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diff --git a/28161-8.txt b/28161-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c7390dd..0000000 --- a/28161-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10257 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Master Mummer, 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: The Master Mummer - -Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim - -Release Date: February 23, 2009 [EBook #28161] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MASTER MUMMER *** - - - - -Produced by D. Alexander, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - The Master Mummer - - By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM - - Author of "Anna, the Adventuress," "A Prince of Sinners," - "The Betrayal," Etc. - - -WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS - -_A. L. BURT COMPANY_ -_Publishers New York_ - -_Copyright_, 1904, -BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. - -_All rights reserved_ - - - - -[Illustration: "Let the boy have his chance," said Allan.] - - - - -The Master Mummer - - - - -Book I - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -Sheets of virgin manuscript paper littered my desk, the smoke of much -uselessly consumed tobacco hung about the room in a little cloud. Many a -time I had dipped my pen in the ink, only to find myself a few minutes -later scrawling ridiculous little figures upon the margin of my -blotting-pad. It was not at all an auspicious start for one who sought -immortality. - -There came a growl presently from the other side of the room, where -Mabane, attired in a disreputable smock, with a short black pipe in the -corner of his mouth, was industriously defacing a small canvas. Mabane -was tall and fair and lean, with a mass of refractory hair which was the -despair of his barber; a Scotchman with keen blue eyes, and humorous -mouth amply redeeming his face from the plainness which would otherwise -have been its lot. He also was in search of immortality. - -"Make a start for Heaven's sake, Arnold," he implored. "To look at you -is an incitement to laziness. The world's full of things to write about. -Make a choice and have done with it. Write something, even if you have -to tear it up afterwards." - -I turned round in my chair and regarded Mabane reproachfully. - -"Get on with your pot-boiler, and leave me alone, Allan," I said. "You -do not understand my difficulties in the least. It is simply a matter of -selection. My brain is full of ideas--brimming over. I want to be sure -that I am choosing the best." - -There came to me from across the room a grunt of contempt. - -"Pot-boiler indeed! What about short stories at ten guineas a time, must -begin in the middle, scented and padded to order, Anthony Hopeish, with -the sugar of Austin Dobson and the pepper of Kipling shaken on _ad -lib._? Man alive, do you know what pot-boilers are? It's a perfect -conservatory you're living in. Got any tobacco, Arnold?" - -I jerked my pouch across the room, and it was caught with a deft little -backward swing of the hand. Allan Mabane was an M.C.C. man, and a -favourite point with his captain. - -"You've got me on the hip, Allan," I answered, rising suddenly from my -chair and walking restlessly up and down the large bare room. "The devil -himself might have put those words into your mouth. They are -pot-boilers, every one of them, and I am sick of it. I want to do -something altogether different. I am sure that I can, but I have got -into the way of writing those other things, and I can't get out of it. -That is why I am sitting here like an owl." - -Mabane refilled his pipe and smoked contentedly. - -"I know exactly how you're feeling, old chap," he said sympathetically. -"I get a dash of the same thing sometimes--generally in the springtime. -It begins with a sort of wistfulness, a sense of expansion follows, you -go about all the time with your head in the clouds. You want to collect -all the beautiful things in life and express them. Oh, I know all about -it. It generally means a girl. Where were you last night?" - -I shrugged my shoulders. - -"Where I shall be to-night, to-morrow night--where I was a year ago. -That is the trouble of it all. One is always in the same place." - -He shook his head. - -"It is a very bad attack," he said. "Your generalities may be all right, -but they are not convincing." - -"I have not spoken a word to a woman, except to Mrs. Burdett, for a week -or more," I declared. - -Mabane resumed his work. Such a discussion, his gesture seemed to -indicate, was not worth continuing. But I continued, following out my -train of thought, though I spoke as much to myself as to my friend. - -"You are right about my stories," I admitted. "I have painted -rose-coloured pictures of an imaginary life, and publishers have bought -them, and the public, I suppose, have read them. I have dressed up -puppets of wood and stone, and set them moving like mechanical -dolls--over-gilded, artificial, vulgar. And all the time the real thing -knocks at our doors." - -Mabane stepped back from his canvas to examine critically the effect of -an unexpected dash of colour. - -"The public, my dear Greatson," he said abstractedly, "do not want the -real thing--from you. Every man to his _mêtier_. Yours is to sing of -blue skies and west winds, of hay-scented meadows and Watteau-like -revellers in a paradise as artificial as a Dutch garden. Take my advice, -and keep your muse chained. The other worlds are for the other writers." - -I was annoyed with Mabane. There was just sufficient truth in his words -to make them sound brutal. I answered him with some heat. - -"Not if I starve for it, Allan? The whole cycle of life goes humming -around us, hour by hour. It is here, there, everywhere. I will bring a -little of it into my work, or I will write no more." - -Mabane shook his head. He was busy again upon his canvas. - -"It is always the humourist," he murmured, "who is ambitious to write a -tragedy--and _vice versâ_. The only sane man is he who is conscious of -his limitations." - -"On the contrary," I answered quickly, "the man who admits them is a -fool. I have made up my mind. I will dress no more dolls in fine -clothes, and set them strutting across a rose-garlanded stage. I will -create, or I will leave alone. I will write of men and women, or not at -all." - -"It will affect your income," Mabane said. "It will cost you money in -postage stamps, and your manuscripts will be declined with thanks." - -His gentle cynicism left me unmoved. I had almost forgotten his -presence. I was standing over by the window, looking out across a -wilderness of housetops. My own thoughts for the moment were sufficient. -I spoke, it is true, but I spoke to myself. - -"A beginning," I murmured. "That is all one wants. It seems so hard, and -yet--it ought to be so easy. If one could but lift the roofs--could but -see for a moment underneath." - -"I can save you the trouble," Mabane remarked cheerfully, strolling over -to my side. "Where are you looking? Chertsey Street, eh? Well, in all -probability mamma is cooking the dinner, Mary is scrubbing the floor, -Miss Flora is dusting the drawing-room, and Miss Louisa is practising -her scales. You have got a maggot in your brain, Greatson. Life such as -you are thinking of is the most commonplace thing in the world. The -middle-classes haven't the capacity for passion--even the tragedy of -existence never troubles them. Don't try to stir up the muddy waters, -Arnold. Write a pretty story about a Princess and her lovers, and draw -your cheque." - -"There are times, Allan," I remarked thoughtfully, "when you are an -intolerable nuisance." - -Mabane shrugged his shoulders and returned to his work. Apparently he -had reached a point in it which required his undivided attention, for he -relapsed almost at once into silence. Following his example, I too -returned to my desk and took up my pen. As a rule my work came to me -easily. Even now there were shadowy ideas, well within my mental -grasp--ideas, however, which I was in the humour to repel rather than to -invite. For I knew very well whither they would lead me--back to the -creation of those lighter and more fanciful figures flitting always -across the canvas of a painted world. A certain facility for this sort -of thing had brought me a reputation which I was already growing to -hate. More than ever I was determined not to yield. Mabane's words had -come to me with a subtle note of mockery underlying their undoubted -common-sense. I thrust the memory of them on one side. Certain gifts I -knew that I possessed. I had a ready pen and a facile invention. -Something had stirred in me a late-awakened but irresistible desire to -apply them to a different purpose than ever before. As I sat there the -creations of my fancy flitted before me one by one--delicate, perhaps, -and graceful, thoughtfully conceived, adequately completed. Yet I knew -very well that they were like ripples upon the water, creatures without -lasting forms or shape, images passing as easily as they had come into -the mists of oblivion. The human touch, the transforming fire of life -was wholly wanting. These April creations of my brain--carnival figures, -laughing and weeping with equal facility, lacked always and altogether -the blood and muscle of human creatures. The mishaps of their lives -struck never a tragic note; always the thrill and stir of actual -existence were wanting. I would have no more of them. I felt myself -capable of other things. I would wait until other things came. - -The door was pushed open, and Arthur smiled in upon us. This third -member of our bachelor household was younger than either Mabane or -myself--a smooth-faced, handsome boy, resplendent to-day in frock-coat -and silk hat. - -"Hullo!" he exclaimed. "Hard at work, both of you!" - -Mabane laid down his brush and surveyed the newcomer critically. - -"Arthur," he declared with slow emphasis, "you do us credit--you do -indeed. I hope that you will show yourself to our worthy landlady, and -that you will linger upon the doorstep as long as possible. This sort of -thing is good for our waning credit. I am no judge, for I never -possessed such a garment, but there is something about the skirts of -your frock-coat which appeals to me. There is indeed, Arthur. And then -your tie--the cunning arrangement of it----" - -"Oh, rats!" the boy exclaimed, laughing. "Give me a couple of -cigarettes, there's a good chap, and do we feed at home to-night?" - -Mabane produced the cigarettes and turned back to his work. - -"We do!" he admitted with a sigh. "Always on Tuesdays, you know. -By-the-bye, are you going to the works in that costume?" - -"Not likely! It's my day at the depôt, worse luck," Arthur answered, -pausing to strike a match. "What's up with Arnold?" - -"Got the blues, because his muse won't work," Mabane said. "He wants to -strike out in a new line--something blood-curdling, you -know--Tolstoi-like, or Hall Caineish--he doesn't care which. He wants to -do what nobody else ever will--take himself seriously. I put it down in -charity to dyspepsia." - -"Mabane is an ass!" I grunted. "Be off, Arthur, there's a good chap, and -don't listen to him. He hasn't the least idea what he is talking about." - -Arthur, however, happened to be in no hurry. He tilted his hat on the -back of his head, and leaned upon the table. - -"I have always noticed," he remarked affably, "that under Allan's most -asinine speeches there usually lurks a substratum of truth. Are you -really going to write a serious novel, Arnold?" - -I lit a cigarette and leaned back in my chair resignedly. Arthur was a -most impenetrable person, and if he meant to stay, I knew very well that -it was hopeless to attempt to hurry him. - -"I had some idea of it," I admitted. "By-the-bye, Arthur, you are a -person with a deep insight into life. Can't you give me a few hints? I -haven't even made a start." - -Arthur considered the matter in all seriousness. - -"It is a bit difficult for you, I daresay," he remarked. "You stop -indoors so much, and when you do go out you mope off into the country by -yourself. You want to knock about the restaurants and places to get -ideas. That's what Gorman always does. You see you get all your -characters from life in them, and they seem so much more natural." - -"And who," I asked, "is Mr. Gorman? I do not recognize the name." - -"Pal of mine," Arthur answered easily. "I don't bring him here because -he's a bit loud for you chaps. Writes stories for no end of papers. -_Illustrated Bits_ and the _Cigarette Journal_ print anything he cares -to send. I thought perhaps you'd know the name." - -Mabane went off into a peal of laughter behind his canvas. The boy -remained imperturbable. - -"Of course, I'm not comparing his work with Arnold's," he declared. -"Arnold's stuff is no end better, of course. But, after all, the chap's -got common-sense. If they want me to draw a motor I go and sit down in -front of it. If Arnold wants to write of real things, real men and -women, you know, he ought to go out and look for them. If he sits here -and just imagines them, how can he be sure that they are the real thing? -See what I mean?" - -There was a short silence. Arthur was swinging his long legs backwards -and forwards, and whistling softly to himself. I looked at him for a -moment curiously. The words of an ancient proverb flitted through my -brain. - -"Arthur," I declared solemnly, laying down my pen, "you are a prophet in -disguise, the prophet sent to lift the curtain which is before my eyes. -Which way shall I go to find these real men and real women, to look upon -these tragic happenings? For Heaven's sake direct me. Where, for -instance, does Mr. Gorman go?" - -Arthur swung himself off, laughing. - -"Gorman goes everywhere," he answered. "If I were you I should try one -of the big railway stations. So long!" - -I rose to my feet, and taking down my hat commenced to brush it. Mabane -looked up from his work. - -"Where are you off to, Arnold?" he asked. - -Some curious instinct or power of divination might indeed have given me -a passing glimpse of the things which lay beyond, through the portals of -that day, for I answered him seriously enough--even gravely. - -"The prophet has spoken," I said. "I must obey! I shall start with -Charing Cross." - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Why the man should have spoken to me at all I could not tell. Yet it is -certain that I heard his simple and courteous inquiry with a thrill of -pleasure, not unmixed with excitement. From the first moment of my -arrival upon the platform I had singled him out, the only interesting -figure in a crowd of nonentities. Perhaps I had lingered a little too -closely by his side, had manifested more curiosity in him than was -altogether seemly. At any rate, he spoke to me. - -"Do you know if the Continental train is punctual?" he asked. - -"I have no idea," I answered. "This guard would tell us, perhaps." - -"Signalled in, sir," the man declared. "Two minutes late only." - -My new acquaintance thanked me and lit a cigarette. He seemed in no -hurry to depart, and I was equally anxious to engage him in -conversation. For although he was dressed with the trim and quiet -precision of the foreigner or man of affairs, there was something about -his beardless face, his broadly humorous mouth, and easy, nonchalant -bearing which suggested the person who juggled always with the ball of -life. - -"Marvellous!" he murmured, looking after the guard. "Two minutes late -from Paris--and perhaps beyond. It is a wonderful service. Now, if I had -come to meet any one, and had a pressing appointment immediately -afterwards, this train would have been an hour late. As it is--ah, well, -one is foolish to grumble," he added, with a little shrug of the -shoulders. - -"You, like me, then," I remarked, "are a loiterer." - -He flashed a keen glance upon me. - -"I see that I have met," he said slowly, "with someone of similar tastes -to my own. I will confess at once that you are right. For myself I feel -that there is nothing more interesting in this great city of yours than -to watch the people coming and going from it. All your railway stations -fascinate me, especially those which are the connecting links with other -countries. Perhaps it is because I am an idle man, and must needs find -amusement somewhere." - -"Yet," I objected, "for a single face or personality which is -suggestive, one sees a thousand of the type which only irritates--the -great rank and file of the commonplace. I wonder, after all, whether the -game is worth the candle." - -"One in a thousand," he repeated thoughtfully. "Yet think what that one -may mean--a walking drama, a tragedy, a comedy, an epitome of life or -death. There is more to be read in the face of that one than in the -three hundred pages of the novel over which we yawn ourselves to sleep. -Here is the train! Now let us watch the people together--that is, if you -really mean that you have no friends to look out for." - -"I really mean it," I assured him. "I am here out of the idlest -curiosity. I am by profession a scribbler, and I am in search of an -idea." - -Once more he regarded me curiously. - -"Your name is Greatson, is it not--Arnold Greatson? You were pointed out -to me once at the Vagabonds' Club, and I never forget a face. Here they -come! Look! Look!" - -The train had come to a standstill. People were streaming out upon the -platform. My companion laid his fingers upon my arm. He talked rapidly -but lightly. - -"You see them, my young friend," he exclaimed. "Those are returning -tourists from Switzerland; the thin, sharp-featured girl there, with a -plaid skirt and a satchel, is an American. Heavens! how she talks! She -has lost a trunk. The whole system will be turned upside down until she -has found it or been compensated. The two young men with her are silent. -They are wise. Alone she will prevail. You see the man of commerce; he -is off already. He has been to France, perhaps to Belgium also, to buy -silks and laces. And the stout old gentleman? See how happy he looks to -be back again where English is spoken, and he can pay his way in -half-crowns and shillings. You see the milliner's head-woman, dressed -with obtrusive smartness, though everything seems a little awry. She has -been over to Paris for the fashions; in a few days her firm will send -out a little circular, and Hampstead or Balham will be much impressed. -And--what do you make of those two, my young friend?" - -It seemed to me that my companion's tone was changed, that his whole -appearance was different. I was suddenly conscious of an irresistible -conviction. I did not believe any longer that he was, like me, an idle -loiterer here. I felt that his presence had a purpose, and that it was -connected in some measure with the two people to whom my attention was -so suddenly drawn. They were, in that somewhat heterogeneous crowd, -sufficiently noticeable. The man, although he assumed the jauntiness of -youth, was past middle-age, and his mottled cheeks, his thin, watery -eyes, and thick red neck were the unmistakeable hall-marks of years of -self-indulgence. He was well dressed and groomed, and his demeanour -towards his companion was one of deferential good humour. She, however, -was a person of a very different order. She was a girl apparently -between fifteen and sixteen, her figure as yet undeveloped, her dresses -a little too short. Her face was small and white, her mouth had a most -pathetic droop, and in her eyes--wonderful, deep blue eyes--there was a -curious look of shrinking fear, beneath which flashed every now and then -a gleam of positive terror. Her dark hair was arranged in a thick -straight fringe upon her forehead, and in a long plait behind, after the -schoolgirl fashion. Notwithstanding the _gaucherie_ of her years and her -apparent unhappiness, she carried herself with a certain dignity and -grace of movement which were wonderfully impressive. I watched her -admiringly. - -"They are rather a puzzle," I admitted. "I suppose they might very well -be father and daughter. It is certain that she is fresh from some -convent boarding-school. I don't like the way she looks at the man, do -you? It is as though she were terrified to death. I wonder if he is her -father?" - -My companion did not answer me. He was straining forward as though -anxious to hear the instructions which the man was giving to a porter -about the luggage; my presence seemed to be a thing which he had wholly -forgotten. The girl stood for a moment alone. More than ever one seemed -to perceive in her eyes the nameless fear of the hunted animal. She -looked around her furtively, yet with a strange, half-veiled wildness in -her dilated eyes. I should scarcely have been surprised to have seen her -make a sudden dash for freedom. Presently, however, the man, having -identified all his luggage, turned towards her. - -"That's all right," he declared cheerfully. "Now I think that I shall -take you straight away for lunch somewhere, and then we must go to the -shops. Are you hungry, Isobel?" - -"I--I do not know," she answered, so tremulously that the words scarcely -reached us, though we were standing only a few feet away. - -"We will soon find out," he said. "Hansom, there! Café Grand!" - -The cab drove off, and I realized then how completely for the last few -moments I had forgotten my companion. I turned to look for him, and -found him standing close to