."
"Aw, Rudolph, throw it. Please!"
"Getting modest, all at once," he jeered. But he picked it up and advanced to the table with it. As she held out her hand for it he caught her and drew her forward toward him, across the table.
"You little devil!" he said, and kissed her.
She submitted, because she must, but she shivered. If she was to save Graham she must play the game. And so far she was winning. She was feminine enough to know that already the thing he thought she had done was to be forgiven her. More than that, she saw a half-reluctant admiration in Rudolph's eyes, as though she had gained value, if she had lost virtue, by the fact that young Spencer had fancied her. And Rudolph's morals were the morals of many of his kind. He admired chastity in a girl, but he did not expect it.
But she was watchful for the next move he might make. That it was not what she expected did not make it the less terrifying.
"You get your hat and coat on."
"I'll not do anything of the kind."
"D'you think I'm going to leave you here, where he can come back whenever he wants to? You think again!"
"Where are you going to take me?"
"I'm going to take you home."
When pleading made no impression on him, and when he refused to move without her, she threw her small wardrobe into the suitcase, and put her hat and coat on. She was past thinking, quite hopeless. She would go back, and her father would kill her, which would be the best thing anyhow; she didn't care to live.
Rudolph had relapsed into moody silence. Down the stairs, and on the street he preceded her, contemptuously letting her trail behind. He carried her suitcase, however, and once, being insecurely fastened, it opened and bits of untidy apparel littered the pavement. He dropped the suitcase and stood by while she filled it again. The softness of that moment, when, lured by her bare arms he had kissed her, was gone.
The night car jolted and swayed. After a time he dozed, and Anna, watching him, made an attempt at flight. He caught her on the rear platform, however, with a clutch that sickened her. The conductor eyed them with the scant curiosity of two o'clock in the morning, when all the waking world is awry.
At last they were climbing the hill to the cottage, while behind and below them the Spencer furnaces sent out their orange and violet flames, and the roar of the blast sounded like the coming of a mighty wind.
The cottage was dark. Rudolph put down the suitcase, and called Herman softly through his hands. Above they could hear him moving, and his angry voice came through the open window.
"What you want?"
"Come down. It's Rudolph."
But when he turned Anna was lying in a dead faint on the garden path, a crumpled little heap of blissful forgetfulness. When Herman came down, it was to find Rudolph standing over her, the suitcase still in his hand, and an ugly scowl on his face.
"Well, I got her," he said. "She's scared, that's all." He prodded her with his foot, but she did not move, and Herman bent down with his candle.
He straightened.
"Bring her in," he said, and led the way into the house. When Rudolph staggered in, with Anna in his arms, he found Herman waiting and fingering the leather strap.
CHAPTER XXXVI
Audrey had found something to do at last. It was Captain Sloane who had given her the idea.
"You would make a great hit, Audrey," he had said. "It's your voice, you know. There's something about it - well,