The Malefactor [74]
one has never had any. All these closed doors may hide no end of interesting people, and I have never seen a soul go in or out. How did you like all this climbing?"
"I'm afraid I didn't appreciate it," he admitted.
"Perhaps you won't come to see me again, then?" she asked. "I hope you will."
"I will come," he said a little stiffly, "with pleasure!"
They were on the ground floor, and Juliet opened the door. Wingrave's motor was outside, and the man touched his hat. She gave a little breathless cry.
"It isn't yours?" she exclaimed.
"Certainly," he answered. "Do you want to come and look at it?"
"Rather!" she exclaimed. "I have never seen one close to in my life."
He hesitated.
"I'll take you a little way, if you like," he said.
Her cheeks were pink with excitement.
"If I like! And I've never been in one before! I'll fly up for my hat. I sha'n't be a moment."
She was already halfway up the first flight of stairs, with a whirl of skirts and flying feet. Wingrave lit a cigarette and stood for a moment thoughtfully upon the pavement. Then he shrugged his shoulders. His face had grown a little harder.
"She must take her chances," he muttered. "No one knows her. Nobody is likely to find out who she is."
She was down again in less time than seemed possible. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright with excitement. Wingrave took the wheel himself, and she sat up by his side. They glided off almost noiselessly.
"We will go up to the Park," he said. "It is just the time to see the people."
"Anywhere!" she exclaimed. "This is too lovely!"
They passed from Battersea northwards into Piccadilly, and down into the Park. Juliet was too excited to talk; Wingrave had enough to do to drive the car. They passed plenty of people who bowed, and many who glanced with wondering admiration at the beautiful girl who sat by Wingrave's side. Lady Ruth, who drive by quickly in a barouche, almost rose from her seat; the Marchioness, whose victoria they passed, had time to wave her hand and flash a quick, searching glance at Juliet, who returned it with her dark eyes filled with admiration. The Marchioness smiled to herself a little sadly as the car shot away ahead.
"If one asked," she murmured to herself, "he would try to persuade one that it was another victim."
NEMESIS AT WORK
Wingrave was present that evening at a reception given by the Prime Minister to some distinguished foreign guests. He had scarcely exchanged the usual courtesies with his host and hostess before Lady Ruth, leaning over from a little group, whispered in his ear.
"Please take me away. I am bored. I want to talk to you."
He paused at once. Lady Ruth nodded to her friends.
"Mr. Wingrave is going to take me to hear Melba sing," she said. "See you all again, I suppose, at Hereford House!"
They made slow progress through the crowded rooms. Once or twice Wingrave fancied that his companion hung a little heavily upon his arm. She showed no desire to talk. She even answered a remark of his in a monosyllable. Only when they passed the Marchioness, on the arm of one of the foreign guests in whose honor the reception was given, she seemed to shiver a little, and her grasp upon his arm was tightened. Once, in a block, she was forced to speak to some acquaintances, and during those few seconds, Wingrave studied her curiously. She was absolutely colorless, and her strange brilliant eyes seemed to have lost all their fire. Her gown was black, and the decorations of her hair were black except for a single diamond. There was something almost spectral about her appearance. She walked stiffly--for the moment she had lost the sinuous grace of movement which had been one of her many fascinations. Her neck and shoulders alone remained, as ever, dazzlingly beautiful.
They reached a quiet corner at last. Lady Ruth sank with a little gesture of relief into an easy chair. Wingrave stood before her.
"You are tired tonight," he remarked.
"I am always tired," she answered wearily. "I begin to think that I always shall be."
"I'm afraid I didn't appreciate it," he admitted.
"Perhaps you won't come to see me again, then?" she asked. "I hope you will."
"I will come," he said a little stiffly, "with pleasure!"
They were on the ground floor, and Juliet opened the door. Wingrave's motor was outside, and the man touched his hat. She gave a little breathless cry.
"It isn't yours?" she exclaimed.
"Certainly," he answered. "Do you want to come and look at it?"
"Rather!" she exclaimed. "I have never seen one close to in my life."
He hesitated.
"I'll take you a little way, if you like," he said.
Her cheeks were pink with excitement.
"If I like! And I've never been in one before! I'll fly up for my hat. I sha'n't be a moment."
She was already halfway up the first flight of stairs, with a whirl of skirts and flying feet. Wingrave lit a cigarette and stood for a moment thoughtfully upon the pavement. Then he shrugged his shoulders. His face had grown a little harder.
"She must take her chances," he muttered. "No one knows her. Nobody is likely to find out who she is."
She was down again in less time than seemed possible. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright with excitement. Wingrave took the wheel himself, and she sat up by his side. They glided off almost noiselessly.
"We will go up to the Park," he said. "It is just the time to see the people."
"Anywhere!" she exclaimed. "This is too lovely!"
They passed from Battersea northwards into Piccadilly, and down into the Park. Juliet was too excited to talk; Wingrave had enough to do to drive the car. They passed plenty of people who bowed, and many who glanced with wondering admiration at the beautiful girl who sat by Wingrave's side. Lady Ruth, who drive by quickly in a barouche, almost rose from her seat; the Marchioness, whose victoria they passed, had time to wave her hand and flash a quick, searching glance at Juliet, who returned it with her dark eyes filled with admiration. The Marchioness smiled to herself a little sadly as the car shot away ahead.
"If one asked," she murmured to herself, "he would try to persuade one that it was another victim."
NEMESIS AT WORK
Wingrave was present that evening at a reception given by the Prime Minister to some distinguished foreign guests. He had scarcely exchanged the usual courtesies with his host and hostess before Lady Ruth, leaning over from a little group, whispered in his ear.
"Please take me away. I am bored. I want to talk to you."
He paused at once. Lady Ruth nodded to her friends.
"Mr. Wingrave is going to take me to hear Melba sing," she said. "See you all again, I suppose, at Hereford House!"
They made slow progress through the crowded rooms. Once or twice Wingrave fancied that his companion hung a little heavily upon his arm. She showed no desire to talk. She even answered a remark of his in a monosyllable. Only when they passed the Marchioness, on the arm of one of the foreign guests in whose honor the reception was given, she seemed to shiver a little, and her grasp upon his arm was tightened. Once, in a block, she was forced to speak to some acquaintances, and during those few seconds, Wingrave studied her curiously. She was absolutely colorless, and her strange brilliant eyes seemed to have lost all their fire. Her gown was black, and the decorations of her hair were black except for a single diamond. There was something almost spectral about her appearance. She walked stiffly--for the moment she had lost the sinuous grace of movement which had been one of her many fascinations. Her neck and shoulders alone remained, as ever, dazzlingly beautiful.
They reached a quiet corner at last. Lady Ruth sank with a little gesture of relief into an easy chair. Wingrave stood before her.
"You are tired tonight," he remarked.
"I am always tired," she answered wearily. "I begin to think that I always shall be."