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diff --git a/26596.txt b/26596.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4a5e919 --- /dev/null +++ b/26596.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9226 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Anna the Adventuress, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Anna the Adventuress + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Release Date: September 11, 2008 [EBook #26596] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA THE ADVENTURESS *** + + + + +Produced by D. Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + + ANNA + THE ADVENTURESS + + By + + E. Phillips Oppenheim + + AUTHOR OF "THE SECRET", "THE TRAITORS", ETC. + + WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED + LONDON AND MELBOURNE + + + + + MADE IN ENGLAND + + _Printed in Great Britain by C. Tinling & Co., Ltd., + Liverpool, London and Prescot._ + + + + +ABOUT THE STORY + + +Annabel Pellissier, for reasons of her own, allows Sir John +Ferringhall to believe that she is her sister Anna. Anna lets the +deception continue and has to bear the burden of her sister's +reputation which, in Paris at any rate, is that of being a coquette. +Endless complications ensue when both sisters return to London. + +This is one of the late E. Phillips Oppenheim's most intriguing +stories. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER PAGE + + I THE CARPET-KNIGHT AND THE LADY 7 + II THE ADVENTURE OF ANNABEL 15 + III ANNA? OR ANNABEL? 20 + IV THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST 26 + V "ALCIDE" 31 + VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION 36 + VII MISS PELLISSIER'S SUSPICIONS 41 + VIII "WHITE'S" 45 + IX BRENDON'S LUCK 54 + X THE TRAGEDY OF AN APPETITE 61 + XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON 66 + XII THE POSTER OF "ALCIDE" 70 + XIII "HE WILL NOT FORGET!" 76 + XIV "THIS IS MY WIFE" 81 + XV A MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE 89 + XVI THE DISCOMFITURE OF SIR JOHN 96 + XVII THE CHANGE IN "ALCIDE" 103 + XVIII ANNABEL AND "ALCIDE" 109 + XIX "THIS IS NOT THE END" 115 + XX ANNA'S SURRENDER 121 + XXI HER SISTER'S SECRET 126 + XXII AN OLD FOOL 134 + XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST 138 + XXIV A CASE FOR THE POLICE 144 + XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH 150 + XXVI ANNABEL IS WARNED 156 + XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN 162 + XXVIII THE HISSING OF "ALCIDE" 169 + XXIX MONTAGUE HILL PLAYS THE GAME 174 + XXX SIR JOHN'S NECKTIE 178 + XXXI ANNA'S TEA PARTY 183 + XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER 188 + + + + +ANNA THE ADVENTURESS + + + + +_Chapter I_ + +THE CARPET-KNIGHT AND THE LADY + + +The girl paused and steadied herself for a moment against a field +gate. Her breath came fast in little sobbing pants. Her dainty shoes +were soiled with dust and there was a great tear in her skirt. Very +slowly, very fearfully, she turned her head. Her cheeks were the +colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. If a cart were +coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was +impossible. + +The terror faded from her eyes. A faint gleam of returning colour gave +her at once a more natural appearance. So far as the eye could reach, +the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. Away +off in the fields the blue-smocked peasants bent still at their toil. +They had heard nothing, seen nothing. A few more minutes, and she was +safe. + +Yet before she turned once more to resume her flight she schooled +herself with an effort to look where it had happened. A dark mass of +wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the +ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of +which the bark had been torn and stripped. A few yards further off +something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity +twisted into a strange unnatural shape. Again the chalky pallor spread +even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror. She +withdrew her head with a little moan, and resumed her flight. Away up +on the hillside was the little country railway station. She fixed her +eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow +of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the +valley for the white smoke of the train. + +She reached the station, and mingling with a crowd of excursionists +who had come from the river on the other side, took her place in the +train unnoticed. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. +Until the last moment she was afraid. + +Arrived in Paris she remembered that she had not the money for a +_fiacre_. She was in ill trim for walking, but somehow or other she +made her way as far as the Champs Elysees, and sank down upon an empty +seat. + +She had not at first the power for concealment. Her nerves were +shattered, her senses dazed by this unexpected shock. She sat there, a +mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering +glances. Paris was full, and it was by no means a retired spot which +she had found. Yet she never once thought of changing it. A person of +somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her +life perfectly natural. Terror had laid a paralyzing hand upon her, +fear kept her almost unconscious of the curious glances which she was +continually attracting. + +Then there came briskly along the path towards her, an Englishman. He +was perhaps forty-five years of age. He was dressed with the utmost +care, and he set his feet upon the broad walk as though the action +were in some way a condescension. He was alert, well-groomed, and +yet--perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type--there was +a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. He too looked +at the girl, slackened his pace and looked at her again through his +eye-glasses, looked over his shoulder after he had passed, and finally +came to a dead stop. He scratched his upper lip reflectively. + +It was a habit of his to talk to himself. In the present case it did +not matter, as there was no one else within earshot. + +"Dear me!" he said. "Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do. She is +English! I am sure of that. She is English, and apparently in some +distress. I wonder----" + +He turned slowly round. He was inclined to be a good-natured person, +and he had no nervous fears of receiving a snub. The girl was pretty, +and apparently a lady. + +"She cannot be aware," he continued, "that she is making herself +conspicuous. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a +hint--a fellow countrywoman too. I trust that she will not +misunderstand me. I believe--I believe that I must risk it." + +He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice +lowered to a convenient pitch. + +"I beg your pardon," he said, "but you appear to be a +fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. Can I be of any +assistance? I can assure you that it would give me very much +pleasure." + +Her first upward glance was one of terrified apprehension. When she +saw however that this man was a stranger, and obviously harmless, her +expression changed as though by magic. A delicate flush of colour +streamed into her cheeks. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again +with timid interest. Her natural instincts reasserted themselves. She +began to act. + +"You are very kind," she said hesitatingly, "but I don't remember--I +don't think that I know you, do I?" + +"I am afraid that you do not," he admitted, with a smile which he +meant to be encouraging. "You remind me of the story which they tell +against us over here, you know--of the Englishman who refused to be +saved from drowning because he was unacquainted with his rescuer. +Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Ferringhall--Sir John +Ferringhall." + +There was genuine interest in her eyes now. Sir John saw it, and was +flattered. + +"You are Sir John Ferringhall," she repeated. "Yes, I remember you +now. You were pointed out to me at--a few nights ago." + +He was not in the least surprised. A millionaire and a knight, even +though his money has been made in carpets, is used to being a person +of interest. + +"Very likely," he answered. "I am fairly well known here. I must +apologize, I suppose, for speaking to you, but your appearance +certainly indicated that you were in some sort of trouble, and you +were becoming--pardon me--an object of comment to the passers-by." + +The girl sat up and looked at him with a curious twist at the corners +of her mouth--humorous or pathetic, he could not tell which. As though +accidentally she swept her skirts from a chair close drawn to her own. +Sir John hesitated. She was marvellously pretty, but he was not quite +sure--yet--that it was advisable for him to sit with her in so public +a place. His inclinations prompted him most decidedly to take the +vacant chair. Prudence reminded him that he was a county magistrate, +and parliamentary candidate for a somewhat difficult borough, where +his principal supporters were dissenters of strict principles who took +a zealous interest in his moral character. He temporized, and the girl +raised her eyes once more to his. + +"You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, +are you not?" she remarked. "My father's sisters used once to live in +the old manor house. I believe you have had it pulled down, have you +not?" + +"The Misses Pellissier!" he exclaimed. "Then your name----" + +"My name is Pellissier. My father was Colonel Pellissier. He had an +appointment in Jersey, you know, after he left the army." + +Sir John did not hesitate any longer. He sat down. + +"Upon my word," he exclaimed, "this is most extraordinary. I----" + +Then he stopped short, for he began to remember things. He was not +quite sure whether, after all, he had been wise. He would have risen +again, but for the significance of the action. + +"Dear me!" he said. "Then some of your family history is known to me. +One of your aunts died, I believe, and the other removed to London." + +The girl nodded. + +"She is living there now," she remarked. + +"Your father is dead too, I believe," he continued, "and your mother." + +"Two years ago," she answered. "They died within a few months of one +another." + +"Very sad--very sad indeed," he remarked uneasily. "I remember hearing +something about it. I believe that the common report was that you and +your sister had come to Paris to study painting." + +She assented gently. + +"We have a small studio," she murmured, "in the Rue de St. Pierre." + +Sir John looked at her sideways. Her eyes were fixed upon the ground, +the pink colour coming and going in her cheeks was very delicate and +girlish. After all, this could never be the black sheep. He had been +quite right to sit down. It was astonishing how seldom it was that his +instincts betrayed him. He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction. + +"Come," he continued, "the world after all is a very small place. We +are not altogether strangers, are we? I feel that under the +circumstances I have the right to offer you my advice, and if +necessary my help. I beg that you will consider me your friend." + +She looked at him with fluttering eyelids--sweetly grateful. It was +such an unexpected stroke of fortune. Sir John was not used to such +glances, and he liked them. + +"It is so difficult," she murmured, "so impossible to explain. Even to +my own brother--if I had one--I could not tell everything, and you, +although you are so kind, you are almost a stranger, aren't you?" + +"No, no!" he protested. "You must not think of me as one. Try and +consider me your elder brother, or an old family friend, whichever you +like best." + +She thanked him with one of her shy little glances. More than ever Sir +John was glad that he had sat down. + +"It is very, very difficult," she continued, looking steadfastly at +the ground. "Only--I have come face to face--with something terrible, +and wholly unexpected trouble. I want to leave Paris to-day--this very +day. I want to leave it for ever." + +He looked at her very gravely. + +"But your sister?" he asked. "What of her? Have you quarrelled with +her?" + +The girl shook her head. + +"No," she answered. "I have not quarrelled with her. It is simply our +point of view which is altogether different. I want to get away--to go +to London. I cannot explain beyond that." + +"Then I am sure," Sir John declared, "that I shall not ask you. I know +nothing about the matter, but I feel convinced that you are right. You +ought to have had better advice two years ago. Paris is not the place +for two young girls. I presume that you have been living alone?" + +She sighed gently. + +"My sister," she murmured, "is so independent. She is Bohemian to the +finger-tips. She makes me feel terribly old-fashioned." + +Sir John smiled and congratulated himself upon his insight. He was so +seldom wrong. + +"The next question, Miss Anna," he said, "is how am I to help you? I +am wholly at your disposal." + +She looked up at him quickly. Her expression was a little changed, +less innocent, more discerning. + +"Anna!" she repeated. "How do you know--why do you think that my name +is Anna?" He smiled in a quietly superior way. + +"I think," he said, "that I am right. I am very good at guessing +names." + +"I am really curious," she persisted. "You must have heard--have +you--oh, tell me, won't you?" she begged. "Have you heard things?" + +The tears stood in her eyes. She leaned a little towards him. Nothing +but the publicity of the place and the recollection of that terrible +constituency kept him from attempting some perfectly respectful but +unmistakable evidence of his sympathy. + +"I am afraid," he said gravely, "that your sister has been a little +indiscreet. It is nothing at all for you to worry about." + +She looked away from him. + +"I knew," she said, in a low despairing tone, "that people would +talk." + +He coughed gently. + +"It was inevitable," he declared. "It is not, of course, a pleasant +subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture +to suggest to you that your sister's--er--indiscretions--have reached +a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity." + +She covered her face with her hands. + +"It--it--must come," she faltered. + +"I do not lay claim," he continued, "to any remarkable amount of +insight, but it is possible, is it not, that I have stumbled upon your +present cause of distress." + +"You are wonderful!" she murmured. + +He smiled complacently. + +"Not at all. This is simply a chapter of coincidences. Now what I want +you to feel is this. I want you to feel that you have found a friend +who has a strong desire to be of service to you. Treat me as an elder +brother, if you like. He is here by your side. How can he help you?" + +She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, +carpet-merchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, +deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. Perhaps the Parisian +atmosphere had affected him. He leaned towards her, laid his hand +tenderly upon hers. + +"I hope you realize," he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, +"that I am in earnest--very much in earnest. You must let me do +whatever I can for you. I shall count it a privilege." + +"I believe you," she murmured. "I trust you altogether. I am going to +take you entirely at your word. I want to leave Paris to-day. Will you +lend me the money for my ticket to London?" + +"With all the pleasure in the world," he answered heartily. "Let me +add too that I am thankful for your decision. You have somewhere to go +to in London, I hope." + +She nodded. + +"There is my aunt," she said. "The one who used to live at Lyndmore. +She will take me in until I can make some plans. It will be horribly +dull, and she is a very trying person. But anything is better than +this." + +He took out his watch. + +"Let me see," he said. "Your best route will be via Boulogne and +Folkestone at nine o'clock from the Gare du Nord. What about your +luggage?" + +"I could get a few of my things, at any rate," she said. "My sister is +sure to be out." + +"Very well," he said. "It is just six o'clock now. Supposing you fetch +what you can, and if you will allow me, I will see you off. It would +give me great pleasure if you would dine with me somewhere first." + +She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her +wrinkled forehead. It was excellently done, especially as she loved +good dinners. + +"You are very kind to think of it," she said, "but--don't you think +perhaps--that I had better not?" + +He smiled indulgently. + +"My dear child," he said, "with me you need have no apprehension. I am +almost old enough to be your father." + +She looked at him with uplifted eyebrows--a look of whimsical +incredulity. Sir John felt that after all forty-five was not so very +old. + +"That sounds quite absurd," she answered. "Yet it is my last evening, +and I think--if you are sure that you would like to have me--that I +will risk it." + +"We will go to a very quiet place," he assured her, "a place where I +have often taken my own sisters. You will be wearing your travelling +dress, and no doubt you would prefer it. Shall we say at half-past +seven?" + +She rose from her chair. + +"I will take a carriage," she said, "and fetch my things." + +"Let us say that Cafe Maston, in the Boulevard des Italiennes, at +half-past seven then," he decided. "I shall be waiting for you there, +and in the meantime, if you will help yourself--pray don't look like +that. It is a very small affair, after all, and you can pay me back if +you will." + +She took the pocket-book and looked up at him with a little impulsive +movement. Her voice shook, her eyes were very soft and melting. + +"I cannot thank you, Sir John," she said. "I shall never be able to +thank you." + +"Won't you postpone the attempt, then?" he said gallantly, "until I +have done something to deserve your gratitude? You will not +forget--seven-thirty, Cafe Maston, Boulevard des Italiennes." + +She drove off in a little _fiacre_, nodding and smiling at Sir John, +who remained upon the Avenue. He too, when she had disappeared, called +a carriage. + +"Hotel Ritz," he said mechanically to the coachman. "If only her +sister is half as pretty, no wonder that she has set the Parisians +talking." + + + + +_Chapter II_ + +THE ADVENTURE OF ANNABEL + + +The man spoke mercilessly, incisively, as a surgeon. Only he hated the +words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his +lips. Opposite, his pupil stood with bowed head and clasped hands. + +"You have the temperament," he said. "You have the ideas. Your first +treatment of a subject is always correct, always suggestive. But of +what avail is this? You have no execution, no finish. You lack only +that mechanical knack of expression which is the least important part +of an artist's equipment, but which remains a tedious and absolute +necessity. We have both tried hard to develop it--you and I--and we +have failed. It is better to face the truth." + +"Much better," she agreed. "Oh, much better." + +"Personally," he went on, "I must confess to a great disappointment. I +looked upon you from the first as the most promising of my pupils. I +overlooked the mechanical imperfections of your work, the utter lack +of finish, the crudeness of your drawing. I said to myself, 'this will +come.' It seems that I was mistaken. You cannot draw. Your fingers are +even now as stiff as a schoolgirl's. You will never be able to draw. +You have the ideas. You are an artist by the Divine right of birth, +but whatever form of expression may come to you at some time it will +not be painting. Take my advice. Burn your palette and your easel. +Give up your lonely hours of work here. Look somewhere else in life. +Depend upon it, there is a place for you--waiting. Here you only waste +your time." + +She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could +not see her face. He drew a little breath of relief. The worst was +over now. He continued tenderly, almost affectionately. + +"After all, there are great things left in the world for you. Painting +is only one slender branch of the great tree. To-night all this may +seem hard and cruel. To-morrow you will feel like a freed woman. +To-morrow I shall come and talk to you again--of other things." + +A man of infinite tact and kindness, he spoke his message and went. +The girl, with a little moan, crossed the room and threw open the +window. + +She looked steadfastly out. Paris, always beautiful even in the +darkness, glittered away to the horizon. The lights of the Champs +Elysees and the Place de la Concorde, suggestive, brilliant, +seductive, shone like an army of fireflies against the deep cool +background of the night. She stood there with white set face and +nervously clenched fingers. The echo of those kindly words seemed +still to ring in her ears. She was crushed with a sense of her own +terrible impotency. A failure! She must write herself down a failure! +At her age, with her ambitions, with her artistic temperament and +creative instincts, she was yet to be denied all coherent means of +expression. She was to fall back amongst the ruck, a young woman of +talent, content perhaps to earn a scanty living by painting Christmas +cards, or teaching at a kindergarten. Her finger-nails dug into her +flesh. It was the bitterest moment of her life. She flung herself back +into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. In a momentary +fury she seized and tore in pieces the study which remained upon the +easel. The pieces fell to the ground in a little white shower. It was +the end, she told herself, fiercely. And then, as she stood there, +with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught +upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a +light tune. + +The newcomer stopped short upon the threshold. + +"Anna! What tragedy has happened, little sister? No lights, no supper, +no coffee--and, above all, no Mr. Courtlaw. How dreary it all looks. +Never mind. Come and help me pack. I'm off to England." + +"Annabel, are you mad? To England! You are joking, of course. But come +in, dear. I will light the stove, and there shall be some coffee +presently." + +"Coffee! Bah!" + +The newcomer picked her way across the floor with daintily uplifted +skirts, and subsided into a deck chair of stretched canvas. + +"I will not rob you of your coffee, most dutiful of sisters!" she +exclaimed. "I have had adventures--oh, more than one, I can assure +you. It has been a marvellous day--and I am going to England." + +Anna looked at her sister gravely. Even in her painting smock and with +her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was +marvellous. + +"The adventures I do not doubt, Annabel," she said. "They seem to +come to you as naturally as disappointment--to other people. But to +England! What has happened, then?" + +Already the terror of a few hours ago seemed to have passed away from +the girl who leaned back so lazily in her chair, watching the tip of +her patent shoe swing backwards and forwards. She could even think of +what had happened. Very soon she would be able to forget it. + +"Happened! Oh, many things," she declared indolently. "The most +important is that I have a new admirer." + +The wonderful likeness between the two girls was never less noticeable +than at that moment. Anna stood looking down upon her sister with +grave perturbed face. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of +insolent _abandon_ in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never +flinched or drooped. One realized indeed then where the differences +lay; the tender curves about Anna's mouth transformed into hard sharp +lines in Annabel's, the eyes of one, truthful and frank, the other's +more beautiful but with less expression--windows lit with dazzling +light, but through which one saw--nothing. + +"A new admirer, Annabel? But what has that to do with your going to +England?" + +"Everything! He is Sir John Ferringhall--very stupid, very +respectable, very egotistical. But, after all, what does that matter? +He is very much taken with me. He tries hard to conceal it, but he +cannot." + +"Then why," Anna asked quietly, "do you run away? It is not like you." + +Annabel laughed softly. + +"How unkind!" she exclaimed. "Still, since it is better to tell you, +Sir John is very much in earnest, but his respectability is something +altogether too overpowering. Of course I knew all about him years ago, +and he is exactly like everybody's description of him. I am afraid, +Anna, just a little afraid, that in Paris I and my friends here might +seem a trifle advanced. Besides, he might hear things. That is why I +called myself Anna." + +"You--you did what?" Anna exclaimed. + +"Called myself Anna," the girl repeated coolly. "It can't make any +difference to you, and there are not half a dozen people in Paris who +could tell us apart." + +Anna tried to look angry, but her mouth betrayed her. Instead, she +laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down +her cheeks. + +"You little wretch!" she exclaimed weakly. "Why should I bear the +burden of your wickedness? Who knows what might come of it? I shall +permit nothing of the sort." + +Annabel shrugged her shoulders. + +"Too late, my dear girl," she exclaimed. "I gave your name. I called +myself Anna. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. +Three little letters can't make a bit of difference." + +"But it may matter very much indeed," Anna declared. "Perhaps for +myself I do not mind, but this man is sure to find out some day, and +he will not like having been deceived. Tell him the truth, Annabel." + +"The truth!" + +There was a brief but intense silence. Anna felt that her words had +become charged with a fuller and more subtle meaning than any which +she had intended to impart. "The truth!" It was a moment of +awkwardness between the two sisters--a moment, too, charged with its +own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which +for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult +thing. It was Annabel who spoke. + +"How crude you are, Anna!" she exclaimed with a little sigh. "Sir John +is not at all that sort. He is the kind of man who would much prefer a +little dust in his eyes. But heavens, I must pack!" + +She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which +she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled +hair. + +"It is positively no use, Anna," she declared, appealingly. "You must +pack for me. I am sorry, but you have spoilt me. I can't do it even +decently myself, and I dare not run the risk of ruining all my +clothes." + +Anna laughed, gave in and with deft fingers created order out of +chaos. Soon the trunk, portmanteau and hat box were ready. Then she +took her sister's hand. + +"Annabel," she said, "I have never asked you for your confidence. We +have lived under the same roof, but our ways seem to have lain wide +apart. There are many things which I do not understand. Have you +anything to tell me before you go?" + +Annabel laughed lightly. + +"My dear Anna! As though I should think of depressing you with my long +list of misdeeds." + +"You have nothing to tell me?" + +"Nothing!" + +So Annabel departed with the slightest of farewells, wearing a thick +travelling veil, and sitting far back in the corner of a closed +carriage. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt +away along the cobbled street and disappear. Then she stepped back +into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the +scattered fragments of her last canvas. + +"It is a night of endings," she murmured to herself. "Perhaps for me," +she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, "a +night of beginnings." + + + + +_Chapter III_ + +ANNA? OR ANNABEL? + + +Sir John was wholly unable to understand the laugh and semi-ironical +cheer which greeted his entrance to the smoking-room of the English +Club on the following evening. He stood upon the threshold, dangling +his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly +interrogative. He wanted to know what the joke against him was--if +any. + +"May I enquire," he asked smoothly, "in what way my appearance +contributes to your amusement? If there is a joke I should like to +share it." + +A fair-haired young Englishman looked up from the depths of his easy +chair. + +"You hear him?" he remarked, looking impressively around. "A joke! +Sir John, if you had presented yourself here an hour ago we should +have greeted you in pained silence. We had not then recovered from +thef shock. Our ideal had fallen. A sense of loss was amongst us. +Drummond," he continued, looking across at his _vis-a-vis_, "we look +to you to give expression to our sentiments. Your career at the bar +had given you a command of language, also a self-control not +vouchsafed to us ordinary mortals. Explain to Sir John our feelings." + +Drummond, a few years older, dark, clean-shaven, with bright eyes and +humorous mouth, laid down his paper and turned towards Sir John. He +removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. + +"Holcroft," he remarked, "in bald language, and with the usual +limitations of his clouded intellect, has still given some slight +expression to the consternation which I believe I may say is general +amongst us. We looked upon you, my dear Sir John, with reverence, +almost with awe. You represented to us the immaculate Briton, the one +Englishman who typified the Saxonism, if I may coin a word, of our +race. We have seen great and sober-minded men come to this unholy +city, and become degenerates. We have known men who have come here for +no other purpose than to prove their unassailable virtue, who have +strode into the arena of temptation, waving the--the what is it--the +white flower of a blameless life, only to exchange it with marvellous +facility for the violets of the Parisienne. But you, Ferringhall, our +pattern, an erstwhile Sheriff of London, a county magistrate, a +prospective politician, a sober and an upright man, one who, had he +aspired to it, might even have filled the glorious position of Lord +Mayor--James, a whisky and Apollinaris at once. I cannot go on. My +feelings overpower me." + +"You all seem to be trying to pull my leg," Sir John remarked quietly. +"I suppose you'll come to the point soon--if there is one." + +Drummond shook his head in melancholy fashion. + +"He dissembles," he said. "After all, how easy the descent is, even +for the greatest of us. I hope that James will not be long with that +whisky and Apollinaris. My nerves are shaken. I require stimulant." + +Sir John seated himself deliberately. + +"I should imagine," he said, shaking out a copy of _The Times_, "that +it is your brain which is addled." + +Drummond looked up with mock eagerness. + +"This," he exclaimed, "must be either the indifference of an utterly +callous nature, or it may be--ye gods, it may be--innocence. Holcroft, +we may have been mistaken." + +"Think not," that young man remarked laconically. + +"I will put the question," Drummond said gravely. "Ferringhall, were +you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the +Boulevard des Italiennes with--_la petite_ Pellissier?" + +Now indeed Sir John was moved. He sat up in his chair as though the +question had stung him. _The Times_ slipped from his fingers. His eyes +were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed _timbre_. + +"It is true," he said, "that I was dining last night at a restaurant +in the Boulevard des Italiennes, and it is true that my companion was +a young lady whose name is Pellissier. What of it?" + +There was a shout of laughter. Sir John looked about him, and somehow +the laugh died away. If such a thing in connexion with him had been +possible they would have declared that he was in a towering rage. An +uncomfortable silence followed. Sir John once more looked around him. + +"I repeat, gentlemen," he said, in an ominously low tone, "what of +it?" + +Drummond shrugged his shoulders. + +"You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it +deserves, Ferringhall," he remarked. + +"I fail to see the joke," Sir John said. "Kindly explain it to me." + +"Certainly! The thing which appeals to our sense of humour is the fact +that you and _la petite_ Pellissier were dining together." + +"Will you tell me," Sir John said ponderously, "by what right you call +that young lady--_la petite_ Pellissier? I should be glad to know how +you dare to allude to her in a public place in such a disrespectful +manner!" + +Drummond looked at him and smiled. + +"Don't be an ass, Ferringhall," he said tersely. "Annabel Pellissier +is known to most of us. I myself have had the pleasure of dining with +her. She is very charming, and we all admire her immensely. She sings +twice a week at the 'Ambassador's' and the 'Casino Mavise'----" + +Sir John held up his hand. + +"Stop," he said. "You do not even know what you are talking about. The +young lady with whom I was dining last night was Miss Anna Pellissier. +Miss Annabel is her sister. I know nothing of that young lady." + +There was a moment's silence. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. + +"The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna," he +remarked. + +"It was not necessary," Sir John answered stiffly. "I was already +aware of the fact. I may add that the family is well known to me. The +two aunts of these young ladies lived for many years in the dower +house upon my estate in Hampshire. Under the circumstances you must +permit me to be the best judge of the identity of the young lady who +did me the honour, as an old family friend, of dining with me." + +Like most men who lie but seldom, he lied well. Drummond smoked his +cigarette meditatively. He remembered that he had heard stories about +the wonderful likeness between these two sisters, one of whom was an +artist and a recluse, whilst the other had attached herself to a very +gay and a very brilliant little _coterie_ of pleasure-seekers. There +was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. He thought it best to let +the matter drop. A few minutes later Sir John left the room. + +He walked out into the Champs Elysees and sat down. His cigar burnt +out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. He had +seldom been more perturbed. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, +thinking intently. The girl had told him distinctly that her name was +Anna. Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike. He went +over his interview with her again, their conversation at dinner-time. +She had behaved in every way perfectly. His spirits began to rise. +Drummond had made an abominable mistake. It was not possible for him +to have been deceived. He drew a little sigh of relief. + +Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person. He +was a business man, pure and simple, his eyes were fastened always +upon the practical side of life. Such ambitions as he had were +stereotyped and material. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of +sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now +unexpectedly aware. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting +there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to +assume a definite importance in his mind--a place curiously apart from +those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic +life. Somehow or other his reputation as a hardened and unassailable +bachelor had won for him during the last few years a comparative +immunity from attentions on the part of those women with whom he had +been brought into contact. It was a reputation by no means deserved. A +wife formed part of his scheme of life, for several years he had been +secretly but assiduously looking for her. In his way he was critical. +The young ladies in the somewhat mixed society amongst which he moved +neither satisfied his taste nor appealed in any way to his affections. +This girl whom he had met by chance and befriended had done both. She +possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped--the +innate charm of breeding. The Pellissiers had been an old family in +Hampshire, while his grandfather had driven a van. + +As in all things, so his thoughts came to him deliberately. He +pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her +aunt's--she had told him that it was shabby--and he recalled that +delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile +which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. She was +poor. He was heartily thankful for it. He thought of his wealth for +once from a different point of view. How much he would be able to do +for her. Flowers, theatre boxes, carriages, the "open sesame" to the +whole world of pleasure. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in +traditions of the City and money-making, very ill-skilled in all the +lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her +invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical +powers of an unlimited banking account. She should be lifted out of +her narrow little life, and it should be all owing to him. And +afterwards! Sir John drew his cigar from his lips, and looked upwards +where the white-lights flashed strangely amongst the deep cool green +of the lime-trees. His lips parted in a rare smile. Afterwards was the +most delightful part of all!... + +If only there had not been this single torturing thought--a mere +pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. Suddenly he stopped short. +He was in front of one of the more imposing of the _cafes +chantants_--opposite, illuminated with a whole row of lights, was the +wonderful poster which had helped to make "Alcide" famous. He had +looked at it before without comprehension. To-night the subtle +suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very +simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes--the inner +meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. He +stood still, almost breathless. A slow anger burned in the man. It was +debauching, this--a devilish art which drew such strange allurements +from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. +Unwillingly he drew a little nearer, and became one of the group of +loiterers about the entrance. A woman touched him lightly on the arm, +and smiled into his face. + +"Monsieur admires the poster?" + +As a rule Sir John treated such advances with cold silence. This +woman, contrary to his custom, he answered. + +"It is hateful--diabolical!" he exclaimed. + +The woman shrugged her shoulders. + +"It is a great art," she said in broken English. "The little English +girl is very fortunate. For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no +gesture, no acting, nothing. And they pay her. Monsieur is going +inside perhaps?" + +But Sir John's eyes were still riveted upon the poster, and his heart +was beating with unaccustomed force. For just as though a vague +likeness is sometimes borne swiftly in upon one, so a vague +dissimilarity between the face on the poster and the heroine of his +thoughts had slowly crept into his consciousness. He drew a little +breath and stepped back. After all, he had the means of setting this +tormenting doubt at rest. She had mentioned the address where she and +her sister had lived. He would go there. He would see this sister. He +would know the truth then once and for all. He walked hastily to the +side of the broad pavement and summoned a _fiacre_. + + + + +_Chapter IV_ + +THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST + + +"You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris," +Anna said lightly. "You may talk--if you can talk cheerfully, not +unless." + +"And you?" asked David Courtlaw. + +"Well, if I find your conversation interesting I shall listen. If not, +I have plenty to think about," she answered, leaning back in her +chair, and watching the smoke from her own cigarette curl upwards. + +"For instance?" + +She smiled. + +"How I am to earn enough _sous_ for my dinner to-morrow--or failing +that, what I can sell." + +His face darkened. + +"And yet," he said, "you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all." + +"Why not? Your spirits at least should be good. It is not you who runs +the risk of going dinnerless to-morrow." + +He turned upon her almost fiercely. + +"You know," he muttered, "you know quite well that your troubles are +far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. Do you think that I am +utterly selfish?" + +She raised her eyebrows. + +"Troubles, my friend," she exclaimed lightly. "But I have no +troubles." + +He stared at her incredulously, and she laughed very softly. + +"What a gloomy person you are!" she murmured. "You call yourself an +artist--but you have no temperament. The material cares of life hang +about your neck like a millstone. A doubt as to your dinner to-morrow +would make you miserable to-night. You know I call that positively +wicked. It is not at all what I expected either. On the whole, I think +that I have been disappointed with the life here. There is so little +_abandon_, so little real joyousness." + +"And yet," he murmured, "one of the greatest of our writers has +declared that the true spirit of Bohemianism is denied to your sex." + +"He was probably right," she declared. "Bohemianism is the least +understood word ever coined. I do not think that I have the Bohemian +spirit at all." + +He looked at her thoughtfully. She wore a plain black dress, reaching +almost to her throat--her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, +was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious +in its Sphinx-like immobility. A woman hard to read, who seemed to +delight in keeping locked up behind that fascinating rigidity of +feature the intense sensibility which had been revealed to him, her +master, only in occasional and rare moments of enthusiasm. She +reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at +others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings +away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending +her life in a convent. + +"I believe that you are right," he said softly. "It is the worst of +including in our vocabulary words which have no definite meaning, +perhaps I should say of which the meaning varies according to one's +personal point of view. You, for instance, you live, you are not +afraid to live. Yet you make our Bohemianism seem like a vulgar +thing." + +She stirred gently in her chair. + +"My friend," she said, "I have been your pupil for two years. You have +watched all the uncouth creations of my brain come sprawling out upon +the canvas, and besides, we have been companions. Yet the fact remains +that you do not understand me at all. No, not one little bit. It is +extraordinary." + +"It is," he replied, "the one humiliation of my life. My opportunities +have been immense, and my failure utter. If I had been your companion +only, and not your master, I might very well have been content to +accept you for what you seem. But there have been times, Anna, when +your work has startled me. Ill-drawn, without method or sense of +proportion, you have put wonderful things on to canvas, have drawn +them out of yourself, notwithstanding your mechanical inefficiency. +God knows how you did it. You are utterly baffling." + +She laughed at him easily and mirthfully. + +"Dear friend," she said, "do not magnify me into a physiological +problem. I should only disappoint you terribly some day. I think I +know where I am puzzling you now----" + +"Then for Heaven's sake be merciful," he exclaimed. "Lift up one +corner of the curtain for me." + +"Very well. You shall tell me if I am wrong. You see me here, an +admitted failure in the object to which I have devoted two years of my +life. You know that I am practically destitute, without means or any +certain knowledge of where my next meal is coming from. I speak +frankly, because you also know that no possible extremity would induce +me to accept help from any living person. You notice that I have +recently spent ten francs on a box of the best Russian cigarettes, and +that there are roses upon my table. You observe that I am, as usual, +fairly cheerful, and moderately amiable. It surprises you. You do not +understand, and you would like to. Very well! I will try to help you." + +Her hand hung over the side of her chair nearest to him. He looked at +it eagerly, but made no movement to take it. During all their long +comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. This +was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different +from the ways of other men as regards her sex. + +"You see, it comes after all," she continued, "from certain original +convictions which have become my religion. Rather a magniloquent term, +perhaps, but what else am I to say? One of these is that the most +absolutely selfish thing in the world is to give way to depression, to +think of one's troubles at all except of how to overcome them. I spend +many delightful hours thinking of the pleasant and beautiful things of +life. I decline to waste a single second even in considering the ugly +ones. Do you know that this becomes a habit?" + +"If you would only teach us all," he murmured, "how to acquire it." + +"I suppose people would say that it is a matter of temperament," she +continued. "With me I believe that it is more. It has become a part of +the order of my life. Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none +the better for anticipating its miseries to-day." + +"I wonder," he said, a trifle irrelevantly, "what the future has in +store for you." + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?" + +He seemed deaf to her interruption. His grey eyes burned under his +shaggy eyebrows. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more +of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in +the uncertain light. + +"You were born for great things," he said huskily. "For great +passions, for great accomplishments. Will you find your destiny, I +wonder, or will you go through life like so many others--a wanderer, +knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could +but find the way to your heart." + +She laughed gaily. + +"Dear friend," she said, "remember that you are speaking to one who +has failed in the only serious object which she has ever sought to +accomplish. My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the +ruts." + +He shook his head. + +"You were never born," he declared, "to follow the well worn roads. I +wonder," he added, after a moment's pause, "whether you ever realize +how young you are." + +"Young? I am twenty-four." + +"Yet you are very young. Anna, why will you persist in this +single-handed combat with life?" + +"Don't!" she cried. + +"But I must, I will," he answered fiercely. "Oh, I know you would stop +me if you could. This time you cannot. You are the woman I love, Anna. +Let me make your future for you. Don't be afraid that I shall stunt +it. I will give you a broad free life. You shall have room to develop, +you shall live as you will, where you will, only give me the right to +protect you, to free you from all these petty material cares." + +She laid her hand softly upon his. + +"Dear friend," she said, "do you not think that you are breaking an +unspoken compact? I am very sorry. In your heart you know quite well +that all that you have said is useless." + +"Ay," he repeated, looking away from her. "Useless--worse than +useless." + +"You are foolish," she declared, with a note of irritability in her +tone. "You would appear to be trying to destroy a comradeship which +has been very, very pleasant. For you know that I have made up my mind +to dig a little way into life single-handed. I, too, want to +understand--to walk with my head in the light. Love is a great thing, +and happiness a joy. Let me go my own way towards them. We may +meet--who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would +make the chains of roses. Listen." + +She stopped short. There was a sharp knocking at the outside door. +Courtlaw rose to his feet. + +"It is too late for visitors," she remarked. "I wonder would you mind +seeing who it is." + +Courtlaw crossed the room and threw open the door. He had come to +Anna's rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. Sir +John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still +sitting in the shadow. + +"I believe," he said stiffly, "that these are the apartments of Miss +Pellissier. I must apologize for disturbing you at such an unseemly +hour, but I should be very much obliged if Miss Pellissier would allow +me a few minutes' conversation. My name is Ferringhall--Sir John +Ferringhall." + + + + +_Chapter V_ + +"ALCIDE" + + +Courtlaw took up his hat and coat at once, but Anna motioned him to +remain. + +"Please stay," she said briefly. "Will you come in, Sir John. I +believe that I have heard my sister speak of you. This is my friend, +Mr. David Courtlaw--Sir John Ferringhall." + +Sir John acknowledged the introduction without cordiality. He entered +the room with his usual deliberation, and looked covertly about him. +He noticed the two chairs close together. Anna was still holding her +cigarette between her fingers. Her likeness to her sister gave him at +first almost a shock; a moment afterwards he was conscious of a +wonderful sense of relief. For if the likeness between the sisters was +remarkable, the likeness between this girl and the poster which he had +come from studying was more remarkable still. + +"I must repeat," Sir John said, "that I much regret disturbing you at +such an unseemly hour. My only excuse is that I missed my way here, +and I am leaving Paris early to-morrow morning." + +"If your business with me is of any importance," Anna said calmly, "it +does not matter in the least about the hour. Have you brought me a +message from my sister? I understood, I believe, that she was seeing +you last night." + +"Your sister," he answered, "did me the honour of dining with me last +night." + +"Yes." + +After all, it was not so easy. The girl's eyes never left his face. +She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand. +Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would +leave. + +"I believe," he said slowly, "that I shall do best to throw myself +upon your consideration and tell you the truth. I have recently made +your sister's acquaintance, and in the course of conversation I +understood from her that her Christian name was Anna. Some friends who +saw us dining together persist in alluding to her as Miss Annabel +Pellissier. I am guilty practically of the impertinence of coming to +ask you whether I misunderstood your sister." + +"Is my sister's Christian name, then, of so much importance to you?" +she asked with a faint smile. + +"The things involved in it are," he answered gravely. + +She accepted his rejoinder with a brief nod. Courtlaw opened his lips, +but remained silent in the face of her imperative gesture. "Let me +hasten," she said, "to reassure you. My sister was scarcely likely to +make a mistake. She told you--the truth." + +Courtlaw's walking stick, which he had been handling, fell with a +crash to the ground. He stooped to recover it, and his face was +hidden. Sir John felt and looked several years younger. + +"I am much obliged to you," he said. "Really, I do not know why I +should have doubted it." + +"Nor I," she remarked tersely. + +He looked at her with a certain curiosity. She was a very elegant +young woman, slightly taller perhaps than her sister, and with an air +of reserved strength underneath her quiet face and manner which +Annabel may have lacked. It was hard to associate her with the stories +which he and all Paris had heard of "Alcide." + +"You, then," he said, "are 'Alcide.' That wonderful poster--is of +you." + +She lifted her eyebrows. + +"I am sorry," she said, "if you find the likeness unsatisfactory. My +friends consider it wonderfully faithful. Have you any more questions +to ask me?" + +Sir John, on his way down, had determined to hint to this young woman +that, providing certain contingencies which he had in his mind should +come to pass, he would be prepared to make her a handsome offer to +change her name. He found, however, that now the time had come he +utterly lacked the courage to attempt any such speech. + +"None, I thank you," he answered. "I will not intrude upon you +further." + +"Wait," she said. + +He turned back at once. + +"I have answered all your questions," she said. "Perhaps you will not +object to answering one for me. You have thought it worth while to +take some considerable pains to resolve for yourself my sister's +identity. May I ask the nature of your interest in her?" + +He hesitated. + +"It is not an easy matter," he said, "for me to offer you an +altogether adequate explanation. I have only seen your sister for a +very brief time, and I am a little past the age when a man does +headstrong things. At the same time, I must say that I am most anxious +to improve my acquaintance with her. I am a single man, and----" + +"Thank you," she interrupted. "I will not ask you to explain further. +Good night." + +He left at once, immensely relieved, yet scarcely satisfied with +himself as regarded his share of the interview with this young woman. +They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing +fainter and fainter. Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white +puzzled face. + +"Why did you lie to that man?" he asked fiercely. "How dared you do +yourself this injustice?" + +"I did it for her sake," she answered. "It may be her salvation. I +believe that he will marry her." + +"You would let him--knowing--all that you know?" + +"Why not? She is my flesh and blood. She is more dear to me than +anything else. Perhaps if I had watched over her more closely, things +would have been different." + +"You! Why, you have been an angel to her," he exclaimed impatiently. +"You know very well that she is selfish and pleasure-loving to the +backbone. You have made enough sacrifices for her surely without this. +Besides, you cannot tell where it will end. You have taken upon your +shoulders the burden of her misdeeds. You may have to carry them +further and longer than you think. Oh, it is unbearable." + +The man's face was dark with passion. It was as though he were +personally aggrieved. His tone was rough, almost threatening. The girl +only smiled at him serenely, but she laid her hand for a moment +quietly upon his. + +"Dear friend," she said, "this is a matter which you must leave to me +to do as I think best. Annabel is my only sister, you know, almost my +only relative. If I do not look after her, she has no one. And she is +very young, younger than her years." + +It was significant of her influence over him that he answered her +calmly, although a storm of angry thoughts were struggling for +expression within him. + +"Look after her! Why not? But you have done it all your life. You have +been her guardian angel. But even you cannot alter her character. +Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. +The pursuit of pleasure, self-gratification, is an original instinct +with her. Blood and bone, body and spirit, she is selfish through and +through. Even you have not been able to hold her back. I speak no harm +of her. She is your sister, and God knows I wish her none. But----" + +A look checked him. + +"I know," she said quietly, "that Paris, where she has been so much +admired, is not a good place for her. That is why I am glad that she +has gone to London." + +He rose from his chair, and walked restlessly up and down the room. +The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. There was +a black fear in his heart. He stopped before her suddenly. + +"You, too," he said abruptly. "You mean to follow her. You will go to +London?" + +"It is necessary," she answered. "You yourself have decided +that--apart from the question of Annabel." + +He was suddenly calm. + +"It is part of the irony of life," he said. "One is always playing the +surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. I meant to lie to +you. Would to God I had." + +She shook her head. + +"The surgeon's knife is surely a kindly weapon," she declared. "It was +best for me to know. Later on I could scarcely have forgiven you." + +"And now--I am to lose you." + +"For a little time," she answered. "I meant to say good-bye to you +to-night. Or, after all, is it worth while? The Channel is a little +broader than the Boulevards--but one crosses it sometimes." + +He looked at her with white, set face. + +"Yes," he said, "I shall come. That is very certain. But, after all, +it will be different. I think that I have become a drug drinker. I +need you every day. In the mornings I find labour easy because I am +going to see you. In the afternoon my brain and fingers leap to their +work because you have been with me. Anna, you shall not go. I cannot +let you go." + +She threw away the end of her cigarette. Without turning or looking +in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her +fingers, her elbows upon her knees. She gazed steadily out of the +window at that arc of glittering lights. He made a quick movement +towards her, but she did not flinch. His arm fell to his side. The +effort of self-repression cost him a sob. + +"David," she said, "you are not a coward, are you?" + +"I do not know," he muttered. "The bravest of us have joints in our +armour." + +"You are not a coward," she repeated, "or you would not be my friend. +A woman may choose any one for her lover, but for her friend she makes +no mistake. You are not a coward David, and you must not talk like +one. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed. It is the only way." + +"I cannot do it!" he cried hoarsely. "I cannot part with you. You have +grown into my life. Anna----" + +Again she stopped him, but this time it was not so easy. The man's +passion became almost unbearable at the thought of losing her. And +yet, as she rose slowly to her feet and stood looking at him with +outstretched hands, a strange mixture of expressions shining in her +wonderful eyes, he realized in some measure the strength of her +determination, felt the utter impotence of anything which he could say +to her. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his +own passionate love. He took her hands firmly in his and raised them +to his lips. + +"You shall go," he declared. "I will make of the days and weeks one +long morning, but remember the afternoon must come. Always remember +that." + +Her hands fell to her side. She remained for a few moments standing as +though listening to his retreating footsteps. Then she turned, and +entering the inner room, commenced to dress hastily for the street. + + + + +_Chapter VI_ + +A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION + + +The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her +keenly through his gold eye-glasses. He sat before a desk littered all +over with papers and official looking documents. The walls of the room +were lined with shelves, on which were glass jars, retorts, countless +bottles and many appliances of surgical science. A skeleton was +propped against the mantelpiece. The atmosphere seemed heavy with the +odour of drugs. + +"You are Mademoiselle Pellissier?" he asked, without rising to his +feet. + +Anna admitted the fact. + +"We sent for you several hours ago," he remarked. + +"I came directly I was disengaged," Anna answered. "In any case, there +is probably some mistake. I have very few friends in Paris." + +He referred to a sheet of paper by his side. + +"Your name and address were upon an envelope found in the pocket of an +Englishman who was brought here late last night suffering from serious +injuries," he said in a dry official tone. "As it is doubtful whether +the man will live, we should be glad if you would identify him." + +"It is most unlikely that I shall be able to do so," Anna answered. +"To the best of my belief, I have not a single English acquaintance in +the city." + +"My dear young lady," the official said irritably, "this man would not +have your name and address in his pocket without an object. You cannot +tell whether you know him or not until you have seen him. Be so good +as to come this way." + +With a little shrug of the shoulders Anna followed him. They ascended +by a lift to one of the upper floors, passed through a long ward, and +finally came to a bed in the extreme corner, round which a screen had +been arranged. A nurse came hurrying up. + +"He is quiet only this minute," she said to the official. "All the +time he is shouting and muttering. If this is the young lady, she can +perhaps calm him." + +Anna stepped to the foot of the bed. An electric light flashed out +from the wall. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. +Anna merely glanced at the coarse, flushed features, and at once shook +her head. + +"I have never seen him in my life," she said to the official. "I have +not the least idea who he is." + +Just then the man's eyes opened. He saw the girl, and sprang up in +bed. + +"Annabel at last," he shouted. "Where have you been? All these hours I +have been calling for you. Annabel, I was lying. Who says that I am +not Meysey Hill? I was trying to scare you. See, it is on my cards--M. +Hill, Meysey Hill. Don't touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, +you've jammed it now. Do you want to kill us both? Stop the thing. +Stop it!" + +Anna stepped back bewildered, but the man held out his arms to her. + +"I tell you it was a lie!" he shouted wildly. "Can't you believe me? I +am Meysey Hill. I am the richest man in England. I am the richest man +in the world. You love money. You know you do, Annabel. Never mind, +I've got plenty. We'll go to the shops. Diamonds! You shall have all +that you can carry away, sacks full if you like. Pearls too! I mean +it. I tell you I'm Meysey Hill, the railway man. Don't leave me. Don't +leave me in this beastly thing. Annabel! Annabel!" + +His voice became a shriek. In response to an almost imperative gesture +from the nurse, Anna laid her hand upon his. He fell back upon the +pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. +In a moment his grasp grew weaker. The perspiration stood out upon his +forehead. His eyes closed. + +Anna stepped back at once with a little gasp of relief. The hand which +the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. She held +it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her +unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. She began rubbing +it with her pocket-handkerchief. The man himself was not a pleasant +object. Part of his head was swathed in linen bandages. Such of his +features as were visible were of coarse mould. His eyes were set too +close together. Anna turned deliberately away from the bedside. She +followed the official back into his room. + +"Well?" he asked her tersely. + +"I can only repeat what I said before," she declared. "To the best of +my belief, I have never seen the man in my life." + +"But he recognized you," the official objected. + +"He fancied that he did," she corrected him coolly. "I suppose +delusions are not uncommon to patients in his condition." + +The official frowned. + +"Your name and address in his pocket was no delusion," he said +sharply. "I do not wish to make impertinent inquiries into your +private life. Nothing is of any concern of ours except the discovery +of the man's identity. He was picked up from amongst the wreckage of a +broken motor on the road to Versailles last night, and we have +information that a lady was with him only a few minutes before the +accident occurred." + +"You are very unbelieving," Anna said coldly. "I hope you will not +compel me to say again that I do not know the man's name, nor, to the +best of my belief, have I ever seen him before in my life." + +The official shrugged his shoulders. + +"You decline to help us in any way, then," he said. "Remember that the +man will probably die. He had little money about him, and unless +friends come to his aid he must be treated as a pauper." + +"I do not wish to seem unfeeling," Anna said, slowly, "but I can only +repeat that I am absolutely without concern in the matter. The man is +a stranger to me." + +The official had no more to say. Only it was with a further and most +unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. + +"You will be so good as to leave us your correct name and address, +mademoiselle," he said curtly. + +"You have them both," Anna answered. + +He opened the door for her with a faint disagreeable smile. + +"It is possible, mademoiselle," he said, "that this affair is not yet +ended. It may bring us together again." + +She passed out without reply. Yet she took with her an uneasy +consciousness that in this affair might lie the germs of future +trouble. + +As she crossed the square, almost within a stone's throw of her +lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. He stopped short with a +little exclamation of surprise. + +"My dear friend," she laughed, "not so tragic, if you please." + +He recovered himself. + +"I was surprised, I admit," he said. "You did not tell me that you +were going out, or I would have offered my escort. Do you know how +late it is?" + +She nodded. + +"I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square," she answered. "I +was sent for to go to the Hospital St. Denis. But what are you doing +here?" + +"Old Pere Runeval met me on your doorstep, and he would not let me go. +I have been sitting with him ever since. The Hospital St. Denis, did +you say? I hope that no one of our friends has met with an accident." + +She shook her head. + +"They wanted me to identify some one whom I had certainly never seen +before in my life, and to tell you the truth, they were positively +rude to me because I could not. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey +Hill?" + +"Meysey Hill?" He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his +tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some +significance for him. + +"Yes, I have heard of him, and I know him by sight," he admitted. "He +was a friend of your sister's, was he not?" + +"I never heard her mention his name," she answered. "Still, of course, +it is possible. This man was apparently not sure whether he was Meysey +Hill or not." + +"How long had he been in the hospital?" Courtlaw asked. + +"Since last night." + +"Then, whoever he may be, he is not Meysey Hill," Courtlaw said. "That +young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Cafe +de Paris to-day. I sat within a few feet of him. I feel almost +inclined to regret the fact." + +"Why?" she asked. + +"If one half of the stories about Meysey Hill are true," he answered, +"I would not stretch out my little finger to save his life." + +"Isn't that a little extreme?" + +"I am an extreme person at times. This man has an evil reputation. I +know of scandalous deeds which he has done." + +Anna had reached the house where she lodged, but she hesitated on the +doorstep. + +"Have you ever seen Annabel with him?" she asked. + +"Never." + +"It is odd that this man at the hospital should call himself Meysey +Hill," she remarked. + +"If you wish," he said, "I will go there in the morning and see what +can be done for him." + +"It would be very kind of you," she declared. "I am only sorry that I +did not ask you to go with me." + +She rang the bell, and he waited by her side until she was admitted to +the tall, gloomy lodging-house. And ever after it struck him that her +backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special +significance. The door closed upon her, and he moved reluctantly away. +When next he asked for her, some twelve hours later, he was told that +Mademoiselle had left. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes +could gain no further information than that she had left for England, +and that her address was--London. + + + + +_Chapter VII_ + +MISS PELLISSIER'S SUSPICIONS + + +"Anna!" + +Anna kissed her sister and nodded to her aunt. Then she sat +down--uninvited--and looked from one to the other curiously. There was +something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel's exclamation +which puzzled her. + +"I wish," she said, "that you would leave off looking at me as though +I were something grisly. I am your very dutiful niece, aunt, and your +most devoted sister, Annabel. I haven't murdered any one, or broken +the law in any way that I know of. Perhaps you will explain the state +of panic into which I seem to have thrown you." + +Annabel, who was looking very well, and who was most becomingly +dressed, moved to a seat from which she could command a view of the +road outside. She was the first to recover herself. Her aunt, a faded, +anaemic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still +sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. + +Annabel looked up and down the empty street, and then turned to her +sister. + +"For one thing, Anna," she remarked, "we had not the slightest idea +that you had left, or were leaving Paris. You did not say a word about +it last week, nor have you written. It is quite a descent from the +clouds, isn't it?" + +"I will accept that," Anna said, "as accounting for the surprise. +Perhaps you will now explain the alarm." + +Miss Pellissier was beginning to recover herself. She too at once +developed an anxious interest in the street outside. + +"I am sure, Anna," she said, "I do not see why we should conceal the +truth from you. We are expecting a visit from Sir John Ferringhall at +any moment. He is coming here to tea." + +"Well?" Anna remarked calmly. + +"Sir John," her aunt repeated, with thin emphasis, "is coming to see +your sister." + +Anna drummed impatiently with her fingers against the arm of her +chair. + +"Well!" she declared good-humouredly. "I shan't eat him." + +Miss Pellissier stiffened visibly. + +"This is not a matter altogether for levity, Anna," she said. "Your +sister's future is at stake. I imagine that even you must realize that +this is of some importance." + +Anna glanced towards her sister, but the latter avoided her eyes. + +"I have always," she admitted calmly, "taken a certain amount of +interest in Annabel's future. I should like to know how it is +concerned with Sir John Ferringhall, and how my presence intervenes." + +"Sir John," Miss Pellissier said impressively, "has asked your sister +to be his wife. It is a most wonderful piece of good fortune, as I +suppose you will be prepared to admit. The Ferringhalls are of course +without any pretence at family, but Sir John is a very rich man, and +will be able to give Annabel a very enviable position in the world. +The settlements which he has spoken of, too, are most munificent. No +wonder we are anxious that nothing should happen to make him change +his mind." + +"I still----" + +Anna stopped short. Suddenly she understood. She grew perhaps a shade +paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler +cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. + +"Sir John of course disapproves of me," she remarked slowly. + +"Sir John is a man of the world," her aunt answered coldly. "He +naturally does not wish for connexions which are--I do not wish to +hurt you feelings, Anna, but I must say it--not altogether desirable." + +The irrepressible smile curved Anna's lips. She glanced towards her +sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection +of her own rather sombre mirth. She leaned back in her chair. It was +no use. The smile had become a laugh. She laughed till the tears stood +in her eyes. + +"I had a visit from Sir John in my rooms," she said. "Did he tell you, +Annabel?" + +"Yes." + +"He mentioned the matter to me also," Miss Pellissier remarked +stiffly. "The visit seems to have made a most painful impression upon +him. To tell you the truth, he spoke to me very seriously upon the +subject." + +Anna sprang up. + +"I will be off," she declared. "My cab with all that luggage would +give the whole show away. Good-bye, aunt." + +Miss Pellissier tried ineffectually to conceal her relief. + +"I do not like to seem inhospitable, Anna," she said hesitatingly. +"And of course you are my niece just as Annabel is, although I am +sorry to learn that your conduct has been much less discreet than +hers. But at the same time, I must say plainly that I think your +presence here just now would be a great misfortune. I wish very much +that you had written before leaving Paris." + +Anna nodded. + +"Quite right," she said. "I ought to have done. Good-bye aunt. I'll +come and see you again later on. Annabel, come to the door with me," +she added a little abruptly. "There is something which I must say to +you." + +Annabel rose and followed her sister from the room. A maidservant held +the front door open. Anna sent her away. + +"Annabel," she said brusquely. "Listen to me." + +"Well?" + +"Sir John came to me--that you know--and you can guess what I told +him. No, never mind about thanking me. I want to ask you a plain +question, and you must answer me faithfully. Is all that folly done +with--for ever?" + +Annabel shivered ever so slightly. + +"Of course it is, Anna. You ought to know that. I am going to make a +fresh start." + +"Be very sure that you do," Anna said slowly. "If I thought for a +moment that there was any chance of a relapse, I should stop here and +tell him the truth even now." + +Annabel looked at her with terrified eyes. + +"Anna," she cried, "you must believe me. I am really in earnest. I +would not have him know--now--for the world." + +"Very well," Anna said. "I will believe you. Remember that he's not at +all a bad sort, and to speak frankly, he's your salvation. Try and let +him never regret it. There's plenty to be got out of life in a decent +sort of way. Be a good wife to him. You can if you will." + +"I promise," Annabel declared. "He is very kind, Anna, really, and not +half such a prig as he seems." + +Anna moved towards the door, but her sister detained her. + +"Won't you tell me why you have come to England?" she said. "It was +such a surprise to see you. I thought that you loved Paris and your +work so much." + +A momentary bitterness crept into Anna's tone. + +"I have made no progress with my work," she said slowly, "and the +money was gone. I had to ask Mr. Courtlaw for his true verdict, and he +gave it me. I have given up painting." + +"Anna!" + +"It is true, dear. After all there are other things. All that I regret +are the wasted years, and I am not sure that I regret them. Only of +course I must begin something else at once. That is why I came to +London." + +"But what are you going to do--where are you going to live?" Annabel +asked. "Have you any money?" + +"Lots," Anna answered laconically. "Never mind me. I always fall on my +feet, you know." + +"You will let us hear from you--let us know where you are, very soon?" +Annabel called out from the step. + +Anna nodded as she briskly crossed the pavement. + +"Some day," she answered. "Run in now. There's a hansom coming round +the corner." + + * * * * * + +Anna sat back in her cab, but found it remain stationary. + +"Gracious!" she exclaimed to herself. "I don't know where to go to." + +The cabman, knocking with the butt end of his whip upon the window, +reminded her that he was in a similar predicament. + +"Drive towards St. Pancras," she directed, promptly. "I will tell you +when to stop." + +The cab rumbled off. Anna leaned forward, watching the people in the +streets. It was then for the first time she remembered that she had +said nothing to her sister of the man in the hospital. + + + + +_Chapter VIII_ + +"WHITE'S" + + +Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled +the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy +old horse rapidly approaching its last days. Inside was Anna, leaning +a little forward to watch the passers-by, bright-eyed, full to the +brim of the insatiable curiosity of youth--the desire to understand +and appreciate this new world in which she found herself. She was +practically an outcast, she had not even the ghost of a plan as to her +future, and she had something less than five pounds in her pocket. She +watched the people and hummed softly to herself. + +Suddenly she thrust her head out of the window. + +"Please stop, cabman," she ordered. + +The man pulled up. It was not a difficult affair. + +"Is this Montague Street, W.C.?" she asked. + +The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could +not. + +"Stay where you are for a moment," she directed. "I want to find an +address." + +The man contented himself with a nod. Anna rummaged about in her +dressing-case, and finally drew out a letter. On the envelope was +written-- + + Sydney Courtlaw, Esq., + 13, Montague St. + +She put her head out of the window. + +"Number 13, please, cabman." + +"We've come past it, miss," the man answered, with a note of finality +in his gruff voice. + +"Then turn round and go back there," she directed. + +The man muttered something inaudible, and gathered up the reins. His +horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where +he was. After a certain amount of manoeuvring, however, he was +induced to crawl around, and in a few minutes came to stop again +before a tall brightly-painted house, which seemed like an oasis of +colour and assertive prosperity in a long dingy row. This was number +13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as +"White's." + +Anna promptly alighted with the letter in her hand. The door was +opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several +sizes too large for him. The rest of his attire was nondescript. + +"Does Mr. Courtlaw, Mr. Sydney Courtlaw, live here, please?" Anna +asked him. + +"Not home yet, miss," the young man replied. "Generally gets here +about seven." + +Anna hesitated, and then held out the letter. + +"I think that I will leave this letter for him," she said. "It is from +his brother in Paris. Say that I will call again or let him know my +address in London." + +The young man accepted the letter and the message, and seemed about to +close the door when a lady issued from one of the front rooms and +intervened. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, +a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge +chatelaine. She addressed Anna with a beaming smile and a very +creditable mixture of condescension and officiousness. Under the +somewhat trying incandescent light her cheeks pleaded guilty to a +recent use of the powder puff. + +"I think that you were inquiring for Mr. Courtlaw," she remarked. "He +is one of our guests--perhaps I should say boarders here, but he +seldom returns before dinner-time. We dine at seven-thirty. Can I give +him any message for you?" + +"Thank you," Anna answered. "I have a letter for him from his brother, +which I was just leaving." + +"I will see that he gets it immediately on his return," the lady +promised. "You did not wish to see him particularly this evening, +then?" + +Anna hesitated. + +"Well, no," she answered. "To tell you the truth though, I am quite a +stranger in London, and it occurred to me that Mr. Courtlaw might have +been able to give me an idea where to stop." + +The lady in black satin looked at the pile of luggage outside and +hesitated. + +"Were you thinking of private apartments, a boarding-house or an +hotel?" she asked. + +"I really had not thought about it at all," Anna answered smiling. "I +expected to stay with a relation, but I found that their arrangements +did not allow of it. I have been used to living in apartments in +Paris, but I suppose the system is different here." + +The lady in black satin appeared undecided. She looked from Anna, who +was far too nice-looking to be travelling about alone, to that +reassuring pile of luggage, and wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. + +"Of course," she said diffidently, "this is a boarding-house, although +we never take in promiscuous travellers. The class of guests we have +are all permanent, and I am obliged to be very careful indeed. But--if +you are a friend of Mr. Courtlaw's--I should like to oblige Mr. +Courtlaw." + +"It is very nice of you to think of it," Anna said briskly. "I should +really like to find somewhere to stay, if it was only for a few +nights." + +The lady stood away from the door. + +"Will you come this way," she said, "into the drawing-room? There is +no one there just now. Most of my people are upstairs dressing for +dinner. The gentlemen are so particular now, and a good thing too, I +say. I was always used to it, and I think it gives quite a tone to an +establishment. Please sit down, Miss--dear me, I haven't asked you +your name yet." + +"My name is Pellissier," Anna said, "Anna Pellissier." + +"I am Mrs. White," the lady in black satin remarked. "It makes one +feel quite awkward to mention such a thing, but after all I think that +it is best for both parties. Could you give me any references?" + +"There is Mr. Courtlaw," Anna said, "and my solicitors, Messrs. Le +Mercier and Stowe of St. Heliers. They are rather a long way off, but +you could write to them. I am sorry that I do not know any one in +London. But after all, Mrs. White, I am not sure that I could afford +to come to you. I am shockingly poor. Please tell me what your terms +are." + +"Well," Mrs. White said slowly, "it depends a good deal upon what +rooms you have. Just now my best ones are all taken." + +"So much the better," Anna declared cheerfully. "The smallest will do +for me quite well." + +Mrs. White looked mysteriously about the room as though to be sure +that no one was listening. + +"I should like you to come here," she said. "It's a great deal for a +young lady who's alone in the world, as I suppose you are at present, +to have a respectable home, and I do not think in such a case that +private apartments are at all desirable. We have a very nice set of +young people here too just at present, and you would soon make some +friends. I will take you for thirty-five shillings a week. Please +don't let any one know that." + +"I have no idea what it costs to live in London," Anna said, "but I +should like very much to come for a short time if I might." + +"Certainly," Mrs. White said. "Two days' notice shall be sufficient on +either side." + +"And I may bring my luggage in and send that cabman away?" Anna asked. +"Dear me, what a relief! If I had had any nerves that man would have +trampled upon them long ago." + +"Cabmen are so trying," Mrs. White assented. "You need have no further +trouble. The manservant shall bring your trunks in and pay the fare +too, if you like." + +Anna drew out her purse at once. + +"You are really a good Samaritan," she declared. "I am perfectly +certain that that man meant to be rude to me. He has been bottling it +up all the way from West Kensington." + +Mrs. White rang the bell. + +"Come upstairs," she said, "and I will show you your room. And would +you mind hurrying a little. You won't want to be late the first +evening, and it's ten minutes past seven now. Gracious, there's the +gong. This way, my dear--and--you'll excuse my mentioning it, but a +quiet blouse and a little chiffon, you know, will be quite sufficient. +It's your first evening, and early impressions do count for so much. +You understand me, I'm sure." + +Anna was a little puzzled, but she only laughed. + +"Perhaps, as I've only just arrived," she remarked, "I might be +forgiven if I do not change my skirt. I packed so hurriedly that it +will take me a long time to find my things." + +"Certainly," Mrs. White assured her. "Certainly. I'll mention it. +You're tired, of course. This is your room. The gong will go at +seven-thirty. Don't be late if you can help it." + + * * * * * + +Anna was not late, but her heart sank within her when she entered the +drawing-room. It was not a hopeful looking group. Two or three +podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed +girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the +clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since +breakfast time. A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of +pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some +unintelligible jargon of the City. What had she to do with such as +these? She had hard work to keep a smiling face, as Mrs. White, who +had risen to greet her, proceeded with a formal, and from Anna's point +of view, a wholly unnecessary round of introductions. And then +suddenly--a relief. A young man--almost a boy, slight, dark, and with +his brother's deep grey eyes--came across the room to her. + +"You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much," +he said, shyly. "I am very glad that you have come here. I heard from +David about you only this morning." + +"You are marvellously like your brother," Anna said, beaming upon him. +"I have a letter for you, and no end of messages. Where can we sit +down and talk?" + +He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, +fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. + +"Let me introduce my friend to you," Courtlaw said. "Arthur, this is +Miss Pellissier--Mr. Brendon. Brendon and I are great chums," he went +on nervously. "We are clerks in the same bank. I don't think that the +rest of the people here like us very well, do they, Arthur, so we're +obliged to be friends." + +Anna shook hands with Brendon--a young man also, but older and more +self-possessed than Sydney Courtlaw. + +"Sydney is quite right, Miss Pellissier," he said. "He and I don't +seem to get on at all with our fellow-guests, as Mrs. White calls +them. You really ought not to stay here and talk to us. It is a most +inauspicious start for you." + +"Dear me," Anna laughed, "how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should +I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of +wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?" + +"Don't speak of her irreverently," Brendon said, in an awed whisper. +"Her husband was a county councillor, and she has a niece who comes to +see her in a carriage. I wish she wouldn't look like that at us over +her glasses." + +Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a +correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. + +"Dinner is served, ma'am," he announced to Mrs. White. + +There was no rush. Everything was done in a genteel and ordinary way, +but on the other hand, there was no lingering. Anna found herself next +Sydney Courtlaw, with his friend close at hand. Opposite to her was a +sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of +obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. +As a rule, Courtlaw told her softly, he talked right and left, and to +everybody throughout the whole of the meal--to-night he was almost +silent, and seemed to devote his whole attention to staring at Anna. +After the first courses however she scarcely noticed him. Her two new +friends did their best to entertain her. + +"I can't imagine, Miss Pellissier," Brendon said, leaning towards her, +"whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a +Montague Street boarding-house. Are you going to write a novel?" + +"Not I," she answered gaily. "I came to London unexpectedly, and my +friends could not take me in. I had a vague sort of idea that this was +the region where one finds apartments, so I told my cabman to drive in +this direction while I sat inside his vehicle and endeavoured to form +a plan of campaign. He brought me past this house, and I thought I +would call and leave your brother's letter. Then I saw Mrs. White----" + +"No more," Sydney Courtlaw begged, laughingly. "You were booked of +course. An unexpected vacancy, wasn't it? Every one comes in on +unexpected vacancy." + +"And they go?" + +"When they get the chance. It really isn't so easy to go as it seems. +We have come to the conclusion, Brendon and I, that Mrs. White is +psychologically gifted. She throws a sort of spell over us all. We +struggle against it at first, but in the end we have to submit. She +calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. We simply +can't get away. There's that old gentleman at the end of the +table--Bullding his name is. He will tell you confidentially that he +simply hates the place. Yet he's been here for six years, and he's as +much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard. Everyone will grumble +to you confidentially--Miss Ellicot, she's our swagger young lady, you +know--up there, next to Miss White, she will tell you that it is so +out of the world here, so far away from everyone one knows. Old +Kesterton, choleric-looking individual nearly opposite, will curse the +cooking till he's black in the face, but he never misses a dinner. +The Semitic looking young man opposite, who seems to have been +committing you to memory piecemeal, will tell you that he was never so +bored in all his life as he has been here. Yet he stays. They all +stay!" + +"And you yourself?" + +Brendon laughed. + +"Oh, we are also under the spell," he declared, "but I think that we +are here mainly because it is cheap. It is really cheap, you know. To +appreciate it you should try rooms." + +"Is this a fair sample of the dinner?" Anna asked, who had the healthy +appetite of a strong young woman. + +"It is, if anything, a little above the average," Brendon admitted. + +Anna said nothing. The young man opposite was straining his ears to +listen to their conversation. Mrs. White caught her eye, and smiled +benignly down the table. + +"I hope that Mr. Courtlaw is looking after you, Miss Pellissier," she +said. + +"Admirably, thank you," Anna answered. + +The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her +as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess's side. She had very +frizzy hair indeed, very black eyebrows, a profusion of metallic +adornments about her neck and waist, and an engaging smile. + +"We are so interested to hear, Miss Pellissier," she said, "that you +have been living in Paris. We shall expect you to tell us all what to +wear." + +Anna smiled very faintly, and shook her head. + +"I have come from a very unfashionable quarter," she said, "and I do +not think that I have been inside a milliner's shop for a year. +Besides, it is all reversed now, you know. Paris copies London." + +Brendon leaned over confidentially. + +"You are in luck, Miss Pellissier," he declared. "Your success here is +absolutely meteoric. Miss Ellicot has spoken to you, the great Mr. +Bullding is going to. For five minutes he has been trying to think of +something to say. I am not sure, but I believe that he has just +thought of something." + +"May I be prepared?" Anna asked. "Which is Mr. Bullding?" + +"Stout old gentleman four places down on the left. Look out, it's +coming." + +Anna raised her eyes, and caught the earnest gaze of an elderly +gentleman with a double chin, a protuberant under lip, and a +snuff-stained coat. + +"I was in Paris four years ago," Mr. Building announced solemnly. "It +rained the whole of the time, but we saw all the sights, and the place +never seemed dull." + +"It takes a great deal of bad weather to depress the true Parisian," +Anna admitted. + +"A volatile temperament--yes, a volatile temperament," Mr. Bullding +repeated, rather struck with the phrase. "It is a pity that as nations +we are not more friendly." + +Anna nodded and turned again to Courtlaw. + +"I will not be drawn into a conversation with Mr. Bullding," she +declared. "I believe that he would bore me. Tell me, what are these +bananas and nuts for?" + +"Dessert." + +Anna laid down her serviette. + +"Let us escape," she said. "Couldn't we three go out and have some +coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me." + +Brendon laughed softly. + +"We can," he said, "and we will. But it is only fair to warn you that +it isn't expected. Mrs. White is proud of her drawing-room evenings. +There is a musical programme, and we have the windows open and blinds +up, and a pink lamp shade over the piano lamp--a sort of advertisement +of the place, you know. Strangers look in and long, and neighbours are +moved to envy." + +Anna hesitated no longer. She almost sprang to her feet. Conscious of +Mrs. White's surprise as she swung easily down the room, followed by +the two young men, she smiled a careless explanation at her. + +"I am dying to renew my acquaintance with London, Mrs. White," she +remarked. + +"You are not going out--this evening, I trust," that lady asked, a +trifle dismayed. + +Anna did not pause, but she looked over her shoulder with slightly +lifted eyebrows. + +"Why not? They tell me that London is impossible till after ten, and I +want my first impressions to be favourable." + +"There will be some coffee and music in the drawing-room in a few +minutes," Mrs. White said. + +"Thanks, I'm not very fond of coffee," Anna answered, "and I hate +music. Good night." + +Mrs. White gasped, and then stiffened. Miss Ellicot, who sang ballads, +and liked Brendon to turn over the pages for her, tossed her head. +Anna passed serenely out. + + + + +_Chapter IX_ + +BRENDON'S LUCK + + +Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. She was alone, and the +mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. She +was a little paler than when she had come to London, a little paler +and a little thinner. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now +with unshed tears. For this three weeks had been the hardest of her +life. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although +she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits. +Nevertheless, she was still fighting. + +"There is one thing I must concentrate on at the moment," she told +herself, "and that is how to pay my next week's bill to Mrs. White. It +ought not to be much. I have gone without dinner for three nights, +and--come in." + +Sydney Courtlaw followed his timid knock. Anna raised her eyebrows at +the sight of him. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and +white tie. + +"Is this a concession to Mrs. White?" she asked, laughing. "How +gratified she must have been! If only I had known I would have made an +effort to get home in time for dinner." + +"Not exactly," he answered nervously. "Please forgive me coming up, +Miss Pellissier, but you have not been down to dinner for three +nights, and--Brendon and I--we were afraid that you might be unwell." + +"Never better in my life," Anna declared briskly. "I had lunch very +late to-day, and I did not get home in time for dinner." + +She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch--tea and roll at a +cheap cafe. Sydney was watching her eagerly. + +"I'm glad you're all right," he said, "because we want you to do us a +favour. Brendon's had an awful stroke of luck." + +"I'm delighted," she exclaimed. "Do tell me all about it." + +"He only heard this afternoon," Sydney continued. "An uncle in New +York is dead, and has left him loads of money. A lawyer has come all +the way from America about it. We want to celebrate, and we want you +to help us. Brendon suggests supper at the Carlton. We meant to make +it dinner and a theatre, but you were not home. We thought of +starting in half an hour's time, and trying for a theatre somewhere on +the way." + +"How delightful!" exclaimed Anna. "I should love to come. It is very +sweet of you to have waited for me. Run away now, please. I must see +if I have a gown fit to wear." + + * * * * * + +"This," Anna declared, as she sipped her wine and looked around her, +"reminds me more of Paris than any place I have yet seen. I suppose it +is the mirrors and decorations." + +"And the people?" Brendon asked. "What do you think of them?" + +Anna extended her critical survey and shrugged her shoulders. + +"What can one say?" she exclaimed. "Did you ever see women so +weary-looking and so dowdy? They do not talk. They seem to spend their +time yawning and inspecting their neighbour's dresses through those +hateful glasses. It never seems to enter their heads to try and amuse +their menkind." + +Two young men on their way down the room came suddenly to a standstill +before Anna. The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half +extended his hand with a smile of recognition. + +"Miss Pellissier, isn't it?" he said. "Glad to see you in London. No +idea that you were here, though." + +Anna looked up with a doubtful smile of non-recognition. + +"My name is certainly Pellissier," she said, "but I am very sorry--I +do not recognize you in the least." + +The tall young man dropped his eye-glass and smiled. + +"Had the pleasure of dining with you at the 'Ambassador's' one night, +before the show, you know--last September I think it was. Charley +Pevenill was our host. My name is Armytage--Lord Ernest Armytage." + +Anna had suddenly stiffened. She regarded the young man coldly. Her +tone was icy. + +"I am afraid that you are making a mistake," she said. "I was never at +any such dinner, and I am quite sure that I do not know you." + +"Perhaps you remember me, Miss Pellissier," the second young man +interposed. "I had the pleasure of--er--meeting you more than once, I +believe." + +A spot of colour flared in Anna's cheek as she glanced towards the +speaker. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his +deferential tone, maddened her. + +"To the best of my belief," she said, with quiet dignity, "I have +never seen either of you before in my life." + +For a fraction of a second the two young men hesitated. Then the +foremost bowed and passed on. + +"I am exceedingly sorry," he said. "Pray accept my apologies." + +"And mine," murmured his companion, with the smile still lingering +upon his lips. + +They took their places at a distant table. Anna sat quite still for a +moment, and then the colour suddenly returned to her cheeks. She +laughed softly, and leaned across the table. + +"Do not look so uncomfortable, both of you," she begged. "Those young +men startled me at first, because they knew my name. I am quite sure +though that they did not mean to be rude." + +"Impudent beggars," Sydney growled. "I never wanted to kick any one so +much in my life as that second fellow." + +"I think," Anna said, "that it was only his manner. Do look at this +tragedy in mauve, who has just come in. What can she be? The wife of a +country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. +What can she have done to deserve such a fate? Oh!" + +They both turned round at Anna's exclamation. A familiar figure was +making his way towards them. Sydney sprang up. + +"Why, it's David!" he exclaimed. "Hullo!" + +Courtlaw, haggard, his deep-set eyes more brilliant than ever, took +Anna's hand into his, and breathed a little close drawn sigh of +content. He was introduced to Brendon, and a chair was brought by an +attentive waiter. He declined supper, but took wine. + +"Have you dropped from the skies?" Sydney asked wonderingly. "It was +only yesterday I had your letter, and you never mentioned coming +over." + +"I had some unexpected business," Courtlaw answered shortly. + +"And how did you find us here?" + +"I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left. Mrs. +White told me where to find you." + +He leaned back in his chair as though wearied. Yet either the rest or +the wine seemed already to have done him good. The lines about his +mouth gradually softened. He talked very little and rather absently. +In no way could he be said to contribute to the gaiety of the little +party. But when they were on their way out he whispered in Anna's ear. + +"Please let me drive you home. I want to talk to you, and I must +return to-morrow." + +Anna hesitated. + +"We are Mr. Brendon's guests," she said, "and I scarcely think it +would be nice of me to leave him alone with Sydney." + +Courtlaw turned abruptly to Brendon. + +"Mr. Brendon," he said, "may I rob you of your guest just for the +drive home? I have only a few hours in England, and Miss Pellissier is +an old friend." + +"By all means," Brendon answered. "We will follow you in another cab." + +They passed out on to the pavement, and the commissionaire called a +hansom. The man looked closely at Anna as she crossed the footway, and +as he held her skirt from the wheel he pressed something into her +hand. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. It was a letter. She +slipped it calmly into her pocket. The commissionaire smiled. It was a +sovereign easily earned. + +The hansom drove off. Suddenly Anna felt her hand seized and +imprisoned in Courtlaw's burning fingers. She glanced into his face. +It was enough. + +"I have stood it for a month, Anna," he exclaimed. "You will not even +answer my letters. I could not keep away any longer." + +"Do you think that it was wise of you, or kind to come?" she asked +quietly. + +"Wise! Kind! What mockery words are! I came because I had to. I cannot +live without you, Anna. Come back--you must come back. We can be +married to-morrow in Paris. There! You are trying to take your hand +away." + +"You disappoint me," she said wearily. "You are talking like a boy. +What is the use of it? I do not wish to marry you. I do not wish to +return to Paris. You are doing your best to break our friendship." + +"It is you," he cried, "you, who are talking folly, when you speak of +friendship between you and me. It is not the woman who speaks there. +It is the vapouring school girl. I tell you that I love you, Anna, and +I believe that you love me. You are necessary to me. I shall give you +my life, every moment and thought of my life. You must come back. See +what you have made of me. I cannot work, I cannot teach. You have +grown into my life, and I cannot tear you out." + +Anna was silent. She was trembling a little. The man's passion was +infectious. She had to school herself to speak the words which she +knew would cut him like a knife. + +"You are mistaken, David. I have counted you, and always hoped to +count you, the best of my friends. But I do not love you. I do not +love any one." + +"I don't believe it," he answered hoarsely. "We have come too close +together for me to believe it. You care for me a little, I know. I +will teach you how to make that little sufficient." + +"You came to tell me this?" + +"I came for you," he declared fiercely. + +The hansom sped through the crowded streets. Anna suddenly leaned +forward and looked around her. + +"We are not going the right way," she exclaimed. + +"You are coming my way," Courtlaw answered. "Anna," he pleaded, "be +merciful. You care for me just a little, I know. You are alone in the +world, you have no one save yourself to consider. Come back with me +to-night. Your old rooms are there, if you choose. I kept them on +myself till the sight of your empty chair and the chill loneliness of +it all nearly sent me mad." + +Anna lifted her hand and pushed open the trap door. + +"Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman," she ordered. + +The man pulled up his horse grumbling, and turned round. Courtlaw sat +with folded arms. He said nothing. + +"My friend," she said, "no! Let me tell you this. Nothing would induce +me to marry you, or any man at present. I am a pauper, and as yet I +have not discovered how to earn money. I am determined to fight my own +little battle with the world--there must be a place for me somewhere, +and I mean to find it. Afterwards, it may be different. If I were to +marry you now I should feel a dependent being all my life--a sort of +parasitical creature without blood or muscle. I should lose every +scrap of independence--even my self-respect. However good you were to +me, and however happy I was in other ways, I should find this +intolerable." + +"All these things," he muttered bitterly, "this desperate resolve to +take your life into your own hands, your unnatural craving for +independence, would never trouble you for a moment--if you really +cared." + +"Then perhaps," she answered, with a new coldness in her tone, +"perhaps I really do not care. No, don't interrupt me. I think that I +am a little disappointed in you. You appear to be amongst those strong +enough in all ordinary matters, but who seem to think it quite +natural and proper to give in at once and play the weakling +directly--one cares. Do you think that it makes for happiness to force +oneself into the extravagant belief that love is the only thing in the +world worth having, and to sacrifice for it independence, +self-respect, one's whole scheme of life. I cannot do it, David. +Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care--but I cannot do it." + +He was strangely silent. He did not even reply to her for several +minutes. + +"I cannot reason with you," he said at last wearily. "I speak from my +heart, and you answer from your brain." + +"Believe me that I have answered you wisely," she said, in a gentler +tone, "wisely for you too, as well as myself. And now you must go +back, take up your work and think all this over. Presently you will +see that I am right, and then you shall take your vacation over here, +and we will be good comrades again." + +He smiled bitterly as he handed her from the cab. He declined to come +in. + +"Will you tell Sydney that I will see him in the morning," he said. "I +am staying at the Savoy. He can come round there." + +"You will shake hands with me, please," she begged. + +He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers. Something he saw +there made him feel for a moment ashamed. He pressed the long shapely +hand warmly in his. + +"Good-bye," he said earnestly. "Please forgive me. You are right. +Quite right." + +She was able to go straight to her room without delay, and she at once +locked the door with a little sigh of relief. She found herself +struggling with a storm of tears. + +A sob was strangled in her throat. She struggled fiercely not to give +way. + +"Oh, I am lonely," she moaned. "I am lonely. If I could but----" + + * * * * * + +To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune +to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs +kept rising in her throat. As she drew off her skirt she felt +something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the +commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. She tore open the +envelope and read it. + + "MY DEAR GIRL,-- + + "I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. The fact + is I was so glad to see you again that it never occurred to me + that a little discretion might be advisable. I'm afraid I'm a + terribly clumsy fellow. + + "I hope that you are going to allow me to see something of you + during your stay in London, for the sake of old times. Could you + come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me + somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of + course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at + the theatre. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris. + May we not repeat them once, at any rate, in London? + + "Ever yours, + "NIGEL ENNISON. + + "P.S. My address is 94, Pall Mall." + +Anna read, and her cheeks grew slowly scarlet. She crushed the letter +in her hand. + +"I wonder," she murmured to herself, "if this is the beginning." + + + + +_Chapter X_ + +THE TRAGEDY OF AN APPETITE + + +Anna, notwithstanding her quiet clothes, a figure marvellously out of +accord with her surroundings, sat before a small marble-topped table +at a crowded A.B.C., and munched a roll and butter with hearty +appetite. + +"If only I could afford another!" she thought regretfully. "I wonder +why I am always hungry nowadays. It is so ridiculous." + +She lingered over her tea, and glancing around, a sudden reflection on +the change in her surroundings from the scene of her last night's +supper brought a faint, humorous smile to her lips. + +"In two days," she reflected, "Mrs. White will present her bill. I +have one shilling and sevenpence halfpenny left. I have two days in +which to earn nearly thirty shillings--that is with no dinners, and +get a situation. I fancy that this is a little more than playing at +Bohemianism." + +"So far," she continued, eyeing hungrily the last morsel of roll which +lay upon her plate, "my only chance of occupation has lain with a +photographer who engaged me on the spot and insulted me in half an +hour. What beasts men are! I cannot typewrite, my three stories are +still wandering round, two milliners have refused me as a lay figure +because business was so bad. I am no use for a clerk, because I do not +understand shorthand. After all, I fancy that I shall have to apply +for a situation as a nursery governess who understands French. Faugh!" + +She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between +her long slim fingers. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse +for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. She +rose, paid her bill, and turned westwards. + +She walked with long swinging steps, scorning the thought of buses or +the tube. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had +already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. Asking her +way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and +crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. Here she walked more +slowly, looking constantly at the notices in the shop windows. One she +entered and met with a sharp rebuff, which she appeared to receive +unmoved. But when she reached the pavement outside her teeth were +clenched, and she carried herself unconsciously an inch or so higher. +It was just then that she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. + +He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, _debonnair_, +good-looking. Directly he saw Anna he accosted her. His manner was +deferential, even eager. Anna, who was disposed to be sharply +critical, could find no fault with it. + +"How fortunate I am, Miss Pellissier! All day I have been hoping that +I might run across you. You got my note?" + +"I certainly received a note," Anna admitted. + +"You were going to answer it?" + +"Certainly not!" she said deliberately. + +He looked at her with an expression of comical despair. + +"What have I done, Miss Pellissier?" he pleaded. "We were good friends +in Paris, weren't we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned +no end of nice things, and then--without a word to any one you +disappeared. Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me. You +seem altogether altered, too. Upon my word--you are Miss Pellissier, +aren't you?" + +"I certainly am," she admitted. + +He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. + +"Of course!" he said. "You have changed somehow--and you certainly are +less friendly." + +She laughed. After all, his was a pleasant face, and a pleasant voice, +and very likely Annabel had behaved badly. + +"Perhaps," she said, "it is the London climate. It depresses one, you +know." + +He nodded. + +"You look more like your old self when you smile," he remarked. "But, +forgive me, you are tired. Won't you come and have some tea with me? +There is a new place in Bond Street," he hastened to say, "where +everything is very well done, and they give us music, if that is any +attraction to you." + +She hesitated and looked for a moment straight into his eyes. He +certainly bore inspection. He was tall and straight, and his +expression was good. + +"I will come--with pleasure," she said, "if you will promise to treat +me as a new acquaintance--not to refer to--Paris--at all." + +"I promise," he answered heartily. "Allow me." + +He took his place by her side, and they talked lightly of London, the +shops and people. They found a cosy little table in the tea-rooms, and +everything was delicious. Anna, with her marvellous capacity for +enjoyment, ate cakes and laughed, and forgot that she had had tea an +hour or so ago at an A.B.C., or that she had a care in the world. + +"By-the-bye," he said, presently, "your sister was married to old +Ferringhall the other day, wasn't she? I saw the notice in the +papers." + +Anna never flinched. But after the first shock came a warm glow of +relief. After all, it was what she had been praying for--and Annabel +could not have known her address. + +"My sister and I," she said slowly, "have seen very little of each +other lately. I fancy that Sir John does not approve of me." + +Ennison shrugged his shoulders. + +"Sort of man who can see no further than his nose," he remarked +contemptuously. "Fearful old fogey! I can't imagine any sister of +yours putting up with him for a moment. I thought perhaps you were +staying with them, as you did not seem particularly anxious to +recognize your old friends." + +Anna shook her head. + +"No, I am alone," she answered. + +"Then we must try and make London endurable for you," he remarked +cheerfully. "What night will you dine and go to the theatre with +me?--and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?" + +Anna shook her head. + +"Thank you," she said coolly. "Those things are not for me just at +present." + +He was obviously puzzled. Anna sighed as she reflected that her sister +had simply revelled in her indiscretions. + +"Come," he said, "you can't be meaning to bury yourself. There must be +something we can do. What do you say to Brighton----" + +Anna looked at him quietly--and he never finished his sentence. + +"May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?" he inquired +deferentially. "Perhaps your engagements are made for you." + +"I am staying," she answered coolly, "at a small boarding-house near +Russell Square." + +He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter. + +"At a boarding-house?" he gasped. + +She nodded. + +"Yes. I am an independent sort of person," she continued, "and I am +engaged in an attempt to earn my own living. You don't happen to know +of any one, I suppose, who wants a nursery governess, or a +clerk--without shorthand--or a tryer-on, or a copyist, or----" + +"For Heaven's sake stop, Miss Pellissier," he interrupted. "What a +hideous repertoire! If you are in earnest about wanting to earn money, +why on earth don't you accept an engagement here?" + +"An engagement?" she queried. + +"On the stage? Yes. You would not have the slightest difficulty." + +She laughed softly to herself. + +"Do you know," she confessed, "I never thought of that?" + +He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could +possibly be in earnest. + +"I cannot conceive," he said, "how any other occupation could ever +have occurred to you. You do not need me to remind you of your success +at Paris. The papers are continually wondering what has become of +'Alcide.' Your name alone would fill any music hall in London." + +Again that curious smile which puzzled him so much parted her lips for +a moment. + +"Dear me," she said, "I fancy you exaggerate my fame. I can't imagine +Londoners--particularly interested in me." + +He shrugged his shoulders. Even now he was not at all sure that she +was not playing with him. There were so many things about her which he +could not understand. She began to draw on her gloves thoughtfully. + +"I am very much obliged for the tea," she said. "This is a charming +place, and I have enjoyed the rest." + +"It was a delightful piece of good fortune that I should have met +you," he answered. "I hope that whatever your plans may be, you will +give me the opportunity of seeing something of you now and then." + +"I am afraid," she said, preceding him down the narrow stairs, "that I +am going to be too busy to have much time for gadding about. However, +I daresay that we shall come across one another before long." + +"That is provokingly indefinite," he answered, a little ruefully. +"Won't you give me your address?" + +She shook her head. + +"It is such a very respectable boarding-house," she said. "I feel +quite sure that Mrs. White would not approve of callers." + +"I have a clue, at any rate," he remarked, smiling. "I must try the +Directory." + +"I wish you good luck," she answered. "There are a good many Whites in +London." + +"May I put you in a hansom?" he asked, lifting his stick. + +"For Heaven's sake, no," she answered quickly. "Do you want to ruin +me? I shall walk back." + +"I may come a little way, then?" he begged. + +"If you think it worth while," she answered doubtfully. + +Apparently he thought it very much worth while. Restraining with an +effort his intense curiosity, he talked of general subjects only, +trying his best to entertain her. He succeeded so well that they were +almost in Montague Street before Anna stopped short. + +"Heavens!" she exclaimed. "I have brought you very nearly to my door. +Go back at once, please." + +He held out his hand obediently. + +"I'll go," he said, "but I warn you that I shall find you out." + +For a moment she was grave. + +"Well," she said. "I may be leaving where I am in a few days, so very +likely you will be no better off." + +He looked at her intently. + +"Miss Pellissier," he said, "I don't understand this change in you. +Every word you utter puzzles me. I have an idea that you are in some +sort of trouble. Won't you let me--can't I be of any assistance?" + +He was obviously in earnest. His tone was kind and sympathetic. + +"You are very good," she said. "Indeed I shall not forget your offer. +But just now there is nothing which you or anybody can do. Good-bye." + +He was dismissed, and he understood it. Anna crossed the street, and +letting herself in at No. 13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up +to her room. She was in excellent spirits, and it was not until she +had taken off her hat, and was considering the question of dinner or +no dinner, that she remembered that another day had passed, and she +was not a whit nearer being able to pay her to-morrow's bill. + + + + +_Chapter XI_ + +THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON + + +Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. +There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike. +Besides, she had admitted her identity. And yet--he thought of the +supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about +her, his own few minutes' whispered love-making! He was a +self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of +the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but +which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl +whom he had just left. He went over her features one by one in his +mind. They were the same. He could not doubt it. There was the same +airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. +He found himself thinking up all the psychology which he had ever +read. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the +person of Annabel Pellissier--the soul of a very different order of +being. + +He spent the remainder of the afternoon looking for a friend whom he +found at last in the billiard room of one of the smaller clubs to +which he belonged. After the usual laconic greetings, he drew him on +one side. + +"Fred," he said, "do you remember taking me to dinner at the +'Ambassador's,' one evening last September, to meet a girl who was +singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us." + +"Of course," his friend answered. "_La belle_ 'Alcide,' wasn't it? +Annabel Pellissier was her real name. Jolly nice girl, too." + +Ennison nodded. + +"I thought I saw her in town to-day," he said. "Do you happen to know +whether she is supposed to be here?" + +"Very likely indeed," Captain Fred Meddoes answered, lighting a +cigarette. "I heard that she had chucked her show at the French places +and gone in for a reform all round. Sister's got married to that +bounder Ferringhall." + +Ennison took an easy chair. + +"What a little brick!" he murmured. "She must have character. It's no +half reform either. What do you know about her, Fred? I am +interested." + +Meddoes turned round from the table on which he was practising shots +and shrugged his shoulders. + +"Not much," he answered, "and yet about all there is to be known, I +fancy. There were two sisters, you know. Old Jersey and Hampshire +family, the Pellissiers, and a capital stock, too, I believe." + +"Any one could see that the girls were ladies," Ennison murmured. + +"No doubt about that," Meddoes continued. "The father was in the army, +and got a half-pay job at St. Heliers. Died short, I suppose, and the +girls had to shift for themselves. One went in for painting, kept +straight and married old Ferringhall a week or so ago--the Lord help +her. The other kicked over the traces a bit, made rather a hit with +her singing at some of those French places, and went the pace in a +mild, ladylike sort of way. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, +then. If she's over, he probably knows all about it." + +Ennison looked steadily at the cigarette which he was tapping on his +forefinger. + +"So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?" he remarked. + +"No doubt about that, I fancy," Meddoes answered lightly. "He ran some +Austrian fellow off. She was quite the rage, in a small way, you know. +Strange, demure-looking young woman, with wonderful complexion and +eyes, and a style about her, too. Care for a hundred up?" + +Ennison shook his head. + +"Can't stop, thanks," he answered. "See you to-night, I suppose?" + +He sauntered off. + +"I'm damned if I'll believe it," he muttered to himself savagely. + +But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. + + * * * * * + +The same night he met Meddoes and Drummond together, the latter over +from Paris on a week's leave from the Embassy. + +"Odd thing," Meddoes remarked, "we were just talking about the +Pellissier girl. Drummond was telling me about the way old Ferringhall +rounded upon them all at the club." + +"Sounds interesting," Ennison remarked. "May I hear?" + +"It really isn't much to tell," Drummond answered. "You know what a +fearful old prig Ferringhall is, always goes about as though the whole +world were watching him? We tried to show him around Paris, but he +wouldn't have any of it. Talked about his years, his position and his +constituents, and always sneaked off back to his hotel just when the +fun was going to begin. Well one night, some of us saw him, or thought +we saw him, at a cafe dining with 'Alcide,'--as a matter of fact, it +seems that it was her sister. He came into the club next day, and of +course we went for him thick. Jove, he didn't take to it kindly, I can +tell you. Stood on his dignity and shut us up in great style. It seems +that he was a sort of family friend of the Pellissiers, and it was the +artist sister whom he was with. The joke of it is that he's married to +her now, and cuts me dead." + +"I suppose," Ennison said, "the likeness between the sisters must be +rather exceptional?" + +"I never saw the goody-goody one close to, so I can't say," Drummond +answered. "Certainly I was a little way off at the cafe, and she had a +hat and veil on, but I could have sworn that it was 'Alcide.'" + +"Is 'Alcide' still in Paris?" Ennison asked. + +"Don't think so," Drummond answered. "I heard the other day that she'd +been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in +Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. Anyhow, she's +disappeared for some reason or other. Perhaps Ferringhall has +pensioned her off. He's the sort of johnny who wouldn't care about +having a sister-in-law on the loose." + +"Ennison here thought he saw her in London," Meddoes remarked. + +Drummond nodded. + +"Very likely. The two sisters were very fond of one another, I +believe. Perhaps Sir John is going to take the other one under his +wing. Who's for a rubber of whist?" + +Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the +evening. He walked across the Park and called upon his sister. + +"Is Lady Lescelles in?" he asked the butler. + +"Her ladyship dined at home," the man answered. "I have just ordered a +carriage for her. I believe that her ladyship is going to Carey House, +and on to the Marquis of Waterford's ball," he added, hastily +consulting a diary on the hall table. + +A tall elegantly dressed woman, followed by a maid, came down the +broad staircase. + +"Is that you, Nigel?" she asked. "I hope you are going to Carey +House." + +He shook his head, and threw open the door of a great dimly-lit +apartment on the ground floor. + +"Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche," he said. "I want to speak +to you." + +She assented, smiling. He was her only brother, and she his favourite +sister. He closed the door. + +"I want to ask you a question," he said. "A serious question." + +She stopped buttoning her glove, and looked at him. + +"Well?" + +"You and all the rest of them are always lamenting that I do not +marry. Supposing I made up my mind to marry some one of good enough +family, but who was in a somewhat doubtful position, concerning whose +antecedents, in fact there was a certain amount of scandal. Would you +stand by me--and her?" + +"My dear Nigel!" she exclaimed. "Are you serious?" + +"You know very well that I should never joke on such a subject. Mind, +I am anticipating events. Nothing is settled upon. It may be, it +probably will all come to, nothing. But I want to know whether in such +an event you would stand by me?" + +She held out her hand. + +"You can count upon me, Nigel," she said. "But for you Dad would never +have let me marry Lescelles. He was only a younger son, and you know +what trouble we had. I am with you through thick and thin, Nigel." + +He kissed her, and handed her into the carriage. Then he went back to +his rooms and lit a cigar. + +"There are two things to be done," he said softly to himself. "The +first is to discover what she is here for, and where she is staying. +The second is to somehow meet Lady Ferringhall. These fellows must be +right," he added thoughtfully, "and yet--there's a mystery somewhere." + + + + +_Chapter XII_ + +THE POSTER OF "ALCIDE" + + +On Saturday mornings there was deposited on the plate of each guest at +breakfast time, a long folded paper with Mrs. White's compliments. +Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left +the house without a smile upon her face. She was practically destitute +of jewellery. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a +very scanty lunch. Another day of non-success would mean many +disagreeable things. + +And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of +hers was a slender reed on which to lean. She mounted the stairs of +the theatrical agent's office with very much less than her usual +buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general +appearance of the room into which she was shown. There was already a +score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together, +others seated in chairs ranged along the wall. Beyond was another +door, on which was painted in black letters: + + MR. EARLES, + Strictly Private + +Every one stared at Anna. Anna stared back at every one with undaunted +composure. A young man with shiny frock coat and very high collar, +advanced towards her languidly. + +"Want to see Mr. Earles?" he inquired. + +"I do," Anna answered. "Here is my card. Will you take it in to him?" + +The young man smiled in a superior manner. + +"Have to take your turn," he remarked laconically. "There's twenty +before you, and Mr. Earles is going out at twelve sharp--important +engagement. Better come another morning." + +"Thank you," Anna answered. "I will take my chance." + +She removed some posters from a chair, and seated herself coolly. The +young man looked at her. + +"Unless you have an appointment, which you haven't," he said, "you'll +only waste your time here." + +"I can spare it," Anna answered suavely. + +The young man entered into a lively little war of words with a +yellow-haired young person near the door. Anna picked up an ancient +magazine, and began to turn over the pages in a leisurely way. The +conversation which her entrance had interrupted began to buzz again +all around her. A quarter of an hour passed. Then the inner door +opened abruptly. A tall, clean-shaven man came out and walked rapidly +through the room, exchanging greetings right and left, but evidently +anxious to avoid being detained. Mr. Earles himself stood upon the +threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with +black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. A +florid-looking young woman rose up and accosted him eagerly. + +"I'm next, Mr. Earles," she exclaimed. "Been sitting on the doorstep +almost for two hours." + +"In a minute, in a minute," he answered, his eyes fixed upon Anna. +"Reuben, come here." + +The young man obeyed the summons. His employer retreated into the +further apartment, leaving the door ajar. + +"What's that young lady's name--girl in dark brown, stranger here?" +Mr. Earles asked sharply. + +The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. A +sense of impending disaster was upon him. Mr. Earles glanced at it, +and his eyes flashed with anger. + +"You blithering idiot!" he exclaimed. + +Mr. Earles strode into the waiting-room. His face was wreathed in +smiles, his be-ringed hand was cordially outstretched. + +"My dear Miss Pellissier," he said impressively, "this is an +unexpected pleasure. Come in! Come in, do. I must apologize for my +young puppy of a clerk. If I had known that you were here you should +not have been kept waiting for a second." + +It took a good deal to surprise Anna, but it was all she could do to +follow Mr. Earles with composure into the inner room. There was a +little murmur of consternation from the waiting crowd, and the florid +young woman showed signs of temper, to which Mr. Earles was absolutely +indifferent. He installed Anna in a comfortable easy chair, and placed +his own between her and the door. + +"Come," he said, "this is capital, capital. It was only a few months +ago that I told you you must come to London, and you only laughed at +me. Yet here you are, and at precisely the right moment, too. +By-the-bye," he added, in a suddenly altered tone, "I hope, I +trust--that you have not entered into any arrangements with any one +here?" + +"I--oh no!" Anna said, a little faintly. "I have made no arrangements +as yet--none at all." + +Mr. Earles recovered his spirits. + +"Excellent!" he exclaimed. "Your arrival is really most opportune. The +halls are on the lookout for something new. By-the-bye, do you +recognize that?" + +Anna looked and gasped. An enormous poster almost covered one side of +the wall--_the_ poster. The figure of the girl upon it in plain black +dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and +astonishing likeness of herself. It was her figure, her style of +dress, her manner of arranging the hair. Mr. Earles regarded it +approvingly. + +"A wonderful piece of work," he declared. "A most wonderful likeness, +too. I hope in a few days, Miss Pellissier, that these posters will be +livening up our London hoardings." + +Anna leaned back in the chair and laughed softly. Even this man had +accepted her for "Alcide" without a moment's question. Then all the +embarrassments of the matter flashed in upon her. She was suddenly +grave. + +"I suppose, Mr. Earles," she said, "that if I were to tell you that +although that poster was designed from a rough study of me, and +although my name is Pellissier, that nevertheless, I am not 'Alcide' +would you believe me?" + +"You can try it on, if you like," Mr. Earles remarked genially. "My +only answer would be to ask you to look at that mirror and then at the +poster. The poster is of 'Alcide.' It's a duplicate of the French +one." + +Anna got up and looked at the mirror and then at the poster. The +likeness was ridiculous. + +"Well?" she said, sitting down again. "I want an engagement." + +"Capital!" Mr. Earles declared. "Any choice as to which of the Halls? +You can pick and choose, you know. I recommend the 'Unusual.'" + +"I have no choice," Anna declared. + +"I can get you," Mr. Earles said, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed upon +her, "forty at the 'Unusual,' two turns, encores voluntary, six for +matinees. We should not bar any engagements at private houses, but in +other respects the arrangement must be exclusive." + +"Forty what?" Anna asked bewildered. + +"Guineas, of course," Mr. Earles answered, glibly. "Forty guineas a +week. I mentioned sixty, I believe, when I was in Paris, but there are +expenses, and just now business is bad." + +Anna was speechless, but she had presence of mind enough to sit still +until she had recovered herself. Mr. Earles watched her anxiously. She +appeared to be considering. + +"Of course," he ventured, "I could try for more at the 'Alhambra.' Very +likely they would give----" + +"I should be satisfied with the sum you mention," Anna said quietly, +"but there are difficulties." + +"Don't use such a word, my dear young lady," Mr. Earles said +persuasively. "Difficulties indeed. We'll make short work of them." + +"I hope that you may," Anna answered enigmatically. "In the first +place, I have no objection to the posters, as they have no name on +them, but I do not wish to appear at all upon the stage as 'Alcide.' +If you engage me it must be upon my own merits. You are taking it for +granted that I am 'Alcide.' As a matter of fact, I am not." + +"Excuse me," Mr. Earles said, "but this is rubbish." + +"Call it what you like," Anna answered. "I can sing the songs 'Alcide' +sang, and in the same style. But I will not be engaged as 'Alcide' or +advertised under that name." + +Mr. Earles scratched his chin for a moment thoughtfully. Then a light +seemed to break in upon him. He slapped his knee. + +"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "Of course, I remember now. It was your +sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn't it?" + +Anna nodded. + +"It was," she admitted. + +"You needn't say a word more," Mr. Earles declared. "I see the +difficulty. The old fool's been working on you through your sister to +keep off the stage. He's a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir +John--doesn't know what an artist is. It's awkward, but we'll get +round it somehow. Now I'll tell you what I propose. Let me run you for +six months. I'll give you, say, thirty-five guineas a week clear of +expenses, and half of anything you earn above the two turns a night. +What do you say?" + +"I agree," Anna said coldly, "if you will make it three months." + +"Better say six," Mr. Earles protested, seating himself before the +desk, and dipping his pen in the ink. + +"Four," Anna decided firmly. "I shall not agree to six." + +"It scarcely gives me a chance," Mr. Earles said, with a resigned +sigh, "but I shall rely upon you to stick to me so long as I do the +right thing by you. You can't do without an agent, and there's no one +can run you better than I can." + +"You must also put in the agreement," Anna said, "that I do not +represent myself to be 'Alcide,' and that I am not advertised to the +public by that name." + +Mr. Earles threw down his pen with a little exclamation. + +"Come this way," he