my side. He was apparently absorbed in -thought, and seemed to have lost all interest in our surroundings. His -hands were thrust deep in his overcoat pockets, and his eyes were fixed -upon the ground. The stream of people from the train had melted away -now, and we were almost alone upon the platform. I hesitated for a -moment, and then walked slowly off. I did not wish to seem discourteous -to the man with whom I had exchanged a few remarks more intimate than -those which usually pass between strangers, but he had distinctly the -air of one wishing to be alone, and I was unwilling to seem intrusive. I -had barely taken a dozen steps, however, before I was overtaken. My -companion of a few minutes before was again by my side. All traces of -his recent preoccupation seemed to have vanished. He was smoking a fresh -cigarette, and his bright, deep-set eyes were lit with gentle mirth. - -"Well, Mr. Novelist," he exclaimed, "have you succeeded? Is your languid -muse stirred? Have you seen a face, a look, a gesture--anything to prick -your imagination?" - -I shrugged my shoulders. - -"I have seen one thing," I answered, "which it is not easy to forget. I -have seen fear, and very pathetic it was." - -"You mean----?" - -"In the face of that child, or rather girl, with that coarse-looking -brute of a man." - -The light seemed to die out from my companion's face. Once more he -became stern and thoughtful. - -"Yes," he agreed; "I too saw that. If one were looking for tragedy, one -might perhaps find it there." - -We stood now together on the pavement outside the station. My companion -glanced at his watch. - -"Come," he said; "I have a fancy that you and I might exchange a few -ideas. I am a lonely man, and to-day I am not in the humour for -solitude. Do me the favour to lunch with me!" - -I did not hesitate for a moment. It was exactly the sort of invitation -which I had coveted. - -"I shall be delighted," I answered. - -"I myself," my companion continued, "have no gift for writing. My -talents, such as they are, lie in a different direction. But I have been -in many countries, and adventures have come to me of various sorts. I -may be able even to start you on your way--if, indeed, the author of -_The Lost Princess_ is ever short of an idea." - -I smiled. - -"I can assure you," I said, "that my pilgrimage this morning has no -other object than to find one. I begin to fear that I have written too -much lately. At any rate, the well of my inspiration, if I may use so -grandiloquent a term, has run dry." - -He put up his stick and hailed a hansom. - -"After all," he said, "it is possible--yes, it is possible that you may -succeed. Adventures wait for us everywhere, if only we go about in a -proper frame of mind. We will lunch, I think, at the Café Grand." - -I followed my prospective host into the cab. Was it altogether a -coincidence, I wondered, that we were bound for the same restaurant -whither the man and the girl had preceded us a few minutes before? - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Mr. Grooten, as my new acquaintance called himself, belied neither his -appearance nor his modest reference to himself. He proved at once that -he knew how to order a satisfactory luncheon, going through the _menu_ -with the quiet deliberation of a connoisseur, neither seeking nor -accepting any advice from the dark-visaged waiter who stood by his side, -and finally writing out his few carefully chosen dishes with a special -postscript as to the coffee, which, by-the-bye, we were never to taste. -He then leaned over the table and began to talk. - -Apparently my host had been in every country of the world, and mixed -with people of note in each. His anecdotes were always pungent, personal -without being egotistical, and savoured always with a certain dry and -perfectly natural humour. I found myself both interested and fascinated -by his constant flow of reminiscences, and yet at times my attention -wandered. For within a few yards of us were seated the man and the -child. - -Everything that was noticeable in their demeanour towards one another at -the station was even more apparent here. A bottle of champagne stood -upon the table. The man had ordered such a luncheon that the head-waiter -was seldom far from his side, and the manager in person had come to pay -his respects. He himself was apparently doing full justice to it. His -cheeks were flushed, his eyes moist, and his little bursts of laughter -as he persevered in his attentions to his companion grew louder and more -frequent. But opposite to him, the child's face was unchanged. Her glass -was full of wine, but she seemed never to touch it. Her long white -fingers played with her bread, but she seemed to eat little or nothing. -Her face was pallid and drawn; there was terror--absolute, undiluted -terror--in her unnaturally large eyes. Often when the man spoke to her -she shivered. Her eyes seemed constantly trying to escape his gaze, -wandering round the room, the terror of a hunted animal in their soft, -luminous depths. Once they rested upon mine--I was seated in the corner -facing her--and it seemed to me that there was appeal--desperate, -frenzied appeal--in that long, tense look which thrilled all my pulses -with passionate sympathy. Yet she held herself all the while stiff and -erect. There was a certain sustaining pride in her close, firm-set -mouth. There was never any sign of tears, though more than once her lips -parted for a moment in a pitiful quiver. - -The table at which we were sitting was just inside the door, in the -left-hand corner. The man and the girl were upon the opposite side, and -a few yards further in the room. My host, with his face to the door, -could see neither of them, therefore, without turning round, and owing -to our table being pushed far into the corner, only his back was visible -to the people in the restaurant. I, sitting facing him, had an excellent -view of the girl and her companion, and I was all the while a witness of -the silent drama being played out between the two. There came a time -when I felt that I could stand it no longer. I leaned over our small -table, and interrupted my companion in the middle of a story. - -"Forgive me," I said, "but I wish you could see that child's face. There -is something wrong, I am sure. She is terrified to death. Look, that -brute is trying to force her to drink her wine. I really can't sit and -watch it any longer." - -The man who was my host, and who had called himself Mr. Grooten, nodded -his head slightly. I knew at once, however, that he was in close -sympathy with me. - -"I have been watching them," he said. "There is a mirror over your head; -I have seen everything. It is a hideous-looking affair, but what can one -do?" - -"I know what I am going to do, at any rate," I said, laying my serviette -deliberately upon the table. "I don't care what happens, but I am going -to speak to the child." - -Mr. Grooten raised his eyebrows. Beyond this faint expression of -surprise his face betrayed neither approval nor disapproval. - -"What will you gain?" he asked. - -"Probably nothing," I answered. "And yet I shall try all the same. I -dare not go away with the memory of that child's face haunting me. I -must make an effort, even though it seems ridiculous. I can't help it." - -My companion smiled softly. - -"As you will, my impetuous young friend," he said. "This promises to be -interesting. I will await your return." - -I did not hesitate any longer. I rose to my feet, and crossed the space -which lay between the two tables. As I drew nearer to her I watched the -child's face. At first a flash of desperate hope seemed suddenly to -illumine it; then a fear more abject even than before took its place as -she glanced at her companion. She watched me come, reading without a -doubt the purpose in my mind with a sort of fascinated wonder. Her eyes -were still fastened upon mine when at last I paused before her. I leaned -over the table, keeping my shoulder turned upon the man. - -"You will forgive me," I said to her in a low tone, "but I believe that -you are in trouble. Can I help you? Don't be afraid to tell me if I -can." - -"You--you are very kind, sir," she began, breathlessly; "I----" - -Her companion intervened. Astonishment and anger combined to render his -voice unsteady. - -"Eh? What's this? Who the devil are you, sir, and what do you mean by -speaking to my ward?" - -I disregarded his interruption altogether. I still addressed myself only -to the child, and I spoke as encouragingly as I could. - -"Don't be afraid to tell me," I said. "Think that I am your brother. I -want to help you if I can." - -"Oh, if you only could!" she moaned. - -Her companion seized me by the arm and forced me to turn round. His face -was red almost to suffocation, and two thick blue veins stood out upon -his forehead in ugly fashion. His voice was scarcely articulate by -reason of his attempt to keep it low. - -"Of all the infernal impertinence! What do you mean by it, sir? Who are -you? How dare you force yourself upon strangers in this fashion?" - -"I am quite aware that I am doing an unusual thing," I answered, "and I -perhaps deserve all that you can say to me. At the same time, I am here -to have my question answered. You have a child with you who is -apparently terrified to death. I insist upon hearing from her own lips -whether she is in need of friends." - -White and mute, she looked from one to the other. It was the man who -answered. - -"If this were not a public place," he said, still struggling with his -anger, "I'd punish you as you deserve, you impudent young cub. This -young lady is my ward, and I have just brought her from a convent, where -she has lived since she was three years old. She is strange and shy, of -course, and I was perhaps wrong to bring her to a public place. I did -it, however, out of kindness. I wanted her to enjoy herself, but I -perhaps did not appreciate her sensitiveness and the fact that only a -few days ago she parted with the friends with whom she has lived all her -life. Now, sir," he added, with a sneer upon his coarse lips, "I have -been compelled to answer your questions to avoid a disturbance in a -public place; but I promise you that if you do not make yourself scarce -in thirty seconds I will send for the manager." - -I looked once more at the child, from whose white, set face every gleam -of hope seemed to have fled. - -"I can do nothing for you, then?" I asked. - -Her eyes met mine helplessly. She shook her head. She did not speak at -all. - -"Is it true--what he has told me?" I asked. - -She murmured an assent so faint, that though I was bending over her, it -scarcely did more than reach my ears. I could do no more. I turned away -and resumed my seat. Grooten smiled at me. - -"Well, Sir Knight Errant," he said lightly; "so you could not free the -maiden?" - -"I was made to feel and look like a fool, of course," I answered, "but I -don't mind about that. To tell you the truth, I am not satisfied now. -The man says that he is her guardian, and that he has just brought her -from a convent, where she has lived all her life. He vouchsafed to -explain things to me to avoid a row, but he was desperately angry. She -has never been out of the convent since she was three years old, and she -is very nervous and shy. That was his story, and he told it plausibly -enough. I could not get anything out of her, except an admission that -what he said was the truth." - -Mr. Grooten nodded thoughtfully. - -"After all," he said, "she is only a child, fourteen or fifteen at the -most, I should suppose. I have paid the bill, and, as you see, I have my -coat on. Are you ready?" - -"Directly I have finished my coffee," I answered. "It looks too good to -leave." - -"Finish it, by all means," he answered. "I am in no particular hurry. -By-the-bye, I forget whether I showed you this." - -He drew a small shining weapon, with rather a long barrel, from his -pocket, but though he invited me to inspect it, he retained it in his -own hand. - -"I bought it in New York a few months ago," he remarked; "it is the -latest weapon of destruction invented." - -"Is it a revolver?" I asked, a little puzzled by its shape. - -"Not exactly," he answered, fingering it carelessly; "it is in reality a -sort of air-gun, with a wonderful compression, and a most ingenious -silencer; quite as deadly, they say, as any firearm ever invented. It -ejects a cylindrically-shaped bullet, tapered down almost to the -fineness of a needle. Now," he added, with a faint smile and a rapid -glance round the room, "if only one dared--" he turned in his chair, and -I saw the thing steal out below his cuff, "one could free the child -quite easily--quite easily." - -It was all over in a moment--a wonderful, tense moment, during which I -sat frozen to my chair, stricken dumb and motionless with the tragedy -which it seemed that I alone had witnessed. For there had been a little -puff of sound, so slight that no other ears had noticed it. The seat in -front of me was empty, and the man on my right had fallen forwards, his -hand pressed to his side, his face curiously livid, patchy with streaks -of dark colour, his eyes bulbous. Waiters still hurried to and fro, the -hum of conversation was uninterrupted. And then suddenly it came--a cry -of breathless horror, of mortal unexpected agony--a cry, it seemed, of -death. The waiters stopped in their places to gaze breathlessly at the -spot from which the cry had come, a silver dish fell clattering from the -fingers of one, and its contents rolled unnoticed about the floor. The -murmur of voices, the rise and fall of laughter and speech, ceased as -though an unseen finger had been pressed upon the lips of everyone in -the room. Men rose in their places, women craned their necks. For a -second or two the whole place was like a tableau of arrested motion. -Then there was a rush towards the table across which the man had fallen, -a doubled-up heap. A few feet away, with only that narrow margin of -table-cloth between them, the girl sat and stared at him, still white -and panic-stricken, yet with a curious change in her face from which all -the dumb terror which had first attracted my attention seemed to have -passed away. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -The manager, who was very flurried, closed the door of the little room -into which the wounded man had been carried. - -"Can you tell me his name, or shall we look for his card-case?" he -asked. - -I glanced towards the child. She was by far the most composed of the -three. Only she remained with her back turned steadily upon the sofa. - -"His name is Delahaye," she said; "Major Sir William Delahaye, I think -they called him." - -"And where does he live--in London? Tell me his address. I will send a -cab there at once!" - -"I do not know his address," the child answered. "I do not know where he -lives." - -The manager stared at her. - -"You were with him, were you not?" he asked. - -"Yes." - -"Then surely you must know something more about him than just his name?" - -"He called himself my guardian. I believe that when I was very young he -took me to the convent where I have been ever since. Two days ago he -came to fetch me away." - -"What is your name?" - -"Isobel de Sorrens!" - -"You are not related to him, then?" - -She shuddered a little. - -"I hope not," she said simply. - -"Well, where was he taking you to?" the manager asked impatiently. -"Surely there must be someone I can send to." - -"I believe that he has a house in London," the child said. "I really do -not know anything more. You could send to Madame Richard at the Convent -St. Argueil. I suppose she knows all about him. She told me that I was -to consider him my guardian." - -The manager turned to me. I was an occasional customer, and he knew who -I was. - -"Can you tell me anything about him, Mr. Greatson? The doctor will be -here in a moment, but I feel that I ought to be sending for some of his -friends. I am afraid that he is very ill." - -"You were not in the room at the time it happened?" I remarked. - -The manager shook his head. - -"No, I was in the office." - -"Have you sent for the police?" I asked. - -"Police, no!" he exclaimed. "What have the police to do with it? It was -an ordinary fit, surely." - -I felt that I had held my peace long enough. - -"It was not a fit at all," I said gravely. "He was shot with a sort of -air-gun by a man sitting at my table. I think that you ought to send for -the police at once. The man's name was Grooten, but I know nothing else -about him." - -The manager was for a moment speechless. The child looked at me eagerly. - -"It was the little old gentleman who was sitting with you who did it," -she exclaimed. "I saw him at Charing Cross." - -"Yes, it was he!" I answered. - -The child turned away. - -"Perhaps after all, then," she murmured to herself, "I may have friends -in the world." - -The manager, whose name was Huber, was inclined to be incredulous. - -"An air-gun would have made as much noise as a revolver," he said. "Are -you sure of what you say, Mr. Greatson?" - -"There is no doubt at all about it," I answered, "and you ought to -inform the police at once. This man--Grooten, he called himself--pulled -the pistol out of his pocket, and was pretending to show it to me when -he fired the shot. He told me that it was a new invention which he had -bought in America, and which was quite noiseless." - -The manager hurried from the room. The child and I were alone, except -for the man on the couch. Every now and then he groaned--a sound I could -not hear without a shiver. The child, however, was unmoved. She fixed -her dark eyes on me. - -"Do you think that he will get away?" she asked eagerly. - -"You mean the man who shot Major Delahaye?" - -"Yes." - -"I think that it is very likely. He has a good start, and I expect that -he had made his arrangements." - -"I hope he does," she murmured passionately. "I wish that I could help -him." - -"You have no idea who he was?" I asked. "I do not believe that Grooten -was his real name." - -She shook her head. - -"I have never seen him before in my life," she said. "If I did know I -should not tell anyone." - -The doctor came at last. In reality it was barely five minutes since he -had been sent for, but time dragged itself along slowly in that little -room. Directly afterwards Huber, the manager, returned, followed by a -sergeant of the police. We all waited for the doctor's examination. I -fetched a chair for the child, and she thanked me with a wan little -smile. Always she sat with her back to the sofa. There was something -terribly suggestive in her utter lack of sympathy with the wounded man. - -The doctor finished his examination at last. He came towards us. - -"The wound is a very curious one," he said, "and I am afraid that the -bullet will be difficult to extract, but it is not in itself serious. It -is really only a flesh wound, but the man is suffering from severe -shock, and I don't like the action of his heart. He can be removed quite -safely. If you like I will telephone for an ambulance and take him to -the hospital. Do you know anything about this affair, sergeant?" - -"Very little as yet, sir," the man answered. "I want this gentleman's -description of the person who showed him the pistol. The commissionaire -saw him leave, I understand, and one of the waiters saw something in his -hand. Was he a friend of yours, sir?" - -"I only know his name," I answered. "He called himself Mr. Grooten, and -I judged him to be a foreigner, though he spoke perfect English. He -seemed to be about fifty years old, clean-shaven, and of under medium -height." - -"Too vague," the sergeant remarked. "Had he any peculiarity of feature -or expression, anything which would help towards identification?" - -"None that I can remember," I answered. - -"How was he dressed?" - -"Quietly. I could not remember anything that he wore." - -"Did he give you any idea of his intention? Did he speak of Major -Delahaye at all as though he knew him?" - -I shook my head. - -"We simply both remarked," I said slowly, "that this--young lady seemed -to be very frightened of her companion, and I do not think that we -formed a favourable impression of him. He gave me not the slightest -intimation, however, of his intention to interfere." - -"It could not have been an accident, I suppose?" Mr. Huber suggested. - -"I might have thought so," I answered, "if he had not immediately left -the place. He disappeared so quickly that I did not even see him go." - -"You sat by accident at the same table?" the sergeant asked. - -"No, we came together," I answered. "We met at Charing Cross, and he -spoke to me. He knew my name, and reminded me that we had once met at -the 'Vagabonds' Club.'" - -"Did you remember him?" - -"I cannot say that I did," I answered. - -"And afterwards?" - -"We talked together for some time, and when we left the station he asked -me to lunch here." - -"Did he arrive by train, or was he meeting anyone at Charing Cross?" the -sergeant asked. - -"Neither, so far as I could see," I answered. "He seemed to be simply -loitering. I ought to tell you, though, that we saw Major Delahaye and -this young lady arrive by the Continental train, and he seemed to be -interested in them." - -The sergeant turned to Isobel. - -"Did you know him?" he asked. - -"No," she answered. "I did not notice him at the station at all. I saw -that he was sitting at the same table downstairs as this gentleman, but -I am quite sure that I have