The Clue of the Twisted Candle [59]
He was held up at almost every crossing and though he might have used his authority to obtain right of way, it was a step which his curious sense of honesty prevented him taking. He leapt out of the cab before it stopped, thrust the fare into the driver's hands and looked round for the girl. He saw her at last and walked quickly towards her. As he approached her, she turned about and with an almost imperceptible beckoning gesture walked away. He followed her along the Bayswater Road and gradually drew level.
"I am afraid I have been watched," she said in a low voice. "Will you call a cab?"
He hailed a passing taxi, helped her in and gave at random the first place that suggested itself to him, which was Finsbury Park.
"I am very worried," she said, "and I don't know anybody who can help me except you."
"Is it money?" he asked.
"Money," she said scornfully, "of course it isn't money. I want to show you a letter," she said after a while.
She took it from her bag and gave it to him and he struck a match and read it with difficulty.
It was written in a studiously uneducated hand.
"Dear Miss,
"I know who you are. You are wanted by the police but I will not give you away. Dear Miss. I am very hard up and 20 pounds will be very useful to me and I shall not trouble you again. Dear Miss. Put the money on the window sill of your room. I know you sleep on the ground floor and I will come in and take it. And if not - well, I don't want to make any trouble.
"Yours truly, "A FRIEND."
"When did you get this?" he asked.
"This morning," she replied. "I sent the Agony to the paper by telegram, I knew you would come."
"Oh, you did, did you?" he said.
Her assurance was very pleasing to him. The faith that her words implied gave him an odd little feeling of comfort and happiness.
"I can easily get you out of this," he added; "give me your address and when the gentleman comes - "
"That is impossible," she replied hurriedly. "Please don't think I'm ungrateful, and don't think I'm being silly - you do think I'm being silly, don't you!"
"I have never harboured such an unworthy thought," he said virtuously.
"Yes, you have," she persisted, "but really I can't tell you where I am living. I have a very special reason for not doing so. It's not myself that I'm thinking about, but there's a life involved."
This was a somewhat dramatic statement to make and she felt she had gone too far.
"Perhaps I don't mean that," she said, "but there is some one I care for - " she dropped her voice.
"Oh," said T. X. blankly.
He came down from his rosy heights into the shadow and darkness of a sunless valley.
"Some one you care for," he repeated after a while.
"Yes."
There was another long silence, then,
"Oh, indeed," said T. X.
Again the unbroken interval of quiet and after a while she said in a low voice, "Not that way."
"Not what way!" asked T. X. huskily, his spirits doing a little mountaineering.
"The way you mean," she said.
"Oh," said T. X.
He was back again amidst the rosy snows of dawn, was in fact climbing a dizzy escalier on the topmost height of hope's Mont Blanc when she pulled the ladder from under him.
"I shall, of course, never marry," she said with a certain prim decision.
T. X. fell with a dull sickening thud, discovering that his rosy snows were not unlike cold, hard ice in their lack of resilience.
"Who said you would?" he asked somewhat feebly, but in self defence.
"You did," she said, and her audacity took his breath away.
"Well, how am I to help you!" he asked after a while.
"By giving me some advice," she said; "do you think I ought to put the money there!"
"Indeed I do not," said T. X., recovering some of his natural dominance; "apart from the fact that you would be compounding a felony, you would merely be laying out trouble for yourself in the future. If he can get 20 pounds so easily, he will come for 40 pounds. But
"I am afraid I have been watched," she said in a low voice. "Will you call a cab?"
He hailed a passing taxi, helped her in and gave at random the first place that suggested itself to him, which was Finsbury Park.
"I am very worried," she said, "and I don't know anybody who can help me except you."
"Is it money?" he asked.
"Money," she said scornfully, "of course it isn't money. I want to show you a letter," she said after a while.
She took it from her bag and gave it to him and he struck a match and read it with difficulty.
It was written in a studiously uneducated hand.
"Dear Miss,
"I know who you are. You are wanted by the police but I will not give you away. Dear Miss. I am very hard up and 20 pounds will be very useful to me and I shall not trouble you again. Dear Miss. Put the money on the window sill of your room. I know you sleep on the ground floor and I will come in and take it. And if not - well, I don't want to make any trouble.
"Yours truly, "A FRIEND."
"When did you get this?" he asked.
"This morning," she replied. "I sent the Agony to the paper by telegram, I knew you would come."
"Oh, you did, did you?" he said.
Her assurance was very pleasing to him. The faith that her words implied gave him an odd little feeling of comfort and happiness.
"I can easily get you out of this," he added; "give me your address and when the gentleman comes - "
"That is impossible," she replied hurriedly. "Please don't think I'm ungrateful, and don't think I'm being silly - you do think I'm being silly, don't you!"
"I have never harboured such an unworthy thought," he said virtuously.
"Yes, you have," she persisted, "but really I can't tell you where I am living. I have a very special reason for not doing so. It's not myself that I'm thinking about, but there's a life involved."
This was a somewhat dramatic statement to make and she felt she had gone too far.
"Perhaps I don't mean that," she said, "but there is some one I care for - " she dropped her voice.
"Oh," said T. X. blankly.
He came down from his rosy heights into the shadow and darkness of a sunless valley.
"Some one you care for," he repeated after a while.
"Yes."
There was another long silence, then,
"Oh, indeed," said T. X.
Again the unbroken interval of quiet and after a while she said in a low voice, "Not that way."
"Not what way!" asked T. X. huskily, his spirits doing a little mountaineering.
"The way you mean," she said.
"Oh," said T. X.
He was back again amidst the rosy snows of dawn, was in fact climbing a dizzy escalier on the topmost height of hope's Mont Blanc when she pulled the ladder from under him.
"I shall, of course, never marry," she said with a certain prim decision.
T. X. fell with a dull sickening thud, discovering that his rosy snows were not unlike cold, hard ice in their lack of resilience.
"Who said you would?" he asked somewhat feebly, but in self defence.
"You did," she said, and her audacity took his breath away.
"Well, how am I to help you!" he asked after a while.
"By giving me some advice," she said; "do you think I ought to put the money there!"
"Indeed I do not," said T. X., recovering some of his natural dominance; "apart from the fact that you would be compounding a felony, you would merely be laying out trouble for yourself in the future. If he can get 20 pounds so easily, he will come for 40 pounds. But