said. + +He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a +grand piano. He seated himself before it. + +"Go to the far corner," he said, "and sing the last verse of _Les +Petites_." + +He struck a note, and Anna responded. Playing with one hand he turned +on his stool to glance at her. Instinctively she had fallen into the +posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly +forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the +song. Mr. Earles closed the piano with a little bang. + +"You are a funny, a very funny young lady," he said, "but we waste +time here. You do not need my compliments. We will get on with the +agreement and you shall have in it whatever rubbish you like." + +Anna laughed, and went back to her easy chair. She knew that her voice +was superior to Annabel's, and she had no further qualms. Whilst she +was wondering how to frame her request for an advance, Mr. Earles drew +out his cheque book. + +"You will not object," he said, glancing towards her, "to accepting a +deposit. It is customary even where an agreement is drawn." + +"I shall have no objection at all," Anna assured him. + +He handed her a cheque for thirty-one pounds, ten shillings, and read +the agreement through to her. Anna took up the pen, and signed, after +a moment's hesitation, + + A. PELLISSIER. + +"I will send you a copy," Mr. Earles said, rubbing his hands together, +"by post. Now, will you do me the honour of lunching with me, Miss +Pellissier?" + +Anna hesitated. + +"Perhaps," he queried, "you wish to avoid being seen about with any +one--er--connected with the profession, under present circumstances. +If so, do not hesitate to tell me. Be frank, I beg you, Miss +Pellissier. I am already too much flattered that you should have given +me your confidence." + +"You are very good, Mr. Earles," Anna said. "I think, perhaps if you +will excuse me, that we will defer the luncheon." + +"Just as you wish," Mr. Earles declared good-humouredly, "but I shall +not let you go without drinking a glass of wine to our success." + +He plunged into one of his drawers, and brought up a small gold-foiled +bottle. The cork came out with a loud pop, and Anna could not help +wondering how it must sound to the patient little crowd outside. She +drank her glass of wine, however, and clanked glasses good-naturedly +with Mr. Earles. + +"You must leave me your address if you please," he said, as she rose +to go. + +She wrote it down. He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no +remark. + +"I shall probably want you to come down to the 'Unusual' to-morrow +morning," he said. "Bring any new songs you may have." + +Anna nodded, and Mr. Earles attended her obsequiously to the door. She +descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street--alone. +It was a brief solitude, however. A young man, who had been spending +the last hour walking up and down on the opposite side of the way, +came quickly over to her. She looked up, and recognized Mr. Brendon. + + + + +_Chapter XIII_ + +"HE WILL NOT FORGET!" + + +The external changes in Brendon following on his alteration of fortune +were sufficiently noticeable. From head to foot he was attired in the +fashionable garb of the young man of the moment. Not only that, but he +carried himself erect--the slight slouch which had bent his shoulders +had altogether disappeared. He came to her at once, and turning, +walked by her side. + +"Now I should like to know," she said, looking at him with a quiet +smile, "what you are doing here? It is not a particularly inspiring +neighbourhood for walking about by yourself." + +"I plead guilty, Miss Pellissier," he answered at once. "I saw you go +into that place, and I have been waiting for you ever since." + +"I am not sure whether I feel inclined to scold or thank you," she +declared. "I think as I feel in a good humour it must be the latter." + +He faced her doggedly. + +"Miss Pellissier," he said, "I am going to take a liberty." + +"You alarm me," she murmured, smiling. + +"Don't think that I have been playing the spy upon you," he continued. +"Neither Sydney nor I would think of such a thing. But we can't help +noticing. You have been going out every morning, and coming home +late--tired out--too tired to come down to dinner. Forgive me, but you +have been looking, have you not, for some employment?" + +"Quite true!" she answered. "I have found out at last what a useless +person I am--from a utilitarian point of view. It has been very +humiliating." + +"And that, I suppose," he said, waving his stick towards Mr. Earles' +office, "was your last resource." + +"It certainly was," she admitted. "I changed my last shilling +yesterday." + +He was silent for a moment or two. His lips were tight drawn. His eyes +flashed as he turned towards her. + +"Do you think that it is kind of you, Miss Pellissier," he said, +almost roughly, "to ignore your friends so? In your heart you know +quite well that you could pay Sydney or me no greater compliment than +to give us just a little of your confidence. We know London, and you +are a stranger here. Surely our advice would have been worth having, +at any rate. You might have spared yourself many useless journeys and +disappointments, and us a good deal of anxiety. Instead, you are +willing to go to a place like that where you ought not to be allowed +to think of showing yourself." + +"Why not?" she asked quietly. + +"The very question shows your ignorance," he declared. "You know +nothing about the stage. You haven't an idea what the sort of +employment you could get there would be like, the sort of people you +would be mixed up with. It is positively hateful to think of it." + +She laid her fingers for a moment upon his arm. + +"Mr. Brendon," she said, "if I could ask for advice, or borrow money +from any one, I would from you--there! But I cannot. I never could. I +suppose I ought to have been a man. You see, I have had to look after +myself so long that I have developed a terrible bump of independence." + +"Such independence," he answered quickly, "is a vice. You see to what +it has brought you. You are going to accept a post as chorus girl, or +super, or something of that sort." + +"You do not flatter me," she laughed. + +"I am too much in earnest," he answered, "to be able to take this +matter lightly." + +"I am rebuked," she declared. "I suppose my levity is incorrigible. +But seriously, things are not so bad as you think." + +He groaned. + +"They never seem so at first!" he said. + +"You do not quite understand," she said gently. "I will tell you the +truth. It is true that I have accepted an engagement from Mr. Earles, +but it is a good one. I am not going to be a chorus girl, or even a +super. I have never told you so, or Sydney, but I can sing--rather +well. When my father died, and we were left alone in Jersey, I was +quite a long time deciding whether I would go in for singing +professionally or try painting. I made a wrong choice, it seems--but +my voice remains." + +"You are really going on the stage, then?" he said slowly. + +"In a sense--yes." + +Brendon went very pale. + +"Miss Pellissier," he said, "don't!" + +"Why not?" she asked, smiling. "I must live, you know." + +"I haven't told any one the amount," he went on. "It sounds too +ridiculous. But I have two hundred thousand pounds. Will you marry +me?" + +Anna looked at him in blank amazement. Then she burst into a peal of +laughter. + +"My dear boy," she exclaimed. "How ridiculous! Fancy you with all that +money! For heaven's sake, though, do not go about playing the Don +Quixote like this. It doesn't matter with me, but there are at least a +dozen young women in Mr. Earles' waiting-room who would march you +straight off to a registrar's office." + +"You have not answered my question," he reminded her. + +"Nor am I going to," she answered, smiling. "I am going to ignore it. +It was really very nice of you, but to-morrow you will laugh at it as +I do now." + +"Is it necessary," he said, "for me to tell you----" + +"Stop, please," she said firmly. + +Brendon was silent. + +"Do not force me to take you seriously," she continued. "I like to +think of your offer. It was impulsive and natural. Now let us forget +it." + +"I understand," he said, doggedly. + +"And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner," +she declared lightly. "I will tell you something if you like. One of +the reasons why I left Paris and came to London was because there was +a man there who wanted me to marry him. I really cared for him a +little, but I am absolutely determined not to marry for some time at +any rate. I do not want to get only a second-hand flavour of life. One +can learn and understand only by personal experience, by actual +contact with the realities of life. I did not want anything made +smooth and easy for me. That is why I would not marry this man whom I +did and whom I do care for a little. Later on--well then the time may +come. Then perhaps I shall send for him if he has not forgotten." + +"I do not know who he is," Brendon said quietly, "but he will not +forget." + +Anna shrugged her shoulders lightly. + +"Who can tell?" she said. "Your sex is a terrible fraud. It is +generally deficient in the qualities it prides itself upon most. Men +do not understand constancy as women do." + +Brendon was not inclined to be led away from the point. + +"We will take it then," he said, "that you have refused or ignored +one request I have made you this morning. I have yet another. Let me +lend you some money. Between comrades it is the most usual thing in +the world, and I do not see how your sex intervenes. Let me keep you +from that man's clutches. Then we can look out together for such +employment--as would be more suitable for you. I know London better +than you, and I have had to earn my own living. You cannot refuse me +this." + +He looked at her anxiously, and she met his glance with a dazzling +smile of gratitude. + +"Indeed," she said, "I would not. But it is no longer necessary. I +cannot tell you much about it, but my bad times are over for the +present. I will tell you what you shall give me, if you like." + +"Well?" + +"Lunch! I am hungry--tragically hungry." + +He called for a hansom. + +"After all," he said, "I am not sure that you are not a very material +person." + +"I am convinced of it," she answered. "Let us go to that little place +at the back of the Palace. I'm not half smart enough for the West +End." + +"Wherever you like!" he answered, a little absently. + +They alighted at the restaurant, and stood for a moment in the passage +looking into the crowded room. Suddenly a half stifled exclamation +broke from Anna's lips. Brendon felt his arm seized. In a moment they +were in the street outside. Anna jumped into a waiting hansom. + +"Tell him to drive--anywhere," she exclaimed. + +Brendon told him the name of a distant restaurant and sprang in by her +side. She was looking anxiously at the entrance to the restaurant. The +commissionaire stood there, tall and imperturbable. There was no one +else in the doorway. She leaned back in the corner of the cab with a +little sigh of relief. A smile flickered upon her lips as she glanced +towards Brendon, who was very serious indeed. Her sense of humour +could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. + +"I am so sorry to have startled you," she said, "but I was startled +myself. I saw someone in there whom I have always hoped that I should +never meet again. I hope--I am sure that he did not see me." + +"He certainly did not follow you out," Brendon answered. + +"His back was towards me," Anna said. "I saw his face in a mirror. I +wonder----" + +"London is a huge place," Brendon said. "Even if he lives here you may +go all your life and never come face to face with him again." + + + + +_Chapter XIV_ + +"THIS IS MY WIFE" + + +Anna, notwithstanding her momentary fright in the middle of the day, +was in high spirits. She felt that for a time at any rate her +depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. She had +paid her bill, and she had enough left in her purse to pay many such. +Beyond that everything was nebulous. She knew that in her new role she +was as likely as not to be a rank failure. But the relief from the +strain of her immediate necessities was immense. She had been in the +drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had +chattered gaily to every one. Now, in her old place, she was doing her +best thoroughly to enjoy a most indifferent dinner. + +"Your brother has gone?" she asked Sydney, between the courses. + +He nodded. + +"Yes. David left this afternoon. I do not think that he has quite got +over his surprise at finding you established here." + +She laughed. + +"After all, why should he be surprised?" she remarked. "Of course, one +lives differently in Paris, but then--Paris is Paris. I think that a +boarding-house is the very best place for a woman who wants to develop +her sense of humour. Only I wish that it did not remind one so much of +a second-hand clothes shop." + +Sydney looked at her doubtfully. + +"Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean," he +remarked. "He looks as though he did, at any rate. I don't! Please +enlighten me." + +She laughed gaily--and she had a way when she laughed of throwing back +her head and showing her beautiful white teeth, so that mirth from her +was a thing very much to be desired. + +"Look round the table," she said. "Aren't we all just odds and ends of +humanity--the left-overs, you know. There is something inconglomerate +about us. We are amiable to one another, but we don't mix. We can't." + +"You and I and Brendon get on all right, don't we?" Sydney objected. + +"But that's quite different," replied Anna. "You are neither of you in +the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. You don't wear a +dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night's shirt, +or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the +evening, or play at being musical. Besides----" + +She stopped short. She herself, and one other there, recognized the +interposition of something akin to tragedy. A thickly-set, sandy young +man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had +entered the room. He wore a black tail coat buttoned tightly over his +chest, and a large diamond pin sparkled in a white satin tie which had +seen better days. He bowed awkwardly to Mrs. White, who held out her +hand and beamed a welcome upon him. + +"Now isn't this nice!" that lady exclaimed. "I'm sure we're all +delighted to see you again, Mr. Hill. I do like to see old friends +back here. If there's any one here whom you have not met I will make +you acquainted with them after dinner. Will you take your old place by +Miss Ellicot." + +Miss Ellicot swept aside her skirts from the vacant chair and welcomed +the newcomer with one of her most engaging smiles. + +"We were afraid that you had deserted us for good, Mr. Hill," she said +graciously. "I suppose Paris is very, very distracting. You must come +and tell me all about it, although I am not sure whether we shall +forgive you for not having written to any of us." + +Mr. Hill was exchanging greetings with his hostess, and salutations +around the table. + +"Thank you, ma'am. Glad to get back, I'm sure," he said briskly. +"Looks like old times here, I see. Sorry I'm a bit late the first +evening. Got detained in the City, and----" + +Then he met the fixed, breathless gaze of those wonderful eyes from +the other side of the table, and he, too, broke off in the middle of +his sentence. He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. His +large, coarse lips drew wider apart. Slowly a mirthless and very +unpleasant smile dawned upon his face. + +"Great Scott!" he exclaimed huskily. "Why--it's--it's you!" + +Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. The girl +regarded him with the face of a Sphinx. Only in her eyes there seemed +to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man's clothes and +manners were alike undesirable things. + +"Are you speaking to me?" she asked calmly. "I am afraid that you are +making a mistake. I am quite sure that I do not know you." + +A dull flush burned upon his cheeks. He took his seat at the table, +but leaned forward to address her. A note of belligerency had crept +into his tone. + +"Don't know me, eh? I like that. You are--or rather you were----" he +corrected himself with an unpleasant little laugh, "Miss Pellissier, +eh?" + +A little sensation followed upon his words. Miss Ellicot pursed her +lips and sat a little more upright. The lady whose husband had been +Mayor of Hartlepool looked at Anna and sniffed. Mrs. White became +conscious of a distinct sense of uneasiness, and showed it in her +face. She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who +cared to listen, to be so very particular. On the other hand the two +young men who sat on either side of Anna were already throwing +murderous glances at the newcomer. + +"My name," Anna replied calmly, "is certainly Pellissier, but I repeat +that I do not know you. I never have known you." + +He unfolded his serviette with fingers which shook all the time. His +eyes never left her face. An ugly flush stained his cheeks. + +"I've plenty of pals," he said, "who, when they've been doing Paris on +the Q.T., like to forget all about it--even their names. But you----" + +Something seemed to catch his breath. He never finished his sentence. +There was a moment's breathless and disappointed silence. If only he +had known it, sympathy was almost entirely with him. Anna was no +favourite at No. 13 Montague Street. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"You appear," she said, without any sign of anger in her tone, and +with unruffled composure, "to be a very impertinent person. Do you +mind talking to some one else." + +Mrs. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed +to throw oil upon the troubled waters. + +"Come," she said. "We mustn't have any unpleasantness, and Mr. Hill's +first night back amongst us, too. No doubt there's some little +mistake. We all get deceived sometimes. Mr. Hill, I hope you won't +find everything cold. You're a little late, you must remember, and we +are punctual people here." + +"I shall do very well, thank you, ma'am," he answered shortly. + +Sydney and Brendon vied with one another in their efforts to engage +Anna in conversation, and Miss Ellicot, during the momentary lull, +deemed it a favourable opportunity to recommence siege operations. The +young man was mollified by her sympathy, and flattered by the obvious +attempts of several of the other guests to draw him into conversation. +Yet every now and then, during the progress of the meal, his attention +apparently wandered, and leaning forward he glanced covertly at Anna +with a curious mixture of expressions on his face. + +Anna rose a few minutes before the general company. At the same time +Sydney and Brendon also vacated their places. To reach the door they +had to pass the end of the table, and behind the chair where Mr. Hill +was seated. He rose deliberately to his feet and confronted them. + +"I should like to speak to you for a few minutes," he said to Anna, +dropping his voice a little. "It is no good playing a game. We had +better have it over." + +She eyed him scornfully. In any place her beauty would have been an +uncommon thing. Here, where every element of her surroundings was +tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and +appearance, it was striking. + +"I do not know you," she said coldly. "I have nothing to say to you." + +He stood before the door. Brendon made a quick movement forward. She +laid her hand upon his arm. + +"Please don't," she said. "It really is not necessary. Be so good as +to let me pass, sir," she added, looking her obstructor steadily in +the face. + +He hesitated. + +"This is all rot!" he declared angrily. "You can't think that I'm fool +enough to be put off like this." + +She glanced at Brendon, who stood by her side, tall and threatening. +Her eyebrows were lifted in expostulation. A faint, delightfully +humorous smile parted her lips. + +"After all," she said, "if this person will not be reasonable, I am +afraid----" + +It was enough. A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man's +shoulder. + +"Be so good as to stand away from that door at once, sir," Brendon +ordered. + +Hill lost a little of his truculency. He knew very well that his +muscles were flabby, and his nerve by no means what it should be. He +was no match for Brendon. He yielded his place and struck instead with +his tongue. He turned to Mrs. White. + +"I'm sorry, ma'am, to seem the cause of any disturbance, but this," he +pointed to Anna, "is my wife." + +The sensation produced was gratifying enough. The man's statement was +explicit, and spoken with confidence. Every one looked at Anna. For a +moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. Her +fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. She +caught her breath, and her eyes were lit with a sudden terror. She +recovered herself, however, with amazing facility. Scarcely any one +noticed the full measure of her consternation. From the threshold she +looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. + +"What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood," she declared +scornfully. "I do not even know who you are." + +She swept out of the room. Hill would have followed her, but Mrs. +White and Miss Ellicot laid each a hand upon his arm, one on either +side. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way +upstairs. + + * * * * * + +It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a +partition right across it. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and +Sydney dragged out the spirit-lamp and set it going. Anna opened a +cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee. + +"Only four spoonsful left," she declared briskly, "and your turn to +buy the next pound, Sydney." + +"Right!" he answered. "I'll bring it to-morrow. Fresh ground, no +chicory, and all the rest of it. But--Miss Pellissier!" + +"Well?" + +"Are you quite sure that you want us this evening? Wouldn't you rather +be alone? Just say the word, and we'll clear out like a shot." + +She laughed softly. + +"You are afraid," she said, "that the young man who thinks that he is +my husband has upset me." + +"Madman!" + +"Blithering ass!" + +The girl looked into the two indignant faces and held out both her +hands. + +"You're very nice, both of you," she said gently. "But I'm afraid you +are going to be in a hopeless minority here as regards me." + +They eyed her incredulously. + +"You can't imagine," Sydney exclaimed, "that the people downstairs +will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that." + +Anna measured out the coffee. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of +humour. After all, it was really rather funny. + +"Well, I don't know," she said thoughtfully. "I always notice that +people find it very easy to believe what they want to believe, and you +see I'm not in the least popular. Miss Ellicot, for instance, +considers me a most improper person." + +"Miss Ellicot! That old cat!" Sydney exclaimed indignantly. + +"Miss Ellicot!" Brendon echoed. "As if it could possibly matter what +such a person thinks of you." + +Anna laughed outright. + +"You are positively eloquent to-night--both of you," she declared. +"But, you see, appearances are very much against me. He knew my name, +and also that I had been living in Paris, and a man doesn't risk +claiming a girl for his wife, as a rule, for nothing. He was painfully +in earnest, too. I think you will find that his story will be +believed, whatever I say; and in any case, if he is going to stay on +here, I shall have to go away." + +"Don't say that," Sydney begged. "We will see that he never annoys +you." + +Anna shook her head. + +"He is evidently a friend of Mrs. White's," she said, "and if he is +going to persist in this delusion, we cannot both remain here. I'd +rather not go," she added. "This is much the cheapest place I know of +where things are moderately clean, and I should hate rooms all by +myself. Dear me, what a nuisance it is to have a pseudo husband shot +down upon one from the skies." + +"And such a beast of a one," Sydney remarked vigorously. + +Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully. + +"I wonder," he said, "is there anything we could do to help you to get +rid of him?" + +"Can you think of anything?" Anna answered. "I can't! He appears to be +a most immovable person." + +Brendon hesitated for a moment. He was a little embarrassed. + +"There ought to be some means of getting at him," he said. "The fellow +seems to know your name, Miss Pellissier, and that you have lived in +Paris. Might we ask you if you have ever seen him, if you knew him at +all before this evening?" + +She stood up suddenly, and turning her back to them, looked steadily +out of the window. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of +boarding-houses and apartments. The steps, even the pavements, were +invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat +of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for +evening dress in Montague Street. The sound of their strident voices +floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the +shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their +male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing. A young man +was playing the banjo. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out +a _pot pourri_ of popular airs. Anna raised her eyes. Above the +housetops it was different. She drew a long breath. After all, why +need one look down. Always the other things remained. + +"I think," she said, "that I would rather not have anything to say +about that man." + +"It isn't necessary," they both declared breathlessly. + +Brendon dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. He glanced at +his watch. + +"Let us walk round to Covent Garden," he suggested. "I daresay the +gallery will be full, but there is always the chance, and I know you +two are keen on Melba." + +The girl shook her head. + +"Not to-night," she said. "I have to go out." + +They hesitated. As a rule their comings and goings were discussed with +perfect confidence, but on this occasion they both felt that there was +intent in her silence as to her destination. Nevertheless Sydney, +clumsily, but earnestly, had something to say about it. + +"I am afraid--I really think that one of us ought to go with you," he +said. "That beast of a fellow is certain to be hanging about." + +She shook her head. + +"It is a secret mission," she declared. "There are policemen--and +buses." + +"You shall not need either," Brendon said grimly. "We will see that he +doesn't follow you." + +She thanked him with a look and rose to her feet. + +"Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation," she said, smiling. "I +expect it is pretty well in shreds by now. To-morrow morning I shall +have made up my mind what to do." + + + + +_Chapter XV_ + +A MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE + + +Anna looked about her admiringly. It was just such a bedroom as she +would have chosen for herself. The colouring was green and white, with +softly shaded electric lights, an alcove bedstead, which was a miracle +of daintiness, white furniture, and a long low dressing-table littered +all over with a multitude of daintily fashioned toilet appliances. +Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom--a vision of +luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and +followed by a maid presently appeared. + +"Too bad to keep you waiting," Annabel exclaimed. "I'm really very +sorry. Collins, you can go now. I will ring if I want you." + +The maid discreetly withdrew, and Anna stood transfixed, gazing with +puzzled frown at her sister. + +"Annabel! Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, child?" +she exclaimed. + +Annabel laughed a little uneasily. + +"The very question, my dear sister," she said, "tells me that I have +succeeded. Dear me, what a difference it has made! No one would ever +think that we were sisters. Don't you think that the shade of my hair +is lovely?" + +"There is nothing particular the matter with the shade," Anna +answered, "but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it. +And what on earth do you want to darken your eyebrows and use so much +make-up for at your age? You're exactly twenty-three, and you're got +up as much as a woman of forty-five." + +Annabel shrugged her shoulders. + +"I only use the weeniest little dab of rouge," she declared, "and it +is really necessary, because I want to get rid of the 'pallor +effect.'" + +Anna made no remark. Her disapproval was obvious enough. Annabel saw +it, and suddenly changed her tone. + +"You are very stupid, Anna," she said. "Can you not understand? It is +of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities +upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my +face in London. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have +abandoned my role of _ingenuee_ and altered my whole style of dress. +Upon my word, Anna," she declared, with a strange little laugh, "you +are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am +myself." + +A sudden sense of the gravity of this thing came home to Anna. Her +sister's words were true. They had changed identities absolutely. It +was not for a week or a month. It was for ever. A cold shiver came +over her. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in +different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. Annabel had taken +her life into her hands with gay _insouciance_, had made her own +friends, gone her own way. Anna never knew whither it had led +her--sometimes she had fears. It was her past now, not Annabel's. + +"It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister," Annabel +remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands +over her head. "To tell you the truth, I am a little dull." + +"Where is your husband?" Anna asked. + +"He is addressing a meeting of his constituents somewhere," Annabel +answered. "I do not suppose he will be home till late. Tell me how are +you amusing yourself?" + +Anna laughed. + +"I have been amusing myself up to now by trying to earn my living," +she replied. + +"I hope," Annabel answered lazily, "that you have succeeded. +By-the-bye, do you want any money? Sir John's ideas of pin money are +not exactly princely, but I can manage what you want, I dare say." + +"Thank you," Anna answered coldly. "I am not in need of any. I might +add that in any case I should not touch Sir John's." + +"That's rather a pity," Annabel said. "He wants to settle something on +you, I believe. It is really amusing. He lives in constant dread of a +reappearance of '_La Belle Alcide_,' and hearing it said that she is +his wife's sister. Bit priggish, isn't it? And if he only knew it--so +absurd. Tell me how you are earning your living here, +Anna--typewriting, or painting, or lady's companion?" + +"I think," Anna said, "that the less you know about me the better. Is +all your house on the same scale of magnificence as this, Annabel?" +she asked, looking round. + +Annabel shook her head. + +"Most of it is ugly and frowsy," she declared, "but it isn't worth +talking about. I have made up my mind to insist upon moving from here +into Park Lane, or one of the Squares. It is absolutely a frightful +neighbourhood, this. If only you could see the people who have been to +call on me! Sir John has the most absurd ideas, too. He won't have +menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only +fit for a museum--where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. I +can assure you, Anna, it will take me years to get decently +established. The man's as obstinate as a mule." + +Anna looked at her steadily. + +"He will find it difficult no doubt to alter his style of living," +she said. "I do not blame him. I hope you will always remember----" + +Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. + +"No lecturing, Anna!" she exclaimed. "I hope you have not come for +that." + +"I came," Anna answered, looking her sister steadily in the face, "to +hear all that you can tell me about a man named Hill." + +Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of +graceful animal ease. At Anna's words she seemed suddenly to stiffen. +Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. The little spot of rouge +was vivid enough now by reason of this new pallor, which seemed to +draw the colour even from her lips. But she did not speak. She made no +attempt to answer her sister's question. Anna looked at her curiously, +and with sinking heart. + +"You must answer me, Annabel," she continued. "You must tell me the +truth, please. It is necessary." + +Annabel rose slowly to her feet, walked to the door as though to see +that it was shut, and came back with slow lagging footsteps. + +"There was a man called Montague Hill," she said hoarsely, "but he is +dead." + +"Then there is also," Anna remarked, "a Montague Hill who is very much +alive. Not only that, but he is here in London. I have just come from +him." + +Annabel no longer attempted to conceal her emotion. She battled with a +deadly faintness, and she tottered rather than walked back to her +seat. Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister's +side and took her hand. + +"Do not be frightened, dear," she said. "You must tell me the truth, +and I will see that no harm comes to you." + +"The only Montague Hill I ever knew," Annabel said slowly, "is dead. I +know he is dead. I saw him lying on the footway. I felt his heart. It +had ceased to beat. It was a motor accident--a fatal motor accident +the evening papers called it. They could not have called it a fatal +motor accident if he had not been dead." + +Anna nodded. + +"Yes, I remember," she said. "It was the night you left Paris. They +thought that he was dead at first, and they took him to the hospital. +I believe that his recovery was considered almost miraculous." + +"Alive," Annabel moaned, her eyes large with terror. "You say that he +is alive." + +"He is certainly alive," Anna declared. "More than that, he arrived +to-day at the boarding-house where I am staying, greeted me with a +theatrical start, and claimed me--as his wife. That is why I am here. +You must tell me what it all means." + +"And you?" Annabel exclaimed. "What did you say?" + +"Well, I considered myself justified in denying it," Anna answered +drily. "He produced what he called a marriage certificate, and I +believe that nearly every one in the boarding-house, including Mrs. +White, my landlady, believes his story. I am fairly well hardened in +iniquity--your iniquity, Annabel--but I decline to have a husband +thrust upon me. I really cannot have anything to do with Mr. Montague +Hill." + +"A--marriage certificate!" Annabel gasped. + +Anna glanced into her sister's face, and rose to her feet. + +"Let me get you some water, Annabel. Don't be frightened, dear. +Remember----" + +Annabel clutched her sister's arm. She would not let her move. She +seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear. + +"A thick-set, coarse-looking young man, Anna!" she exclaimed in a +hoarse excited whisper. "He has a stubbly yellow moustache, weak eyes, +and great horrid hands." + +Anna nodded. + +"It is the same man, Annabel," she said. "There is no doubt whatever +about that. There was the motor accident, too. It is the same man, for +he raved in the hospital, and they fetched me. It was you, of course, +whom he wanted." + +"Alive! In London!" Annabel moaned. + +"Yes. Pull yourself together, Annabel! I must have the truth." + +The girl on the lounge drew a long sobbing breath. + +"You shall," she said. "Listen! There was a Meysey Hill in Paris, an +American railway millionaire. This man and he were alike, and about +the same age. Montague Hill was taken for the millionaire once or +twice, and I suppose it flattered his vanity. At any rate, he began to +deliberately personate him. He sent me flowers. Celeste introduced him +to me--oh, how Celeste hated me! She must have known. He--wanted to +marry me. Just then--I was nervous. I had gone further than I meant +to--with some Englishmen. I was afraid of being talked about. You +don't know, Anna, but when one is in danger one realizes that the--the +other side of the line is Hell. The man was mad to marry me. I heard +everywhere of his enormous riches and his generosity. I consented. We +went to the Embassy. There was--a service. Then he took me out to +Monteaux, on a motor. We were to have breakfast there and return in +the evening. On the way he confessed. He was a London man of business, +spending a small legacy in Paris. He had heard me sing--the fool +thought himself in love with me. Celeste he knew. She was chaffing him +about being taken for Meysey Hill, and suggested that he should be +presented to me as the millionaire. He told me with a coarse nervous +laugh. I was his wife. We were to live in some wretched London suburb. +His salary was a few paltry hundreds a year. Anna, I listened to all +that he had to say, and I called to him to let me get out. He laughed. +I tried to jump, but he increased the speed. We were going at a mad +pace. I struck him across the mouth, and across the eyes. He lost +control of the machine. I jumped then--I was not even shaken. I saw +the motor dashed to pieces against the wall, and I saw him pitched on +his head into the road. I leaned over and looked at him--he was quite +still. I could not hear his heart beat. I thought that he was dead. I +stole away and walked to the railway station. That night in Paris I +saw on the bills 'Fatal Motor Accidents.' _Le Petit Journal_ said that +the man was dead. I was afraid that I might be called upon as a +witness. That is why I was so anxious to leave Paris. The man who came +to our rooms, you know, that night was his friend." + +"The good God!" Anna murmured, herself shaken with fear. "You were +married to him!" + +"It could not be legal," Annabel moaned. "It couldn't be. I thought +that I was marrying Meysey Hill, not that creature. We stepped from +the Embassy into the motor--and oh! I thought that he was dead. Why +didn't he die?" + +Anna sprang to her feet and walked restlessly up and down the room. +Annabel watched her with wide-open, terrified eyes. + +"You won't give me away, Anna. He would never recognize me now. You +are much more like what I was then." + +Anna stopped in front of her. + +"You don't propose, do you," she said quietly, "that I should take +this man for my husband?" + +"You can drive him away," Annabel cried. "Tell him that he is mad. Go +and live somewhere else." + +"In his present mood," Anna remarked, "he would follow me." + +"Oh, you are strong and brave," Annabel murmured. "You can keep him at +arm's length. Besides, it was under false pretences. He told me that +he was a millionaire. It could not be a legal marriage." + +"I am very much afraid," Anna answered, "that it was. It might be +upset. I am wondering whether it would not be better to tell your +husband everything. You will never be happy with this hanging over +you." + +Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de +Cologne. + +"You don't know him, Anna," she said with a little shudder, "or you +would not talk like that. He is steeped in the conventions. Every +slight action is influenced by what he imagines would be the opinion +of other people. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to +him. He has no imagination, no real generosity. You might tell the +truth to some men, but never to him." + +Anna was thoughtful. A conviction that her sister's words were true +had from the first possessed her. + +"Annabel," she said slowly, "if I fight this thing out myself, can I +trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have +said it is useless for us to play with words. You do not love your +husband, you have married him for a position--to escape from--things +which you feared. Will you be a faithful and honest wife? Will you do +your duty by him, and forget all your past follies? Unless, Annabel, +you can----" + +"Oh, I will pledge you my word," Annabel cried passionately, "my +solemn word. Believe me, Anna. Oh, you must believe me. I have been +very foolish, but it is over." + +"Remember that you are young still, and fond of admiration," Anna +said. "You will not give Sir John any cause for jealousy? You will +have no secrets from him except--concerning those things which are +past?" + +"Anna, I swear it!" her sister sobbed. + +"Then I will do what I can," Anna promised. "I believe that you are +quite safe. He has had brain fever since, and, as you say, I am more +like what you were then than you yourself are now. I don't think for a +moment that he would recognize you." + +Annabel clutched her sister's hands. The tears were streaming down her +face, her voice was thick with sobs. + +"Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world," she cried. +"Oh, I can't thank you. You dear, dear girl. I--listen." + +They heard a man's voice outside. + +"Sir John!" Annabel gasped. + +Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door. + +"One moment, if you please!" + +She stopped short and looked round. Sir John stood upon the threshold. + + + + +_Chapter XVI_ + +THE DISCOMFITURE OF SIR JOHN + + +Sir John looked from one to the other of the two sisters. His face +darkened. + +"My arrival appears to be opportune," he said stiffly. "I was hoping +to be able to secure a few minutes' conversation with you, Miss +Pellissier. Perhaps my wife has already prepared you for what I wish +to say." + +"Not in the least," Anna answered calmly. "We have scarcely mentioned +your name." + +Sir John coughed. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her +hands--he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy +composure which secretly irritated him. + +"It is concerning--our future relations," Sir John pronounced +ponderously. + +"Indeed!" Anna answered indifferently. "That sounds interesting." + +Sir John frowned. Anna was unimpressed. Elegant, a little scornful, +she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him +steadily in the eyes. + +"I have no wish," he said, "to altogether ignore the fact that you are +my wife's sister, and have therefore a certain claim upon me." + +Anna's eyes opened a little wider, but she said nothing. + +"A claim," he continued, "which I am quite prepared to recognize. It +will give me great pleasure to settle an annuity for a moderate amount +upon you on certain conditions." + +"A--what?" Anna asked. + +"An annuity--a sum of money paid to you yearly or quarterly through my +solicitors, and which you can consider as a gift from your sister. The +conditions are such as I think you will recognize the justice of. I +wish to prevent a repetition of any such errand as I presume you have +come here upon this evening. I cannot have my wife distressed or +worried." + +"May I ask," Anna said softly, "what you presume to have been the +nature of my errand here this evening?" + +Sir John pointed to Annabel, who was as yet utterly limp. + +"I cannot but conclude," he said, "that your errand involved the +recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. I +should like to add that if a certain amount is needed to set you free +from any debts you may have contracted, in addition to this annuity, +you will not find me unreasonable." + +Anna glanced momentarily towards her sister, but Annabel neither spoke +nor moved. + +"With regard to the conditions I mentioned," Sir John continued, +gaining a little confidence from Anna's silence, "I think you will +admit that they are not wholly unreasonable. I should require you to +accept no employment whatever upon the stage, and to remain out of +England." + +Anna's demeanour was still imperturbable, her marble pallor untinged +by the slightest flush of colour. She regarded him coldly, as though +wondering whether he had anything further to say. Sir John hesitated, +and then continued. + +"I trust," he said, "that you will recognize the justice of these +conditions. Under happier circumstances nothing would have given me +more pleasure than to have offered you a home with your sister. You +yourself, I am sure, recognize how impossible you have made it for me +now to do anything of the sort. I may say that the amount of the +annuity I propose to allow you is two hundred a year." + +Anna looked for a moment steadily at her sister, whose face was still +averted. Then she moved towards the door. Before she passed out she +turned and faced Sir John. The impassivity of her features changed at +last. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. + +"Really, Sir John," she said, "I don't know how to thank you. I can +understand now these newspapers when they talk of your magnificent +philanthropy. It is magnificent indeed. And yet--you millionaires +should really, I think, cultivate the art of discrimination. I am so +much obliged to you for your projected benevolence. Frankly, it is the +funniest thing which has ever happened to me in my life. I shall like +to think of it--whenever I feel dull. Good-bye, Anna!" + +Annabel sprang up. Sir John waved her back. + +"Do I understand you then to refuse my offer?" he asked Anna. + +She shot a sudden glance at him. Sir John felt hot and furious. It was +maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of +this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment +to scintillate with scorn. There were one or two bitter moments in his +life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a +brush may sometimes crack and show weak places--that deportment and +breeding are after all things apart. Anna went out. + + * * * * * + +Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, +although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming +to herself fragments of an old French song. And then at the street +corner she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. + +"I won't pretend," he said, "that this is an accident. The fates are +never so kind to me. As a matter of fact I have been waiting for you." + +She raised her eyebrows. + +"Really," she said. "And by what right do you do anything of the +sort?" + +"No right at all," he admitted. "Only it is much too late for you to +be out alone. You have been to see your sister, of course. How is +she?" + +"My sister is quite well, thank you," she answered. "Would you mind +calling that hansom for me?" + +He looked at it critically and shook his head. + +"You really couldn't ride in it," he said, deprecatingly. "The horse's +knees are broken, and I am not sure that the man is sober. I would +sooner see you in a 'bus again." + +She laughed. + +"Do you mean to say that you have been here ever since I came?" + +"I am afraid that I must confess it," he answered. "Idiotic, isn't +it?" + +"Absolutely," she agreed coldly. "I wish you would not do it." + +"Would not do what?" + +"Well, follow buses from Russell Square to Hampstead." + +"I can assure you," he answered, "that it isn't a habit of mine. But +seriously----" + +"Well seriously?" + +"Isn't it your own fault a little? Why do you not tell me your +address, and allow me to call upon you." + +"Why should I? I have told you that I do not wish for acquaintances in +London." + +"Perhaps not in a general way," he answered calmly. "You are quite +right, I think. Only I am not an acquaintance at all. I am an old +friend, and I declined to be shelved." + +"Would you mind telling me," Anna asked, "how long I knew you in +Paris?" + +He looked at her sideways. There was nothing to be learned from her +face. + +"Well," he said slowly, "I had met you three times--before Drummond's +dinner." + +"Oh, Drummond's dinner!" she repeated. "You were there, were you?" + +He laughed a little impatiently. + +"Isn't that rather a strange question--under the circumstances?" he +asked quietly. + +Her cheeks flushed a dull red. She felt that there was a hidden +meaning under his words. Yet her embarrassment was only a passing +thing. She dismissed the whole subject with a little shrug of the +shoulders. + +"We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground," she said. "It was +perhaps my fault. You have not forgotten----" + +"I have forgotten nothing?" he answered, enigmatically. + +Anna hailed a bus. He looked at her reproachfully. The bus however was +full. They fell into step again. More than ever a sense of confusion +was upon Ennison. + +"Last time I saw you," he reminded her, "you spoke, did you not, of +obtaining some employment in London." + +"Quite true," she answered briskly, "and thanks to you I have +succeeded." + +"Thanks to me," he repeated, puzzled. "I don't understand." + +"No? But it is very simple. It was you who were so much amazed that I +did not try--the music hall stage here." + +"You must admit," he declared, "that to us--who had seen you--the +thought of your trying anything else was amazing." + +"At any rate," she declared, "your remarks decided me. I have an +engagement with a theatrical agent--I believe for the 'Unusual'." + +"You are going to sing in London?" he said quietly. + +"Yes." + +For a moment or two he did not speak. Glancing towards him she saw +that a shadow had fallen upon his face. + +"Tell me," she insisted, "why you look like that. You are afraid--that +here in London--I shall not be a success. It is that, is it not?" + +"No," he answered readily. "It is not that. The idea of your being a +failure would never have occurred to me." + +"Then why are you sorry that I am going to the 'Unusual'? I do not +understand." + +Their eyes met for a moment. His face was very serious. + +"I am sorry," he said slowly. "Why, I do not know." + +"I positively insist upon knowing," she declared cheerfully. "The +sooner you tell me the better." + +"It is very hard to explain," he answered. "I think that it is only an +idea. Only you seem to me since the time when I knew you in Paris to +have changed--to have changed in some subtle manner which I find at +times utterly bewildering. I find you an impenetrable enigma. I find +it impossible to associate you with--my little friend of the +'Ambassador's.' The things she said and did from you--seem impossible. I +had a sort of idea," he went on, "that you were starting life all over +again, and it seemed awfully plucky." + +There was a long silence. Then Anna spoke more seriously than usual. + +"I think," she said, "that I rather like what you have said. Don't be +afraid to go on thinking it. Even though I am going to sing at the +'Unusual' you may find that the 'Alcide,' whom you knew in Paris does +not exist any more. At the same time," she added, in a suddenly +altered tone, "it isn't anything whatever to do with you, is it?" + +"Why not?" he answered. "You permitted me then to call you my friend. +I do not intend to allow you to forget." + +They passed a man who stared at them curiously. Ennison started and +looked anxiously at Anna. She was quite unconcerned. + +"Did you see who that was?" he asked in a low tone. + +"I did not recognize him," Anna answered. "I supposed that he took off +his hat to you." + +"It was Cheveney!" he said slowly. + +"Cheveney!" she repeated. "I do not know any one of that name." + +He caught her wrist and turned her face towards him. Her eyes were +wide open with amazement. + +"Mr. Ennison!" + +He released her. + +"Good God!" he exclaimed. "Who are you--Annabel Pellissier or her +ghost?" + +Anna laughed. + +"If it is a choice between the two," she answered, "I must be Annabel +Pellissier. I am certainly no ghost." + +"You have her face and figure," he muttered. "You have even her name. +Yet you can look Cheveney in the face and declare that you do not know +him. You have changed from the veriest butterfly to a woman--you wear +different clothes, you have the air of another world. If you do not +help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very +soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum." + +She laughed heartily, and became as suddenly grave. + +"So Mr. Cheveney was another Paris friend, was he?" she asked. + +"Don't befool me any more," he answered, almost roughly. "If any one +should know----you should! He was your friend. We were only--_les +autres_." + +"That is quite untrue," she declared cheerfully. "I certainly knew him +no better than you." + +"Then he--and Paris--lied," Ennison answered. + +"That," she answered, "is far easier to believe. You are too +credulous." + +Ennison had things to say, but he looked at her and held his tongue. +They turned the last corner, and almost immediately a man who had been +standing there turned and struck Ennison a violent blow on the cheek. +Ennison reeled, and almost fell. Recovering himself quickly his +instinct of self-defence was quicker than his recollection of Anna's +presence. He struck out from the shoulder, and the man measured his +length upon the pavement. + +Anna sprang lightly away across the street. Brendon and Courtlaw who +had been watching for her, met her at the door. She pointed across the +road. + +"Please go and see that--nothing happens," she pleaded. + +"It is the first moment we have let him out of our sight," Brendon +exclaimed, as he hastened across the street. + +Hill sat up on the pavement and mopped the blood from his cheek. +Ennison's signet-ring had cut nearly to the bone. + +"What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?" Ennison +exclaimed, glowering down upon him. "Serves you right if I'd cracked +your skull." + +Hill looked up at him, an unkempt, rough-looking object, with broken +collar, tumbled hair, and the blood slowly dripping from his face. + +"What do you mean, hanging round with my wife?" he answered fiercely. + +Ennison looked down on him in disgust. + +"You silly fool," he said. "I know nothing about your wife. The young +lady I was with is not married at all. Why don't you make sure before +you rush out like that upon a stranger?" + +"You were with my wife," Hill repeated sullenly. "I suppose you're +like the rest of them. Call her Miss Pellissier, eh? I tell you she's +my wife, and I've got the certificate in my pocket." + +"I don't know who you are," Ennison said quietly, "but you are a +thundering liar." + +Hill staggered to his feet and drew a folded paper from his pocket. + +"Marriage certificates don't tell lies, at any rate," he said. "Just +look that through, will you." + +Ennison took the document, tore it half in two without looking at it, +and flung it back in Hill's face. Then he turned on his heel and +walked off. + + + + +_Chapter XVII_ + +THE CHANGE IN "ALCIDE" + + +"By-the-bye," his neighbour asked him languidly, "who is our hostess?" + +"Usually known, I believe, as Lady Ferringhall," Ennison answered, +"unless I have mixed up my engagement list and come to the wrong +house." + +"How dull you are," the lady remarked. "Of course I mean, who was +she?" + +"I believe that her name was Pellissier," Ennison answered. + +"Pellissier," she repeated thoughtfully. "There were some Hampshire +Pellissiers." + +"She is one of them," Ennison said. + +"Dear me! I wonder where Sir John picked her up." + +"In Paris, I think," Ennison answered. "Only married a few months ago +and lived out at Hampstead." + +"Heavens!" the lady exclaimed. "I heard they came from somewhere +outrageous." + +"Hampstead didn't suit Lady Ferringhall," Ennison remarked. "They have +just taken this house from Lady Cellender." + +"And what are you doing here?" the lady asked. + +"Politics!" Ennison answered grimly. "And you?" + +"Same thing. Besides, my husband has shares in Sir John's company. Do +you know, I am beginning to believe that we only exist nowadays by the +tolerance of these millionaire tradesmen. Our land brings us in +nothing. We have to get them to let us in for the profits of their +business, and in return we ask them to--dinner. By-the-bye, have you +seen this new woman at the 'Empire'? What is it they call +her--'Alcide?'" + +"Yes, I have seen her," Ennison answered. + +"Every one raves about her," Lady Angela continued. "For my part I can +see no difference in any of these French girls who come over here with +their demure manner and atrocious songs." + +"'Alcide's' songs are not atrocious," Ennison remarked. + +Lady Angela shrugged her shoulders. + +"It is unimportant," she said. "Nobody understands them, of course, +but we all look as though we did. Something about this woman rather +reminds me of our hostess." + +Ennison thought so too half an hour later, when having cut out from +one of the bridge tables he settled down for a chat with Annabel. +Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her +head, the play of her eyes startled him. Then he remembered that she +was Anna's sister. + +He lowered his voice a little and leaned over towards her. + +"By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall," he said, "do you know that I am a very +great admirer of your sister's? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you +of me." + +The change in Lady Ferringhall's manner was subtle but unmistakable. +She answered him almost coldly. + +"I see nothing of my sister," she said. "In Paris our lives were far +apart, and we had seldom the same friends. I have heard of you from my +husband. You are somebody's secretary, are you not?" + +It was plain that the subject was distasteful to her, but Ennison, +although famous in a small way for his social tact, did not at once +discard it. + +"You have not seen your sister lately," he remarked. "I believe that +you would find her in some respects curiously altered. I have never in +my life been so much puzzled by any one as by your sister. Something +has changed her tremendously." + +Annabel looked at him curiously. + +"Do you mean in looks?" she asked. + +"Not only that," he answered. "In Paris your sister appeared to me to +be a charming student of frivolity. Here she seems to have developed +into a brilliant woman with more character and steadfastness than I +should ever have given her credit for. Her features are the same, yet +the change has written its mark into her face. Do you know, Lady +Ferringhall, I am proud that your sister permits me to call myself her +friend." + +"And in Paris----" + +"In Paris," he interrupted, "she was a very delightful companion, but +beyond that--one did not take her seriously. I am not boring you, am +I?" + +She raised her eyes to his and smiled into his face. + +"You are not boring me," she said, "but I would rather talk of +something else. I suppose you will think me very unsisterly and +cold-hearted, but there are circumstances in connexion with my +sister's latest exploit which are intensely irritating both to my +husband and to myself." + +He recognized the force, almost the passion, which trembled in her +tone, and he at once abandoned the subject. He remained talking with +her however. It was easy for him to see that she desired to be +agreeable to him. They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir +John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. + +"Mr. Ennison," he said, "it is for you to cut in at Lady Angela's +table. Anna, do you not see that the Countess is sitting alone?" + +She rose, and flashed a quick smile upon Ennison behind her husband's +back. + +"You must come and see me some afternoon," she said to him. + +He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played +with less than his accustomed skill. On the way home he was still +thoughtful. He turned in at the club. They were talking of "Alcide," +as they often did in those days. + +"She has improved her style," someone declared. "Certainly her voice +is far more musical." + +Another differed. + +"She has lost something," he declared, "something which brought the +men in crowds around the stage at the 'Ambassador's.' I don't know what +you'd call it--a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. She sings +better perhaps. But I don't think she lays hold of one so." + +"I will tell you what there is about her which is so fetching," +Drummond, who was lounging by, declared. "She contrives somehow to +strike the personal note in an amazing manner. You are wedged in +amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you +are almost out of sight. Yet you catch her eye--you can't seem to +escape from it. You feel that that smile is for you, the words are for +you, the whole song is for you. Naturally you shout yourself hoarse +when she has finished, and feel jolly pleased with yourself." + +"And if you are a millionaire like Drummond," someone remarked, "you +send round a note and ask her to come out to supper." + +"In the present case," Drummond remarked, glancing across the room, +"Cheveney wouldn't permit it." + +Ennison dropped the evening paper which he had been pretending to +read. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. + +"Cheveney wouldn't have anything to say about it, as it happens," he +remarked, a little grimly. "Ungracious little beast, I call her. I +don't mind telling you chaps that except on the stage I haven't set +eyes on her this side of the water. I've called half a dozen times at +her flat, and she won't see me. Rank ingratitude, I call it." + +There was a shout of laughter. Drummond patted him on the shoulder. + +"Never mind, old chap," he declared. "Let's hope your successor is +worthy of you." + +"You fellows," Ennison said quietly, "are getting a little wild. I +have known Miss Pellissier as long as any of you perhaps, and I have +seen something of her since her arrival in London. I consider her a +very charming young woman--and I won't hear a word about Paris, for +there are things I don't understand about that, but I will stake my +word upon it that to-day Miss Pellissier is entitled not only to our +admiration, but to our respect. I firmly believe that she is as +straight as a die." + +Ennison's voice shook a little. They were his friends, and they +recognized his unusual earnestness. Drummond, who had been about to +speak, refrained. Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders. + +"I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any +rate," someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. "You see, +her sister is married to Ferringhall, isn't she? and she herself must +be drawing no end of a good screw here. I always say that it's poverty +before everything that makes a girl skip the line." + +Ennison escaped. He was afraid if he stayed that he would make a fool +of himself. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. +On his way he made a slight divergence from the direct route and +paused for a moment outside the flat where Anna was now living. It was +nearly one o'clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. +Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. A man came out, and +walking recklessly, almost cannoned into Ennison. He mumbled an +apology and then stopped short. + +"It's Ennison, isn't it?" he exclaimed. "What the devil are you doing +star-gazing here?" + +Ennison looked at him in surprise. + +"I might return the compliment, Courtlaw," he answered, "by asking why +the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man." + +Courtlaw was pale and dishevelled. He was carelessly dressed, and +there were marks of unrest upon his features. He pointed to where the +lights still burned in Anna's windows. + +"What do you think of that farce?" he exclaimed bitterly. "You are one +of those who must know all about it. Was there ever such madness?" + +"I am afraid that I don't understand," Ennison answered. "You seem to +have come from Miss Pellissier's rooms. I had no idea even that she +was a friend of yours." + +Courtlaw laughed hardly. His eyes were red. He was in a curious state +of desperation. + +"Nor am I now," he answered. "I have spoken too many truths to-night. +Why do women take to lies and deceit and trickery as naturally as a +duck to water?" + +"You are not alluding, I hope, to Miss Pellissier?" Ennison said +stiffly. + +"Why not? Isn't the whole thing a lie? Isn't her reputation, this +husband of hers, the 'Alcide' business, isn't it all a cursed juggle? +She hasn't the right to do it. I----" + +He stopped short. He had the air of a man who has said too much. +Ennison was deeply interested. + +"I should like to understand you," he said. "I knew Miss Pellissier in +Paris at the 'Ambassador's,' and I know her now, but I am convinced +that there is some mystery in connexion with her change of life. She +is curiously altered in many ways. Is there any truth, do you suppose, +in this rumoured marriage?" + +"I know nothing," Courtlaw answered hurriedly. "Ask me nothing. I will +not talk to you about Miss Pellissier or her affairs." + +"You are not yourself to-night, Courtlaw," Ennison said. "Come to my +rooms and have a drink." + +Courtlaw refused brusquely, almost rudely. + +"I am off to-night," he said. "I am going to America. I have work +there. I ought to have gone long ago. Will you answer me a question +first?" + +"If I can," Ennison said. + +"What were you doing outside Miss Pellissier's flat to-night? You were +looking at her windows. Why? What is she to you?" + +"I was there by accident," Ennison answered. "Miss Pellissier is +nothing to me except a young lady for whom I have the most profound +and respectful admiration." + +Courtlaw laid his hand upon Ennison's shoulder. They were at the +corner of Pall Mall now, and had come to a standstill. + +"Take my advice," he said hoarsely. "Call it warning, if you like. +Admire her as much as you choose--at a distance. No more. Look at me. +You knew me in Paris. David Courtlaw. Well-balanced, sane, wasn't I? +You never heard anyone call me a madman? I'm pretty near being one +now, and it's her fault. I've loved her for two years, I love her now. +And I'm off to America, and if my steamer goes to the bottom of the +Atlantic I'll thank the Lord for it." + +He strode away and vanished in the gathering fog. Ennison stood still +for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. Then he turned +round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where +Courtlaw had disappeared. + +"I'm d----d if I understand this," he said thoughtfully. "I never saw +Courtlaw with her--never heard her speak of him. He was going to tell +me something--and he shut up. I wonder what it was." + + + + +_Chapter XVIII_ + +ANNABEL AND "ALCIDE" + + +Lady Ferringhall lifted her eyes to the newcomer, and the greeting in +them was obviously meant for him alone. She continued to fan herself. + +"You are late," she murmured. + +"My chief," he said, "took it into his head to have an impromptu +dinner party. He brought home a few waverers to talk to them where +they had no chance of getting away." + +She nodded. + +"I am bored," she said abruptly. "This is a very foolish sort of +entertainment. And, as usual," she continued, a little bitterly, "I +seem to have been sent along with the dullest and least edifying of +Mrs. Montressor's guests." + +Ennison glanced at the other people in the box and smiled. + +"I got your note just in time," he remarked. "I knew of course that +you were at the Montressor's, but I had no idea that it was a music +hall party afterwards. Are you all here?" + +"Five boxes full," she answered. "Some of them seem to be having an +awfully good time too. Did you see Lord Delafield and Miss Anderson? +They packed me in with Colonel Anson and Mrs. Hitchings, who seem to +be absolutely engrossed in one another, and a boy of about seventeen, +who no sooner got here than he discovered that he wanted to see a man +in the promenade and disappeared." + +Ennison at once seated himself. + +"I feel justified then," he said, "in annexing his chair. I expect you +had been snubbing him terribly." + +"Well, he was presumptuous," Annabel remarked, "and he wasn't nice +about it. I wonder how it is," she added, "that boys always make love +so impertinently." + +Ennison laughed softly. + +"I wonder," he said, "how you would like to be made love to--boldly or +timorously or sentimentally." + +"Are you master of all three methods?" she asked, stopping her fanning +for a moment to look at him. + +"Indeed, no," he answered. "Mine is a primitive and unstudied manner. +It needs cultivating, I think." + +His fingers touched hers for a moment under the ledge of the box. + +"That sounds so uncouth," she murmured. "I detest amateurs." + +"I will buy books and a lay figure," he declared, "to practise upon. +Or shall I ask Colonel Anson for a few hints?" + +"For Heaven's sake no," she declared. "I would rather put up with your +own efforts, however clumsy. Love-making at first hand is dull enough. +At second hand it would be unendurable." + +He leaned towards her. + +"Is that a challenge?" + +She shrugged her shoulders, all ablaze with jewels. + +"Why not? It might amuse me." + +Somewhat irrelevantly he glanced at the next few boxes where the rest +of Mrs. Montressor's guests were. + +"Is your husband here to-night?" he asked. + +"My husband!" she laughed a little derisively. "No, he wouldn't come +here of all places--just now. He dined, and then pleaded a political +engagement. I was supposed to do the same, but I didn't." + +"You know," he said with some hesitation, "that your sister is +singing." + +She nodded. + +"Of course. I want to hear how she does it." + +"She does it magnificently," he declared. "I think--we all think that +she is wonderful." + +She looked at him with curious eyes. + +"I remember," she said, "that the first night I saw you, you spoke of +my sister as your friend. Have you seen much of her lately?" + +"Nothing at all," he answered. + +The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently +backwards and forwards. She was watching him intently. + +"Do you know," she said, "that every one is remarking how ill you +look. I too can see it. What has been the matter?" + +"Toothache," he answered laconically. + +She looked away. + +"You might at least," she murmured, "have invented a more romantic +reason." + +"Oh, I might," he answered, "have gone further still. I might have +told you the truth." + +"Has my sister been unkind to you?" + +"The family," he declared, "has not treated me with consideration." + +She looked at him doubtfully. + +"You promised faithfully to be there," he said slowly. "I loathe +afternoon concerts, and----" + +She was really like her sister he thought, impressed for a moment by +the soft brilliancy of her smile. Her fingers rested upon his. + +"You were really at Moulton House," she exclaimed penitently. "I am so +sorry. I had a perfect shoal of callers. People who would not go. I +only arrived when everybody was coming away." + +A little murmur of expectation, an audible silence announced the +coming of "Alcide." Then a burst of applause. She was standing there, +smiling at the audience as at her friends. From the first there had +always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy +which only a certain order of genius seems able to create. Then she +sang. + +Ennison listened, and his eyes glowed. Lady Ferringhall listened, and +her cheeks grew pale. Her whole face stiffened with suppressed anger. +She forgot Anna's sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the +burden which she had fastened upon her sister's shoulders. She was +fiercely and bitterly jealous. Anna was singing as she used to sing. +She was _chic_, distinguished, unusual. What right had she to call +herself "Alcide"? It was abominable, an imposture. Ennison listened, +and he forgot where he was. He forgot Annabel's idle attempts at +love-making, all the _cul-de-sac_ gallantry of the moment. The +cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little +world fell away from him. He leaned forward, and looked into the eyes +of the woman he loved, and it seemed to him that she sang back to him +with a sudden note of something like passion breaking here and there +through the gay mocking words which flowed with such effortless and +seductive music from her lips. + +Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit. +They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened +between them. Their conversation became stilted. A spot of colour, +brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. + +"She is marvellously clever," he said. + +"She appears to be very popular here," she remarked. + +"You too sing?" he asked. + +"I have given it up," she answered. "One genius in the family is +enough." After a pause, she added, "Do you mind fetching back my +recalcitrant cavalier." + +"Anything except that," he murmured. "I was half hoping that I might +be allowed to see you home." + +"If you can tear yourself away from this delightful place in five +minutes," she answered, "I think I can get rid of the others." + +"We will do it," he declared. "If only Sir John were not Sir John I +would ask you to come and have some supper." + +"Don't imperil my reputation before I am established," she answered, +smiling. "Afterwards it seems to me that there are no limits to what +one may not do amongst one's own set." + +"I am frightened of Sir John," he said, "but I suggest that we risk +it." + +"Don't tempt me," she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak +together. "You shall drive home with me in a hansom, if you will. That +is quite as far as I mean to tempt Providence to-night." + + * * * * * + +Again on his way homeward from Cavendish Square he abandoned the +direct route to pass by the door of Anna's flat. Impassive by nature +and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of +excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of +disappointment. Her sister had told him that it was true. Anna was +married. After all, she was a consummate actress. Her recent attitude +towards him was undoubtedly a pose. His long struggle with himself, +his avoidance of her were quite unnecessary. There was no longer any +risk in association with her. His pulses beat fast as he walked, his +feet fell lightly upon the pavement. He slackened his pace as he +reached the flat. The windows were still darkened--perhaps she was not +home yet. He lit a cigarette and loitered about. He laughed once or +twice at himself as he paced backwards and forwards. He felt like a +boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the +whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and +passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an +adventurer upon the threshold. + +Then a hansom drove up, and his heart gave a great leap. She stepped +on to the pavement almost before him, and his blood turned almost to +ice as he saw that she was not alone. A young man turned to pay the +cabman. Then she saw him. + +"Mr. Ennison," she exclaimed, "is that really you?" + +There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. She held out her +hand frankly. She seemed honestly glad to see him. + +"How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my +doorstep!" she remarked gaily. "Are you in a hurry? Will you come in +and have some coffee?" + +He hesitated, and glanced towards her companion. He saw now that it +was merely a boy. + +"This is Mr. Sydney Courtlaw--Mr. Ennison," she said. "You are coming +in, aren't you, Sydney?" + +"If I may," he answered. "Your coffee's too good to refuse." + +She led the way, talking all the time to Ennison. + +"Do you know, I have been wondering what had become of you," she said. +"I had those beautiful roses from you on my first night, and a tiny +little note but no address. I did not even know where to write and +thank you." + +"I have been abroad," he said. "The life of a private secretary is +positively one of slavery. I had to go at a moment's notice." + +"I am glad that you have a reasonable excuse for not having been to +see me," she said good-humouredly. "Please make yourselves comfortable +while I see to the coffee." + +It was a tiny little room, daintily furnished, individual in its +quaint colouring, and the masses of perfumed flowers set in strange +and unexpected places. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from +a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. A jar +of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of +colour from the sombre curtains behind. Anna, who had thrown aside her +sealskin coat, wore a tight-fitting walking dress of some dark shade. +He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the +play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. A +woman indeed this to love and be loved, beautiful, graceful, gay. A +dreamy sense of content crept over him. The ambitions of his life, and +they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some +outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey. A +little table covered with a damask cloth was dragged out. There were +cakes and sandwiches--for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be +remembered. They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with +a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air. + +Ennison stood by her side. They looked out over the city, grim and +silent now, for it was long past midnight. For a moment her thoughts +led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together +before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir +John had made so many changes in her life. She was silent, the ghost +of a fading smile passed from her lips. She had made her way since +then a little further into the heart of life. Yet even now there were +so many things untouched, so much to be learned. To-night she had a +curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. The +great untrodden world was before her still, into which no one can pass +alone. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation +crept over her. Sorrows and danger and disappointment she had known. +Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand. She glanced into her +companion's face, and she saw there strange things. For a moment her +heart seemed to stop beating. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped +back into the room. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood +upon the piano. + +"I am sure," she said, "that you mean to stay until you are turned +out. Do you see the time?" + +"I may come and see you?" Ennison asked, as his hand touched hers. + +"Yes," she answered, looking away. "Some afternoon." + + + + +_Chapter XIX_ + +"THIS IS NOT THE END" + + +"I said some afternoon," she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, +and taking off her gloves, "but I certainly did not mean to-day." + +"I met you accidentally," he reminded her. "Our ways happened to lie +together." + +"And our destinations also, it seems," she added, smiling. + +"You asked me in to tea," he protested. + +"In self-defence I had to," she answered. "It is a delightful day for +walking, but a great deal too cold to be standing on the pavement." + +"Of course," he said, reaching out his hand tentatively for his hat, +"I could go away even now. Your reputation for hospitality would +remain under a cloud though, for tea was distinctly mentioned." + +"Then you had better ring the bell," she declared, laughing. "The walk +has given me an appetite, and I do not feel like waiting till five +o'clock. I wonder why on earth the curtains are drawn. It is quite +light yet, and I want to have one more look at that angry red sun. +Would you mind drawing them back?" + +Ennison sprang up, but he never reached the curtains. They were +suddenly thrown aside, and a man stepped out from his hiding-place. A +little exclamation of surprise escaped Ennison. Anna sprang to her +feet with a startled cry. + +"You!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here? How dare you come to +my rooms!" + +The man stepped into the middle of the room. The last few months had +not dealt kindly with Mr. Montague Hill. He was still flashily +dressed, with much obvious jewellery and the shiniest of patent boots, +but his general bearing and appearance had altered for the worse. His +cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. He had the appearance of a +man who has known no rest for many nights. His voice when he spoke was +almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness. + +"Why not?" he exclaimed. "I have the right to be here. I hid because +there was no other way of seeing you. I did not reckon upon--him." + +He pointed to Ennison, who in his turn looked across at Anna. + +"You wish me to stay?" he asked, in a low tone. + +"I would not have you go for anything," she answered. + +"Nevertheless," Hill said doggedly, "I am here to speak to you alone." + +"If you do not leave the room at once," Anna answered calmly, "I shall +ring the bell for a policeman." + +He raised his hand, and they saw that he was holding a small revolver. + +"You need not be alarmed," he said. "I do not wish to use this. I came +here peaceably, and I only ask for a few words with you. But I mean to +have them. No, you don't!" + +Ennison had moved stealthily a little nearer to him, and looked +suddenly into the dark muzzle of the revolver. + +"If you interfere between us," the man said, "it will go hardly with +you. This lady is my wife, and I have a right to be here. I have the +right also to throw you out." + +Ennison obeyed Anna's gesture, and was silent. + +"You can say what you have to say before Mr. Ennison, if at all," Anna +declared calmly. "In any case, I decline to see you alone." + +"Very well," the man answered. "I have come to tell you this. You are +my wife, and I am determined to claim you. We were properly married, +and the certificate is at my lawyer's. I am not a madman, or a pauper, +or even an unreasonable person. I know that you were disappointed +because I did not turn out to be the millionaire. Perhaps I deceived +you about it. However, that's over and done with. I'll make any +reasonable arrangement you like. I don't want to stop your singing. +You can live just about how you like. But you belong to me--and I want +you." + +He paused for a moment, and then suddenly continued. His voice had +broken. He spoke in quick nervous sentences. + +"You did your best to kill me," he said. "You might have given me a +chance, anyway. I'm not such a bad sort. You know--I worship you. I +have done from the first moment I saw you. I can't rest or work or +settle down to anything while things are like this between you and me. +I want you. I've got to have you, and by God I will." + +He took a quick step forward. Anna held out her hand, and he paused. +There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of +her features. + +"Listen," she said. "I have heard these things from you before, and +you have had my answer. Understand once and for all that that answer +is final. I do not admit the truth of a word which you have said. I +will not be persecuted in this way by you." + +"You do not deny that you are my wife," he asked hoarsely. "You +cannot! Oh, you cannot." + +"I have denied it," she answered. "Why will you not be sensible? Go +back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris +and this absurd delusion of yours." + +"Delusion!" he muttered, glaring at her. "Delusion!" + +"You can call it what you like," she said. "In any case you will never +receive any different sort of answer from me. Stay where you are, Mr. +Ennison." + +With a swift movement she gained the bell and rang it. The man's hand +flashed out, but immediately afterwards an oath and a cry of pain +broke from his lips. The pistol fell to the floor. Ennison kicked it +away with his foot. + +"I shall send for a policeman," Anna said, "directly my maid answers +the bell--unless you choose to go before." + +The man made no attempt to recover the revolver. He walked unsteadily +towards the door. + +"Very well," he said, "I will go. But," and he faced them both with a +still expressionless glance, "this is not the end!" + + * * * * * + +Anna recovered her spirits with marvellous facility. It was Ennison +who for the rest of his visit was quiet and subdued. + +"You are absurd," she declared. "It was unpleasant while it lasted, +but it is over--and my toasted scones are delicious. Do have another." + +"It is over for now," he answered, "but I cannot bear to think that +you are subject to this sort of thing." + +She shrugged her shoulders slightly. Some of the delicate colour which +the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. + +"It is an annoyance, my friend," she said, "not a tragedy." + +"It might become one," he answered. "The man is dangerous." + +She looked thoughtfully into the fire. + +"I am afraid," she said, "that he must have a skeleton key to these +rooms. If so I shall have to leave." + +"You cannot play at hide-and-seek with this creature all your life," +he answered. "Let your friends act for you. There must be ways of +getting rid of him." + +"I am afraid," she murmured, "that it would be difficult. He really +deserves a better fate, does he not? He is so beautifully persistent." + +He drew a little nearer to her. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the +dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted +face. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers--she turned at +once to look at him. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than +usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be +a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. Nevertheless she +withdrew her hand. + +"Let me help you," he begged. "Indeed, you could have no more faithful +friend, you could find no one more anxious to serve you." + +Her hand fell back into her lap. He touched it again, and this time it +was not withdrawn. + +"That is very nice of you," she said. "But it is so difficult----" + +"Not at all," he answered eagerly. "I wish you would come and see my +lawyers. Of course I know nothing of what really did happen in +Paris--if even you ever saw him there. You need not tell me, but a +lawyer is different. His client's story is safe with him. He would +advise you how to get rid of the fellow." + +"I will think of it," she promised. + +"You must do more than think of it," he urged. "It is intolerable that +you should be followed about by such a creature. I am sure that he can +be got rid of." + +She turned and looked at him. Her face scarcely reflected his +enthusiasm. + +"It may be more difficult than you think," she said. "You see you do +not know how much of truth there is in his story." + +"If it were all true," he said doggedly, "it may still be possible." + +"I will think of it," she repeated. "I cannot say more." + +They talked for a while in somewhat dreamy fashion, Anna especially +being more silent than usual. At last she glanced at a little clock in +the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet. + +"Heavens, look at the time!" she exclaimed. "It is incredible. I +shall barely be in time for the theatre. I must go and dress at once." + +He too rose. + +"I will wait for you on the pavement, if you like," he said, "but I am +going to the 'Unusual' with you. Your maid would not be of the least +protection." + +"But your dinner!" she protested. "You will be so late." + +He laughed. + +"You cannot seriously believe," he said, "that at the present moment I +care a snap of the fingers whether I have any dinner or not." + +She laughed. + +"Well, you certainly did very well at tea," she remarked. "If you +really are going to wait, make yourself as comfortable as you can. +There are cigarettes and magazines in the corner there." + +Anna disappeared, but Ennison did not trouble either the cigarettes or +the magazines. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of +the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. + +People spoke of him everywhere as a young man of great promise, a +politician by instinct, a keen and careful judge of character. Yet he +was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. He was absolutely unable to +focus his ideas. The girl who had just left the room was as great a +mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in +Piccadilly and taken her to tea. And behind--there was Paris, memories +of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart +beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. For the first time a +definite doubt possessed him. A woman cannot change her soul. Then it +was the woman herself who was changed. Anna was not "Alcide" of the +"Ambassador's," whose subtly demure smile and piquant glances had +called him to her side from the moment of their first meeting. It was +impossible. + +She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with +common-sense, his own apprehension. He rose at once to his feet and +turned a white face upon her. + +"I am going to break a covenant," he cried. "I cannot keep silence any +longer." + +"You are going to speak to me of things which happened before we met +in London?" she asked quietly. + +"Yes! I must! The thing is becoming a torture to me. I must!" + +She threw open the door and pointed to it. + +"My word holds," she said. "If you speak--farewell." + +He stood quite silent for a moment, his eyes fixed upon her face. +Something he saw there had a curious effect upon him. He was suddenly +calm. + +"I shall not speak," he said, "now or at any other time. Come!" + +They went out together and he called a hansom. From the opposite +corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood +and glowered at them. + + + + +_Chapter XX_ + +ANNA'S SURRENDER + + +"This is indeed a gala night," said Ennison, raising his glass, and +watching for a moment the golden bubbles. "Was it really only this +afternoon that I met you in St. James' Park?" + +Anna nodded, and made a careful selection from a dish of quails. + +"It was just an hour before teatime," she remarked. "I have had +nothing since, and it seems a very long time." + +"An appetite like yours," he said resignedly, "is fatal to all +sentiment." + +"Not in the least," she assured him. "I find the two inseparable." + +He sighed. + +"I have noticed," he said, "that you seem to delight in taking a +topsy-turvy view of life. It arises, I think, from an over developed +sense of humour. You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus +Ward." + +"You do not understand me at all," she declared. "I think that you are +very dense. Besides, your remark is not in the least complimentary. I +have always understood that men avoid like the plague a woman with a +sense of humour." + +So they talked on whilst supper was served, falling easily into the +spirit of the place, and yet both of them conscious of some new thing +underlying the gaiety of their tongues and manner. Anna, in her +strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful. Without a single +ornament about her neck, or hair, wearing the plainest of black gowns, +out of which her shoulders shone gleaming white, she was easily the +most noticeable and the most distinguished-looking woman in the room. +To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper +quality in her tone. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of +spirits almost hysterical. Perhaps, after all, the others were right. +Perhaps she had found this new thing in life, the thing wonderful. The +terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen +from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a +shudder even from the memory. An acute sense of living was in her +veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. Ennison too, always +handsome and _debonnair_, seemed transported out of his calm self. His +tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. He said daring +things with a grace which made them irresistible, his eyes flashed +back upon her some eloquent but silent appreciation of the change in +her manner towards him. + +And then there came for both of them at least a temporary awakening. +It was he who saw them first coming down the room--Annabel in a +wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, +disapproving, bringing up the rear. He bent over to Anna at once. + +"It is your sister and her husband," he said. "They are coming past +our table." + +Annabel saw Ennison first, and noticing his single companion calmly +ignored him. Then making a pretence of stooping to rearrange her +flowing train, she glanced at Anna, and half stopped in her progress +down the room. Sir John followed her gaze, and also saw them. His face +clouded with anger. + +It was after all a momentary affair. Annabel passed on with a strained +nod to her sister, and Sir John's bow was a miracle of icy +displeasure. They vanished through the doorway. Anna and her escort +exchanged glances. Almost simultaneously they burst out laughing. + +"How do you feel?" she asked. + +"Limp," he answered. "As a matter of fact, I deserve to. I was engaged +to dine with your sister and her husband, and I sent a wire." + +"It was exceedingly wrong of you," Anna declared. "Before I came to +England I was told that there were two things which an Englishman who +was _comme-il-faut_ never did. The first was to break a dinner +engagement." + +"And the second?" + +"Make love to a single woman." + +"Your knowledge of our ways," he murmured "is profound. Yet, I suppose +that at the present moment I am the most envied man in the room." + +Her eyes were lit with humour. To have spoken lightly on such a +subject a few hours ago would have seemed incredible. + +"But you do not know," she whispered, "whether I am a married woman or +not. There is Mr. Montague Hill." + +The lights were lowered, and an attentive waiter hovered round Anna's +cloak. They left the room amongst the last, and Ennison had almost to +elbow his way through a group of acquaintances who had all some +pretext for detaining him, to which he absolutely refused to listen. +They entered a hansom and turned on to the Embankment. The two great +hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights. On their left the +river, with its gloomy pile of buildings on the opposite side, and a +huge revolving advertisement throwing its strange reflection upon the +black water. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces. Anna leaned back +with half closed eyes. + +"Delicious!" she murmured. + +His fingers closed upon her hand. She yielded it without protest, as +though unconsciously. Not a word passed between them. It seemed to him +that speech would be an anticlimax. + +He paid the cab, and turned to follow her. She passed inside and +upstairs without a word. In her little sitting-room she turned on the +electric light and looked around half fearfully. + +"Please search everywhere," she said. "I am going through the other +rooms. I shall not let you go till I am quite sure." + +"If he has a key," Ennison said, "how are you to be safe?" + +"I had bolts fitted on the doors yesterday," she answered. "If he is +not here now I can make myself safe." + +It was certain that he was not there. Anna came back into the +sitting-room with a little sigh of relief. + +"Indeed," she said, "it was very fortunate that I should have met you +this afternoon. Either Sydney or Mr. Brendon always comes home with +me, and to-night both are away. Mary is very good, but she is too +nervous to be the slightest protection." + +"I am very glad," he answered, in a low tone. "It has been a +delightful evening for me." + +"And for me," Anna echoed. + +A curious silence ensued. Anna was sitting before the fire a little +distance from him--Ennison himself remained standing. Some shadow of +reserve seemed to have crept up between them. She laughed nervously, +but kept her eyes averted. + +"It is strange that we should have met Annabel," she said. "I am +afraid your broken dinner engagement will not be so easy to explain." + +He was very indifferent. In fact he was thinking of other things. + +"I am going," he said, "to be impertinent. I do not understand why you +and your sister should not see more of one another. You must be lonely +here with only a few men friends." + +She shook her head. + +"Loneliness," she said, "is a luxury which I never permit myself. +Besides--there is Sir John." + +"Sir John is an ass!" he declared. + +"He is Annabel's husband," she reminded him. + +"Annabel!" He looked at her thoughtfully. "It is rather odd," he said, +"but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna." + +"Many other people," she remarked, "have made the same mistake." + +"Again," he said, "I am going to be impertinent. I never met your +sister in Paris, but I heard about her more than once. She is not in +the least like the descriptions of her." + +"She has changed a good deal," Anna admitted. + +"There is some mystery about you both," he exclaimed, with sudden +earnestness. "No, don't interrupt me. Why may I not be your friend? +Somehow or other I feel that you have been driven into a false +position. You represent to me an enigma, the solution of which has +become the one desire of my life. I want to give you warning that I +have set myself to solve it. To-morrow I am going to Paris." + +She seemed unmoved, but she did not look at him. + +"To Paris! But why? What do you hope to discover there?" + +"I do not know," he answered, "but I am going to see David Courtlaw." + +Then she looked up at him with frightened eyes. + +"David Courtlaw!" she repeated. "What has he to do with it?" + +"He was your sister's master--her friend. A few days ago I saw him +leave your house. He was like a man beside himself. He began to tell +me something--and stopped. I am going to ask him to finish it." + +She rose up. + +"I forbid it!" she said firmly. + +They were standing face to face now upon the hearthrug. She was very +pale, and there was a look of fear in her eyes. + +"I will tell you as much as this," she continued. "There is a secret. +I admit it. Set yourself to find it out, if you will--but if you do, +never dare to call yourself my friend again." + +"It is for your good--your good only I am thinking," he declared. + +"Then let me be the judge of what is best," she answered. + +He was silent. He felt his heart beat faster and faster--his +self-restraint slipping away. After all, what did it matter?--it or +anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, +beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the +light which was burning in his eyes. A quick flush stained her cheeks. +She put out her hands to avoid his embrace. + +"No!" she exclaimed. "You must not. It is impossible." + +His arms were around her. He only laughed his defiance. + +"I will make it possible," he cried. "I will make all things +possible." + +Anna was bewildered. She did not know herself. Only she was conscious +of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. She gave her lips to his +without resistance. All her protests seemed stifled before she could +find words to utter them. With a little sigh of happiness she accepted +this new thing. + + + + +_Chapter XXI_ + +HER SISTER'S SECRET + + +"I think," Lady Ferringhall said, "that you are talking very +foolishly. I was quite as much annoyed as you were to see Mr. Ennison +with my sister last night. But apart from that, you have no particular +objection to him, I suppose?" + +"The occurrence of last night is quite sufficient in itself," Sir John +answered, "to make me wish to discontinue Mr. Ennison's acquaintance. +I should think, Anna, that your own sense--er--of propriety would +enable you to see this. It is not possible for us to be on friendly +terms with a young man who has been seen in a public place, having +supper alone with your sister after midnight. The fact itself is +regrettable enough--regrettable, I fear, is quite an inadequate word. +To receive him here afterwards would be most repugnant to me." + +"He probably does not know of the relationship," Annabel remarked. + +"I imagine," Sir John said, "that your sister would acquaint him with +it. In any case, he is liable to discover it at any time. My own +impression is that he already knows." + +"Why do you think so?" she asked. + +"I noticed him call her attention to us as we passed down the room," +he answered. "Of course he may merely have been telling her who we +were, but I think it improbable." + +"Apart from the fact of his acquaintance with Anna--Annabel," Lady +Ferringhall said quickly, "may I ask if you have any other objection +to Mr. Ennison?" + +Sir John hesitated. + +"To the young man himself," he answered, "no! I simply object to his +calling here two or three times a week during my absence." + +"How absurd!" Annabel declared. "How could he call except in your +absence, as you are never at home in the afternoon. And if I cared to +have him come every day, why shouldn't he? I find him very amusing and +very useful as well. He brought his mother to call, and as you know +the Countess goes scarcely anywhere. Hers is quite the most exclusive +set in London." + +"My feeling in the matter," Sir John said, "is as I have stated. +Further, I do not care for you to accept social obligations from Mr. +Ennison, or any other young man." + +"You are jealous," she declared contemptuously. + +"If I am," he answered, reddening, "you can scarcely assert that it is +without a cause. You will forgive my remarking, Anna, that I consider +there is a great change in your manner towards me and your general +deportment since our marriage." + +Annabel laughed gaily. + +"My dear man," she exclaimed, "wasn't that a foregone conclusion?" + +"You treat the matter lightly," he continued. "To me it seems serious +enough. I have fulfilled my part of our marriage contract. Can you +wonder that I expect you to fulfil yours?" + +"I am not aware," she answered, "that I have ever failed in doing so." + +"You are at least aware," he said, "that you have on several recent +occasions acted in direct opposition to my wishes." + +"For example?" + +"Your dyed hair. I was perfectly satisfied with your appearance. I +consider even now that the present colour is far less becoming. Then +you have altered not only that, but your manner of dressing it. You +have darkened your eyebrows, you have even changed your style of +dress. You have shown an almost feverish anxiety to eliminate from +your personal appearance all that reminded me of you--when we first +met." + +"Well," she said, "has there not been some reason for this? The +likeness to Annabel could scarcely have escaped remark. You forget +that every one is going to the 'Unusual' to see her." + +He frowned heavily. + +"I wish that I could forget it," he said. "Fortunately I believe that +the relationship is not generally known. I trust that no unpleasant +rumours will be circulated before the election, at any rate." + +Annabel yawned. + +"They might do you good," she remarked. "'Alcide' is very popular." + +Sir John turned towards the door. + +"It does not appear to me," he said, stiffly, "to be an affair for +jests." + +Annabel laughed derisively and took up her book. She heard her +husband's heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his +carriage as he drove off. Then she threw the volume away with a little +impatient exclamation. She rose from her chair, and began walking up +and down the room restlessly. Every now and then she fingered an +ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. +Once she stopped in front of a mirror and looked at herself +thoughtfully. + +"I am getting plain," she said, with a little shudder. "This life is +killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!" + +Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. She went to her room and +changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark +walking dress. A few minutes later she left the house on foot, and +taking a hansom at the corner of the Square, drove to Anna's flat. + +Anna was having tea by herself when she entered. She rose at once with +a little exclamation, half of surprise, half of pleasure. + +"My dear Annabel," she said, "this is delightful, but I thought that +it was forbidden." + +"It is," Annabel answered shortly. "But I wanted to see you." + +Anna wheeled an easy chair to the fire. + +"You will have some tea?" she asked. + +Annabel ignored both the chair and the invitation. She was looking +about her, and her face was dark with anger. The little room was +fragrant with flowers, Anna herself bright, and with all the evidences +of well being. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had +been burning within her since the night of her visit to the +"Unusual." Her voice trembled with suppressed passion. + +"I have come for an explanation," she said. "You are an impostor. How +dare you use my name and sing my songs?" + +Anna looked at her sister in blank amazement. + +"Annabel!" she exclaimed. "Why, what is the matter with you? What do +you mean?" + +Annabel laughed scornfully. + +"Oh, you know," she said. "Don't be a hypocrite. You are not 'Alcide.' +You have no right to call yourself 'Alcide.' You used to declare that +you hated the name. You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it +all up, never to go near the 'Ambassador's' again. And yet the moment +I am safely out of the way you are content to dress yourself in my +rags, to go and get yourself popular and admired and successful, all +on my reputation." + +"Annabel! Annabel!" + +Annabel stamped her foot. Her tone was hoarse with passion. + +"Oh, you can act!" she cried. "You can look as innocent and shocked as +you please. I want to know who sent you those." + +She pointed with shaking fingers to a great bunch of dark red +carnations, thrust carelessly into a deep china bowl, to which the +card was still attached. Anna followed her finger, and looked back +into her sister's face. + +"They were sent to me by Mr. Nigel Ennison, Annabel. How on earth does +it concern you?" + +Annabel laughed hardly. + +"Concern me!" she repeated fiercely. "You are not content then with +stealing from me my name. You would steal from me then the only man I +ever cared a snap of the fingers about. They are not your flowers. +They are mine! They were sent to 'Alcide' not to you." + +Anna rose to her feet. At last she was roused. Her cheeks were +flushed, and her eyes bright. + +"Annabel," she said, "you are my sister, or I would bid you take the +flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. But behind these +things which you have said to me there must be others of which I know +nothing. You speak as one injured--as though I had been the one to +take your name--as though you had been the one to make sacrifices. In +your heart you know very well that this is absurd. It is you who took +my name, not I yours. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds +upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. It is I who +am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband." + +Annabel shivered a little and looked around her. + +"He does not come here," she exclaimed, quickly. + +"He spends hours of every day on the pavement below," Anna answered +calmly. "I have been bearing this--for your sake. Shall I send him to +Sir John?" + +Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. + +"It was your own fault," she exclaimed. "He would never have found you +out if you had not personated me." + +"On the contrary," Anna whispered quietly, "we met in a small +boarding-house where I was stopping." + +"You have not told me yet," Annabel said, "how it is that you have +dared to personate me. To call yourself 'Alcide'! Your hair, your +gestures, your voice, all mine! Oh, how dared you do it?" + +"You must not forget," Anna said calmly, "that it is necessary for me +also--to live. I arrived here with something less than five pounds in +my pocket. My reception at West Kensington you know of. I was the +black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. You did not complain then +that I personated you--no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and +for your sake I lied." + +"You did not----" + +"Wait, Annabel! When I arrived in London I went to live in the +cheapest place I could find. I set myself to find employment. I +offered myself as a clerk, as a milliner, as a shop girl. I would even +have taken a place as waitress in a tea shop. I walked London till the +soles of my shoes were worn through, and my toes were blistered. I ate +only enough to keep body and soul together." + +"There was no need for such heroism," Annabel said coldly. "You had +only to ask----" + +"Do you think," Anna interrupted, with a note of passion trembling +also in her tone, "that I would have taken alms from Sir John, the man +to whom I had lied for your sake. It was not possible. I went at last +when I had barely a shilling in my purse to a dramatic agent. By +chance I went to one who had known you in Paris." + +"Well!" + +"He greeted me effusively. He offered me at once an engagement. I told +him that I was not 'Alcide.' He only laughed. He had seen the +announcement of your marriage in the papers, and he imagined that I +simply wanted to remain unknown because of your husband's puritanism. +I sang to him, and he was satisfied. I did not appear, I have never +announced myself as 'Alcide.' It was the Press who forced the identity +upon me." + +"They were my posters," Annabel said. "The ones Cariolus did for me." + +"The posters at least," Anna answered quietly, "I have some claim to. +You know very well that you took from my easel David Courtlaw's study +of me, and sent it to Cariolus. You denied it at the time--but +unfortunately I have proof. Mr. Courtlaw found the study in Cariolus' +studio." + +Annabel laughed hardly. + +"What did it matter?" she cried. "We are, or rather we were, so much +alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the +other. It saved me the bother of being studied." + +"It convinced Mr. Earles that I was 'Alcide,'" Anna remarked quietly. + +"We will convince him now to the contrary," Annabel answered. + +Anna looked at her, startled. + +"What do you mean?" she asked. + +Annabel set her teeth hard, and turned fiercely towards Anna. + +"It means that I have had enough of this slavery," she declared. "My +husband and all his friends are fools, and the life they lead is +impossible for me. It takes too many years to climb even a step in the +social ladder. I've had enough of it. I want my freedom." + +"You mean to say," Anna said slowly, "that you are going to leave your +husband?" + +"Yes." + +"You are willing to give up your position, your beautiful houses, your +carriages and milliner's accounts to come back to Bohemianism?" + +"Why not?" Annabel declared. "I am sick of it. It is dull--deadly +dull." + +"And what about this man--Mr. Montague Hill?" + +Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with +the back of a chair. She looked stealthily at Anna. + +"You have succeeded a little too well in your personation," she said +bitterly, "to get rid very easily of Mr. Montague Hill. You are a +great deal more like what I was a few months ago than I am now." + +Anna laughed softly. + +"You propose, then," she remarked, "that I shall still be saddled with +a pseudo husband. I think not, Annabel. You are welcome to proclaim +yourself 'Alcide' if you will. I would even make over my engagement to +you, if Mr. Earles would permit. But I should certainly want to be rid +of Mr. Montague Hill, and I do not think that under those +circumstances I should be long about it." + +Annabel sank suddenly into a chair. Her knees were trembling, her +whole frame was shaken with sobs. + +"Anna," she moaned, "I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. But oh, how +weary I am! I know. If only--Anna, tell me," she broke off suddenly, +"how did you get to know Mr. Ennison?" + +"He spoke to me, thinking that I was you," Anna answered. "I liked +him, and I never undeceived him." + +"And he sat at my table," Annabel said bitterly, "and yet he did not +know me." + +Anna glanced up. + +"You must remember," she said, "that you yourself are responsible for +your altered looks." + +"For the others," Annabel said tearfully, "that is well enough. But +for him----" + +Something in her sister's tone startled Anna. She looked at her for a +moment fixedly. When she tried to speak she found it difficult. Her +voice seemed to come from a long way off. + +"What do you mean, Annabel? You only knew Mr. Ennison slightly----" + +There was a dead silence in the little room. Anna sat with the face of +a Sphinx--waiting. Annabel thought, and thought again. + +"I knew Mr. Ennison better than I have ever told you," she said +slowly. + +"Go on!" + +"You know--in Paris they coupled my name with some one's--an +Englishman's. Nigel Ennison was he." + +Anna stood up. Her cheeks were aflame. Her eyes were lit with +smouldering passion. + +"Go on!" she commanded. "Let me know the truth." + +Annabel looked down. It was hard to meet that gaze. + +"Does he never speak to you of--of old times?" she faltered. + +"Don't fence with me," Anna cried fiercely. "The truth!" + +Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister's ear. + + + + +_Chapter XXII_ + +AN OLD FOOL + + +Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. She was +wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John +would not be home for several hours at least. + +"I am delighted to see you, Mr. Ennison," she said, letting her +fingers rest in his. "Do come and cheer me up. I am bored to +distraction." + +He took a seat by her side. He was looking pale and ill. There were +shadows under his eyes. He returned her impressive greeting almost +mechanically. + +"But you yourself," she exclaimed, glancing into his face, "you too +look tired. You poor man, what have you been doing to yourself?" + +"Nothing except travelling all night," he answered. "I am just back +from Paris. I am bothered. I have come to you for sympathy, perhaps +for help." + +"You may be sure of the one," she murmured. "The other too if it is +within my power." + +"It is within yours--if anybody's," he answered. "It is about your +sister, Lady Ferringhall." + +Annabel gave a little gasp. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the +lines of her mouth hardened. The change in her face was not a pleasant +one. + +"About my sister," she repeated slowly. + +Her tone should have warned him, but he was too much in earnest to +regard it. + +"Yes. You remember that you saw us at the Savoy a few evenings ago?" + +"Yes." + +"And you knew, of course, that we were old friends?" + +"Indeed!" + +"Lady Ferringhall, I love your sister." + +"You what?" she repeated incredulously. + +"I love your sister." + +Lady Ferringhall sat with half closed eyes and clenched teeth. Brute! +Fool! To have come to her on such an errand. She felt a hysterical +desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole +miserable truth. The effort to maintain her self-control was almost +superhuman. + +"But--your people!" she gasped. "Surely Lady Ennison would object, +even if it were possible. And the Duke, too--I heard him say that a +married secretary would be worse than useless to him." + +"The difficulties on my own side I can deal with," he answered. "I am +not dependent upon any one. I have plenty of money, and the Duke will +not be in the next Cabinet. My trouble is with your sister." + +Lady Ferringhall was conscious of some relief. + +"She has refused to listen to you?" + +"She has behaved in a most extraordinary manner," he answered. "We +parted--that night the best of friends. She knew that I cared for her, +she had admitted that she cared for me. I suppose I was a little +idiotic--I don't think we either of us mentioned the future, but it +was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with +her. When I went I was refused admittance. I have since received a +most extraordinary letter from her. She offers me no explanation, +permits me absolutely no hope. She simply refuses to see or hear from +me again. I went to the theatre that night. I waited for her at the +back. She saw me, and, Lady Ferringhall, I shall never forget her look +as long as I live. It was horrible. She looked at me as though I were +some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in +the calendar. I could not have spoken to her. It took my breath away. +By the time I had recovered myself she had gone. My letters are +returned unopened, her maid will not even allow me across the +doorstep." + +"The explanation seems to me to be reasonably simple," Annabel said +coldly. "You seem to forget that my sister is--married." + +"If she is," he answered, "I am convinced that there are circumstances +in connexion with that marriage which would make a divorce easy." + +"You would marry a divorcee?" she asked. + +"I would marry your sister anyhow, under any circumstances," he +answered. + +She looked at him curiously. + +"I want to ask you a question," she said abruptly. "This wonderful +affection of yours for my sister, does it date from your first meeting +with her in Paris?" + +He hesitated. + +"I admired your sister in Paris," he answered, "but I do not believe +that I regard her now as altogether the same person. Something has +happened to change her marvellously, either that, or she wilfully +deceived me and every one else in those days as to her real self. She +was a much lighter and more frivolous person, very charming and +companionable--but with a difference--a great difference. I wonder +whether you would mind, Lady Ferringhall," he went on, with a sudden +glance at her, "if I tell you that you yourself remind me a great deal +more of what she was like then, except of course that your complexion +and colouring are altogether different." + +"I am highly flattered," she remarked, with subtle irony. + +"Will you help me?" he asked. + +"What can I do?" + +"Go and see her. Find out what I have done or failed to do. Get me an +interview with her." + +"Really," she said, with a hard little laugh, "you must regard me as a +very good-natured person." + +"You are," he answered unconsciously. "I am sure that you are. I want +her to tell me the whole truth about this extraordinary marriage. We +will find some way out of it." + +"You think that you can do that?" + +"I am sure of it," he answered, confidently. "Those things are +arranged more easily in any other country than England. At any rate +she must see me. I demand it as a right. I must know what new thing +has come between us that she should treat me as a lover one day and a +monster the next." + +She leaned back amongst the cushions of her chair. She was very pale, +but she reminded him more at that minute than at any time of "Alcide" +as he had first known her. + +"I wonder," she said, "how much you care." + +"I care as a man cares only once in his life," he answered promptly. +"When it comes there is no mistaking it." + +"Did it come--in Paris?" + +"I do not know," he answered. "I do not think so. What does it matter? +It is here, and it is here to stay. Do help me, Lady Ferringhall. You +need not be afraid. No trouble will ever come to your sister through +me. If this idiotic marriage is binding then I will be her friend. But +I have powerful friends. I only want to know the truth, and I will +move heaven and earth to have it set aside." + +"The truth," she murmured, with her eyes fixed upon him. "Well----" + +She stopped short. He looked at her in some embarrassment. + +"Forgive me," he said, "but I want to hear it from your sister. It is +her duty to tell me, and I would not have her think that I had been +trying to work upon your sympathies to learn her secrets." + +She was silent. + +"You will go and see her," he begged. + +"Yes, I will go," she promised, with a queer little smile. "It is +against my husband's orders, and I am not sure that my sister will be +particularly glad to see me. But I will go." + +"I shall always be grateful to you," he declared. + +"Don't be too sure of that," she answered enigmatically. + + + + +_Chapter XXIII_ + +MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST + + +At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister's +flat. There was no response. She rang again with the same result. +Then, as she was in the act of turning reluctantly away, she noticed a +thin crack between the door and the frame. She pushed the former and +it opened. The latch had not fully caught. + +The flat was apparently empty. Annabel turned on the electric light +and made her way into the sitting-room. There was a coffee equipage on +the table, and some sandwiches, and the fire had been recently made +up. Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for +her sister's return. + +The clock struck half-past ten. The loneliness of the place somewhat +depressed her. She took up a book and threw it down again. Then she +examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by +her side. Amongst them was a revolver. She handled it half fearfully, +and set it carefully down again. Then for the first time she was +conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. She felt that +she was not alone. + +She was only a few yards from the door, but lacked the courage to rise +and fly. Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the +lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken +cheeks. Her eyes were dilated--fixed in a horrified stare at the +parting in the curtains which hung before the window. + +There was some one there. She had seen a man's head steal out for a +moment and draw the curtains a little closer. Even now she could trace +the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. She was wholly +unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. A little smothered +cry broke from her lips--the curtains were thrown aside and a man +stepped out. She was powerless to move from her chair. All through +that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him +silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. +Her courage and her presence of mind had alike deserted her. She +could neither speak nor move nor cry out. + +"Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!" + +She did not speak. Her lips parted, but no words came. + +"What have you done to yourself?" he muttered. "You have dyed your +hair and darkened your eyebrows. But you are Annabel. I should know +you--in Heaven or Hell. Who is the other?" + +"What other?" + +Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. Her lips were dry and +cracked. + +"The Annabel who lives here, who sings every night at the 'Unusual'? +They call her by your old name. Her hair and voice and figure are as +yours used to be. Who is she, I say?" + +"My sister!" Annabel faltered. + +He trembled violently. He seemed to be labouring under some great +excitement. + +"I am a fool," he said. "All these days I have taken her for you. I +have pleaded with her--no wonder that I have pleaded with her in vain. +And all this time perhaps you have been waiting, expecting to hear +from me. Is it so, Annabel?" + +"I did not know," she faltered, "anything about you. Why should I?" + +"At last," he murmured, "at last I have found you. I must not let you +go again. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife." + +"No," she moaned, "not that. I thought--the papers said----" + +"You thought that I was dead," he interrupted. "You pushed the wheel +from my hand. You jumped, and I think that you left me. Yet you knew +that I was not dead. You came to see me in the hospital. You must have +repented a little, or you would not have done that." + +"I did not come," she faltered. "It was my sister Anna. I had left +Paris." + +He passed his hand wearily over his forehead. + +"That is where I got confused," he said. "I opened my eyes, and she +was bending over my bedside. Then, I thought, she has repented, all +will be well. So I made haste and recovered. I came to London to look +for you, and somehow the figure I saw in my dreams had got mixed up +with you. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!" + +Annabel looked around her nervously. + +"These are her rooms," she said. "Soon she will return." + +"The sooner the better," he answered. "I must explain to her. Annabel, +I cannot believe it. I have found you." + +His eyes were burning. He advanced a step towards her. She held out +both her hands. + +"No, no," she cried. "You frighten me!" + +He smiled at her indulgently. + +"But I am your husband," he said. "You have forgotten. I am your +husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine." + +"It was a mistake," she faltered. "You told me that your name was +Meysey Hill. I thought that you were he." + +His face darkened. + +"I did it for love of you," he said. "I lied, as I would have +committed a murder, or done any evil deed sooner than lose you. What +does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. I can keep you. You shall +have a house out at Balham or Sydenham, and two servants. You shall +have the spending of every penny of my money. Annabel, tell me that +you did not wish me dead. Tell me that you are not sorry to see me +again." + +Her passion conquered for a moment her fear. + +"But I am sorry," she exclaimed. "Our marriage must be annulled. It +was no marriage at all." + +"Never," he exclaimed vehemently. "You are mine, Annabel, and nothing +shall ever make me give you up." + +"But it is too late," she declared. "You have no right to hold me to a +bargain which on your side was a lie. I consented to become Mrs. +Meysey Hill--never your wife." + +"What do you mean--by too late?" he demanded. + +"There is some one else whom I care for!" + +He laughed hardly. + +"Tell me his name," he said, "and I promise that he shall never +trouble you. But you," he continued, moving imperceptibility a little +nearer to her, "you are mine. The angels in Heaven shall not tear you +from me. We leave this room together. I shall not part with you +again." + +"No," she cried, "I will not. I will have nothing to do with you. You +are not my husband." + +He came towards her with that in his face which filled her with blind +terror. + +"You belong to me," he said fiercely; "the marriage certificate is in +my pocket. You belong to me, and I have waited long enough." + +He stepped past her to the door and closed it. Then he turned with a +fierce movement to take her into his arms. There was a flash and a +loud report. He threw up his hand, reeled for a moment on his feet, +and collapsed upon the floor. + +"Annabel;" he moaned. "You have killed me. My wife--killed me." + +With a little crash the pistol fell from her shaking fingers. She +stood looking down upon him with dilated eyes. Her faculties seemed +for a moment numbed. She could not realize what she saw. Surely it was +a dream. A moment before he had been a strong man, she had been in his +power, a poor helpless thing. Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, +with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on +to the carpet. It could not be she who had done this. She had never +let off a pistol in her life. Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a +faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. The smell of gunpowder +was strong in the room. + +It was true. She had killed him. It was as much accident as anything, +but she had killed him. Once before--but that had been different. This +time they would call it murder. + +She listened, listened intently for several minutes. People were +passing in the street below. She could hear their footsteps upon the +pavement. A hansom stopped a little way off. She could hear the bell +tinkle as the horse shook its head. There was no one stirring in the +flats. He himself had deadened the sound by closing the door. She +moved a little nearer to him. + +It was horrible, but she must do it. She sank upon her knees and +unbuttoned his coat. It was there in the breast pocket, stiff and +legal looking. She drew it out with shaking fingers. There was a great +splash of blood upon it, her hand was all wet and sticky. A deadly +sickness came over her, the room seemed spinning round. She staggered +to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. She +held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. Then +she put more coal on, piled it over the ashes, and stood once more +upright. + +Still silence everywhere. She pulled down her veil and made her way to +the door. She turned out the electric light and gained the hall. Still +no sound. Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of +the front door and looked out. There was no one to be seen. She +passed down the stairs and into the street. + +She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift +level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible +faintness all the time hovered about her. Then she called a hansom and +drove home. + + * * * * * + +"Miss Pellissier," Brendon said gently, "I am afraid that some fresh +trouble has come to you." + +She smiled at him cheerfully. + +"Am I dull?" she said. "I am sorry." + +"You could never be that," he answered, "but you are at least more +serious than usual." + +"Perhaps," she said, "I am superstitious. This is my last week at the +'Unusual,' you know. We begin rehearsing on Monday at the +'Garrick'." + +"Surely," he protested, "the change is all in favour of your own +inclinations. It is your own choice, isn't it?" + +She nodded. + +"Yes. But I believe that Mr. Earles thinks I am a little mad, and +between ourselves I am not sure about it myself. It is easy enough to +sing these little chansons in an original way--it requires a very +different sort of ability to succeed on the stage." + +"You have it," he declared confidently. + +She laughed altogether in her old manner. + +"I wonder how it is," she exclaimed, "that my friends have so much +more confidence in me than I have in myself." + +"They know you better," he declared. + +"I am afraid," she answered, "that one's friends can judge only of the +externals, and the things which matter, the things inside are realized +only by oneself--stop." + +She laid her fingers upon his arm, and they both stood still. They had +turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats +where Anna lived. Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung +round the corner she had seen a strange thing. The curtains which she +had left drawn were open, and the electric lights were turned on. +Then, even as they stood there, the room was plunged into darkness. + +"There is someone in my rooms," Anna said. + +"Is it your maid?" he asked. + +"I have given her two days' holiday," Anna answered. "She has gone +down into the country." + +"And no one else--has a key?" + +"I believe," she said, "that that man must have one. I am safe while I +am there, for I have had bolts fitted everywhere, and a pane of glass +in the front door. But I am always afraid that he may get in while I +am away. Look! Is that some one coming out?" + +The front door of the flats stood open, and through it a woman, slim +and veiled, passed on to the pavement and turned with swift footsteps +in the opposite direction. Anna watched her with curious eyes. + +"Is it any one you know?" Brendon asked. + +"I am not sure," Anna answered. "But, of course, she may have come +from one of the other flats." + +"Perhaps," he said, "you had better let me have your key, and I will +go up and explore." + +"We will go together," she answered. + +They crossed the street, and entering the front door passed up the +outside stone steps of the flat. Anna herself opened the hall door. +They stood for a moment in the passage and listened. Silence! Then +Anna clutched her companion's arm. + +"What was that?" she asked sharply. + +He had heard nothing. They both listened intently. Again silence. + +"I thought that I heard a groan," Anna whispered. + +He laughed reassuringly. + +"I heard nothing," he declared, "and my ears are good. Come." + +He threw open the door of the sitting-room and switched on the +electric light. + +"There is no--Good God!" he exclaimed. + +He turned round to keep Anna out by force if possible, but he was too +late. She was by his side. She too had seen. The thin stream of blood +on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost +to her feet. + + + + +_Chapter XXIV_ + +A CASE FOR THE POLICE + + +After that first horrible moment it was perhaps Anna who was the more +self-possessed. She dropped on her knees by his side, and gently +unbuttoned his waistcoat. Then she looked up at Brendon. + +"You must fetch a doctor," she said. "I do not think that he is quite +dead." + +"And leave you here alone?" he asked, in a hoarse whisper. "Come with +me." + +"I am not afraid," she answered. "Please hurry." + +He reeled out of the room. Anna was afterwards astonished at her own +self-possession. She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the +blood seemed to be coming from. Then she stood up and looked around +the room. + +There were no evidences of any struggle, no overturned chairs or +disarranged furniture. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt +paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. On +the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. Anna saw it, +and for the first time found herself trembling. + +She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front +of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with +damning insistence. It was Annabel's. The lace was family lace, easily +recognizable. The perfume was the only one she ever used. Annabel had +been here then. It was she who had come out from the flat only a few +minutes before. It was she---- + +Anna's nerves were not easily shaken, but she found herself suddenly +clutching at the table for support. The room was reeling, or was it +that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme +effort. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. She took up +the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. Almost at the same moment +the door opened and Brendon entered, followed by the doctor. + +Anna turned round with a start, which was almost of guilt, the poker +still in her hand. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, +between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. +Before he even glanced at the man on the floor he stepped over to her +side and took the poker from her. + +"Forgive me, madam," he said stiffly, "but in such a case as this it +is better that nothing in the room should be disturbed until the +arrival of the police. You have been burning paper, I see." + +"Are you a detective or a doctor?" she asked calmly. "Do you need me +to remind you that your patient is bleeding to death?" + +He dropped on his knees by the man's side and made a hurried +examination. + +"Who tied this scarf here?" he asked, looking up. + +"I did," Anna answered. "I hope that it has not done any harm." + +"He would have been dead before now without it," the doctor answered +shortly. "Get me some brandy and my bag." + +It was nearly half an hour before they dared ask him the question. + +"Will he live?" + +The doctor shook his head. + +"It is very doubtful," he said. "You must send for the police at once, +you know. You, sir," he added, turning to Brendon, "had better take my +card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that +Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business." + +"Is it necessary to send for the police?" Anna asked. + +"Absolutely," the doctor answered, "and the sooner the better. This is +a case either of suicide or murder. The police are concerned in it in +either event." + +"Please go then, Mr. Brendon," Anna said. "You will come back, won't +you?" + +He nodded cheerfully. + +"Of course I will," he answered. + +The doctor and Anna were left alone. Every moment or two he bent over +his patient. He seemed to avoid meeting Anna's eyes as much as +possible. + +"Does he live here?" he asked her presently. + +"No." + +"Far away?" + +"I have no idea," Anna answered. + +"Who is the tenant of these rooms?" he inquired. + +"I am." + +"You will have no objection to his remaining here?" he asked. "A move +of any sort would certainly be fatal." + +"Of course not," Anna said. "Had he better have a nurse? I will be +responsible for anything of that sort." + +"If he lives through the next hour," the doctor answered, "I will send +some one. Do you know anything of his friends? Is there any one for +whom we ought to send?" + +"I know very little of him beyond his name," Anna answered. "I know +nothing whatever of his friends or his home. He used to live in a +boarding-house in Russell Square. That is where I first knew him." + +The doctor looked at her thoughtfully. Perhaps for the first time he +realized that Anna was by no means an ordinary person. His patient was +distinctly of a different order of life. It was possible that his +first impressions had not been correct. + +"Your name, I believe, is----" + +"Pellissier," Anna answered. + +"Allow me," the doctor said, "to give you a word of advice, Miss +Pellissier. A detective will be here in a few moments to make +inquiries into this affair. You may have something to conceal, you may +not. Tell the whole truth. It always comes out sooner or later. Don't +try to shield anybody or hide anything. It is bad policy." + +Anna smiled very faintly. + +"I thank you for your advice," she said. "I can assure you that it was +quite unnecessary. I know less about this affair perhaps than you +suppose. What I do know I shall have no hesitation in telling anyone +who has the right to ask." + +"Just so," the doctor remarked drily. "And if I were you I would keep +away from the fire." + +Brendon reappeared, followed by a tall thin man with a stubbly brown +moustache and restless grey eyes. The doctor nodded to him curtly. + +"Good evening, Dorling," he said. "Before you do anything else I +should advise you to secure those charred fragments of paper from the +grate. I know nothing about this affair, but some one has been burning +documents." + +The detective went down on his hands and knees. With delicate touch he +rescued all that was possible of them, and made a careful little +parcel. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded +man. + +"Shot through the lungs," he remarked. + +The doctor nodded. + +"Bad hemorrhage," he said. "I am going to fetch some things that will +be wanted if he pulls through the next hour. I found him lying like +this, the bleeding partly stopped by this scarf, else he had been dead +by now." + +The doctor glanced towards Anna. Considering his convictions he felt +that his remark was a generous one. Anna's face however was wholly +impassive. + +He took up his hat and went. The detective rapidly sketched the +appearance of the room in his notebook, and picked up the pistol from +under the table. Then he turned to Anna. + +"Can you give me any information as to this affair?" he asked. + +"I will tell you all that I know," Anna said. "My name is Anna +Pellissier, sometimes called Annabel. I am engaged to sing every +evening at the 'Unusual' music hall. This man's name is Montague +Hill. I saw him first a few months ago at Mrs. White's boarding-house +in Russell Square. He subjected me there to great annoyance by +claiming me as his wife. As a matter of fact, I had never spoken to +him before in my life. Since then he has persistently annoyed me. I +have suspected him of possessing a skeleton key to my apartments. +To-night I locked up my flat at six o'clock. It was then, I am sure, +empty. I dined with a friend and went to the 'Unusual.' At a quarter +past eleven I returned here with this gentleman, Mr. Brendon. As we +turned the corner of the street, I noticed that the electric light was +burning in this room. We stopped for a moment to watch it, and almost +immediately it was turned out. We came on here at once. I found the +door locked as usual, but when we entered this room everything was as +you see. Nothing has been touched since." + +The detective nodded. + +"A very clear statement, madam," he said. "From what you saw from the +opposite pavement then, it is certain that some person who was able to +move about was in this room only a minute or so before you entered +it?" + +"That is so," Anna answered. + +"You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?" + +"No one," Anna answered firmly. + +"Then either this man shot himself or some one else shot him +immediately before your arrival--or rather if it was not himself the +person who did it was in the room, say two minutes, before you +arrived." + +"That is so," Anna admitted. + +"I will not trouble you with any questions about the other occupants +of the flats," Mr. Dorling said. "I shall have to go through the +building. You say that this gentleman was with you?" + +"I was," Brendon answered, "most providentially." + +"You did not notice anything which may have escaped this lady? You saw +no one leave the flats?" + +"No one," Brendon answered. + +"You heard no pistol-shot?" + +"None." + +The detective turned again to Anna. + +"You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?" he +asked. + +"No." + +"There is no one else who has a key to your rooms?" + +"No one except my maid, who is away in Wiltshire." + +"The inference is, then," the detective said smoothly, "that this man +obtained admission to your rooms by means of a false key, that he +burnt some papers here and shot himself within a few moments of your +return. Either that or some other person also obtained admission here +and shot him, and that person is either still upon the premises or +escaped without your notice." + +"I suppose," Anna said, "that those are reasonable deductions." + +The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket. + +"I brought a man with me who is posted outside," he remarked. "With +your permission I should like to search the remainder of your rooms." + +Anna showed him the way. + +"Have either of you been out of this room since you discovered what +had happened?" he asked. + +"Mr. Brendon went for the doctor," Anna answered. "I have not left +this apartment myself." + +Nothing unusual was discovered in any other part of the flat. While +they were still engaged in looking round the doctor returned with a +nurse and assistant. + +"With your permission," he said to Anna, "I shall arrange a bed for +him where he is. There is scarcely one chance in a dozen of saving his +life; there would be none at all if he were moved." + +"You can make any arrangements you like," Anna declared. "I shall +leave the flat to you and go to a hotel." + +"You would perhaps be so good as to allow one of my men to accompany +you and see you settled," Mr. Dorling said deferentially. "In the +event of his death we should require you at once to attend at the +inquest." + +"I am going to pack my bag," Anna answered. "In five minutes I shall +be ready." + + + + +_Chapter XXV_ + +THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH + + +The manservant, with his plain black clothes and black tie, had +entered the room with a deferential little gesture. + +"You will pardon me, sir," he said in a subdued tone, "but I think +that you have forgotten to look at your engagement book. There is Lady +Arlingford's reception to-night, ten till twelve, and the Hatton House +ball, marked with a cross, sir, important. I put your clothes out an +hour ago." + +Nigel Ennison looked up with a little start. + +"All right, Dunster," he said. "I may go to Hatton House later, but +you needn't wait. I can get into my clothes." + +The man hesitated. + +"Can I bring you anything, sir--a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? +You'll excuse me, sir, but you haven't touched your coffee." + +"Bring me a whisky and soda, and a box of cigarettes," Ennison +answered, "and then leave me alone, there's a good fellow. I'm a +little tired." + +The man obeyed his orders noiselessly and then left the room. + +Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his +whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette. + +"What a fool I am!" he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and +leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. "And yet I wonder +whether the world ever held such another enigma in her sex. Paris +looms behind--a tragedy of strange recollections--here she emerges +Phoenix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, +self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all +others beside her seem plain or vulgar. And then--this sudden thrust. +God only knows what I have done, or left undone. Something +unpardonable is laid to my charge. Only last night she saw me, and +there was horror in her eyes.... I have written, called--of what avail +is anything--against that look.... What the devil is the matter, +Dunster?" + +"I beg your pardon, sir," the man answered, "there is a lady here to +see you." + +Ennison turned round sharply. + +"A lady, Dunster. Who is it?" + +The man came a little further into the room. + +"Lady Ferringhall, sir." + +"Lady Ferringhall--alone?" Ennison exclaimed. + +"Quite alone, sir." + +Ennison was dismayed. + +"For Heaven's sake, Dunster, don't let her out of the carriage, or +hansom, or whatever she came in. Say I'm out, away, anything!" + +"I am sorry, sir," the man answered, "but she had sent away her hansom +before I answered the bell. She is in the hall now. I----" + +The door was thrown open. Annabel entered. + +"Forgive my coming in," she said to Ennison. "I heard your voices, and +the hall is draughty. What is the matter with you?" + +Dunster had withdrawn discreetly. Ennison's manner was certainly not +one of a willing host. + +"I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall," he +said quietly. "For your own sake, let me beg of you not to stay for a +moment. Dunster shall fetch you a cab. I----" + +She threw herself into an easy chair. She was unusually pale, and her +eyes were brilliant. Never had she seemed to him so much like Anna. + +"You needn't be worried," she said quietly. "The conventions do not +matter one little bit. You will agree with me when you have heard what +I have to say. For me that is all over and done with." + +"Lady Ferringhall! Anna!" he exclaimed. + +She fixed her brilliant eyes upon him. + +"Suppose you call me by my proper name," she said quietly. "Call me +Annabel." + +He started back as though he had been shot. + +"Annabel?" he exclaimed. "That is your sister's name." + +"No, mine." + +It came upon him like a flash. Innumerable little puzzles were +instantly solved. He could only wonder that this amazing thing had +remained so long a secret to him. He remembered little whispered +speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he +loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. +Nevertheless it was overwhelming. + +"But your hair," he gasped. + +"Dyed!" + +"And your figure?" + +"One's _corsetiere_ arranges that. My friend, I am only grieved that +you of all others should have been so deceived. I have seen you with +Anna, and I have not known whether to be glad or sorry. I have been in +torment all the while to know whether it was to Anna or to Annabel +that you were making love so charmingly. Nigel, do you know that I +have been very jealous?" + +He avoided the invitation of her eyes. He was indeed still in the +throes of his bewilderment. + +"But Sir John?" he exclaimed. "What made you marry him? What made you +leave Paris without a word to any one? What made you and your sister +exchange identities?" + +"There is one answer to all those questions, Nigel," she said, with a +nervous little shudder. "It is a hateful story. Come close to me, and +let me hold your hand, dear. I am a little afraid." + +There was a strange look in her face, the look of a frightened child. +Ennison seemed to feel already the shadow of tragedy approaching. He +stood by her side, and he suffered her hands to rest in his. + +"You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about--Meysey +Hill they called him?" + +He nodded. + +"Miserable bounder," he murmured. "Turned out to be an impostor, too." + +"He imposed on me," Annabel continued. "I believed that he was the +great multi-millionaire. He worried me to marry him. I let him take me +to the English Embassy, and we went through some sort of a ceremony. I +thought it would be magnificent to have a great house in Paris, and +more money than any other woman. Afterwards we started for _dejeuner_ +in a motor. On the way he confessed. He was not Meysey Hill, but an +Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. Every one took +him for the millionaire, and he had lost his head about me. I--well, I +lost my temper. I struck him across the face, twisted the steering +wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the +road with the motor on top of him. This is the first act." + +"Served the beast right," Ennison declared. "I think I can tell you +something which may be very good news for you presently. But go on." + +"Act two," she continued. "Enter Sir John, very honest, very much in +love with me. I thought that Hill was dead, but I was frightened, and +I wanted to get away from Paris. Sir John heard gossip about us--about +Anna the recluse, a paragon of virtue, and Annabel alias 'Alcide' a +dancer at the _cafes chantants_, and concerning whom there were many +stories which were false, and a few--which were true. I--well, I +borrowed Anna's name. I made her my unwilling confederate. Sir John +followed me to London and married me. To this day he and every one +else thinks that he married Anna. + +"Act three. Anna comes to London. She is poor, and she will take +nothing from my husband, the man she had deceived for my sake, and he, +on his part, gravely disapproves of her as 'Alcide.' She tries every +way of earning a living and fails. Then she goes to a dramatic agent. +Curiously enough nothing will persuade him that she is not 'Alcide.' +He believes that she denies it simply because owing to my marriage +with Sir John, whom they call the 'Puritan Knight,' she wants to keep +her identity secret. He forces an engagement upon her. She never calls +herself 'Alcide.' It is the Press who find her out. She is the image +of what I was like, and she has a better voice. Then enter Mr. Hill +again--alive. He meets Anna, and claims her as his wife. It is Anna +again who stands between me and ruin." + +"I cannot let you go on," Ennison interrupted. "I believe that I can +give you great news. Tell me where the fellow Hill took you for this +marriage ceremony." + +"It was behind the Place de Vendome, on the other side from the Ritz." + +"I knew it," Ennison exclaimed. "Cheer up, Annabel. You were never +married at all. That place was closed by the police last month. It was +a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an +Englishman. Everything was done in the most legal and imposing way, +but the whole thing was a fraud." + +"Then I was never married to him at all?" Annabel said. + +"Never--but, by Jove, you had a narrow escape," Ennison exclaimed. +"Annabel, I begin to see why you are here. Think! Had you not better +hurry back before Sir John discovers? You are his wife right enough. +You can tell me the rest another time." + +She smiled faintly. + +"The rest," she said, holding tightly to his hands, "is the most +important of all. You came to me, you wished me to speak to Anna. I +went to her rooms to-night. There was no one at home, and I was coming +away when I saw that the door was open. I decided to go in and wait. +In her sitting-room I found Montague Hill. He had gained admission +somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna. But--he was cleverer than +any of you. He knew me, Nigel. 'At last,' he cried, 'I have found +you!' He would listen to nothing. He swore that I was his wife, and--I +shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. Shot him, do you +hear?" + +"Good God!" he exclaimed, looking at her curiously. "Is this true, +Annabel? Is he dead?" + +She nodded. + +"I shot him. I saw the blood come as he rolled over. I tore the +marriage certificate from his pocket and burnt it. And then I came +here." + +"You came--here!" he repeated, vaguely. + +"Nigel, Nigel," she cried. "Don't you understand? It is I whom you +cared for in Paris, not Anna. She is a stranger to you. You cannot +care for her. Think of those days in Paris. Do you remember when we +went right away, Nigel, and forgot everything? We went down the river +past Veraz, and the larks were singing all over those deep brown +fields, and the river further on wound its way like a coil of silver +across the rich meadowland, and along the hillside vineyards. Oh, the +scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that +dived before us in the river. Nigel! You have not forgotten. It was +the first day you kissed me, under the willows, coming into Veraz. +Nigel, you have not forgotten!" + +"No," he said, with a little bitter smile. "I have never forgotten." + +She suddenly caught hold of his shoulders and drew him down towards +her. + +"Nigel, don't you understand. I must leave England to-night. I must go +somewhere into hiding, a long, long way off. I killed him, Nigel. They +will say that it was murder. But if only you will come I do not care." + +He shook her hands off almost roughly. He stood away from her. She +listened with dumb fear in her eyes. + +"Listen, Annabel," he said hoarsely. "We played at love-making in +Paris. It was very pretty and very dainty while it lasted, but we +played it with our eyes open, and we perfectly understood the +game--both of us. Other things came. We went our ways. There was no +broken faith--not even any question of anything of the sort. I met you +here as Lady Ferringhall. We have played at a little mild love-making +again. It has been only the sort of nonsense which passes lightly +enough between half the men and women in London. You shall know the +truth. I do not love you. I have never loved you. I call myself a man +of the world, a man of many experiences, but I never knew what love +meant--until I met your sister." + +"You love--Anna?" she exclaimed. + +"I do," he answered. "I always shall. Now if you are ready to go with +me, I too am ready. We will go to Ostend by the early morning boat and +choose a hiding place from there. I will marry you when Sir John gets +his divorce, and I will do all I can to keep you out of harm. But you +had better know the truth to start with. I will do all this not +because I love you, but--because you are Anna's sister." + +Annabel rose to her feet. + +"You are magnificent," she said, "but the steel of your truth is a +little oversharpened. It cuts. Will you let your servant call me a +hansom," she continued, opening the door before he could reach her +side. "I had no idea that it was so abominably late." + +He scarcely saw her face again. She pulled her veil down, and he knew +that silence was best. + +"Where to?" he asked, as the hansom drove up. + +"Home, of course," she answered. "Eight, Cavendish Square." + + + + +_Chapter XXVI_ + +ANNABEL IS WARNED + + +"You!" + +David Courtlaw crossed the floor of the dingy little sitting-room with +outstretched hands. + +"You cannot say that you did not expect me," he answered. "I got +Sydney's telegram at ten o'clock, and caught the ten-thirty from the +Gare du Nord." + +"It is very nice of you," Anna said softly. + +"Rubbish!" he answered. "I could not have stayed in Paris and waited +for news. Tell me exactly what has happened. Even now I do not +understand. Is this man Hill dead?" + +She shook her head. + +"He was alive at four o'clock this afternoon," she answered, "but the +doctors give little hope of his recovery." + +"What is there to be feared?" he asked her quietly. + +She hesitated. + +"You are my friend," she said, "if any one is. I think that I will +tell you. The man Hill has persecuted me for months--ever since I have +been in England. He claimed me for his wife, and showed to every one a +marriage certificate. He shot at me at the 'Unusual,' and the +magistrates bound him over to keep the peace. I found him once in my +rooms, and I believe that he had a key to my front door. Last night +Mr. Brendon and I returned from the 'Unusual,' and found him lying +in my room shot through the lungs. In the grate were some charred +fragments of a marriage certificate. We fetched the doctor and the +police. From the first I could see that neither believed my story. I +am suspected of having shot the man." + +"But that is ridiculous!" he exclaimed. + +She laughed a little bitterly. + +"I am under police surveillance," she said. "So is Mr. Brendon." + +"But there is not a shadow of evidence against you," he objected. "The +man alone could supply any, and if he recovers sufficiently to say +anything, what he would say would exonerate you." + +"Yes." + +There was a moment's silence. Anna's face was half turned from him, +but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. He +stepped quickly towards her. Her eyes seemed to be looking backwards. +She distinctly shivered as he forced her to look at him. He was +bewildered. + +"Anna!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Look at me. What is it? Good God!" + +An unhappy little smile parted her lips. She clenched her hands +together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the +fire. + +"I think," she said, "that I will tell you everything. I must tell +somebody--and you would understand." + +"I am your friend," he said slowly, "whatever you may have to tell me. +You can trust me, Anna. You know that. I will be as silent as the +grave." + +"Not long ago," she said, "you left me in anger, partly because of +this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. You said that +it would bring trouble. It has." + +"Yes." + +"Annabel's real reason for wishing to leave Paris, the real reason she +married Sir John Ferringhall, was because of a very foolish thing +which she did. It was--in connection with this man Hill. He personated +over there a millionaire named Meysey Hill, and it seems that he +induced Annabel to go through some sort of marriage with him at the +Embassy." + +"Where?" Courtlaw asked quickly. + +"In Paris." + +Courtlaw seemed about to say something. He changed his mind however, +and simply motioned to her to proceed. + +"Then there was a motor accident only an hour or so after this +ceremony, and Hill was reported to be killed. Annabel believed it, +came to England and married Sir John. Now you can understand why I +have been obliged to----" + +"Yes, yes, I understand that," Courtlaw interrupted. "But about last +night." + +"Annabel knew where I lived," Anna continued slowly. "She has been to +my flat before. I saw her come out from the flat buildings two minutes +before we entered it last night. I picked up her handkerchief on the +floor." + +"You mean--you think----" + +"Hush! I think that he was concealed in my room, and Annabel and he +met there. What passed between them I cannot think--I dare not. The +pistol was his own, it is true, but it was one which was taken from +him when he forced his way in upon me before. Now you can understand +why every minute is a torture to me. It is not for myself I fear. But +if he speaks--I fear what he may tell." + +"You have been to her?" he asked. + +"I dare not," she answered. + +"I will go," he said. "She must be warned. She had better escape if +she can." + +Anna shook her head. + +"She will take her risk," she answered. "I am sure of it. If he +recovers he may not accuse her. If he dies she is safe." + +He paced the room for a minute or two restlessly. + +"There are some people," he said at last, "who seem fated to carry on +their shoulders the burdens of other people. You, Anna, are one of +them. I know in Paris you pinched and scraped that your sister might +have the dresses and entertainments she desired. You fell in at once +with her quixotic and damnable scheme of foisting her reputation and +her follies upon your shoulders whilst she marries a rich man and +commences all over again a life of selfish pleasure. You on the other +hand have to come to London, a worker, with the responsibility of life +upon your own shoulders--and in addition all the burden of her +follies." + +"You forget," she said, looking up at him with a faint smile, "that +under the cloak of her name I am earning more money a week than I +could ever have earned in a year by my own labours." + +"It is an accident," he answered. "Besides, it is not so. You sing +better than Annabel ever did, you have even a better style. 'Alcide' +or no 'Alcide,' there is not a music hall manager in London or Paris +who would not give you an engagement on your own merits." + +"Perhaps not," she answered. "And yet in a very few weeks I shall have +done with it all. Do you think that I shall ever make an actress, my +friend?" + +"I doubt it," he answered bluntly. "You have not feeling enough." + +She smiled at him. + +"It is like old times," she said, "to hear these home truths. All the +same, I don't admit it." + +He shook his head. + +"To be an actress," he said, "you require a special and peculiar +temperament. I do not believe that there has ever lived a really great +actress whose moral character from the ordinary point of view would +bear inspection." + +"Then I," she said, "have too much character." + +"Too much character, and too little sentiment," he answered. "Too much +sensibility and too cold a heart. Too easily roused emotions and too +little passion. How could you draw the curtain aside which hides the +great and holy places of life--you, who have never loved?" + +"You have become French to the core," she murmured. "You would believe +that life is kindled by the passions alone." + +There was silence between them. Then a servant girl brought in a +telegram. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. It was from +Brendon. + + "Hill gradually recovering consciousness. Doctor says depositions + to-night. Recovery impossible.--BRENDON." + +He looked at her gravely. + +"I think," he said, "that some one ought to warn her." + +"It is Number 8, Cavendish Square," she answered simply. + + * * * * * + +Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel's long +low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, +crowded with guests. From the further end of the apartment came the +low music of a violin. Servants were passing backwards and forwards +with tea and chocolate. For a moment he did not recognize Annabel. +Then she came a few steps to meet him. + +"Mr. Courtlaw, is it not," she remarked, with lifted eyebrows. "Really +it is very kind of you to have found me out." + +He was bereft of words for a moment, and in that moment she escaped, +having passed him on deftly to one of the later arrivals. + +"Lady Mackinnor," she said, "I am sure that you must have heard of Mr. +David Courtlaw. Permit me to make him known to you--Mr. Courtlaw--Lady +Mackinnor." + +With a murmured word of excuse she glided away, and Courtlaw, who +had come with a mission which seemed to him to be one of life or +death, was left to listen to the latest art jargon from Chelsea. He +bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated +eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, +with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. Grudgingly he admired +her. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving +parasite--something quite insignificant. He had pictured her, if +indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting +alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave +to constant terror. And instead he found her playing the great lady, +and playing it well. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more +than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. At last he +could bear it no longer. He left his companion in the midst of a +glowing eulogy of Bastien Leparge, and boldly intercepted his hostess +as she moved from one group to join another. + +"Can you spare me a moment?" he asked. "I have a message from your +sister." + +"Are you in a hurry," she asked carelessly. "A lot of these people +will be going presently." + +"My message is urgent," he said firmly. "If you cannot listen to me +now it must remain undelivered." + +She shrugged her shoulders and led him towards a small recess. "So you +come from Anna, do you?" she remarked. "Well, what is it?" + +"Montague Hill is recovering consciousness," he said. "He will +probably make a statement to-night." + +"That sounds very interesting," she answered coolly. "Perhaps I should +better be able to understand its significance if you would explain to +me who Mr. Montague Hill is." + +"Your husband," he answered bluntly. + +She did not wince. She laughed a little contemptuously. + +"You and Anna," she said, "seem to have stumbled upon a mare's nest. +If that is my sister's message, pray return to her and say that the +doings and sayings of Mr. Montague Hill do not interest me in the +least." + +"Don't be foolish," he said sharply. "You were seen to leave the flat, +and your handkerchief was found there. Very likely by this time the +whole truth is known." + +She smiled at him, an understanding smile, but her words defied him. + +"What a beautiful mare's nest!" she exclaimed. "I can see you and Anna +groaning and nodding your grave heads together. Bah! She does not know +me very well, and you--not at all. Do have some tea, won't you? If +you must, go then." + +Courtlaw was dismissed. As he passed out he saw in the hall a quietly +dressed man with keen grey eyes, talking to one of the footmen. He +shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. Had it come +already? + + + + +_Chapter XXVII_ + +JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN + + +"Confess, my dear husband," Annabel said lightly, "that you are +bewildered." + +Sir John smiled. + +"My dear Anna," he answered. "To tell you the truth, it has seemed +just lately as though we were becoming in some measure estranged. You +certainly have not shown much desire for my society, have you?" + +"You have been wrapped up in your politics," she murmured. + +He shook his head. + +"There have been other times," he said a little sadly. + +Her little white hand stole across the table. There was a look in her +eyes which puzzled him. + +"I have been very selfish," she declared. "But you must forgive me, +John." + +"I would forgive you a great deal more," he answered readily, "for the +sake of an evening like this. You have actually given up a +dinner-party to dine alone with me." + +"And made you give up a political meeting," she reminded him. + +"Quite an unimportant one," he assured her. "I would have given up +anything to see you your old self again--as you are this evening." + +"I am afraid I have not been very nice," she said sadly. "Never mind. +You must think of this evening, John, sometimes--as a sort of +atonement." + +"I hope," he answered, looking at her in some surprise, "that we shall +have many more such to think about." + +They were lingering over their dessert. The servants had left the +room. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little +folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. + +"I am developing ailments," she said, meeting his questioning eyes. +"It is nothing of any importance. John, I have something to say to +you." + +"If you want to ask a favour," he remarked smiling, "you have made it +almost impossible for me to refuse you anything." + +"I am going to ask more than a favour," she said slowly. "I am going +to ask for your forgiveness." + +He was a little uneasy. + +"I do not know what you mean," he said, "but if you are referring to +any little coolness since our marriage let us never speak of it again. +I am something of an old fogey, Anna, I'm afraid, but if you treat me +like this you will teach me to forget it." + +Annabel looked intently into her glass. + +"John," she said, "I am afraid that I am going to make you unhappy. I +am very, very sorry, but you must listen to me." + +He relapsed into a stony silence. A few feet away, across the low +vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night +perhaps than ever before in her life. She wore a wonderful dress of +turquoise blue, made by a great dressmaker for a function which she +knew very well now that she would never attend. Her hair once more was +arranged with its old simplicity. There was a new softness in her +eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost +pathetic. + +"You remember our first meeting?" + +"Yes," he answered hoarsely. "I remember it very well indeed. You have +the look in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a +frightened child." + +She looked into her glass. + +"I was frightened then," she declared. "I am frightened now. But it is +all very different. There was hope for me then. Now there is none. No, +none at all." + +"You talk strangely, Anna," he said. "Go on!" + +"People talked to you in Paris about us," she continued, "about Anna +the virtuous and Annabel the rake. You were accused of having been +seen with the latter. You denied it, remembering that I had called +myself Anna. You went even to our rooms and saw my sister. Anna lied +to you, I lied to you. I was Annabel the rake, 'Alcide' of the music +halls. My name is Annabel, not Anna. Do you understand?" + +"I do not," he answered. "How could I, when your sister sings now at +the 'Unusual' every night and the name 'Alcide' flaunts from every +placard in London?" + +"The likeness between us," she said, "before I began to disfigure +myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable. Anna failed in +her painting, our money was gone, and she was forced to earn her own +living. She came to London, and tried several things without any +success." + +"But why----" + +Sir John stopped short. With a moment of inward shame he remembered +his deportment towards Anna. It was scarcely likely that she would +have accepted his aid. Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a +prig. He remembered it suddenly. He thought of his severe attitude +towards the girl who was rightly and with contempt refusing his +measured help. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. This was +his humiliation as well as hers. + +"Anna of course would not accept any money from us," she continued. +"She tried everything, and last of all she tried the stage. She went +to a dramatic agent, and he turned out to be the one who had heard me +sing in Paris. He refused to believe that Anna was not 'Alcide.' He +thought she wished to conceal her identity because of the connexion +with you, and he offered her an engagement at once. She was never +announced as 'Alcide,' but directly she walked on she simply became +'Alcide' to every one. She had a better voice than I, and the rest I +suppose is only a trick. The real 'Alcide'," she wound up with a faint +smile across the table at him, "is here." + +He sat like a man turned to stone. Some part of the stiff vigour of +the man seemed to have subsided. He seemed to have shrunken in his +seat. His eyes were fixed upon her face, but he opened his lips twice +before he spoke. + +"When you married me----" + +Her little hand flashed out across the table. + +"John," she said, "I can spare you that question. I had been about as +foolish and selfish as a girl could be. I had done the most +compromising things, and behaved in the most ridiculous way. But from +the rest--you saved me." + +Sir John breathed a long deep sigh. He sat up in his chair again, the +colour came back to his cheeks. + +"John, don't!" she cried. "You think that this is all. You are going +to be generous and forgive. It isn't all. There is worse to come. +There is a tragedy to come." + +"Out with it, then," he cried, almost roughly. "Don't you know, child, +that this is torture for me? What in God's name more can you have to +tell me?" + +Her face had become almost like a marble image. She spoke with a +certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops +of ice upon the man who sat listening. + +"Before I met you I was deluded into receiving upon friendly terms a +man named Hill, who passed himself off as Meysey Hill the railway man, +but who was in reality an Englishman in poor circumstances. He was +going to settle I forget how many millions upon me, and I think that I +was dazzled. I went with him to what I supposed to be the British +Embassy, and went through a ceremony which I understood to be the +usual form of the marriage one used there. Afterwards we started for a +motor ride to a place outside Paris for _dejeuner_, and I suppose the +man's nerve failed him. I questioned him too closely about his +possessions, and remarked upon the fact that he was a most inexpert +driver, although Meysey Hill had a great reputation as a motorist. +Anyhow he confessed that he was a fraud. I struck him across the face, +jumped out and went back by train to Paris. He lost control of the +machine, was upset and nearly killed." + +"Did you say," Sir John asked, "that the man's name was Hill?" + +"Yes," she answered. + +"The man who was found dead in your sister's room was named Hill?" + +"It is the man," she answered. "I killed him." + +Sir John clutched at the table with both hands. A slow horror was +dawning in his fixed eyes. This was not the sort of confession which +he had been expecting. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, +but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her +words. It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. +Everything was blurred. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, +almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. +Annabel a murderess! It was not possible. + +"Child!" he cried. "You do not know what you say. This is part of a +dream--some evil fancy. Think! You could not have done it." + +She shook her head deliberately, hopelessly. + +"I think that I know very well what I am saying," she answered. "I +went to Anna's rooms because I felt that I must see her. He was there +concealed, waiting her return. He recognized me at once, and he +behaved like a madman. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had +given me to him at last. John, he was between me and the door. A +strong coarse man, and there were things in his eyes which made my +blood run cold with terror. He came over to me. I was helpless. +Beside me on Anna's table was a pistol. I was not even sure whether +it was loaded. I snatched it up, pointed it blindly at him, and +fired." + +"Ah!" Sir John exclaimed. + +"He fell over at my feet," she continued. "I saw him stagger and sink +down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. I bent over him. +Anna had told me that he carried always with him this bogus marriage +certificate. I undid his coat, and I took it from his pocket. I burned +it." + +"But the marriage itself?" Sir John asked. "I do not understand." + +"There was no marriage," she answered. "I was very foolish to have +been deceived even for a moment. There was no marriage, and I hated, +oh, how I hated the man." + +"Did any one see you leave the flat?" he asked. + +"I do not know. But David Courtlaw has been here. To-night they say he +will be conscious. He will say who it was. So there is no escape. And +listen, John." + +"Well?" + +"I went from Anna's flat to Nigel Ennison's rooms. I told him the +truth. I asked him to take me away, and hide me. He refused. He sent +me home." + +Sir John's head bent lower and lower. There was nothing left now of +the self-assured, prosperous man of affairs. His shoulders were bent, +his face was furrowed with wrinkles. He looked no longer at his wife. +His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. + +There was a gentle rustling of skirts. Softly she rose to her feet. He +felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she +leaned over him. He did not look up, so he did not know that in her +other hand she held a glass of wine. + +"Dear husband," she murmured. "I am so very, very sorry. I have +brought disgrace upon you, and I haven't been the right sort of wife +at all. But it is all over now, and presently there will be some one +else. I should like to have had you forgive me." + +He did not move. He seemed to be thinking hard. She paused for a +moment. Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. + +"Good-bye, John," she said simply. + +Something in her tone made him look up. In a second the glass lay +shattered upon the carpet. There was a stain of wine upon her dress. + +"God in Heaven, Annabel!" he cried. "What were you doing?" + +Her voice was a little hysterical. Her unnatural calm was giving way. + +"It was poison--why not?" she answered. "Who is there to care +and--John." + +His arms were around her. He kissed her once on the lips with a +passion of which, during all their days of married life, he had given +no sign. + +"You poor little girl!" he cried. "Forgive you, indeed. There isn't a +husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn't have blessed that pistol in +your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. It is no +crime, none at all. It is one of God's laws that a woman may defend +her honour, even with the shedding of blood. While you talked I was +only making our plans. It was necessary to think, and think quickly." + +She was altogether hysterical now. + +"But I--I went to Nigel Ennison for help. I asked him--to take me +away." + +She saw him flinch, but he gave no sign of it in his tone. + +"Perhaps," he said, "I have been to blame. It must be my fault that +you have not learnt that your husband is the man to come to--at such a +time as this. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel. You were afraid of +me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal. +Bah. Little woman, you have been brave enough before. Pull yourself +together now. Drink this!" + +He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her +lips. She drank it obediently. + +"Good," he said, as he watched the colour come back to her cheeks. +"Now listen. You go to your room and ring for your maid. I received a +telegram, as you know, during dinner. It contains news of the serious +illness of a near relation at Paris. Your maid has twenty minutes to +pack your dressing case for one night, and you have the same time to +change into a travelling dress. In twenty minutes we meet in the hall, +remember. I will tell you our plans on the way to the station." + +"But you," she exclaimed, "you are not coming. There is the +election----" + +He laughed derisively. + +"Election be hanged!" he exclaimed. "Don't be childish, Annabel. We +are off for a second honeymoon. Just one thing more. We may be +stopped. Don't look so frightened. You called yourself a murderess. +You are nothing of the sort. What you did is called manslaughter, and +at the worst there is only a very slight penalty, nothing to be +frightened about in the least. Remember that." + +She kissed him passionately, and ran lightly upstairs. In the hall +below she could hear his firm voice giving quick commands to the +servants. + + + + +_Chapter XXVIII_ + +THE HISSING OF "ALCIDE" + + +There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet +in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. +Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the +house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had +never yet failed her. She realized in a moment what had happened. Even +though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled +out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance +that something was wrong. She hesitated, and for a moment thought of +omitting her second verse altogether. The manager, however, who stood +in the wings, nodded to her to proceed, and the orchestra commenced +the first few bars of the music. Then the storm broke. A long shrill +cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. Then a roar of +hisses. They came from every part, from the pit, the circle and the +gallery, even from the stalls. And there arose too, a background of +shouts. + +"Who killed her husband?" + +"Go and nurse him, missus!" + +"Murderess!" + +Anna looked from left to right. She was as pale as death, but she +seemed to have lost the power of movement. They shouted to her from +the wings to come off. She could not stir hand or foot. A paralyzing +horror was upon her. Her eardrums were burning with the echoes of +those hideous shouts. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery +hit her upon the cheek. The stage manager came out from the wings, and +taking her hand led her off. There was more shouting. + +The stage manager reappeared presently, and made a speech. He +regretted--more deeply than he could say--the occurrence of this +evening. He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would +regret it still more. ("No, no.") They had shown themselves grossly +ignorant of facts. They had chosen to deliberately and wickedly insult +a lady who had done her best to entertain them for many weeks. He +could not promise that she would ever appear again in that house. +("Good job.") Well, they might say that, but he knew very well that +before long they would regret it. Of his own certain knowledge he +could tell them that. For his own part he could not sufficiently +admire the pluck of this lady, who, notwithstanding all that she had +been through, had chosen to appear this evening rather than break her +engagement. He should never sufficiently be able to regret the return +which they had made to her. He begged their attention for the next +turn. + +He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, +would have met with a fair reception. She, however, had no idea of +doing anything of the sort. She dressed rapidly and left the theatre +without a word to any one. The whole incident was so unexpected that +neither Courtlaw nor Brendon were awaiting. The man who sat behind a +pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment +absent. Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a +hansom. Suddenly she felt her wrist grasped by a strong hand. It was +Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows. + +"Anna! Thank God I have found you at last. But you have not finished +surely. Your second turn is not over, is it?" + +She laughed a little hardly. Even now she was dazed. The horror of +those few minutes was still with her. + +"Have you not heard?" she said. "For me there is no second turn. I +have said good-bye to it all. They hissed me!" + +"Beasts!" he muttered. "But was it wise to sing to-night?" + +"Why not? The man was nothing to me." + +"You have not seen the evening paper?" + +"No. What about them?" + +He called a hansom. + +"They are full of the usual foolish stories. To-morrow they will all +be contradicted. To-night all London believes that he was your +husband." + +"That is why they hissed me, then?" + +"Of course. To-morrow they will know the truth." + +She shivered. + +"Is this hansom for me?" she said. "Thank you--and good-bye." + +"I am coming with you," he said firmly. + +She shook her head. + +"Don't!" she begged. + +"You are in trouble," he said. "No one has a better right than I to be +with you." + +"You have no right at all," she answered coldly. + +"I have the right of the man who loves you," he declared. "Some day +you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to +remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated." + +Anna gave her address to the driver. She leaned back in the cab with +half-closed eyes. + +"This is all madness," she declared wearily. "Do you think it is fair +of you to persecute me just now?" + +"It is not persecution, Anna," he answered gently. "Only you are the +woman I love, and you are in trouble. And you are something of a +heroine, too. You see, my riddle is solved. I know all." + +"You know all?" + +"Your sister has told me." + +"You have seen her--since last night?" + +"Yes." + +Anna shivered a little. She asked no further questions for the moment. +Ennison himself, with the recollection of Annabel's visit still fresh +in his mind, was for a moment constrained and ill at ease. When they +reached her rooms she stepped lightly out upon the pavement. + +"Now you must go," she said firmly. "I have had a trying evening and I +need rest." + +"You need help and sympathy more, Anna," he pleaded, "and I have the +right, yes I have the right to offer you both. I will not be sent +away." + +"It is my wish to be alone," she said wearily. "I can say no more." + +She turned and fitted the latchkey into the door. He hesitated for a +moment and then he followed her. She turned the gas up in her little +sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. On the mantelpiece +in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel's handwriting. +She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take +it. + +"Will you say what you have to say, please, and go. I am tired, and I +want to be alone." + +He came and stood on the hearthrug close to her. + +"Anna," he said, "you make it all indescribably hard for me. Will you +not remember what has passed between us? I have the right to take my +place by your side." + +"You have no right at all," she answered. "Further than that, I am +amazed that you should dare to allude to those few moments, to that +single moment of folly. If ever I could bring myself to ask you any +favour, I would ask you to forget even as I have forgotten." + +"Why in Heaven's name should I forget?" he cried. "I love you, Anna, +and I want you for my wife. There is nothing but your pride which +stands between us." + +"There is great deal more," she answered coldly. "For one thing I am +going to marry David Courtlaw." + +He stepped back as though he had received a blow. + +"It is not possible," he exclaimed. + +"Why not?" + +"Because you are mine. You have told me that you cared. Oh, you cannot +escape from it. Anna, my love, you cannot have forgotten so soon." + +He fancied that she was yielding, but her eyes fell once more upon +that fatal envelope, and her tone when she spoke was colder than ever. + +"That was a moment of madness," she said. "I was lonely. I did not +know what I was saying." + +"I will have your reason for this," he said. "I will have your true +reason." + +She looked at him for a moment with fire in her eyes. + +"You need a reason. Ask your own conscience. What sort of a standard +of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very +well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, +every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. That is +what stands between us, if you would know--that." + +She pointed to the envelope still resting upon the mantelpiece. He +recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. Her eyes noted +it mercilessly. + +"But your sister," he said. "What has she told you?" + +"Everything." + +He was a little bewildered. + +"But," he said, "you do not blame me altogether?" + +She rose to her feet. + +"I am tired," she said, "and I want to rest. But if you do not leave +this room I must." + +He took up his hat. + +"Very well," he said. "You are unjust and quixotic, Anna, you have no +right to treat any one as you are treating me. And yet--I love you. +When you send for me I shall come back. I do not believe that you will +marry David Courtlaw. I do not think that you will dare to marry +anybody else." + +He left the room, and she stood motionless, with flaming cheeks, +listening to his retreating footsteps. When she was quite sure that he +was gone she took her sister's note from the mantelpiece and slowly +broke the seal. + + "DEAREST A---- + + "I lied to you. Nigel Ennison was my very good friend, but there + is not the slightest reason for your not marrying him, if you + wish to do so. + + "My husband knows all. We leave England to-night. + + "Ever yours, + "ANNABEL. + +Anna moved softly to the window, and threw up the sash. Ennison had +disappeared. + + + + +_Chapter XXIX_ + +MONTAGUE HILL PLAYS THE GAME + + +The man opened his eyes and looked curiously about him. + +"Where am I?" he muttered. + +Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. + +"You are in a private room of St. Felix Hospital," he said. + +"Hospital? What for? What's the matter with me?" + +Courtlaw's voice sank to a whisper. A nurse was at the other end of +the room. + +"There was an accident with a pistol in Miss Pellissier's room," he +said. + +The light of memory flashed in the man's face. His brows drew a little +nearer together. + +"Accident! She shot me," he muttered. "I had found her at last, and +she shot me. Listen, you. Am I going to die?" + +"I am afraid that you are in a dangerous state," Courtlaw answered +gravely. "The nurse will fetch the doctor directly. I wanted to speak +to you first." + +"Who are you?" + +"I am a friend of Miss Pellissier's," Courtlaw answered. + +"Which one?" + +"The Miss Pellissier in whose rooms you were, and who sings at the +'Unusual,'" Courtlaw answered. "The Miss Pellissier who was at +White's with us." + +The man nodded. + +"I remember you now," he said. "So it seems that I was wrong. Annabel +was in hiding all the time." + +"Annabel Pellissier is married," Courtlaw said quietly. + +"She's my wife," the man muttered. + +"It is possible," Courtlaw said, "that you too were deceived. Where +were you married?" + +"At the English Embassy in Paris. You will find the certificate in my +pocket." + +"And who made the arrangements for you, and sent you there?" Courtlaw +asked. + +"Hainault, Celeste's friend. He did everything." + +"I thought so," Courtlaw said. "You too were deceived. The place to +which you went was not the English Embassy, and the whole performance +was a fraud. I heard rumours of it in Paris, and the place since then +has been closed." + +"But Hainault--assured--me--that the marriage was binding." + +"So it would have been at the English Embassy," Courtlaw answered, +"but the place to which you went was not the English Embassy. It was +rigged up for the occasion as it has been many a time before." + +"But Hainault--was--a pal. I--I don't understand," the man faltered +wearily. + +"Hainault was Celeste's friend, and Celeste was Annabel's enemy," +Courtlaw said. "It was a plot amongst them all to humiliate her." + +"Then she has never been my wife." + +"Never for a second. She is the wife now of another man." + +Hill closed his eyes. For fully five minutes he lay quite motionless. +Then he opened them again suddenly, to find Courtlaw still by his +side. + +"It was a bad day for me," he said, speaking slowly and painfully. +"A bad thing for me when that legacy came. I thought I'd see Paris, +do the thing--like a toff. And I heard 'Alcide' sing, and that little +dance she did. I was in the front row, and I fancied she smiled at me. +Lord, what a state I was in! Night after night I sat there, I watched +her come in, I watched her go. She dropped a flower--it's in my +pocket-book now. I couldn't rest or eat or sleep. I made Hainault's +acquaintance, stood him drinks, lent him money. He shook his head all +the time. Annabel Pellissier was not like the others, he said. She +had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her +sister--was a lady. But one day he came to me. It was Celeste's +idea. I could be presented as Meysey Hill. We were alike. He +was--a millionaire. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and +since--then--I haven't had a minute's peace. God help me." + +Courtlaw was alarmed at the man's pallor. + +"You mustn't talk any more," he said, "but I want you to listen to me +just for a moment. The doctor will be here to see you in five minutes. +The nurse sent for him as soon as she saw that you were conscious. It +is very possible that he will ask you to tell him before witnesses how +you received your wound." + +The man smiled at him. + +"You are their friend, then?" + +"I am," Courtlaw answered. + +"Which one?" + +"The one whose life you have been making a burden, who has been all +the time shielding her sister. I would have married her long ago, but +she will not have me." + +"Bring her--here," Hill muttered. "I----" + +The door opened, and the doctor entered softly. Hill closed his eyes. +Courtlaw stood up. + +"He has asked to see some one," he whispered to the doctor. "Is there +any urgency?" + +The doctor bent over his patient, who seemed to have fallen asleep. +Presently he turned to Courtlaw. + +"I think," he said, "that I would fetch any one whom he has asked to +see. His condition is not unfavourable, but there may be a relapse at +any moment." + +So only a few minutes after Ennison's departure, while Anna stood +indeed with her sister's open letter still in her hand, Courtlaw drove +up in hot haste. She opened the door to him herself. + +"Will you come round to the hospital?" he asked. "Hill has asked for +you, and they will take his depositions to-night." + +She slipped on her cloak and stepped into the hansom with him. They +drove rapidly through the emptying streets. + +"Will he die?" she asked. + +"Impossible to say," he answered. "We have a private room at St. +Felix. Everything is being done that can be." + +"You are sure that he asked for me--not for Annabel?" + +"Certain," Courtlaw answered. + +"Has he accused any one yet?" + +"Not yet," he answered. "I have scarcely left his side." + +He was still conscious when they reached the hospital and his state +was much more favourable. The doctor and another man were by his +bedside when they entered the room, and there were writing materials +which had evidently been used close at hand. He recognised Anna, and +at once addressed her. + +"Thank you--for coming," he said. "The doctor has asked me to give +them my reasons--for shooting myself. I've told them all that was +necessary, but I--wanted to ask your pardon--for having made myself a +nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms--and to thank +you--the doctor says you bound up my wound--or I should have bled to +death." + +"I forgive you willingly," Anna said, bending over him. "It has all +been a mistake, hasn't it?" + +"No more talking," the doctor interposed. + +"I want two words--with Miss Pellissier alone," Hill pleaded. + +The doctor frowned. + +"Remember," he said, "you are not by any means a dying man now, but +you'll never pull through if you don't husband your strength." + +"Two words only," Hill repeated. + +They all left the room. Anna leaned over so that he needed only to +whisper. + +"Tell your sister she was right to shoot, quite right. I meant +mischief. But tell her this, too. I believed that our marriage was +genuine. I believed that she was my wife, or she would have been safe +from me." + +"I will tell her," Anna promised. + +"She has nothing to be afraid of," he continued. "I have signed a +statement that I shot myself; bad trade and drink, both true--both +true." + +His eyes were closed. Anna left the room on tiptoe. She and Courtlaw +drove homewards together. + + + + +_Chapter XXX_ + +SIR JOHN'S NECKTIE + + +Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey +little room writing letters. The room was worse than pokey, it was +shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, +wholly uninspiring. Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who +was enjoying himself. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of +his tie and hair were almost rakish. He stamped his last letter as +Annabel entered. + +She was dressed for the street very much as her own maid was +accustomed to dress, and there was a thick veil attached to her hat. + +"John," she declared, "I must eat or die. Do get your hat, and we will +go to that corner cafe." + +"Right," he answered. "I know the place you mean--very good cooking +for such an out-of-the-way show. I'll be ready in a moment." + +Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his +moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. + +"I really do not believe," he announced with satisfaction, "that any +one would recognize me. What do you think, Annabel?" + +"I don't think they would," she admitted. "You seem to have cultivated +quite a jaunty appearance, and you certainly look years younger. One +would think that you enjoyed crawling away out of your world into +hiding, with a very foolish wicked wife." + +"Upon my word," he declared, "you are right. I really am enjoying it. +It is like a second honeymoon. If it wasn't for the fear that after +all--but we won't think of that. I don't believe any one could have +traced us here. You see, we travelled second class, and we are in the +least known quarter of Paris. To-night we leave for Marseilles. On +Thursday we embark for South America." + +"You are a marvellous courier," she declared, as they passed into the +street. "You see, I will take your arm. It looks so French to be +affectionate." + +"There are some French customs," he declared, "which are admirable. I +presume that I may not kiss you in the street?" + +"Certainly not, sir," she replied, laughing. "If you attempted such a +thing it would be in order that I should smack you hard with the palm +of my hand upon the cheek." + +"That is another French custom," he remarked, "which is not so +agreeable. Here we are. Shall we sit outside and drink a _petit verre_ +of something to give us an appetite while dinner is being prepared?" + +"Certainly not," she answered. "I am already so hungry that I shall +begin on the _petit pains_. I have an appetite which I dare not +increase." + +They entered the place, a pleasant little cafe of the sort to be met +with in the outlying parts of Paris. Most of the tables were for those +who smoked only and drank wine, but there were a few spread with +tablecloths and laid for dinner. Sir John and Annabel seated +themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small +dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a +waiter. + +"Monsieur would dine! It was very good! And Madame, of course?" with a +low bow. The _carte de jour_ was before Monsieur. He had but to give +his orders. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for +the cooking--well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to +him year after year. And always they were well satisfied. He waited +the pleasure of Monsieur. + +Sir John gave his order, deliberately stumbling now and then over a +word, and anglicizing others. When he had finished he took up the wine +list and ordered a bottle of dry champagne. + +"I am afraid," he said to Anna afterwards, "that it was a mistake to +order the champagne sec. They will guess that I am English." + +Annabel leaned back in her chair and laughed till the tears stood in +her eyes. + +"Did you--did you really think that they would take you for a +Frenchman?" she exclaimed. + +"I don't see why not," he answered. "These clothes are French, and I'm +sure this floppy bow would make a Frenchman of me anyhow. Perhaps I +ought to have let you order the dinner, but I think I got through it +pretty well." + +"You did," Anna exclaimed. "Thank Heaven, they are bringing the _hors +d'oeuvres_. John, I shall eat that whole tin of sardines. Do take them +away from me after I have had four." + +"After all," Sir John remarked complacently, "it is astonishing how +easy it is for people with brains and a little knowledge of the world +to completely hide themselves. I am absolutely certain that up to the +present we have escaped all notice, and I do not believe that any +casual observer would take us for English people." + +A man who had been sitting with his hat tilted over his eyes at an +adjacent table had risen to his feet and stood suddenly before them. + +"Permit me to offer you the English paper which has just arrived, Sir +John," he said, holding out a _Daily Telegraph_. "You may find in it a +paragraph of some interest to you." + +Sir John was speechless. It was Annabel who caught at the paper. + +"You--appear to know my name, sir," Sir John said. + +"Oh, yes," the stranger remarked good-humouredly. "I know you very +well by sight, Sir John. It is my business to know most people. We +were fellow passengers from Charing Cross, and we have been fellow +lodgers in the Rue d'Entrepot. I trust you will not accuse me of +discourtesy if I express my pleasure that henceforth our ways will lie +apart." + +A little sobbing cry from Annabel arrested Sir John's attention. The +stranger with a bow returned to his table. + +"Read this, John." + + "THE BUCKNALL MANSIONS MYSTERY. + + "Montague Hill, the man who was found lying wounded in Bucknall + Mansions late on Wednesday night in the rooms of a well-known + artiste, has recovered sufficiently to make a statement to the + police. It appears that he was an unsuccessful admirer of the + lady in question, and he admits that, under the influence of + drink, he broke into her rooms, and there made a determined + attempt at suicide. He further gave the name and address of the + firm from whom he purchased the revolver and cartridges, a member + of which firm has since corroborated his statement. + + "Hill's confession will finally refute a number of absurd stories + which have been in circulation during the last few days. We + understand that, notwithstanding the serious nature of the man's + injuries, there is every possibility of his recovery." + +Annabel pulled down her veil to hide the tears. Sir John filled his +glass with trembling hand. + +"Thank God," he exclaimed. "The fellow is not such a blackguard, after +all." + +Annabel's hand stole into his. + +"And I have dragged you all over here for nothing," she murmured. + +"For nothing, do you call it?" he declared. "I wouldn't have been +without this trip for worlds. It has been a real honeymoon trip, +Annabel, for I feel that it has given me a wife." + +Annabel pulled up her veil. + +"You are a dear," she exclaimed affectionately. "I do hope that I +shall be able to make it up to you." + +Sir John's reply was incoherent. He called a waiter. + +"Garcon," he said, "will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he +will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me." + +The stranger came over to them smiling. He had been on the point of +leaving the restaurant. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. + +"I drink your very good health, Sir John and Lady Ferringhall," he +said, "and I wish you a pleasant journey back to England. If I might +take the liberty, Sir John," he added, with a humorous gleam in his +eyes, "I should like to congratulate you upon your tie." + +"Oh, damn the thing!" Sir John exclaimed, tucking the loose ends +inside his coat. + + * * * * * + +"I propose," Sir John said, "that we pay for our dinner--which we +haven't had--tip the garcon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz." + +Annabel shook her head. + +"Look at our clothes," she exclaimed, "and besides, the funny little +proprietor has gone down himself to help it along. He would be so +disappointed. I am sure it will be good, John, and I could eat +anything. No, let us dine here, and then go and have our coffee on the +boulevards. We can take our things up with us and stay at the +Continental or the Ritz." + +"Excellent," Sir John declared. "We will do Paris like the tourists, +and thank God here comes dinner." + +Everything was good. The garcon was tipped as he had never been tipped +before in his life. They drove up into Paris in an open _fiacre_ with +a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the +rug. They went first to a hotel, and then out again on to the +boulevards. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected +them both. They laughed and talked and stared about them. She took his +hand in hers. + +"Dear John," she whispered. "We are to begin our married life +to-night--here where I first met you. I shall only pray that I may +reward you for all your goodness to me." + +Sir John, frankly oblivious of the possibility of passers-by, took her +into his arms and kissed her. Then he stood up and hailed a _fiacre_. + +"Hotel Ritz!" + + + + +_Chapter XXXI_ + +ANNA'S TEA PARTY + + +"I suppose you haven't the least idea who I am," Lady Lescelles said, +as she settled herself in Anna's most comfortable chair. + +"I have heard of you, of course," Anna answered hesitatingly, +"but----" + +"You cannot imagine what I have come to see you about. Well, I am +Nigel Ennison's sister!" + +"Oh!" Anna said. + +"Nigel is like all men," Lady Lescelles continued. "He is a sad +blunderer. He has helped me out of scrapes though, no end of times. He +is an awfully good sort--and now he has come to me to help him if I +can. Do you know that he is very much in love with you?" + +Anna smiled. + +"Well," she admitted. "He has said something of the sort." + +"And you have sent him about his business. He tells me that you will +not even see him. I don't want to bother you, of course. A woman has a +perfect right to choose her own husband, but Nigel seemed to think +that there was something a little mysterious about your treatment of +him. You seemed, he thought, to have some grievance which you would +not explain and which he thought must arise from a misunderstanding. +There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn't it, but perhaps you +can make out what I mean. Don't you care for Nigel at all?" + +Anna was silent for a moment or two. + +Lady Lescelles, graceful, very fashionably but quietly dressed, leaned +back and watched her with shrewd kindly eyes. + +"I like your brother better than any other man I know," Anna said at +last. + +"Well, I don't think you told him as much as that, did you?" Lady +Lescelles asked. + +"I did not," Anna answered. "To be frank with you, Lady Lescelles, +when your brother asked me the other day to be his wife I was under a +false impression as regards his relations--with some other person. I +know now that I was mistaken." + +"That sounds more promising," Lady Lescelles declared. "May I tell +Nigel to come and see you again? I am not here to do his love-making +for him, you know. I came to see you on my own account." + +"Thank you very much," Anna said. "It is very nice of you to come, but +I do not think for the present, at any rate, I could give him any +other answer. I do not intend to be married, or to become engaged just +at present." + +"Well, why not?" Lady Lescelles asked, smiling. "I can only be a few +years older than you, and I have been married four years. I can assure +you, I wouldn't be single again for worlds. One gets a lot more fun +married." + +"Our cases are scarcely similar," Anna remarked. + +"Why not?" Lady Lescelles answered. "You are one of the Hampshire +Pellissiers, I know, and your family are quite as good as ours. As for +money, Nigel has tons of it." + +"It isn't exactly that," Anna answered, "but to tell you the truth, I +cannot bear to look upon myself as a rank failure. We girls, my sister +and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my +mind to make some little place in the world for myself. I tried +painting and couldn't get on. Then I came to London and tried almost +everything--all failures. I had two offers of marriage from men I +liked very much indeed, but it never occurred to me to listen to +either of them. You see I am rather obstinate. At last I tried a +dramatic agent, and got on the music hall stage." + +"Well, you can't say you're a failure there," Lady Lescelles remarked, +smiling. "I've been to hear you lots of times." + +"I have been more fortunate than I deserved," Anna answered, "but I +only meant to stay upon the music hall stage until I could get +something better. I am rehearsing now for a new play at the 'Garrick' +and I have quite made up my mind to try and make some sort of position +for myself as an actress." + +"Do you think it is really worth while?" Lady Lescelles asked gently. +"I am sure you will marry Nigel sooner or later, and then all your +work will be thrown away." + +Anna shook her head. + +"If I were to marry now," she said, "it would be with a sense of +humiliation. I should feel that I had been obliged to find some one +else to fight my battles for me." + +"What else," Lady Lescelles murmured, "are men for?" + +Anna laughed. + +"Afterwards," she said, "I should be perfectly content to have +everything done for me. But I do think that if a girl is to feel +comfortable about it they should start fairly equal. Take your case, +for instance. You brought your husband a large fortune, your people +were well known in society, your family interest I have heard was +useful to him in his parliamentary career. So far as I am concerned, I +am just now a hopeless nonentity. Your brother has everything--I have +not shown myself capable even of earning my own living except in a way +which could not possibly bring any credit upon anybody. And beyond +this, Lady Lescelles, as you must know, recent events have set a good +many people's tongues wagging, and I am quite determined to live down +all this scandal before I think of marrying any one." + +"I am sure," Lady Lescelles said, gently, "that the last consideration +need not weigh with you in the least. No one in the world is beyond +the shaft of scandal--we all catch it terribly sometimes. It simply +doesn't count." + +"You are very kind," Anna said. "I do hope I have been able to make +you understand how I feel, that you don't consider me a hopeless prig. +It does sound a little horrid to talk so much about oneself and to +have views." + +"I think," Lady Lescelles said, putting down her teacup, "that I must +send Nigel to plead his own cause. I may tell him, at any rate, that +you will see him?" + +"I shall like to see him," Anna answered. "I really owe him something +of an apology." + +"I will tell him," Lady Lescelles said. "And now let us leave the men +alone and talk about ourselves." + + * * * * * + +"I am delighted to see you all here," Anna said smiling upon them from +behind the tea-tray, "but I shall have to ask you to excuse me for a +few minutes. My agent is here, and he has brought his contract for me +to sign. I will give you all some tea, and then I must leave you for a +few minutes." + +The three men, who had arrived within a minute or two of one another, +received her little speech in dead silence. Ennison, who had been +standing with his back to the window, came suddenly a little further +into the room. + +"Miss Pellissier," he said, "I came here this afternoon hoping +particularly to see you for a few moments before you signed that +contract." + +She shook her head. + +"We may just as well have our talk afterwards," she said, "and I need +not keep poor Mr. Earles waiting." + +Courtlaw suddenly interposed. + +"May I be allowed to say," he declared, "that I came here with the +same intention." + +"And I also," Brendon echoed. + +Anna was suddenly very quiet. + +She was perhaps as near tears as ever before in her life. + +"If I had three hands," she said, with a faint smile, "I would give +one to each of you. I know that you are all my friends, and I know +that you all have very good advice to give me. But I am afraid I am a +shockingly obstinate and a very ungrateful person. No, don't let me +call myself that. I am grateful, indeed I am. But on this matter my +mind is quite made up." + +Ennison hesitated for a moment. + +"Miss Pellissier," he said, "these gentlemen are your friends, and +therefore they are my friends. If I am to have no other opportunity +I will speak before them. I came here to beg you not to sign that +contract. I came to beg you instead to do me the honour of becoming +my wife." + +"And I," Courtlaw said, "although I have asked before in vain, have +come to ask you once more the same thing." + +"And I," Brendon said, humbly, "although I am afraid there is no +chance for me, my errand was the same." + +Anna looked at them for a moment with a pitiful attempt at a smile. +Then her head disappeared suddenly in her hands, and her shoulders +shook violently. + +"Please forgive me--for one moment," she sobbed. "I--I shall be all +right directly." + +Brendon rushed to the piano and strummed out a tune. + +The others hurried to the window. And Anna was conscious of a few +moments of exquisite emotion. After all, life had still its +pulsations. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before +had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at +that moment of regret or even pity. + +She called them back very soon. + +The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have +stolen into her face. She spoke readily enough, but there was a new +timidity in her manner. + +"My friends," she said, "my dear friends, I am going to make the same +answer to all of you--and that is perhaps you will say no answer at +all. At present I cannot marry, I will not become bound even to any +one. It would be very hard perhaps to make you understand just how I +feel about it. I won't try. Only I feel that you all want to make life +too easy for me, and I am determined to fight my own battles a little +longer. If any of you--or all of you feel the same in six months' time +from to-day, will you come, if you care to, and see me then?" + +There was a brief silence. Ennison spoke at last. + +"You will sign the contract?" + +"I shall sign the contract. I think that I am very fortunate to have +it to sign." + +"Do you mean," Courtlaw asked, "that from now to the end of the six +months you do not wish to see us--any of us?" + +Her eyes were a little dim again. + +"I do mean that," she declared. "I want to have no distractions. My +work will be all sufficient. I have an aunt who is coming to live with +me, and I do not intend to receive any visitors at all. It will be a +little lonely sometimes," she said, looking around at them, "and I +shall miss you all, but it is the fairest for myself--and I think for +you. Do not avoid me if we meet by accident, but I trust to you all +not to let the accident happen if you can help it." + +Brendon rose and came towards her with outstretched hand. + +"Good-bye, Miss Pellissier, and success to you," he said. "May you +have as much good fortune as you deserve, but not enough to make you +forget us." + +Courtlaw rose too. + +"You are of the genus obstinate," he said. "I do not know whether to +wish you success or not. I will wish you success or failure, whichever +is the better for you." + +"And I," Ennison said, holding her fingers tightly, and forcing her to +look into his eyes, "I will tell you what I have wished for you when +we meet six months from to-day." + + + + +_Chapter XXXII_ + +SIX MONTHS AFTER + + +Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, +came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early +morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in +her eyes. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping +with dew, in the other the post-bag. + +She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering +creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. +Breakfast was laid for one, a dish of fruit and a shining coffee +equipage. By the side of her plate was a small key. With trembling +fingers she opened the post-bag. There was one letter. One only. + +She opened and read it at once. It was dated from the House of Commons +on the previous day. + + "MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,-- + + "To-morrow the six months will be up. For days I have been + undecided as to whether I would come to you or no. I would like + you to believe that the decision I have arrived at--to stay + away--is wholly and entirely to save you pain. It should be the + happiest day of your life, and I would not detract from its + happiness by letting you remember for a moment that there are + others to whom your inevitable decision must bring some pain. + + "For I know that you love Ennison. You tried bravely enough to + hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to + speak to us in the same tone. It was not your fault you failed. + If by any chance I have made a mistake a word will bring me to + you. But I know very well that that word will never be spoken. + + "Your great success has been my joy, our joy as well as yours. + You have made for yourself a unique place upon the stage. We have + so many actresses who aspire to great things in the drama, not + one who can interpret as you have interpreted it, the delicate + finesse, the finer lights and shades of true comedy. Ennison will + make a thousand enemies if he takes you from the stage. Yet I + think that he will do it. + + "For my own part I have come fully now into my inheritance. I am + bound to admit that I greatly enjoy my altered life. Every minute + I spend here is an education to me. Before very long I hope to + have definite work. Some of my schemes are already in hand. + People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist. Yet I + fancy that we who have been poor ourselves must be the best + judges of the needs of the people. + + "You will write to me, I am sure--and from the date of your + letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old + place as + + "Your devoted friend, + "WALTER BRENDON." + +She set the letter down, and drew from her pocket another with a +foreign post mark which had come the day before. This one too she +read. + + "HASSELL'S CAMP, + "NEAR COLORADO. + + "On or about the day you receive this letter, Anna, the six + months will be up. Do you expect me, I wonder. I think not. At + any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet + above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God's wind comes + fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. + Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing + through life without a single glimpse, a moment's revelation of + this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of + primaeval nature. It is a true saying that in the mountains there + is peace. One's sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in + the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. I love you still, + Anna, but life holds other things than the love of man for woman. + Some day I shall come back, and I will show you on canvas the + things which have come to me up here amongst the eternal silence. + + "Many nights I have thought of you, Anna. Your face has flitted + out of my watch-fire, and then I have been a haunted man. But + with the morning, the glorious unstained morning the passion of + living would stir even the blood of a clod. It comes over the + mountains, Anna, pink darkening into orange red, everywhere a + wonderful cloud sea, scintillating with colour. It is enough to + make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless + precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and + absolute impotence. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist + of us all a pigmy. When I think of those ateliers of ours, the + art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for + a two-edged sword and a minute of Divinity. To perdition with + them all. + + "I shall come back, if at all, a new man. I have a new cult to + teach, a new enthusiasm. I feel years younger, a man again. My + first visit will be to you. I must tell you all about God's land, + this marvellous virgin country, with its silent forests and + dazzling peaks. I make no apology for not being with you now. You + love Ennison. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost + departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness + and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these + lonely months. Yet I shall think of you to-day. I pray, Anna, + that you may find your happiness. + + "Your friend, + "DAVID COURTLAW." + + "P.S.--I do not congratulate you on your success. I was certain + of it. I am glad or sorry according as it has brought you + happiness." + +Anna's eyes were a little dim as she poured out her coffee, and the +laugh she attempted was not altogether a success. + +"This is all very well," she said, "but two out of the three are rank +deserters--and if the papers tell the truth the third is as bad. I +believe I am doomed to be an old maid." + +She finished her breakfast and strolled out across the garden with the +letters still in her hand. Beyond was a field sloping steeply upwards, +and at the top a small pine plantation. She climbed slowly towards it, +keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding +her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. Arrived in the plantation +she sat down with her back against a tree trunk. + +Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. +Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, +and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden +gorse. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six +months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. And +she found herself able to do nothing of the sort. A new restlessness +seemed to have stolen in upon her. She started at the falling of a +leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge. Her heart was +beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was +conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was +scarcely responsible for. She struggled against it quite uselessly. +She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her. The period +of repression was over. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, +foolish. He will not come. He cannot. + +And then all her restlessness was turned to joy. She sprang to her +feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes. So he found +her when he came round the corner of the spinney. + +"Anna," he cried eagerly. + +She held out her arms to him and smiled. + + * * * * * + +"And where," he asked, "are my rivals?" + +"Deserters," she answered, laughing. "It is you alone, Nigel, who have +saved me from being an old maid. Here are their letters." + +He took them from her and read them. When he came to a certain +sentence in Brendon's letter he stopped short and looked up at her. + +"So Brendon and I," he said, "have been troubled with the same fears. +I too, Anna, have watched and read of your success with--I must +confess it--some misgiving." + +"Please tell me why?" she asked. + +"Do you need me to tell you? You have tasted the luxury of power. You +have made your public, you are already a personage. And I want you for +myself--for my wife." + +She took his hand and smiled upon him. + +"Don't you understand, Nigel," she said softly, "that it was precisely +for this I have worked so hard. It is just the aim I have had in view +all the time. I wanted to have something to give up. I did not +care--no woman really cares--to play the beggar maid to your King +Cophetua." + +"Then you will really give it all up!" he exclaimed. + +She laughed. + +"When we go indoors I will show you the offers I have refused," she +answered. "They have all been trying to turn my head. I think that +nearly every manager in London has made me an offer. My reply to all +of them has been the same. My engagement at the 'Garrick' terminates +Saturday week, and then I am free." + +"You will make me horribly conceited," he answered. "I think that I +shall be the most unpopular man in London. You are not playing +to-night, are you?" + +"Not to-night," she answered. "I am giving my understudy a chance. I +am going up to dine with my sister." + +"Annabel is a prophetess," he declared. "I too am asked." + +"It is a conspiracy," she exclaimed. "Come, we must go home and have +some luncheon. My little maidservant will think that I am lost." + +They clambered down the hill together. The air was sweet with the +perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky +was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented +west wind. Ennison paused by the little gate. + +"I think," he said, "that you have found the real home of the +lotus-eaters. Here one might live the life of golden days." + +She shook her head gently. + +"Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff," she answered. +"These are the playgrounds of life. The great heart of the world beats +only where men and women are gathered together. You have your work +before you, and I----" + +He kissed her on the lips. + +"I believe," he said, "that you mean me to be Prime Minister." + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: + +Typesetting and editing of the original book from which this e-text +has been transcribed was inconsistent. In addition to minor changes in +punctuation, the theater in London in which the main character was a +singer was referred to as the 'Unusual' and as the 'Universal'; this +has been changed to refer to the theater consistently as the +'Unusual'. Additionally, Russell Square, the area in London where the +main character resided was referred to twice as Russell Street; this +has been changed to be consistent throughout this etext. Otherwise, +every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and +intent. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Anna the Adventuress, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA THE ADVENTURESS *** + +***** This file should be named 26596.txt or 26596.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/5/9/26596/ + +Produced by D. Alexander and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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