never seen him before in my life." - -The sergeant put away his pocket-book. - -"I am very sorry to trouble you," he said, "but I think it would be -better for you all to come to Bow Street and see the superintendent." - -"I am quite willing to do so," I answered, "though I can tell him no -more than I have told you." - -The child moved suddenly towards me. Her thin, shabbily gloved fingers -gripped my arm with almost painful force. Her eyes were full of -passionate appeal. - -"I may go with you," she murmured. "You will not leave me alone?" - -"The young lady will be required also," the sergeant remarked. - -"We will go together, of course," I said gently. "Come!" - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -We crossed the road from the police-station, and found ourselves in one -of the narrow streets fringing Covent Garden. The air was fragrant here -with the perfume of white and purple lilac, great baskets full of which -were piled up in the gutter. The girl half closed her eyes. - -"Delicious!" she murmured. "This reminds me of St. Argueil! You have -flowers too, then, in London?" - -I bought her a handful, which she sniffed and held to her face with -delight. - -"Ah!" she said a little sadly. "I had forgotten that there were any -beautiful things left in the world. Thank you so much, Mr. Arnold." - -"At your age," I said cheerfully, "you will soon find out that the -world--even London--is a treasure-house of beautiful things." - -She looked down the narrow, untidy street, strewn with the refuse from -the market waggons and trucks which blocked the way, making all but -pedestrian traffic an impossibility--at the piles of empty baskets in -the gutter, and the slatternly crowd of loiterers. Then she looked up at -me with a faint smile. - -"London--is not all like this, then?" she remarked. - -I shook my head. - -"This is a back street, almost a slum," I said. "I daresay you have -lived in the country always, and just at first it does not seem possible -that there should be anything beautiful about a great city. When you get -a little older I think that you will see things differently. The beauty -of a great city thronged with men and women is a more subtle thing than -the mere joy of meadows and hills and country lanes--but it exists all -the same. And now," I continued, stopping short upon the pavement, "I -must take you to your friends. Tell me where they live. You have the -address, perhaps." - -"What friends?" she asked me, with wide-open eyes. - -"You told the superintendent of police that you had friends in London," -I reminded her. - -Then she smiled at me--a very dazzling smile, which showed all her white -teeth, and which seemed somehow to become reflected in her dark blue -eyes. - -"But I meant you!" she exclaimed. "I thought that you knew that! There -is no one else. You are my friend, I know very well, for you came and -spoke kindly to me when I was terrified--terrified to death." - -The shadow of gravity rested only for a moment upon her face. She -laughed gaily at my consternation. - -"Then where am I to take you?" I asked. - -"Stupid," she murmured; "I am going with you, of course. Why--why--you -don't mind, do you?" she asked, with a sudden catch in her throat. - -I felt like a brute, and I hastened to make what amends I could. I -smiled at her reassuringly. - -"Mind! Of course I don't mind," I declared. "Only, you see, there are -three of us--all men--and we live together. I was afraid----" - -"I shall not mind that at all," she interrupted cheerfully. "If they are -nice like you, I think that it will be delightful. There were only girls -at the convent, you know, and the sisters, and a few masters who came to -teach us things, but they were not allowed to speak to us except to give -out the lessons, and they were very stupid. I do not think that I shall -be any trouble to you at all. I will try not to be." - -I looked at her--a little helplessly. After all, though she was tall for -her years, she was only a child. Her dress was of an awkward length, her -long straight fringe and plaited hair the coiffure of the schoolroom. -The most surprising thing of all in connection with her was that she -showed no signs of the tragedy which had so recently been played out -around her. Her eyes had lost their nameless fear; there was even colour -in her cheeks. - -"Come along, then!" I said. "We will turn into the Strand and take a -hansom." - -She walked buoyantly along by my side, as tall within an inch or so as -myself, and with a certain elegance in her gait a little hard to -reconcile with her years. All the while she looked eagerly about her, -her eyes shining with curiosity. - -"We passed through Paris at night," she said, with a little reminiscent -shudder, as though every thought connected with that journey were a -torture, "and I have never really been in a great city before. I hope -you meant what you said," she added, looking up at me with a quick -smile, "and that there are parts of London more beautiful than this." - -"Many," I assured her. "You shall see the parks. The rhododendrons will -be out soon, and I think that you will find them beautiful, though, of -course, the town can never be like the country. Here's a hansom with a -good horse. Jump in!" - - * * * * * - -I think that our arrival at Number 4, Earl's Crescent, created quite as -much sensation as I had anticipated. When I opened the door of the -large, barely-furnished room, which we called our workshop, Arthur -sprang from the table on which he had been lounging, and Mabane, who was -still working, dropped his brush in sheer amazement. I turned towards -the girl. - -"These are my friends, Isobel, of whom I have been telling you," I said. -"This is Mr. Arthur Fielding, who is the ornamental member of the -establishment, and that is Mr. Allan Mabane, who paints very bad -pictures, but who contrives to make other people think that they are -worth buying. Allan, this young lady, Miss Isobel de Sorrens, and I have -had a little adventure together. I will explain all about it later on." - -They both advanced with extended hands. The girl, as though suddenly -conscious of her position, gave a hand to each, and looked at them -almost piteously. - -"You will not mind my coming," she begged, with a tremulous little note -of appeal in her tone. "I do not seem to have any friends, and Mr. -Arnold has been so kind to me. If I may stay here for a little while I -will try--oh, I am sure, that I will not be in anyone's way!" - -The pathos of her breathless little speech was almost irresistible. The -child, as she stood there in the centre of the room, looking eagerly -from one to the other, conquered easily. I do not know if either of the -other two were conscious of the new note of life which she seemed to -bring with her into our shabby, smoke-smelling room, but to me it came -home, even in those first few moments, with wonderful poignancy. An -alien note it was, but a wonderfully sweet one. We three men had drifted -away from the whole world of our womenkind. She seemed to bring us back -instantly into touch with some of the few better and rarer memories -round which the selfishness of life is always building a thicker crust. -For one thing, at that moment I was deeply grateful--that I knew my -friends. My task was made a sinecure. - -"My dear young lady," Mabane exclaimed, with unmistakeable earnestness, -"you are heartily welcome. We are delighted to see you here!" - -"More than welcome," Arthur declared. "We are all one here, you know, -Miss de Sorrens; and if you are Arnold's friend, you must be ours." - -For the first time tears stood in her eyes. She brushed them proudly -away. - -"You are very, very kind," she said. "I cannot tell you how grateful I -am to you both." - -Arthur rushed for our one easy-chair, and insisted upon installing her -in it. Mabane lit a stove and left the room swinging a kettle. I drew a -little sigh of relief, and threw my hat into a corner. Apparently she -had conquered my friends as easily as she had conquered me. - -"Arthur," I said, "please entertain Miss de Sorrens for a few moments, -will you. I must go and interview Mrs. Burdett." - -"I'll do my best, Arnold," he assured me. "Mrs. Burdett's in the -kitchen, I think. She came in just before you." - -Mrs. Burdett was our housekeeper and sole domestic. She was a -hard-featured but kindly old woman, with a caustic tongue and a soft -heart. She heard my story unmoved, betraying neither enthusiasm or -disapproval. When I had finished, she simply set her cap straight and -rubbed her hands upon her apron. - -"I'd like to see the child, as you call her, Mr. Arnold," she said. "You -young gentlemen are so easy deceived, and it's an unusual thing that -you're proposing, not to say inconvenient." - -So I took Mrs. Burdett back with me to the studio. As we opened the door -the music of the girl's strange little foreign laugh was ringing through -the room. Arthur was mounted upon his hobby, talking of the delights of -motoring, and she was listening with sparkling eyes. They stopped at -once as we entered. - -"This is Mrs. Burdett, Isobel," I said, "who looks after us here, and -who is going to take charge of you. She will show you your room. I'm -sorry that you will find it so tiny, but you can see that we are a -little cramped here!" - -Isobel rose at once. - -"You should have seen our cells at St. Argueil," she exclaimed, smiling. -"Some of us who were tall could scarcely stand upright. May I come with -you, Mrs. Burdett?" - -Mrs. Burdett's tone and answer relieved me of one more anxiety. The door -closed upon them. We three men were alone. - -"Is this," Mabane asked curiously, "a practical joke, or a part of your -plot? What does it all mean? Where on earth did you come across the -child? Who is she?" - -I took a cigarette from my case and lit it. - -"The responsibility for the whole affair," I declared, "remains with -Arthur." - -The boy whistled softly. He looked at me with wide-open eyes. - -"Come," he declared, "I like that. Why, I have never seen the girl -before in my life, or anyone like her. Where do I come in, I should like -to know?" - -"It was you," I said, "who started me off to Charing Cross." - -"You mean to say that you picked her up there?" Mabane exclaimed. - -"I will tell you the whole story," I answered. "She comes with the halo -of tragedy about her. Listen!" - -Then I told them of the things which had happened to me during the last -few hours. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -I certainly could not complain of any lack of interest on the part of my -auditors. They listened to every word of my story with rapt attention. -When I had finished they were both silent for several moments. Mabane -eyed me curiously. I think that at first he scarcely knew whether to -believe me altogether serious. - -"The man who was with the girl," Arthur asked at last--"this Major -Delahaye, or whatever his name was--is he dead?" - -"He was alive two hours ago," I answered. - -"Will he recover?" - -"I believe that there is just a bare chance--no more," I answered. "He -had a weak heart, and the shock was almost enough to kill him." - -"And your friend--the man who shot him--where is he?" Mabane asked. "Is -he in custody?" - -I shook my head. - -"He disappeared," I answered, "as though by magic. You see, we were -sitting at the table next the door, and he had every opportunity for -slipping out unnoticed." - -"It was at the Café Grand, you said, wasn't it?" Arthur asked. - -I nodded. - -"How about the commissionaire, then?" - -"He saw the man come out, but he took no particular notice of him," I -answered. "He crossed the street at an ordinary walking pace, and he was -out of sight before the commotion inside began." - -"It seems to me," Mabane remarked, "that you must have found yourself in -rather an awkward position." - -"I did," I answered grimly. "Of course my story sounded a bit thin, and -the police made me go to the station with them. As luck would have it, -however, I knew the inspector, and I managed to convince him that I was -telling the truth, or I doubt whether they would have let me go. I -suppose," I added, a little doubtfully, "that you fellows must think me -a perfect idiot for bringing the child here, but upon my word I don't -know what else I could have done. I simply couldn't leave her there, or -in the streets. I'm awfully sorry--" - -"Don't be an ass," Arthur interrupted energetically. "Of course you -couldn't do anything but bring her here. You acted like a sensible chap -for once." - -"Have you questioned her," Mabane asked, "about her friends? If she has -none in London, she must have some somewhere!" - -"I have questioned her," I answered, "but not very successfully. She -appears to know nothing about her relations, or even her parentage. She -has been at the convent ever since she can remember, and she has seen no -one outside it except this man who took her there and came to fetch her -away." - -"And what relation is he?" Allan asked. - -"None! He called himself simply her guardian." - -Arthur walked across the room for his pipe, and commenced to fill it. - -"Well," he said, "you are like the man in the Scriptures, who found what -he went out for to see. You've got your adventure, at any rate. All -owing to my advice, too. Hullo!" - -We all turned round. The door of the room was suddenly opened and -closed. My host of a few hours ago stood upon the threshold, smiling -suavely upon us. He wore a low black hat, and a coat somewhat thicker -than the season of the year seemed to demand. Every article of attire -was different, but his face seemed to defy disguise. I should have known -Mr. Grooten anywhere. - -His unexpected presence seemed to deprive me almost of my wits. I simply -gaped at him like the others. - -"Great heavens!" I exclaimed. "You here!" - -He stood quite still for a moment, listening. Then he glanced sharply -around the room. He looked at Mabane, and he looked at Arthur. Finally -he addressed me. - -"I fancy that I am a fairly obvious apparition," he remarked. "Where is -the child?" - -"She is here," I answered, "in another room with our housekeeper just -now. But----" - -"I have only a few seconds to spare," Mr. Grooten interrupted -ruthlessly. "Listen to me. You have chosen to interfere in this concern, -and you must take your part in it now. You have the child, and you must -keep her for a time. You must not let her go, on any account. -Unfortunately, the man who sold me that pistol was a liar. Delahaye is -not dead. It is possible even that he may recover. Will you swear to -keep the child from him?" - -I hesitated. It seemed to me that Grooten was taking a great deal for -granted. - -"You must remember," I said, "that I have absolutely no legal hold upon -her. If Delahaye is her guardian it will be quite easy for him to take -her away." - -"He is not her legal guardian," Grooten said sharply. "He has no just -claim upon her at all." - -"Neither have I," I reminded him. - -"You have possession," Grooten exclaimed. "I tell you that neither -Delahaye, if he lives, nor any other person, will appeal to the law to -force you to give the child up. This is the truth. I see you still -hesitate. Listen! This also is truth. The child is in danger from -Delahaye--hideous, unmentionable danger." - -I never thought of doubting his word. Truth blazed out from his keen -grey eyes; his words carried conviction with them. - -"I will keep the child," I promised him. "But tell me who you are, and -what you have to do with her." - -"No matter," he answered swiftly. "I lay this thing upon you, a charge -upon your honour. Guard the child. If Delahaye recovers there will be -trouble. You must brave it out. You are an Englishman; you are one of a -stubborn, honourable race. Do my bidding in this matter, and you shall -learn what gratitude can mean." - -Once more he listened for a moment intently. Then he continued. - -"I am followed by the police," he said. "They may be here at any moment. -You can tell them of my visit if it is necessary. My escape is provided -for." - -"But surely you will tell me something else about the child," I -exclaimed. "Tell me at least----" - -He held out his hand. - -"You are safer to know nothing," he said quickly. "Be faithful to what -you have promised, and you will never regret it." - -With almost incredible swiftness he disappeared. We all three looked at -one another, speechless. Then from outside came the sound of light -footsteps, and a laugh as from the throat of a singing bird. The door -was thrown open, and Isobel entered. - -"Such a funny little man has just gone out!" she exclaimed. "He had a -handkerchief tied round his face as though he had been fighting. What -lazy people!" she added, looking around. "I expected to find tea ready. -Will you please tell me some more about motor-cars, Mr. Arthur?" - -She sat on a stool in our midst, and chattered while we fed her with -cakes, and screamed with laughter at Mabane's toast. The tragedy of a -few hours ago seemed to have passed already from her mind. She was all -charm and irresponsibility. The gaunt, bare room, which for years had -mocked all our efforts at decoration, seemed suddenly a beautiful place. -Easily, and with the effortless grace of her fifteen years, she laughed -her way into our hearts. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -"Arnold!" - -I waved my left hand. - -"Don't disturb me for a few minutes, Allan, there's a good chap," I -begged. "I'm hard at it." - -"Found your plot, then, eh?" - -"I've got a start, anyhow! Give me half an hour. I only want to set the -thing going." - -Mabane grunted, and took up his brush. For once I was thankful that we -were alone. At last I saw my way. After weeks of ineffective scribbling -a glimpse of the real thing had come to me. - -The stiffness had gone from my brain and fingers. My pen flew over the -paper. The joy of creation sang once more in my heart, tingled in all my -pulses. We worked together and in silence for an hour or more. Then, -with a little sigh of satisfaction, I leaned back in my chair. - -"The story goes, then?" Mabane remarked. - -"Yes, it goes," I assented, my eyes fixed absently upon the loose sheets -of manuscript strewn all over my desk. Already I was finding it hard to -tear my thoughts away from it. - -There was a short silence. Then Mabane, who had been filling his pipe, -came over to my side. - -"You heard from the convent this morning, Arnold?" - -"Yes! The letter is here. Read it!" - -Mabane shook his head. - -"I can't read French," he said. - -"They want her back again," I told him, thoughtfully. "The woman appears -to be honest enough. She admits that they have no absolute claim--they -do not even know her parentage. They have been paid, she says, regularly -and well for the child's education, and if she is now without a home -they would like her to go back to them. She thinks it possible that -Major Delahaye's relatives, or the people for whom he acted, might -continue the payments, but they are willing to take their risk of that. -The long and short of it is, that they want her back again." - -"As a pupil still?" Mabane asked. - -"They would train her for a teacher. In that case she would have to -serve a sort of novitiate. She would practically become a nun." - -Mabane withdrew his pipe from his mouth, and looked thoughtfully into -the bowl of it. - -"I never had a sister," he said, "and I really know nothing whatever -about children. But does it occur to you, Arnold, that this--young lady -seems particularly adapted for a convent?" - -"I believe," I said firmly, "that it would be misery for her." - -Mabane walked over to his canvas and came back again. - -"What about Delahaye?" he asked. - -"He is still unconscious at the hospital," I answered. - -Mabane hesitated. - -"I do not wish to seem intrusive, Arnold," he said, "but I can't help -remembering that a certain lady with whom you were very friendly once -married a Delahaye!" - -I nodded. - -"I should have told you, in any case," I said. "This is the man--Major -Sir William Delahaye, whom Eileen Marigold married." - -"Then surely you recognized him in the restaurant?" - -"I never met him," I answered. "This marriage was arranged very quickly, -as you know, and I was abroad when it took place. I called on Lady -Delahaye twice, but I did not meet her husband on either occasion." - -Mabane fingered the loose sheets of my manuscript idly. - -"Your story, Arnold," he said, "is having a tragic birth. Will Delahaye -really die, do you think?" - -"The doctors are not very hopeful," I told him. "The wound itself is not -mortal, but the shock seems to have affected him seriously. He is not a -young man, and he has lived hard all his days." - -"If he dies," Mabane said thoughtfully, "your friend Grooten, I think -you said he called himself, will have to disappear altogether. In that -case I suppose we--shall be compelled to send the child back to the -convent?" - -"Unless----" - -"Unless what?" - -"Unless we provide for her ourselves," I answered boldly. - -Mabane smoked furiously for a few moments. His hands were thrust deep -down in his trousers pockets. He looked fixedly out of the window. - -"Arnold," he said abruptly, "do you believe in presentiments?" - -"It depends whether they affect me favourably or the reverse," I -answered carelessly. "You Scotchmen are all so superstitious." - -"You may call it superstition," Mabane continued. "Everything of the -sort which an ignorant man cannot understand he calls superstition. But -if you like, I will tell you something which is surely going to happen. -I will tell you what I have seen." - -I leaned forward in my chair, and looked curiously into Allan's face. -His hard, somewhat commonplace features seemed touched for the moment by -some transfiguring fire. His keen, blue-grey eyes were as soft and -luminous as a girl's. He had actually the appearance of a man who sees a -little way beyond the border. Even then I could not take him seriously. - -"Speak, Sir Prophet!" I exclaimed, with a little laugh. "Let my eyes -also be touched with fire. Let me see what you see." - -Mabane showed no sign of annoyance. He looked at me composedly. - -"Do not be a fool, Arnold," he said. "You may believe or disbelieve, but -some day you will know that the things which I have in my mind are -true." - -I think that I was a little bewildered. I realized now what at first I -had been inclined to doubt--that Mabane was wholly in earnest. -Unconsciously my attitude towards him changed. It is hard to mock a man -who believes in himself. - -"Go ahead, then, Allan," I said quietly. "Remember that you have told me -nothing yet." - -Mabane turned towards me. He spoke slowly. His face was serious--almost -solemn. - -"The man Delahaye will never claim the child," he said. "I think that he -will die. The man who shot him has gone--we shall not hear of him again, -not for many years, if at all. He has gone like a stone dropped into a -bottomless tarn. We shall not send the child back to the convent. She -will remain here." - -He paused, as though expecting me to speak. I shrugged my shoulders. - -"Come," I said, "I shall not quarrel with your prophecy so far, Allan. -The introduction of a feminine element here seems a little incongruous, -but after all she is very young." - -Mabane unclasped his arms, and looked thoughtfully around the room. -Already there was a change since a few days ago. The ornaments and -furniture were free from dust. There were two great bowls of flowers -upon the table, some studies which had hung upon the wall were replaced -with others of a more sedate character. The atmosphere of the place was -different. Wild untidiness had given place to some semblance of order. -There was an attempt everywhere at repression. Mabane knocked the ashes -from his pipe. - -"For five years," he said abstractedly, "you and I and Arthur have lived -here together. Are you satisfied with those five years? Think!" - -I looked from my desk out of the window, over the housetops up into the -sunshine, and I too was grave. Satisfied! Is anyone short of a fool ever -satisfied? - -"No! I am not," I admitted, a little bitterly. - -"Tell me what you think of these five years, Arnold. Tell me the truth," -Mabane persisted. "Let me know if your thoughts are the same as mine." - -"Drift," I answered. "We have worked a little, and thought a little--but -our feet have been on the earth a great deal oftener than our heads have -touched the clouds." - -"Drift," Mabane repeated. "It is a true word. We have gained a little -experience of the wrong sort: we have learnt how to adapt our poor -little gifts to the whim of the moment. Such as our talent has been, we -have made a servant of it to minister to our physical necessities. We -have lived little lives, Arnold--very little lives." - -"Go on," I murmured. "This at least is truth!" - -Mabane paused. He looked at his pipe, but he did not relight it. - -"There is a change coming," he said, slowly. "We are going to drift no -longer. We are going to be drawn into the maelstrom of life. What it may -mean for you and for me and for the boy, I do not know. It will change -us--it must change our work. I shall paint no more guesses at -realism--after someone else; and you will write no more of princesses, -or pull the strings of tinsel-decked puppets, so that they may dance -their way through the pages of your gaily-dressed novels. And an end has -come to these things, Arnold. No, I am not raving, nor is this a jest. -Wait!" - -"You speak," I told him, "like a seer. Since when was it given to you to -read the future so glibly, my friend?" - -Mabane looked at me with grave eyes. There was no shadow of levity in -his manner. - -"I am not a superstitious man, Arnold," he said, "but I come, after all, -of hill-folk, and I believe that there are times when one can feel and -see the shadow of coming things. My grandfather knew the day of his -death, and spoke of it; my father made his will before he set foot on -the steamer which went to the bottom on a calm day between Dover and -Ostend. Nothing of this sort has ever come to me before. You yourself -have called me too hard-headed, too material for an artist. So I have -always thought myself--until to-day. To-day I feel differently." - -"Is it this child, then, who is to open the gates of the world to us?" I -asked. - -"Remember," Mabane answered, "that before many months have passed she -will be a woman." - -I moved in my chair a little uneasily. - -"I wonder," I said, half to myself, "whether I did well to bring her -here!" - -Mabane laughed shortly. - -"It was not you who brought her," he declared. "She was sent." - -"Sent?" - -"Aye, these things are not of our choosing, Arnold. There is something -behind which drives the great wheels. You can call it Fate or God, -according to your philosophy. It is there all the time, the one eternal -force." - -I looked at Mabane steadfastly. He did not flinch. - -"Psychologically, my dear Allan," I said, "you appear to be in a very -interesting state just now." - -Mabane shrugged his shoulders. He crossed the room for some tobacco, and -began to refill his pipe. - -"Well," he said, "I have finished. To-morrow, I suppose, I shall want to -kick myself for having said as much as I have. Listen! Here they come." - -Isobel came into the room, followed by Arthur in a leather jacket and -breeches. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes danced with excitement. She -threw off her tam-o'-shanter, and stood deftly re-arranging for a moment -her wind-tossed hair. - -"Glorious!" she exclaimed. "Oh, it has been glorious! Mr. Arthur, how -can I thank you? I have never enjoyed myself so much in my life. If the -Sister Superior could only have seen me--and the girls!" - -"Motoring, I presume," Mabane remarked, "is amongst the pleasures denied -to the young ladies of the convent?" - -She laughed gaily. - -"Pleasures! Why, there are no pleasures for those poor girls. One may -not even smile, and as for games, even they are not permitted. I think -that it is shameful to make such a purgatory of a place. One may not, -one could not, be happy there. It is not allowed." - -She caught the look which flashed from Mabane to me, and turned -instantly around. - -"Oh, Monsieur Arnold," she cried breathlessly, "you do not think--I -shall not have to return there?" - -"Not likely!" Arthur interposed with vigour. "By Jove! if anyone shut -you up there again I'd come and fetch you out." - -She threw a quick glance of gratitude towards him, but her eyes returned -almost immediately to mine. She waited anxiously for me to speak. - -"If we can possibly prevent it," I said slowly, "you shall never return -there. I do not think that it is at all the proper place for you. But -you must remember that we are, after all, people of no authority. -Someone might come forward to-morrow with a legal right to claim you, -and we should be helpless." - -[Illustration: "If we can possibly prevent it," I said slowly, "you -shall never return there."] - -Slowly the colour died away from her cheeks. Her eyes became -preternaturally bright and anxious. - -"There is no one," she faltered, "except that man. He called himself my -guardian." - -"Had you seen him before he came to the convent and fetched you away?" I -asked. - -"Only once," she answered. "He came to St. Argueil about a year ago. I -hated him then. I have hated him ever since. I think that if all men -were like that I would be content to stay in the convent all my life." - -"You don't remember the circumstances under which he took you there, I -suppose?" Mabane asked thoughtfully. - -She shook her head. - -"I do not remember being taken there at all," she answered. "I think -that I was not more than four or five years old." - -"And all the time no one else has been to see you or written to you?" I -asked. - -"No one!" - -She smothered a little sob as she answered me. It was as though my -questions and Mabane's, although I had asked them gently enough, had -suddenly brought home to her a fuller sense of her complete loneliness. -Her eyes were full of tears. She held herself proudly, and she fought -hard for her self-control. Arthur glanced indignantly at both of us. He -had the wit, however, to remain silent. - -"There are just one or two more questions, Isobel," I said, "which I -must ask you some time or other." - -"Now, please, then," she begged. - -"Did Major Delahaye ever mention his wife to you?" - -"Never." - -"You did not even know, then, when you arrived in London where he was -taking you?" - -"I knew nothing," she admitted. "He behaved very strangely, and I was -miserable every moment of the time I was with him. I understood that I -was to have a companion and live in London." - -I felt my blood run cold for a moment. I did not dare to look at Mabane. - -"I do not think," I said, "that you need fear anything more from Major -Delahaye, even if he should recover." - -"You mean--?" she cried breathlessly. - -"We should never give you up to him," I declared firmly. - -"Thank God!" she murmured. "Mr. Arnold," she added, looking at me -eagerly, "I can paint and sing and play the piano. Can't people earn -money sometimes by doing these things? I would work--oh, I am not afraid -to work. Couldn't I stay here for a little while?" - -"Of course you can," I assured her. "And there is no need at all for you -to think about earning money yet. It is not that which troubles us at -all. It is the fact that we have no legal claim upon you, and people may -come forward at any moment who have." - -Arthur glanced towards her triumphantly. - -"What did I tell you?" he exclaimed. - -She looked timidly across at Mabane. - -"The other gentleman won't mind?" she asked timidly. - -Mabane smiled at her, and his smile was a revelation even to us who knew -him so well. - -"My dear young lady," he said, "you will be more than welcome. I have -just been telling Arnold that your coming will make the world a -different place for us." - -The girl's smile was illumining. It seemed to include us all. She held -out both her hands. Mabane seized one and bent over it with the air of a -courtier. The other was offered to me. Arthur was content to beam upon -us all from the background. At that precise moment came a tap at the -door. Mrs. Burdett brought in a telegram. - -I tore it open, and hastily reading it, passed it on to Mabane. He -hesitated for a moment, and then turned gravely to Isobel. - -"Major Delahaye will not trouble you any more," he said. "He died in the -hospital an hour ago." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -"A shade more to the right, please. There, just as you are now! Don't -move! In five minutes I shall have finished for the day." - -Isobel smiled. - -"I think that your five minutes," she said, "last sometimes for a very -long time. But I am not tired--no, not at all. I can stay like this if -you wish until the light goes." - -"You are splendid," Mabane murmured. "The best sitter--oh, hang it, -who's that?" - -"There is certainly some one at the door," Isobel remarked. - -Mabane paused in his work to shout fiercely, "Come in!" I too looked up -from my writing. A woman was ushered into the room--a woman dressed in -fashionable mourning, of medium height, and with a wealth of fair, -fluffy hair, which seemed to mock the restraining black bands. Mrs. -Burdett, visibly impressed, lingered in the background. - -The woman paused and looked around. She looked at me, and the pen -slipped from my nerveless fingers. I rose to my feet. - -"Eil--Lady Delahaye!" I exclaimed. - -She inclined her head. Her demeanour was cold, almost belligerent. - -"I am glad to find you here, Arnold Greatson," she said. "You are a -friend, I believe, of the man who murdered my husband?" - -"You have been misinformed, Lady Delahaye," I answered quietly. "I was -not even an acquaintance of his. We met that day for the first time." - -By the faintest possible curl of the lips she expressed her contemptuous -disbelief. - -"Ah!" she said. "I remember your story at the inquest. You will forgive -me if, in company, I believe, with the majority who heard it, I find it -a trifle improbable." - -I looked at her gravely. This was the woman with whom I had once -believed myself in love, the woman who had jilted me to marry a man of -whom even his friends found it hard to speak well. - -"Lady Delahaye," I said, "my story may have sounded strangely, but it -was true. I presume that you did not come here solely with the purpose -of expressing your amiable opinion of my veracity?" - -"You are quite right," she admitted drily. "I did not." - -She was silent for a few moments. Her eyes were fixed upon Isobel, and I -did not like their expression. - -"May I offer you a chair, Lady Delahaye?" I asked. - -"Thank you, I prefer to stand--here," she answered. "This, I believe, is -the young person who was with my husband?" - -She extended a sombrely gloved forefinger towards Isobel, who met her -gaze unflinchingly. - -"That is the young lady," I answered. "Have you anything to say to her?" - -"My errand here is with her," Lady Delahaye declared. "What is it that -you call yourself, girl?" - -Isobel was a little bewildered. She seemed scarcely able to appreciate -Lady Delahaye's attitude. - -"My name," she said, "is Isobel de Sorrens." - -"You asserted at the inquest," Lady Delahaye continued, "that my husband -was your guardian. What did you mean by such an extraordinary -statement?" - -Isobel seemed suddenly to grasp the situation. Her finely arched -eyebrows were raised, her cheeks were pink, her eyes sparkling. She rose -slowly to her feet, and, child though she was, the dignity of her -demeanour was such that Lady Delahaye with her accusing forefinger -seemed to shrink into insignificance. - -"I think," she said, "that you are a very rude person. Major Delahaye -took me to the convent of St. Argueil when I was four years old, and -left me there. He visited me twelve months ago, and brought me to -England you know when. I was with him for less than twenty-four hours, -and I was very unhappy indeed all the time. I did not understand the -things which he said to me, nor did I like him at all. I think that if -he had left me out of his sight for a moment I should have run away." - -Lady Delahaye was very pale, and her eyes were full of unpleasant -things. I found myself looking at her, and marvelling at the folly which -I had long since forgotten. - -"You perhaps complained of him--to his murderer! It is you, no doubt, -who are responsible for my husband's death!" - -Isobel's lips curled contemptuously. - -"Major Delahaye," she said, "did not permit me to speak to anyone. As -for the man whom you call his murderer, I never saw him before in my -life, nor should I recognize him again if I saw him now. I do not know -why you come here and say all these unkind things to me. I have done you -no harm. I am very sorry about Major Delahaye, but--but--" - -Her lips quivered. I hastily interposed. - -"Lady Delahaye," I said, "I do not know what the immediate object of -your visit here may be, but----" - -"The immediate object of my visit," she interrupted coldly, "is as -repugnant to me, Mr. Greatson, as it may possibly be disappointing to -you. I am here, however, to carry out my husband's last wish. This child -herself has asserted that he was her guardian. By his death that most -unwelcome post devolves upon me." - -Isobel turned white, as though stung by a sudden apprehension. She -looked towards me, and I took her hand in mine. Lady Delahaye smiled -unpleasantly upon us both. - -"You mean," I said, "that you wish to take her away from us?" - -"Wish!" Lady Delahaye repeated coldly. "I can assure you that I am not -consulting my own wishes upon the subject at all. What I am doing is -simply my duty. The child had better get her hat on." - -Isobel did not move, but she turned very pale. Her eyes seemed fastened -upon mine. She waited for me to speak. The situation was embarrassing -enough so far as I was concerned, for Lady Delahaye was obviously in -earnest. I tried to gain time. - -"May I ask what your intentions are with regard to the child? You intend -to take her to your home--to adopt her, I suppose?" - -Lady Delahaye regarded me with cold surprise. - -"Certainly not," she answered. "I shall find a fitting position for her -in her own station of life." - -"May I assume then," I continued, with some eagerness, "that you know -what that is? You are acquainted, perhaps, with her parentage?" - -She returned my gaze steadily. - -"I may be," she answered. "That, however, is beside the question. I -intend to do my duty by the child. If you have been put to any expense -with regard to her, you can mention the amount and I will defray it. I -have answered enough questions. What is your name, child--Isobel? Get -ready to come with me." - -Isobel answered her steadily, but her eyes were filled with shrinking -fear. - -"I do not wish to come with you," she said. "I do not like you at all." - -Lady Delahaye raised her eyebrows. It seemed to me that in a quiet way -she was becoming angry. - -"Unfortunately," she said, "your liking or disliking me makes very -little difference. I have no choice in the matter at all. The care of -you has devolved upon me, and I must undertake it. You had better come -at once." - -Isobel trembled where she stood. I judged it time to intervene. - -"Lady Delahaye," I said, "the duty of looking after this child is -evidently a distasteful one to you. We will relieve you of it. She can -remain with us." - -Lady Delahaye looked at me in astonishment. Then she laughed, and it -seemed to all of us that we had never heard a more unpleasant travesty -of mirth. - -"Indeed!" she exclaimed. "And may I ask of whom your household -consists?" - -"Of myself and my two friends, Mabane and Fielding. We have a most -responsible housekeeper, however, who will be able to look after the -child." - -"Until she herself can qualify for the position, I presume," Lady -Delahaye remarked drily. "What a delightful arrangement! A sort of -co-operative household. Quite Arcadian, I am sure, and so truly -philanthropic. You have changed a good deal during the last few years, -Mr. Arnold Greatson, to be able to stand there and make such an -extraordinary proposition to me." - -I was determined not to lose my temper, though, as a matter of fact, I -was fiercely angry. - -"Lady Delahaye," I said, "we are not prepared to give this child up to -you. It will perhaps help to shorten a--a painful interview if you will -accept that from me as final." - -The change in Isobel was marvellous. The brilliant colour streamed into -her cheeks. Her long-drawn, quivering sigh of relief seemed in the -momentary silence which followed my pronouncement a very audible thing. -Lady Delahaye looked at me as though she doubted the meaning of my -words. - -"You are aware," she said, "that this will mean great unpleasantness for -you. You know the law?" - -"I neither know it nor wish to know it," I answered. "We shall not give -up the child." - -I glanced at Mabane. His confirmation was swift and decisive. - -"I am entirely in accord with my friend, madam," he said, with grim -precision. - -"The law will compel you," she declared. - -"We will do our best, then," he answered, "to cheat the law." - -"I should like to add, Lady Delahaye," I continued, "that our -housekeeper, who has been in the service of my family for over thirty -years, has willingly undertaken the care of the child, and I can assure -you, in case you should have any anxieties concerning her, that she will -be as safe under our charge as in your own." - -Lady Delahaye moved towards the door. On the threshold she turned and -laid her hand upon my arm. I was preparing to show her out. There was -meaning in her eyes as she leaned towards me. - -"Mr. Greatson," she said, "we were once friends, or I should drive -straight from here to my solicitors. I presume you are aware that your -present attitude is capable of very serious misrepresentation?" - -"I must take the risk of that, Lady Delahaye," I answered. "I ask you to -remember, however, that the law would also require you to prove your -guardianship. Do you yourself know anything of the child's parentage?" - -She did not answer me directly. - -"I shall give you," she said, "twenty-four hours for reflection. At the -end of that time, if I do not hear from you, I shall apply to the -courts." - -I held the door open and bowed. - -"You will doubtless act," I said, "according to your discretion." - -The moment seemed propitious for her departure. All that had to be said -had surely passed between us. Yet she seemed for some reason unwilling -to go. - -"I am not sure, Mr. Greatson," she said, "that I can find my way out. -Will you be so good as to see me to my carriage?" - -I had no alternative but to obey. Our rooms were on the fifth floor of a -block of flats overlooking Chelsea Embankment, and we had no lift. We -descended two flights of the stone stairs in silence. Then she suddenly -laid her fingers upon my arm. - -"Arnold," she said softly, "I never thought that we should meet again -like this." - -"Nor I, Lady Delahaye," I answered, truthfully enough. - -"You have changed." - -I looked at her. She had the grace to blush. - -"Oh, I know that I behaved badly," she murmured, "but think how poor we -were, and oh, how weary I was of poverty. If I had refused Major -Delahaye I think that my mother would have turned me out of doors. I -wrote and told you all about it." - -"Yes," I admitted, "you wrote!" - -"And you never answered my letter." - -"It seemed to me," I remarked, "that it needed no answer." - -"And afterwards," she said, "I wrote and asked you to come and see me." - -"Lady Delahaye----" I began. - -"Eileen!" she interrupted. - -"Very well, then, if you will have it so, Eileen," I said. "You have -alluded to events which I have forgotten. Whether you or I behaved well -or ill does not matter in the least now. It is all over and done with." - -"You mean, then, that I am unforgiven?" - -"On the contrary," I assured her, "I have nothing to forgive." - -She flashed a swift glance of reproach up on me. To my amazement there -were tears in her eyes. - -"Mr. Greatson," she said, "I can find my way to the street alone. I will -not trouble you further." - -She swept away with a dignity which became her better than her previous -attitude. There was nothing left for me to do but to turn back. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -Isobel was standing quite still in the middle of the room, her hands -tightly clenched, a spot of colour aflame in her cheeks. Arthur, who had -passed Lady Delahaye and me upon the stairs, had apparently just been -told the object of her visit. - -"Oh, I hate that woman!" Isobel exclaimed as I entered, "I hate her! I -would rather die than go to her. I would rather go back to the convent. -She looks at me as though I were something to be despised, something -which should not be allowed to go alive upon the earth!" - -Arthur would have spoken, but Mabane interrupted him. He laid his hand -gently upon her shoulder. - -"Isobel," he said gently, "you need have no fear. I know how Arnold -feels about it, and I can speak for myself also. You shall not go to -her. We will not give you up. I do not believe that she will go to the -courts at all. I doubt if she has any claim." - -"Why, we'd hide you, run away with you, anything," Arthur declared -impetuously. "Don't you be scared, Isobel, I don't believe she can do a -thing. The law's like a great fat animal. It takes a plaguey lot to move -it, and then it moves as slowly as a steam-roller. We'll dodge it -somehow." - -She gave them a hand each. Her action was almost regal. It some way, it -seemed that in according her our protection we were receiving rather -than conferring a favour. - -"My friends," she said, "you are so kind that I have no words with which -to thank you. But you will believe that I am grateful." - -It was then for the first time that they saw me upon the threshold. -Isobel looked at me anxiously. - -"She has gone?" - -I nodded. - -"I do not think that she will trouble us again just yet," I said. "At -the same time, we must be prepared. Tell me, whereabouts is this school -from which you came, Isobel?" - -"St. Argueil? It is about three hours' journey from Paris. Why do you -ask?" - -"Because I think that I must go there," I answered. "We must try and -find out what legal claims Major Delahaye had upon you. What is the name -of the Principal?" - -"Madame Richard is the lay principal," Isobel answered, "but Sister -Ursula is really the head of the place. We girls saw her, though, very -seldom--only those who were going to remain," she added, with a little -shudder. - -"And this Madame Richard," I asked, "is she a kindly sort of a person?" - -Isobel shook her head doubtfully. - -"I did not like her," she said. "She is very stern. She is not kind to -anyone." - -"Nevertheless, I suppose she will tell me what she knows," I said. "Give -me the Bradshaw, Allan, and that old Continental guide." - -I presently became immersed in planning out my route. When at last I -looked up, Mabane was working steadily. The others had gone. I looked -round the room. - -"Where are Arthur and Isobel?" I asked. - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -"Like calling to like," he remarked tersely. "They have gone trailing." - -I put the Bradshaw down. - -"I shall leave for Paris at midnight, Mabane," I said. - -He nodded. - -"It seems to be the most sensible thing to do," he remarked. "There is -no other way of getting to the bottom of the affair." - -So I went to pack my bag. And within an hour I was on my way to France. - - * * * * * - -I rose to my feet, after a somewhat lengthy wait, and bowed. Between -this newcomer and myself, across the stone floor, lay the sunlight, a -long, yellow stream which seemed to me the only living thing which I had -as yet seen in this strange, grim-looking building. I spoke in -indifferent French. She answered me in perfect English. - -"I have the honour to address----" - -"Madame Richard. I am the lay principal of the convent. Will you permit -me?" - -The blind fell, and there was no more sunlight. I was conscious of a -sudden chill. The bare room, with its stone-flagged floor, its plain -deal furniture, depressed me no less than the cold, forbidding -appearance of the woman who stood now motionless before me. She was -paler than any woman whom I had ever seen in my life. A living person, -she seemed the personification of lifelessness. Her black hair was -streaked with grey; her dress, which suggested a uniform in its -severity, knew no adornment save the plain ivory cross which hung from -an almost invisible chain about her neck. Her expression indicated -neither curiosity nor courtesy. She simply waited. I, although as a rule -I had no great difficulty in finding words, felt myself almost -embarrassed. - -"I have come from London to see you," I said. "My name is -Greatson--Arnold Greatson." - -There was not a quiver of expression in her cold acknowledgment of my -declaration. Nevertheless, at that moment I received an inspiration. I -was perfectly sure that she knew who I was and what I had come for. - -"I have come to know," I continued, "if you can give me any information -as to the friends or parentage of a young lady who was recently, I -believe, a pupil of yours--a Miss Isobel de Sorrens?" - -"The young lady is still in your charge, I hear," Madame Richard -remarked quietly. - -Notwithstanding my inspiration I was startled. - -"How do you know that?" I asked. - -"We despatched a messenger only yesterday to escort Isobel back here," -Madame Richard answered. "Your address was the destination given us." - -"May I ask who gave it you? At whose instigation you sent?" - -"At the instigation of those who have the right to consider themselves -Isobel's guardians," Madame Richard said quietly. - -"Isobel's guardians!" I repeated softly. "But surely you know, Madame -Richard--you have heard of the tragedy which happened in London? Major -Delahaye died last week." - -"We have been informed of the occurrence," she answered, her tone as -perfectly emotionless as though she had been discussing the veriest -trifle. "We were content to recognize Major Delahaye as representing -those who have the right to dispose of Isobel's future. His death, -however, alters many things. Isobel will be placed in even surer hands." - -"Isobel has, I presume, then, relatives living?" I remarked. "May I know -their names?" - -Madame Richard was silent for a moment. She was regarding me steadily. I -even fancied that the ghost of a hard smile trembled upon her lips. - -"I have no authority to disclose any information whatever," she said. - -I bowed. - -"I have no desire to seem inquisitive," I said. "On the other hand, I -and my friends are greatly interested in the child. I will be frank with -you, Madame Richard. We have no claim upon her, I know, but we should -certainly require to know something about the people into whose charge -she was to pass before we gave her up." - -"She is to come back here," Madame Richard answered calmly. "We are -ready to receive her. She has lived with us for ten years. I presume -under the circumstances, and when I add that it is the desire of those -who are responsible for her that she should immediately return to us, -that you will not hesitate to send her?" - -"Madame Richard," I answered gravely, "you who live so far from the -world lose touch sometimes with its worst side. We others, to our -sorrow, know more, though our experience is dearly enough bought. Let me -tell you that I should hesitate at any time to give back the child into -the care of those who sent her out into the world alone with such a man -as Major Delahaye." - -Madame Richard touched the cross which hung upon her bosom. Her eyes, it -seemed to me, narrowed a little. - -"Major Delahaye," she said, "was the nominee of those who have the right -to dispose of the child." - -"Then," I answered, "I shall require their right proven before Isobel -leaves us. I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, but I was present -when Major Delahaye was shot, and I am not sure that the bullet of his -assassin did not prevent a worse crime. The child was terrified to -death. It is my honest conviction that her fear was not uncalled for." - -Madame Richard raised her hand slightly. - -"Monsieur," she said, "such matters are not our concern. It is because -of the passions and evil doing of the world outside that we cling so -closely here to our own doctrine of isolation. Whatever she may have -suffered, Isobel will learn to forget here. In the blessed years which -lie before her, the memory of her unhappy pilgrimage will grow dim and -faint. It may even be for the best that she has realized for a moment -the shadow of evil things." - -"Isobel is intended, then?" I asked. - -"For the Church," Madame Richard answered. "That is the present decision -of those who have the right to decide for her. We ourselves do not care -to take pupils who have no idea at all of the novitiate. Occasionally we -are disappointed, and those in whom we have placed faith are tempted -back into the world. But we do our best while they are here to show them -the better way. We feared that we had lost Isobel. We shall be all the -more happy to welcome her back." - -I shivered a little. I could not help feeling the cold repression of the -place. A vision of thin, grey-gowned figures, with pallid faces and -weary, discontented eyes, haunted me. I tried to fancy Isobel amongst -them. It was preposterous. - -"Madame," I said, "I do not believe that Isobel is adapted by nature or -disposition for such a life." - -"The desire for holiness," Madame Richard answered, "is never very -apparent in the young. It is the child's great good fortune that she -will grow into it." - -"I am afraid," I answered, "that our views upon this matter are too far -apart to render discussion profitable. You have spoken of those who have -the right to dispose of the child's future. I will go and see them." - -"It is not necessary," Madame Richard answered. "We will send to England -for the child." - -"Do I understand, Madame Richard," I said, "that you decline to give me -the address of those who stand behind you in the disposal of Isobel?" - -"They would not discuss the matter with you," she answered calmly. -"Their decision is already made. Isobel is for the Church." - -I took up my hat. - -"I will not detain you any further, Madame," I said. - -"A messenger is already in London to bring back the child," she -remarked. - -"As to that," I answered, "it is perhaps better to be frank with you, -Madame Richard. Your messenger will return alone." - -For the first time the woman's face showed some signs of feeling. Her -dark eyebrows contracted a little. Her expression was coldly repellent. - -"You have no claim upon the child," she said. - -"Neither do I know of any other person who has," I answered. - -"We have had the charge of her for ten years. That itself is a claim. It -is unseemly that she should remain with you." - -"Madame," I answered, "Isobel is meant for life--not a living death." - -The woman crossed herself. - -"There is but one life," she said. "We wish to prepare Isobel for it." - -"Madame," I said, "as to that, argument between us is impossible. I -shall consult with my friends. Your messenger shall bring back word as -to our decision." - -The face of the woman grew darker. - -"But surely," she protested, "you will not dare to keep the child?" - -"Madame," I answered, "humanity makes sometimes strange claims upon us. -Isobel is as yet a child. She came into my keeping by the strangest of -chances. I did not seek the charge of her. It was, to tell the truth, an -embarrassment to me. Yet she is under my care to-day, and I shall do -what I believe to be the right thing." - -"Monsieur," she said, "you are interfering in matters greater than you -have any knowledge of." - -"It is in your power," I reminded her, "to enlighten me." - -"It is not a power which I am able to use," she answered. - -"Then I will not detain you further, Madame," I said. - -As I passed out she leaned over towards me. She had already rung a bell, -and outside I could hear the shuffling footsteps of the old servant who -had admitted me. - -"Monsieur," she said, "if you keep the child you make enemies--very -powerful enemies. It is long since I lived in the world, but I think -that the times have not changed very much. Of the child's parentage I -may not tell you, but as I hope for salvation I will tell you this. It -will be better for you, and better for the child, that she comes back -here, even to embrace what you have called the living death." - -"Madame," I said, "I will consider all these things." - -"It will be well for you to do so, Monsieur," she said with meaning. "An -enemy of those in whose name I have spoken must needs be a holy man, for -he lives hand in hand with death." - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -So I was driven back to Argueil, the red-tiled, sleepy old town, with -its great gaunt church, whose windows, as the lumbering cart descended -the hill, were stained blood-red by the dying sunset. Behind, on the -hillside, was the convent, with its avenue of stunted elms, its -close-barred windows, its terrible prison-like silence. As I looked -behind, holding on to the sides of the springless cart to avoid being -jostled into the road, I found myself shivering. The convent -boarding-schools which I had heard of had been very different sort of -places. Even after my brief visit there this return into the fresh -country air, the smell of the fields, the colour and life of the rolling -landscape, were blessed things. I was more than ever satisfied with my -decision. It was not possible to send the child back to such a place. - -Across a great vineyard plain, through which the narrow white road ran -like a tightly drawn band of ribbon, I came presently to the village of -Argueil. The street which led to the inn was paved with the most -abominable cobbles, and I was forced to hold my hat with one hand and -the side of the cart with the other. My blue-smocked driver pulled up -with a flourish in front of the ancient gateway of the _Leon d'Or_, and -I was very nearly precipitated on to the top of the broad-backed horse. -As I gathered myself together I was conscious of a soft peal of -laughter--a woman's laughter, which came from the arched entrance to the -inn. I looked up quickly. A too familiar figure was standing there -watching me,--Lady Delahaye, trim, elegant, a trifle supercilious. By -her side stood the innkeeper, white-aproned and obsequious. - -I clambered down on to the pavement, and Lady Delahaye advanced a little -way to meet me. She held out a delicately gloved hand, and smiled. - -"You must forgive my laughing, Arnold," she said. "Really, you looked -too funny in that terrible cart. What an odd meeting, isn't it? Have you -a few minutes to spare?" - -"I believe," I answered, "that I cannot get away from this place till -the evening. Shall we go in and sit down?" - -She shook her head. - -"The inn-parlour is too stuffy," she answered. "I was obliged to come -out myself for some fresh air. Let us walk up the street." - -I paid for my conveyance, and we strolled along the broad sidewalk. Lady -Delahaye seemed inclined to thrust the onus of commencing our -conversation upon me. - -"I presume," I said, "that we are here with the same object?" - -She glanced at me curiously. - -"Indeed!" she remarked. "Then tell me why you came." - -"To discover that child's parentage, if possible," I answered promptly. -"I want to discover who her friends are, who really has the right to -take charge of her." - -"You perplex me, Arnold," she said thoughtfully. "I do not understand -your position in the matter. I always looked upon you as a somewhat -indolent person. Yet I find you now taking any amount of trouble in a -matter which really does not concern you at all. Whence all this -good-nature?" - -"Lady Delahaye----" - -"Eileen," she interrupted softly. - -"Lady Delahaye," I answered firmly. "You must forgive me if I remind you -that I have no longer the right to call you by any other name. I am not -good-natured, and I am afraid that I am still indolent. Nevertheless, I -am interested in this child, and I intend to do my utmost to prevent her -returning to this place." - -"I am still in the dark," she said, looking at me curiously. "She is -nothing to you. A more unsuitable home for her than with three young men -I cannot imagine. You seem to want to keep her there. Why? She is a -child to-day, it is true--but in little more than a year's time she will -be a woman. The position then for you will be full of embarrassments." - -"I find the position now," I answered, "equally embarrassing. We can -only give the child up to you, send her back to the convent, or keep her -ourselves. Of the three we prefer to keep her." - -"You seem to have a great distaste for the convent," she remarked, "but -that is because you are not a Catholic, and you do not understand these -things. She would at least be safe there, and in time, I think, happy." - -We were at the head of the village street now, upon a slight eminence. I -pointed backwards to the prison-like building, standing grim and -desolate on the bare hillside. - -"I should consider myself no less a murderer than the man who shot your -husband," I answered, "if I sent her there. I have made all the -enquiries I could in the neighbourhood, and I have added to them my own -impressions. The secular part of the place may be conducted as other -places of its sort, but the great object of Madame Richard's sister is -to pass her pupils from that into the religious portion. Isobel is not -adapted for such a life." - -Lady Delahaye shrugged her shoulders. - -"Well," she said, "I am a Catholic, so of course I don't agree with you. -But why do you hesitate to give the child up to me?" - -I was silent for a moment. It was not easy to put my feeling into words. - -"Lady Delahaye," I said, "you must forgive my reminding you that on the -occasion of your visit to us you did not attempt to conceal the fact -that your feelings towards her were inimical. Beyond that, I was pledged -not to hand her back into your husband's care, and----" - -"Pledged by whom?" she asked quickly. - -"I am afraid," I said, "that I cannot answer you that question." - -She flashed an angry glance upon me. - -"You pretend that the man who called himself Grooten was not your -friend. Yet you have been in communication with him since!" - -"I saw Mr. Grooten for the first time in my life on the morning of that -day," I answered. - -"You know where he is now?" she asked, watching me keenly. - -"I have not the slightest idea. I wish that I did know," I declared -truthfully. "There is no man whom I am more anxious to see." - -"You would, of course, inform the police?" she asked. - -"I am afraid not," I answered. - -Again she was angry. This time scarcely without reason. - -"Your sympathies, in short, are with the murderer rather than with his -victim--the man who was shot without warning in the back? It accords, I -presume, with your idea of fair play?" - -"Lady Delahaye," I said, "the subject is unpleasant and futile. Let us -return to the inn." - -She turned abruptly around. She made a little motion as of dismissal, -but I remained by her side. - -"By-the-bye," I said, "we were to exchange confidences. You are here, of -course, to visit the convent? Why?" - -She smiled enigmatically. - -"I am not sure, my very simple conspirator," she said, "whether I will -imitate your frankness. You see, you have blundered into a somewhat more -important matter than you have any idea of. But I will tell you this, if -you like. You may call that place a prison, or any hard names you -please--yet it is destined to be Isobel's home. Not only that, but it is -her only chance. I am putting you on your guard, you see, but I do not -think that it matters. You are fighting against hopeless odds, and if by -any chance you should succeed, your success would be the most terrible -thing which could happen to Isobel." - -I walked by her side for a moment in silence. There was in her words and -tone some underlying note of fear, some suggestion of hidden danger, -which brought back to my mind at once the farewell speech of Madame -Richard. There was something ominous, too, in her presence here. - -"Lady Delahaye," I said, as lightly as possible, "you have told me a -great deal, and less than nothing at all. Yet I gather that you know -more about the child and her history than you have led me to suppose." - -"Yes," she admitted, "that is perhaps true." - -"Why not let me share your knowledge?" I suggested boldly. - -"You carry candour," she remarked, smiling, "to absurdity. We are on -opposite sides. Ah, how delicious this is!" - -We were regaining the centre of the little town by a footpath which for -some distance had followed the river, and now, turning almost at right -angles, skirted a cherry orchard in late blossom. The perfume of the -pink and white buds, swaying slightly in the breeze, came to us both--a -waft of delicate and poignant freshness. Lady Delahaye stood still, and -half closed her eyes. - -"How perfectly delicious," she murmured. "Arn--Mr. Greatson, do get me -just the tiniest piece. I can't quite reach." - -I broke off a small branch, and she thrust it into the bosom of her -dress. The orchard was gay with bees and a few early butterflies, blue -and white and orange coloured. In the porch of a red-tiled cottage a few -yards away a girl was singing. Suddenly I stopped and pointed. - -"Look!" - -An avenue with a gate at the end led through the orchard, and under the -drooping boughs we caught a glimpse of the convent away on the hillside. -Greyer and more stern than ever it seemed through the delicate framework -of soft green foliage and blossoms. - -"Lady Delahaye," I said, "you are yourself a young woman. Could you bear -to think of banishing from your life for ever all the colour and the -sweet places, all the joy of living? Would you be content to build for -yourself a tomb, to commit yourself to a living death?" - -She answered me instantly, almost impulsively. - -"There is all the difference in the world," she declared. "I am a woman; -although I am not old, I know what life is. I know what it would be to -give it up. But the child--she knows nothing. She is too young to know -what lies before her. As yet her eyes are not opened. Very soon she -would be content there." - -I shook my head. I did not agree with Lady Delahaye. - -"Indeed no!" I protested. "You reckon nothing for disposition. In her -heart the song of life is already formed, the joy of it is already -stirring in her blood. The convent would be slow torture to her. She -shall not go there!" - -Lady Delahaye smiled--mirthlessly, yet as one who has some hidden -knowledge which she may not share. - -"You think yourself her friend," she said. "In reality you are her -enemy. If not the convent, then worse may befall her." - -I shrugged my shoulders. - -"As to that," I said, "we shall see!" - -We resumed our walk. Again we were nearing the inn. Lady Delahaye looked -at me every now and then curiously. My feeling towards her had grown -more and more belligerent. - -"You puzzle me, Arnold," she said softly. "After all, Isobel is but a -child. What cunning tune can she have played upon your heartstrings that -you should espouse her cause with so much fervour? If she were a few -years older one could perhaps understand." - -I disregarded her innuendo. - -"Lady Delahaye," I said, "if you were as much her friend as I believe -that I am, you would not hesitate to tell me all that you know. I have -no other wish than to see her safe, and amongst her friends, but I will -give her up to no one whom I believe to be her enemy." - -"Arnold," she answered gravely, "I can only repeat what I have told you -before. You are interfering in greater concerns than you know of. Even -if I would, I dare not give you any information. The fate of this child, -insignificant in herself though she is, is bound up with very important -issues." - -Our eyes met for a moment. The expression in hers puzzled me--puzzled me -to such an extent that I made her no answer. Slowly she extended her -hand. - -"At least," she said, "let us part friends--unless you choose to be -gallant and wait here for me until to-morrow. It is a dreary journey -home alone." - -I took her hand readily enough. - -"Friends, by all means," I answered, "but I must get back to Paris -to-night. A messenger from Madame Richard is already waiting for me in -London." - -She withdrew her hand quickly, and turned away. - -"It must be as you will, of course," she said coldly. "I do not wish to -detain you." - -Nevertheless, her farewell look haunted me as I sped across the great -fertile plain on my way to Paris. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -Mabane laid down his brush, Arthur sprang from his seat upon the table -and greeted me with a shout. Isobel said nothing, but her dark blue eyes -were fastened upon my face as though seeking to read her fate there. -They had evidently been waiting for my coming. I remember thinking it -strange, even then, that these other two men should apparently share to -the fullest degree my own interest in the child's fate. - -"I have failed," I announced shortly. - -I took Isobel's hand. It was cold as ice, and I could feel that she was -trembling violently. - -"Madame Richard would tell me nothing, Isobel," I said. "I believe that -she knows all about you, and I believe that Lady Delahaye does too. But -they will tell me nothing." - -"And?" she demanded, with quivering lips. "And?" - -"It is for you to decide," I said gravely. "Lady Delahaye wants you, so -does Madame Richard. On the other hand, if you like to stay with us -until someone proves their right to take you away, you will be very -welcome, Isobel! Stop one moment," I added hastily, for I saw the quick -colour stream into her cheeks, and the impetuous words already trembling -upon her lips, "I want you to remember this: Madame Richard makes no -secret of her own wishes as regards your future. She desires you to take -the veil. You have lived at the convent, so I presume you are able to -judge for yourself as regards that. Lady Delahaye, on the other hand, is -a rich woman, and she professes to be your friend. Your life with her, -if she chose to make it so, would be an easy and a pleasant one. We, as -you know, are poor. We have very little indeed to offer you. We live -what most people call a shiftless life. We have money one day, and none -the next. Our surroundings and our associations are not in the least -like what a child of your age should become accustomed to. Nine people -out of ten would probably pronounce us utterly unsuitable guardians for -you. It is only right that you should understand these things." - -She looked at me with tear-bedimmed eyes. - -"I want to stay with you," she pleaded. "Don't send me away--oh, don't! -I hate the convent, and I am afraid of Lady Delahaye. I will do -everything I can not to be a nuisance to you. I am not afraid to work, -or to help Mrs. Burdett. Only let me stay." - -I smiled, and looked around at the others. - -"It is settled," I declared. "We appoint ourselves your guardians. You -agree, Mabane?" - -"Most heartily," he answered. - -"And you, Arthur?" - -"Great heavens, yes!" he answered vehemently. - -"You are very good," she murmured, "very good to me. All my life I shall -remember this." - -She held out both her hands. Her eyes were fixed still upon mine. Mabane -laid his hand upon her shoulder. - -"Dear child," he said, "do not forget that there are three of us. I too -am very happy to be one of your guardians." - -She gave him the hand which Arthur had seized upon. I think that we had -none of us before seen a smile so dazzling as hers. - -"Dear friends," she murmured, "I only hope that you will never regret -this great, great kindness." - -Then suddenly she flitted away and went to her room. We three men were -left alone. - -I think that for the first few moments there was some slight -awkwardness, for we were men, and we spoke seldom of the things which -touched us most. Arthur, however, broke almost immediately into speech, -and relieved the tension. - -"And to think that it was I," he exclaimed, "who sent you out plot -hunting to the station! Arnold, what a sensible chap you are!" - -We all laughed. - -"A good many people," Mabane remarked quietly, "would call us three -fools. Tell us, Arnold, did you really discover nothing?" - -"Absolutely nothing," I declared. "Stop, though. I did find out this. -There is some secret about the child's parentage. I have spoken with two -people who know it, and one of them warned me that in keeping the child -we were interfering in a greater matter than we had any idea of. Of -course it might have been a bluff, but I fancy that Lady Delahaye was in -earnest." - -"You do not think," Mabane asked, "that she was Major Delahaye's -daughter?" - -"I do not," I answered, with a little shudder. "I am sure that she was -not." - -"Whoever she is," Arthur declared, "there's one thing jolly certain, and -that is she's thoroughbred. She has the most marvellous nerve I ever -knew. We got in a tight corner this morning. I took her down to -Guildford in a trailer, and I had to jump the pavement to avoid a -runaway. She never flinched for a moment. Half the girls I know would -have squealed like mad. She only laughed, and asked whether she should -get out. She's as thoroughbred as they make them." - -"Perhaps," I answered, "but I'm not going to have you risk her life with -your beastly motoring, Arthur. Take her out in a car, if you want to. -Who's this?" - -We turned towards the door. Was it the ghost of Madame Richard who stood -there pale, cold, and in the sombre garb of her sisterhood? - -"This lady has been before," Mabane said, placing a chair for her. "She -has come from the convent, and she brought a letter from Madame -Richard." - -"You are Mr. Greatson?" she asked. - -I bowed, and took the letter which she handed to me. I tore it open. It -contained a few lines only. - - "SIR,-- - - "I have been informed of the unfortunate event which has placed - under your protection one of my late pupils, Isobel de Sorrens. We - are willing and anxious to receive her back here, and I have sent - the bearer to accompany her upon the journey. She will also defray - what expenses her sojourn with you may have occasioned. - - "I am, sir, yours respectfully, - - "EMILY RICHARD." - -I put the letter back in the envelope and laid it upon the table. - -"I have seen Madame Richard," I said. "The child will remain with us for -the present." - -The cold, dark eyes met mine searchingly. - -"But, monsieur," the woman said, "how can that be? You are not a -relative, you surely have no claim----" - -"It will save time, perhaps," I interrupted, "if I explain that I have -discussed all these matters with Madame Richard, and the decision which -I have come to is final. The child remains here." - -The woman looked at me steadfastly. - -"Madame Richard will not be satisfied with that decision," she said. -"You will be forced to give her up." - -"And why," I asked, "should a penniless orphan, as I understand Isobel -is, be of so much interest to Madame Richard?" - -The woman watched me still, and listened to my words as though seeking -to discover in them some hidden meaning. Then she leaned a little -towards me. - -"Can I speak with you alone, monsieur?" she said. - -"These are my friends," I answered, "from whom I have no secrets." - -"None?" - -"None," I repeated. - -She hesitated. Then, although the door was fast closed, she dropped her -voice. - -"You know--who the child is," she said softly. - -"Upon my word, I do not," I answered. "I saw the man, under whose care -she was, shot, and I brought her here because she was friendless. I know -no more about her." - -"That," she said quietly, "is hard to believe." - -"I have no interest in your belief or disbelief," I answered. "Pardon me -if I add, madame, that I have no interest in the continuation of this -conversation." - -She rose at once. - -"You are either a very brave man," she said, "or a very simple one. I -shall await further instructions from Madame Richard." - -She departed silently and without any leave-taking. We all three looked -at one another. - -"Now what in thunder did she mean by that!" Arthur exclaimed blankly. - -"It appears to me," Mabane said, "that you went plot hunting with a -vengeance, Arnold." - -Arthur was walking restlessly up and down the room, his hands in his -pockets, a discontented frown upon his smooth young face. He stopped -suddenly in front of us. - -"I don't know much about the law, you fellows," he said, "but it seems -to me that any of these people who seem to want to take Isobel away from -us have only to go before the court and establish some sort of a legal -claim, and we should have to give her up." - -"That is true enough," I admitted. "The strange part of it is, though, -that no one seems inclined to take this course." - -Arthur threw down a letter upon the table. - -"This came for you yesterday, Arnold," he said. "I haven't opened it, of -course, but you can see from the name at the back of the envelope that -it is from a firm of solicitors." - -I took it up and opened it at once. I knew quite well what Arthur -feared. This is what I read-- - - "17, LINCOLN'S INN, LONDON. - - "DEAR SIR,-- - - "We beg to inform you that we have been instructed by a client, who - desires to remain anonymous, to open for you at the London and - Westminster Bank an account on your behalf as guardian of Miss - Isobel de Sorrens, a young lady who, we understand, is at present - in your care. - - "The amount placed at our disposal is three hundred a year. We - shall be happy to furnish you with cheque book and full authority - to make use of this sum if you will favour us with a call, - accompanied by the young lady, but we are not in a position to - afford you any information whatever as to our client's identity. - - "Trusting to have the pleasure of seeing you shortly, - - "We are, yours truly, - - "HAMILTON & PLACE." - -I laid the letter on the table without a word. Mabane and Arthur in turn -read it. Then there was an ominous silence. I think that we all had the -same thought. It was Arthur, however, who expressed it. - -"What beastly rot!" he exclaimed. - -I turned to Mabane. - -"I imagine," he said, "that we should not be justified in refusing this -offer. At the same time, if anyone has the right to provide for the -child, why do they not come forward and claim her?" - -At that moment Isobel came in. I took up the letter and placed it in her -hand. - -"Isobel," I said, "we want you to read this." - -She read it, and handed it back to me without a word. We were all -watching her eagerly. She looked at me appealingly. - -"Is it necessary," she asked, "for me to accept this money?" - -"Tell us," I said, "exactly how you feel." - -"I think," she said, "that if there is anyone from whom I have the right -to accept all this money, I ought to know who they are. I do not want to -be a burden upon anyone," she added hesitatingly, "but I would rather -work every moment of the day--oh, I think that I would rather starve -than touch this money, unless I know who it is that offers it." - -I laughed as I tore the letter in half. - -"Dear child," I said, resting my hand upon her shoulder, "that is what -we all hoped that you would say!" - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -Lady Delahaye sank down upon the couch against which I had been -standing. - -"Poor, bored man!" she exclaimed, with mock sympathy. "I ought to have -asked some entertaining people, oughtn't I? There isn't a soul here for -you to talk to!" - -"On the contrary," I answered, "there are a good many more people here -than I expected to see. I understood that you were to be alone." - -"And you probably think that I ought to be," she remarked. "Well, I -never was conventional. You know that. I shut myself up for a month. Now -I expect my friends to come and console me." - -"It is not likely," I said, "that you will be disappointed." - -She shrugged her shoulders. - -"Perhaps not. Those whom I do not want will come, of course. As for the -others--well!" - -She looked up at me. I sat down by her side. - -"Ah! That is nice of you," she said softly. "I wanted to have a quiet -talk. Tell me why you are looking so glum." - -"I was not conscious of it," I answered. "To tell you the truth, I was -wondering whether Isobel were not a little young to bring to a gathering -of this description." - -"My dear Arnold," she murmured, "there are only one or two of my -particular friends here. The rest dropped in by accident. Isobel does -not seem to me to be particularly out of place, and she is certainly -enjoying herself." - -The echoes of her light laugh reached us just then. Several men were -standing over her chair. She was the centre of what seemed to be a very -amusing conversation. Arthur was standing on the outskirts of the group, -apparently a little dull. - -"She enjoys herself always," I answered. "She is of that disposition. -Still----" - -She put her hands up to her ears. - -"Come, I won't be lectured," she exclaimed. "Seriously, I wanted you -here. I had something to say to you--something particular." - -"Waiving the other matter, then," I said, "I am wholly at your service." - -"I may be prolix," she said quietly. "Forgive me if I am, but I want you -to understand me. I am beginning to see that I have adopted a wrong -position with regard to a certain matter which we have discussed at your -rooms and at Argueil. I want to reopen the subject from an entirely -different point of view." - -"You mean," I said, "the subject of Isobel?" - -"Of course! The first time I came to see you," Lady Delahaye said, -looking up at me with penitence in her blue eyes, "I was horrid. I am -very, very sorry. I did not know then who Isobel was, and I was angry -with everyone--with poor Will, with the child herself, and with you. You -must forgive me! I was very much upset." - -"I will never think of it again," I promised her. - -"Then, again, at Argueil," she continued, "I adopted a wrong tone -altogether. Yours was the more natural, the more human point of view. -There are certain very grave reasons why the child would be very much -better out of the world. A life of seclusion would, I believe, in the -end, when she is able to understand, be the happiest for her. And -yet--she ought to have her chance!" - -"I am glad that you admit that," I murmured. - -"Now I am going to ask you something," she went on. "You will not be -angry with me, I am sure. Do you think that a girl of Isobel's age and -appearance is in her proper place in bachelor quarters, living with -three young men?" - -"I do not," I admitted. "I look upon it as a most regrettable necessity. -Still, you must not make it sound worse than it is. We have a -housekeeper who is the very essence of respectability, and Isobel is -under her care." - -"I want to make it no longer a necessity," Lady Delahaye said, smiling. -"I want to relieve you and your conscience at the same time of a very -awkward incubus. Listen! This is what I propose. Let Isobel come to me -for a year! I shall treat her as my own daughter. She will have plenty -of amusement. There are the theatres, and no end of scratch -entertainments where one can take a girl of her age who is too young for -society. She will mix with young people of her own age, she will have -every advantage which, to speak frankly, must be denied to her in her -present position. At the end of that year I shall tell her her history. -It is a sad and a miserable one. You may as well know that now. She can -then take her choice of the convent, or any other mode of life which -between us we can make possible for her. And I am very much inclined to -believe, Arnold, that she will choose the convent." - -"Is there any real reason, Lady Delahaye?" I asked, "why you should not -tell me now what you propose to tell Isobel in a year's time? There have -been so many mysterious circumstances in connection with this affair -that it is hard to come to any decision when one is ignorant of so -much." - -"There are reasons--grave reasons--why I can tell you nothing," she -answered. "Indeed, I would like to, Arnold," she continued earnestly, -"but my position is a very difficult one. I think that you might trust -me a little." - -"I am sure that you wish to do what is best," I said, a little -awkwardly, "but you must see that my position also is a little -difficult. I, too, am under a promise!" - -Her eyes flashed indignantly. - -"To the man who killed my husband! The man whom you are shielding!" she -exclaimed indignantly. "I think that you might at least have the grace -to leave him out of the conversation." - -"I have never introduced him," I answered. "I do not wish to do so. As -to shielding him, I have not the slightest idea as to his whereabouts. -Be reasonable, Lady Delahaye. I----" - -"Reasonable," she interrupted. "That is what I want you to be! Ask -yourself a plain question. Which is the more fitting place for her--my -house, or your chambers?" - -She pointed to Isobel, who was leaning back in her chair laughing -heartily into the face of a young man who was bending over her. By -chance she looked just then older even than her years, and Arthur's glum -figure, too, in the background was suggestive. - -"Your house, without a doubt," I answered gravely, "if it is the house -of a friend." - -Her satin slipper beat the ground impatiently. She looked at me with a -frown upon her face. - -"Do you believe, then," she asked, "that I am her enemy? Does my offer -sound like it?" - -"Indeed, no," I answered, rising. "I am going to give Isobel herself a -chance of accepting or declining it." - -I crossed the room. Isobel, seeing me come, rose at once. - -"Is it time for us to go?" she asked. - -"Not quite!" I answered. "Go and talk to Lady Delahaye for a few -minutes. She has something to say to you." - -Isobel made a little grimace, so slight that only I could notice it, and -took my place upon the sofa. I talked for a few minutes with some of the -men whom I knew, and then Arthur touched me on the arm. - -"Can't we go, Arnold?" he exclaimed, a little peevishly. "I've never -been so bored in all my life." - -"We must wait for a few minutes," I answered. "Isobel is talking to Lady -Delahaye." - -"I don't know a soul here, and I'm dying for a cigarette." - -I pointed through the curtain to the anteroom adjoining. - -"You can smoke in there," I remarked. "I'll introduce you to Miss -Ernston if you like, the girl who drives the big Panhard in the park. I -heard her say that she was going in there to get one of Lady Delahaye's -Russian cigarettes!" - -Arthur shook his head. He was covertly watching Isobel, sitting on the -sofa. - -"I'll go in and have the cigarette," he said, "but, Arnold, there's no -fresh move on, is there? You're looking pretty glum!" - -I shook my head. - -"No, there is nothing exactly fresh," I answered. "Come along and smoke, -will you! I want Lady Delahaye and Isobel to have their talk out." - -He followed me reluctantly into the smaller of Lady Delahaye's -reception-rooms, where we smoked for a few minutes in silence. Then -Mabel Ernston stopped to speak to me for a moment, and I introduced -Arthur. I left them talking motors, and stepped back into the other -room. Isobel had already risen to her feet, and Lady Delahaye was -looking at her curiously as though uncertain how far she had been -successful. She saw me enter, and beckoned me to approach. - -"I think that Isobel is tired," she said, in a tone which was meant to -be kind. "She has promised to come and see me again." - -Isobel looked at me. Her mouth, which a few minutes before had been -curved with smiles, was straight now, and resolutely set. She was -distinctly paler, and her manner seemed to have acquired a new gravity. -I must confess that my first impulse was one of relief. Isobel had not -found Lady Delahaye's offer, then, so wonderfully attractive. - -"Do you mind coming home now, Arnold?" she asked. "I did not know that -it was so late." - -I saw Lady Delahaye's face darken at her simple use of my Christian -name, and the touch of her fingers upon my arm. Arthur heard our voices, -and came to us at once. So we took leave of our hostess, and turned -homewards. - -For a long time we walked almost in silence. Then Isobel turned towards -me with a new gravity in her face, and an unusual hesitation in her -tone. - -"Arnold," she said, "Lady Delahaye has been pointing out to me one or -two things which I had not thought of before. I suppose she meant to be -kind. I suppose it is right that I should know. But----" her voice -trembled--"I wish she had not told me." - -"Lady Delahaye is an interfering old cat!" Arthur exclaimed viciously. -"Don't take any notice of her, Isobel." - -"But I must know," she answered, "whether the things which she said were -true." - -"They were probably exaggerations," I said cheerfully; "but let us hear -them, at any rate." - -"She said," Isobel continued, looking steadily in front of her, "that -you were all three very poor indeed, and that I had no right to come and -live with you, and make you poorer still, when I had a home offered me -elsewhere. She said that I should disturb your whole life, that you -would have to give up many things which were a pleasure to you, and you -would not be able to succeed so well with your work, as you would have -to write altogether for money. And she said that I should be grown up -soon, and ought to live where there are women; and when I told her about -Mrs. Burdett she laughed unpleasantly, and said that she did not count -at all. And that is why--she wants me--to go there!" - -Again the shadow of tragedy gleamed in the child's white face. Her face -was strained, her eyes had lost the deep softness of their colouring, -and there lurked once more in their depths the terror of nameless -things. To me the sight of her like this was so piteous that I wasted -not a moment in endeavouring to reassure her. - -"Rubbish!" I exclaimed cheerfully. "Sheer and unadulterated rubbish! We -are not rich, Isobel, but the trifle the care of you will cost us -amounts to nothing at all. We are willing and able to take charge of you -as well as we can. You know that!" - -Ah! She drew a long sigh of relief. It was wonderful how her face -changed. - -"But why is Lady Delahaye so cruel--why is she so anxious that I should -not stay with you?" she said. - -I laughed. - -"Lady Delahaye is mysterious," I answered. "I have come to the -conclusion, Isobel, that you must be a princess in disguise, and that -Lady Delahaye wants to claim all the rewards for having taken charge of -you!" - -"Don't be silly!" she laughed. "Princesses are not brought up at Madame -Richard's, without relations or friends to visit them, and no pocket -money." - -"Nevertheless," I answered, "when I consider the number of people who -are interested in you, and Lady Delahaye's extraordinary persistence, I -am inclined to stick to my theory. We shall look upon you, Isobel, as an -investment, and some day you shall reward us all." - -Her hand slipped into mine. Her eyes were soft enough now. - -"Dear friend," she murmured, "I think that it is my heart only which -will reward you--my great, great gratitude. I am afraid of Lady -Delahaye, Arnold. There are things in her eyes when she looks at me -which make me shiver. Do not let us go there again, please!" - -Arthur broke in impetuously. - -"You shall go nowhere you don't want to, Isobel. Arnold and I will see -to that." - -"And--about the other thing--she mentioned," Isobel began. - -"She was right and wrong," I answered. "Of course, it would be better -for you if one of us had a sister or a mother living with us, but Mrs. -Burdett has always seemed to us like a mother, and I think--that it will -be all right," I concluded a little lamely. "We need not worry about -that, at present at any rate. Come, we've had a dull afternoon, and I -sold a story yesterday. Let's go to Fasolas, and have a half-crown -dinner." - -"I'm on," Arthur declared. "We'll go and fetch Allan." - -"You dear!" Isobel exclaimed. "I shall wear my new hat!" - - - - -Book II - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -"I have no doubt," Mabane said gloomily, "that Arthur is right. He ought -to know more about it than old fogies like you and me, Arnold. We had -the money, and we ought to have insisted upon it. You gave way far too -easily." - -"That's all very well," I protested, "but I don't take in a woman's -fashion paper, and Isobel assured us that the hat was all right. She -looks well enough in it, surely!" - -"Isobel looks ripping!" Arthur declared, "but then, she looks ripping in -anything. All the same, the hat's old-fashioned. You look at the hats -those girls are wearing, who've just come in--flat, bunchy things, with -flowers under the brim. That's the style just now." - -"Isobel shall have one, then," I declared. "We will take her West -to-morrow. We can afford it very well." - -She came up to us beaming. She was a year older, and her skirts were a -foot longer. Her figure was, perhaps, a shade more developed, and her -manner a little more assured. In other respects she was unchanged. - -"What are you two old dears worrying about?" she exclaimed lightly. "You -have the air of conspirators. No secrets from me, please. What is it all -about?" - -"We are lamenting the antiquity of your hat," Mabane answered gravely. -"Arthur assures us that it is out of date. It ought to be flat and -bunchy, and it isn't!" - -"Geese!" she exclaimed lightly, "both of you! Arthur, I'm ashamed of -you. You may know something about motors, but you are very ignorant -indeed about hats. Come along, all of you, and gaze at my miniatures. I -am longing to see how they look framed." - -"As regards the hat----" I began. - -"I will not hear anything more about it," she interrupted, laughing. "Of -course, if you don't like to be seen with me--oh! Why, look! look!" - -We had stopped before a case of miniatures. In the front row were two -somewhat larger than the others, and Isobel's first serious attempts. -Behind each was stuck a little ivory board bearing the magic word -"Sold." - -"Sold!" Arthur exclaimed incredulously. - -"It may be a mistake," I said slowly. - -Mabane and I exchanged glances. We knew very well that, though the -miniatures showed promise of talent, they were amateurish and imperfect, -and the reserve which we had placed upon them was quite out of all -proportion to their merit. It must surely be a mistake! We followed -Isobel across the room. A little elderly gentleman was sitting before a -desk, engaged in the leisurely contemplation of a small open ledger. -Isobel had halted in front of him. There was a delicate flush of pink on -her cheeks, and her eyes were brilliant. - -"Are my miniatures sold, please?" she exclaimed. "My name is Miss de -Sorrens. They have a small ivory board just behind them which says -'Sold.'" - -The elderly gentleman looked up, and surveyed her calmly over the top of -his spectacles. - -"What did you say that your name was, madam, and the number of your -miniatures?" he enquired. - -"Miss Isobel de Sorrens," she answered breathlessly, "and my miniatures -are number two hundred and seven and eight--a portrait of an elderly -lady, and two hundred and eighty-nine--a child." - -The little old gentleman turned over the pages of his ledger in very -leisurely fashion, and consulted a recent entry. - -"Your miniatures are sold, Miss de Sorrens," he said, "for the reserve -price placed upon them--twenty guineas each. The money will be paid to -you on the close of the Exhibition, according to our usual custom." - -"Please tell me who bought them," she begged. "I want to be quite sure -that there is no mistake." - -"There is certainly no mistake," he answered, smiling. "The first one -was bought by--let me see--a nobleman in the suite of the Archduchess of -Bristlaw, the Baron von Leibingen. I believe that her Highness is -proposing to visit the Exhibition this afternoon. The other purchaser -paid cash, but refused his name. Ah! Excuse me!" - -He rose hastily, and moved towards the door. A little group of people -were entering, before whom the bystanders gave way with all that respect -which the British public invariably displays for Royalty. Isobel watched -them with frank and eager interest. Mabane and I moved over to her side. - -"Is it true?" I asked her. - -"He says so," she answered, still a little bewildered. "Arnold, can you -imagine it? Forty guineas! I--I----" - -There followed an amazing interlude. The little party of newcomers, -before whom everyone was obsequiously giving way, came face to face with -us. Mabane and I stepped back at once, but Isobel remained motionless. -An extraordinary change had come over her. Her eyes seemed fastened upon -the woman who was the central figure of the little procession, and the -girl who walked by her side. Someone whispered to her to move back. She -took no notice. She seemed as though she had not heard. Royalty raised -its lorgnettes, and dropped them with a crash upon the polished wood -floor. Then those who were quick to understand knew that something lay -beneath this unusual awkwardness. - -The manager of the Gallery, who, catalogue in hand, had been prepared -personally to conduct the Royal party round, looked about him, wondering -as to the cause of the _contretemps_. His eyes fell upon Isobel. - -"Please step back," he whispered to her, angrily. "Don't you see that -the Princess is here, and the Archduchess of Bristlaw? Clear the way, -please!" - -The manager was a small man, and Isobel's eyes travelled over his head. -She did not seem to hear him speak. The Archduchess recovered herself. -She took the shattered lorgnettes from the hand of her lady-in-waiting. -She pointed to Isobel. - -"Who is this young person?" she asked calmly. "Does she wish to speak to -me?" - -A wave of colour swept into Isobel's cheeks. She drew back at once. - -"I beg your pardon, Madame," she said. But even when she had rejoined my -side her eyes remained fixed upon the face of the Archduchess and her -companion. - -There was a general movement forward. One of the ladies in the suite, -however, lingered behind. Our eyes met, and Lady Delahaye held out her -hand. - -"Your ward is growing," she murmured, "in inches, if not in manners. -When are you going to engage a chaperon for her?" - -"When I think it necessary, Lady Delahaye," I answered, with a bow. - -"You artists have--such strange ideas," she remarked, smiling up at me. -"You wish Isobel to remain a child of nature, perhaps. Yet you must -admit that a few lessons in deportment would be of advantage." - -"To the Archduchess, apparently," I answered. "One does not often see a -great lady so embarrassed." - -Lady Delahaye shrugged her shoulders. She dropped her voice a little. - -"Are we never to meet without quarrelling, Arnold?" she whispered, -looking up into my eyes. "It used not to be like this." - -"Lady Delahaye," I said, "it is not my fault. We seem to have taken -opposite sides in a game which I for one do not understand. Twice during -the last six months you have made attempts which can scarcely be called -honourable to take Isobel from us. Our rooms are continually watched. We -dare not let the child go out alone. Now this woman from Madame -Richard's has come to live in the same building. She, too, watches." - -"It is only the beginning, Arnold," she said quietly. "I told you more -than a year ago that you were interfering in graver concerns than you -imagined. Why don't you be wise, and let the child go? The care of her -will bring nothing but trouble upon you!" - -Her words struck home more surely than she imagined, for in my heart had -lain dormant for months the fear of what was to come, the shadow which -was already creeping over our lives. Nevertheless, I answered her -lightly. - -"You know my obstinacy of old, Lady Delahaye," I said. "We are wasting -words, I think." - -She shrugged her shoulders and passed on. Mabane touched me on the -shoulder. - -"Isobel would like to go," he said. "Arthur and she are at the door -already." - -I turned to leave the place. We were already in the passage which led -into Bond Street, when I felt myself touched upon the shoulder. A tall, -fair young man, with his hair brushed back, and very blue eyes, who had -been in the suite of the Archduchess, addressed me. - -"Pardon me," he said, "but you are Mr. Arnold Greatson, I believe?" - -I acknowledged the fact. - -"The Archduchess of Bristlaw begs that you will spare her a moment. She -will not detain you longer." - -I turned to Mabane. - -"Take Isobel home," I said. "I will follow presently." - -We re-entered the Gallery. The majority of the Royal party were busy -examining the miniatures. The Archduchess was talking earnestly to Lady -Delahaye in a remote corner. My guide led me directly to her. - -"Her Highness permits me to present you," he said to me. "This is Mr. -Arnold Greatson, your Highness." - -The Archduchess acknowledged my bow graciously. - -"You are the Mr. Arnold Greatson who writes such charming stories," she -said. "Yes, it is so, is it not?" - -"Your Highness is very kind," I answered. - -"I learn," she continued, "that you are also the guardian of the young -lady who gave us all such a start. Pardon me, but you surely seem a -little young for such a post." - -"The circumstances, your Highness," I answered, "were a little -exceptional." - -She nodded thoughtfully. - -"Yes, yes, so I have heard. Lady Delahaye has been telling me the story. -I understand that you have never been able to discover the child's -parentage. That is very strange!" - -"There are other things in connection with my ward, your Highness," I -said, "which seem to me equally inexplicable." - -"Yes? I am very interested. Will you tell me what they are?" - -"By all means," I answered. "I refer to the fact that though no one has -come forward openly to claim the child, indirect efforts to induce her -to leave us are continually being made by persons who seem to desire -anonymity. Whenever she has been alone in the streets she has been -accosted under various pretexts." - -The Archduchess was politely surprised. - -"But surely you are aware," she remarked, "of the source of some at -least of these attempts?" - -"Madame Richard," I said, "the principal of the convent where Isobel was -educated, seems particularly anxious to have her return there." - -The Archduchess nodded her head slowly. - -"Well," she said, "is that so much to be wondered at? Even we who are of -the world might consider--you must pardon me, Mr. Greatson, if I speak -frankly--the girl's present position an undesirable one. How do you -suppose, then, that the principal of a convent boarding-school, whose -sister, I believe, is a nun, would be likely to regard the same thing?" - -"Your Highness knows, then, of the convent?" I remarked. - -The Archduchess lifted her eyebrows lightly. Her gesture seemed intended -to convey to me the fact that she had not sent for me to answer my -questions. I remained unabashed, however, and waited for her reply. -Several curious facts were beginning to group themselves together in my -mind. - -"I have heard of the place," she said coldly. "I believe it to be an -excellent institution. I sent for you, Mr. Greatson, not, however, to -discuss such matters, but solely to ask for information as to the -child's parentage. It seems that you are unable to give me this." - -"Lady Delahaye knows as much--probably more--than I," I answered. - -It seemed to me that the Archduchess and Lady Delahaye exchanged quick -glances. I affected, however, to have noticed nothing. - -"I will be quite candid with you, Mr. Greatson," the Archduchess -continued. "My interest in the girl arises, of course, from the -wonderful likeness to my own daughter, and to other members of my -family. Your ward herself was obviously struck with it. I must confess -that I, too, received something of a shock." - -"I think," I answered, "that it was apparent to all of us." - -The Archduchess coughed. For a Royal personage, she seemed to find some -little difficulty in proceeding. - -"The history of our family is naturally a matter of common knowledge," -she said slowly. "Any connection with it, therefore, which this child -might be able to claim would be of that order which you, as a man of the -world, would doubtless understand. Nevertheless, I am sufficiently -interested in her to be inclined to take any steps which might be -necessary for her welfare. I propose to set some enquiries on foot. -Providing that the result of them be as I suspect, I presume you would -have no objection to relinquish the child to my protection?" - -"Your Highness," I answered, "I could not answer such a question as that -without consideration, or without consulting Isobel herself." - -The Archduchess frowned upon me, and I was at once made conscious that I -had fallen under her displeasure. I fancy, however, that I appeared as I -felt, quite unimpressed. - -"I cannot understand any hesitation whatsoever upon your part, Mr. -Greatson," she said. "Under my care the child's future would be -fittingly provided for. Her position with you must be, at the best, an -equivocal one." - -"Your Highness," I answered steadily, "my friends and I are handicapped -perhaps by our sex, but we have a housekeeper who is an old family -servant, and a model of respectability. In all ways and at all times we -have treated Isobel as a very dear sister. The position may seem an -equivocal one--to a certain order of minds. Those who know us, I may -venture to say, see nothing harmful to the child in our guardianship." - -The Archduchess stared at me, and I gathered that she was not used to -anything save implicit obedience from those to whom she made -suggestions. She stared, and then she laughed softly. There was more -than a spice of malice in her mirth. - -"Which of you three young men are going to fall in love with her?" she -asked bluntly. "You call her a child, but she is almost a woman, and she -is beautiful. She will be very beautiful." - -"Your Highness," I answered coldly, "it is a matter which we have not as -yet permitted ourselves to consider." - -The Archduchess was displeased with me, and she took no further pains to -hide her displeasure. - -"Mr. Greatson," she said, with a little wave of dismissal, "for the -present I have no more to say." - -She turned her back upon me, and I at once left the Gallery. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -I walked home with but one thought in my mind. The Archduchess had put -into words--very plain, blunt words--what as yet I had scarcely dared -harbour in my mind as a fugitive idea. She had done me in that respect -good service. She had brought to a sudden crisis an issue which it was -folly any longer to evade. I meant to speak now, and have done with it. -I walked through the busy streets a dreaming man. It was for the last -time. Henceforth, even the dream must pass. - -I found Mabane and Arthur alone, for which I was sufficiently thankful. -There was no longer any excuse for delay. Mabane had taken possession of -the easy-chair, and was smoking his largest pipe. Arthur was walking -restlessly up and down the room. Evidently they had been discussing -between them the events of the afternoon, for there was a sudden silence -when I entered, and they both waited eagerly for me to speak. I closed -the door carefully behind me, and took a cigarette from the box on my -desk. - -"What did the Archduchess want?" Arthur asked bluntly. - -"I will tell you all that she said presently," I answered. "In effect, -it was the same as the others. She, too, wanted Isobel!" - -"Shall we have to give her up?" Arthur demanded. - -"We will discuss that another time," I said. "I am glad to find that you -are both here. There is another matter, concerning which I think that we -ought to come to an understanding as soon as possible. It has been in my -mind for a long while." - -"About Isobel?" Arthur interrupted. - -"About Isobel!" I assented. - -They were both attentive. Mabane's expression was purely negative. -Arthur, on the other hand, was distinctly nervous. I think that from the -first he had some idea what it was that I wanted to say. - -"Isobel, when she came to us little more than a year ago," I continued, -"was a child. We have always treated her, and I believe thought of her, -as a child. It was perhaps a daring experiment to have brought her here -at all, and yet I am inclined to think that, under the circumstances, it -was the best thing for her, and, from another point of view, an -excellent thing for us!" - -"Excellent! Why, it has made all the difference in the world," Arthur -declared vigorously. - -"I see that you follow me," I agreed. "Her coming seems to have steadied -us up all round. The changes which we were obliged to make in our manner -of living have all been for the better. I am afraid that we were -drifting, Allan and I, at any rate into a somewhat objectless sort of -existence, and our work was beginning to show the signs of it. The -coming of Isobel seems to have changed all that. You, Allan, know that -you have never done better work in your life than during the last year. -Your portrait of her was an inspiration. Some of those smaller studies -show signs of a talent which I think has surprised everyone, except -Arthur and myself, who knew what you could do when you settled down to -it. I, too, have been more successful, as you know. I have done better -work, and more of it. You agree with me so far, Allan?" - -"There is no doubt at all about it," Mabane said slowly. "There has been -a different atmosphere about the place since the child came, and we have -thrived in it. We are all better, much the better, for her coming!" - -"I am glad that you appreciate this, Allan," I said. "This sort of thing -is rather hard to put into words, but I believe that you fellows -understand exactly what I mean. We have had to amuse her, and in doing -so we have developed simpler and better tastes for ourselves. We've had -to give up a lot of things, and a lot of friends we've been much better -without." - -"It's true, every word of it, Arnold," Mabane admitted, knocking out the -ashes from his pipe. "We've chucked the music-halls for the theatres, -and our lazy slacking Sundays, with a night at the club afterwards, for -long wholesome days in the country--very jolly days, too. We're better -men in our small way for the child's coming, Arnold. You can take that -for granted. Now, go on with what you have to say. I suppose this is all -a prelude to something or other." - -Even then I hesitated, for my task was not an easy one, and all the -while Arthur, who maintained an uneasy silence, was watching me -furtively. It was as though he knew from the first what it was that I -was leading up to, and I seemed to be conscious already of his -passionate though unspoken resistance. - -"It was a child," I said at last, "whom we took into our lives. To-day -she is a woman!" - -Then Arthur could keep silence no longer. There was a pink flush in his -cheeks, which were still as smooth as a girl's, but the passion in his -tone was the passion of a man. - -"You are not thinking, Arnold--you would not be so mad as to think of -giving her up to any of these people?" he exclaimed. "They are her -enemies, all of them. I am sure of it!" - -"I am coming to that presently," I went on. "You know what happened this -afternoon? You saw the likeness, the amazing likeness, between Isobel -and that other girl, the daughter of the Archduchess. The Archduchess -was herself very much impressed with it. Without a doubt she knows -Isobel's history. She went so far as to tell me that she believed Isobel -to be morganatically connected with her own family, the House of -Waldenburg! She offered to take her under her own protection!" - -"You did not consent!" Arthur exclaimed. - -"I neither consented nor absolutely refused," I answered. "It was not a -matter to be decided on the spur of the moment. But the more I think of -it, the more I am puzzled. Madame Richard wants Isobel. She was not -satisfied with our refusal to give her up. She sent that messenger of -hers back with fresh offers, and when again we refused, the woman takes -up her quarters here, always spying upon us, always accosting Isobel on -any excuse. Madame Richard may be a very good woman, but I have seen and -spoken with her, and I do not for one moment believe that her -extraordinary persistence is for Isobel's sake alone. Then Lady Delahaye -has never ceased from worrying us. She has tried threats, persuasions -and entreaties. She has tried by every means in her power to induce us -to give up the child to her. And now we have the Archduchess to deal -with, and it seems to me that we are getting very near the heart of the -matter. The Archduchess is a daughter of one of the Royal Houses of -Europe, and Major Delahaye was once _attaché_ at her father's Court. -Then there is Grooten, the man who shot Delahaye. His interest in her is -so strong that he risks his life and commits a crime to save her from a -man whom he believes to be a source of danger to her. He sends her money -every quarter, which, as you know, we have never touched--it stands in -her name if ever she should require it. Grooten is a man into whose -charge we could not possibly give her, and yet of all these people he is -the only one whom I would trust--the only one whom I feel instinctively -means well by her. Madame Richard wants her, Lady Delahaye wants her, -and behind them both there is the Archduchess, who also wants her. I -have thought this matter over, and, so far as I am concerned, I have -decided----" - -"Not to give her up to any of them!" Arthur exclaimed sharply. - -"To give her up to no one who is not prepared to go into court and -establish a legal claim," I continued. "It is very simple, and I think -very reasonable. When she leaves us, it shall be to take up an -accredited and definite station in life. The time may come at any -moment. We must always be prepared for it. But until it does, we will -not even parley any longer with these people who come to us and hint at -mysterious things." - -Arthur wrung my hand. He was apparently much relieved, and he did not -know what was coming. - -"Arnold, you are a brick!" he exclaimed. "That's sound -common-sense--every word you've uttered. Let them prove their claim to -her." - -"I agree with every word you have spoken," Allan said quietly, in -response to a look from me. "The child is at least safe with us, and she -is not wasting her time. She has talent, and she has application. I, for -my part, shall be very sorry indeed when the time comes, as I suppose it -will come some day, for her to go." - -Then I mustered up my courage, and said that which I had known from the -first would be difficult. - -"There is one thing more," I said, "and I want to say it to you now. It -may seem to you both unnecessary. Perhaps it is. Still, it is better -that we should come to an understanding about it. A year has passed -since Isobel, the child, came to us. To-day she is a woman. If we still -keep her with us there must be a bond, a covenant between us, and our -honour must stand pledged to keep it. I think that you both know very -well what I mean. I hope that you will both agree with me." - -I paused for a moment, but I received no encouragement from either of -them. They were both silent, and Arthur's eyes were questioning mine -fiercely. I addressed myself more particularly to him. - -"Allan and I are elderly persons compared with you, Arthur," I said, -"but we might still be described at a stretch as young men. If we decide -to remain Isobel's guardians, there is a further and a deeper duty -devolving upon us than the obvious one of treating her with all respect. -It is possible that she might come to feel a preference for one of us--a -sense of gratitude, the natural sentiment of her coming womanhood, even -the fact of continual propinquity might encourage it. Isobel is -charming; she will be beautiful. The position, if any one of us relaxed -in the slightest degree, might become critical. You must understand what -I mean, I am sure, even if I am not expressing it very clearly. Isobel -sees few, if any, other men. It is possible, it is almost certain, that -she belongs to a class whose position and ideas are far removed from -ours. There must be no sentimental relations established between her and -any one of us. We are her brothers, she is our sister. So it must remain -while she is under our charge. This must be agreed upon between us." - -There was a dead, almost an ominous, silence. Mabane was standing with -his arms folded, and his face turned a little away. I appealed first to -him. - -"Allan," I said, "you agree with me?" - -"Absolutely!" he answered. "I agree with every word you have said." - -I turned to Arthur. - -"And you, Arthur?" - -He did not at once reply. The colour was coming and going in his cheeks, -and he was playing nervously with his watchchain. When he raised his -eyes to mine, the slight belligerency of his earlier manner was more -clearly defined. - -"I think," he said, "that there is another side to the question. Isobel -is the sort of girl whom fellows are bound to notice. Besides, being so -jolly good-looking, she is such ripping good form, and that sort of -thing. What you are proposing, Arnold, is simply that we should stand on -one side altogether and leave Isobel for any other fellow who happens to -come along." - -"It scarcely amounts to that," I answered. "No other man is likely to -see much of her while she is under our care. Afterwards, of course, the -conditions are different. Our covenant, the covenant to which I am -asking you to agree, comes to an end when she leaves us." - -"You see," Arthur protested, "it is a little different, isn't it, for -you fellows? Not that I'm comparing myself with you, of course, in any -sort of way. You're both heaps cleverer than I am, and all that, but -Isobel and I are nearer the same age, and we've been about together such -a lot, motoring and all that, and had such good times. You understand -what I mean, don't you? Of course, that sort of thing, that sort of -thing--you know, brings a fellow and a girl together so, liking the same -things, and being about the same age. It isn't quite like that with you -two, is it now?" - -Again there was silence. Mabane had withdrawn his pipe from his mouth, -and was looking steadfastly into the bowl. As for me, I found it wholly -impossible to analyse my sensations. All the time Arthur was looking -eagerly from one to the other of us. I recovered myself with an effort, -and answered him. - -"We will not dispute the position with you, Arthur," I said quietly. "We -will admit all that you say. We will admit, therefore, that by all -natural laws you are the one on whom the burden of keeping this covenant -must fall most heavily. That fact may make it a little harder for you -than for us, but it does not alter the position in any way. There must -be no attempt at sentiment between Isobel and any one of us. If by any -chance the opening should come from her, it must be ignored and -discouraged." - -"I can't for the life of me see why," Arthur declared. "And I--well, -it's no use beating about the bush. Isobel is the only girl in the world -I could ever look at. I am fond of her! I can't help it! I love her! -There!" - -Mabane mercifully took up the burden of speech. - -"Have you said anything to her?" he asked. - -"No." - -"Not a word?" - -"Not a word," Arthur declared. "She is too young. She has not begun to -think about those things yet. But she is wonderful, and I love her. It -is all very well for you two," he continued earnestly. "You are both -over thirty, and confirmed bachelors. I'm only just twenty-four, and -I've never cared for a girl a snap of the fingers yet. I don't care any -more about knocking about. Of course, I've done a bit at it like -everyone else, but Isobel has knocked all that out of me. I should be -quite content to settle down to-morrow!" - -I tried to put myself in his place, to enter for a moment into his point -of view. Yet I am afraid that I must have seemed very unsympathetic. - -"Arthur," I said, "I am sorry for you, but it won't do. I fancy that -before long she will be removed from us altogether. For her sake, and -the sake of our own honour, no word of what you have told us must pass -your lips. Unless you can promise that----" - -I hesitated. Arthur had risen to his feet. The colour had mounted to his -temples, his eyes were bright with anger. - -"I will not promise it," he declared. "I love Isobel, and very soon I -mean to tell her so." - -"Then it must be under another roof," I answered. "If you will not -promise to keep absolutely silent until we at least know exactly what -her parentage is, you must leave us." - -Arthur took up his hat. - -"Very well," he said shortly. "I will send for my things to-morrow." - -He left the room without another word to either of us. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -"In diplomacy," the Baron remarked blandly, "as also, I believe, in -affairs of commerce, the dinner-table is frequently chosen as a fitting -place for the commencement of delicate negotiations. For a bargain--no! -But when three men--take ourselves, for instance--have a matter of some -importance to discuss, I can conceive no better opportunity for the -preliminary--skirmishing, shall I say?--than the present." - -I raised my glass, and looked thoughtfully at the pale amber wine -bubbling up from the stem. - -"From a certain point of view," I answered, "I entirely agree with you. -Yet you must remember that the host has always the advantage." - -"In the present case," the Baron said with a smile, "that amounts to -nothing, for you practically gave me my answer before we sat down to -dinner. If I am able to induce you to change your mind--well, so much -the better. If not--well, I can have nothing to complain of." - -"I am glad," I answered, "that you appreciate our position. With regard -to the present custody of the child, which I take it is what you want to -discuss with us, our minds are practically made up. My friend and I have -both agreed that we will continue the charge of her until she is claimed -by someone who is in a position to do so openly--someone, in short, who -has a legal right." - -The Baron nodded gravely. - -"An excellent decision," he said. "No one could possibly quarrel with -it. Yet it is a privilege to be able to tell you some facts which may -perhaps affect your point of view. I can explain to you _why_ this open -claim is not made." - -"We are here," I answered, "to listen to whatever you may have to say." - -We--Allan and I--were dining with the Baron at Claridge's. An -appointment, which he had begged us to make, had been changed into a -dinner invitation at his earnest request. There was a likelihood, he -told us, of his being summoned abroad at any moment, and he was -particularly anxious not to leave the hotel pending the arrival of a -cablegram. So far his demeanour had been courtesy and consideration -itself, but under the man's geniality and almost excessive _bonhomie_ -both Allan and myself were conscious of a certain nervous impatience, -only partially concealed. Whatever proposal he might have to make to us, -our acceptance of it was without doubt a matter of great importance to -him. The more we realized this, the more we wondered. - -"I only wish," he said with emphasis, "that it was within my power to -lay the cards upon the table before you, to tell you the whole truth. I -do not think then that you would hesitate for a single second. But that -I cannot do. The honour of a great house, Mr. Greatson, is involved in -this matter, into which you have been so strangely drawn. I must leave -blanks in my story which you must fill in for yourselves, you and Mr. -Mabane. There are things which I may not--dare not--tell you. If I -could, you would wonder no longer that those who desire to take over the -charge of the child wish to do so without publicity, and without any -appeal to the courts." - -"The Archduchess," I remarked, "gave me some hint as to the nature of -these difficulties." - -The Baron emptied his glass and called for another bottle of wine. Then -he looked carefully around him, a quite unnecessary precaution, for our -table was in a remote corner of the room, and there were very few -dining. - -"It is no longer," he said, "a matter of surmise with us as to who the -child you call Isobel de Sorrens really is. She is of the House of -Waldenburg. She carries her descent written in her face, a hall-mark no -one could deny. Upon the Archduchess and others of her great family must -rest always the shadow of a grave stigma so long as the child remains in -the hands of strangers, an alien from her own country. The Archduchess -wishes at once, and quietly, to assume the charge of her. She is -conscious of your services; she feels that you have probably saved the -child from a fate which it is not easy to contemplate calmly. She -authorizes me, therefore, to treat with you in the most generous -fashion." - -"That is a phrase," I remarked, "which I do not altogether understand." - -"Later," the Baron said, with a meaning look, "I will make myself clear. -In the meantime, let me recommend this soufflé. Mr. Mabane, you are -drinking nothing. Would you prefer your wine a shade colder?" - -"Not for me," Allan declared. "I prefer champagne at its natural -temperature; the wine is far too good to have its flavour frozen out of -it. Apropos of what you were saying, Baron, there is one question which -I should like to ask you. Why was Major Delahaye sent to St. Argueil for -Isobel, and what was he supposed to do with her?" - -I do not think that the Baron liked the question. He hesitated for -several moments before he answered it. - -"Major Delahaye was not sent," he said. "He went on his own account. He -was the only person who knew the child's whereabouts." - -"And what do you suppose his object was in bringing her away from the -convent?" Allan persisted. - -"I do not know," the Baron answered. "All I can say is that it pleases -me vastly more to find the child in your keeping than in his." - -"Was the man who shot him," I asked, "concerned in the child's earlier -history?" - -"I cannot place him at all," the Baron answered. "I should imagine that -his quarrel with Major Delahaye was a personal one, and had no bearing -upon the child. Few men had more enemies than Delahaye. One does not -wish to speak ill of the dead, but he was a bully and a brute all his -days." - -A servant in plain black livery brought a sealed note to our host, and -stood respectfully by his side while he read it. It obviously consisted -of but a few words, yet the Baron continued to hold it in front of him -for nearly a minute. Finally, he crushed it in his hand, and dismissed -the servant. - -"There is no answer," he said. "I shall wait upon her Highness in an -hour." - -Our dinner was over. Both Mabane and myself had declined dessert. Our -host rose. - -"Gentlemen," he said, "I have ordered coffee in the smoking-room. The -head-waiter has told me of some wonderful brandy, and I have some cigars -which I am anxious for you to try. Will you come this way?" - -We were the only occupants of the smoking-room. The Baron appropriated a -corner, and left us to fetch the cigars. Mabane lit a cigarette and -leaned back in an easy-chair. - -"It seems to me, Arnold," he said, "that you are like the man who found -what he went out for to see. You wanted tragedy--and you came very near -it. I do not quite see what the end of all these things will be. Our -host----" - -"There is a disappointment in store for him, I fancy," I interrupted. -"He is a very faithful servant of the Archduchess, and he has worked -hard for her. From his point of view his arguments are reasonable -enough. All that he says is plausible--and yet--one feels that there is -something behind it all. Allan, I don't trust one of these people! I -can't!" - -"Nor I," Allan answered softly, for the Baron had already entered the -room. - -He brought with him some wonderful cabanas, and immediately afterwards -coffee and liqueurs were served. The moment the waiter had disappeared, -he threw off all reserve. - -"Come," he said, "I am no longer your host. We meet here on equal terms. -I have an offer to make to you which I think you will find astonishing. -The fact is, her Highness is anxious to run no risk of any resurrection -of a certain scandal. She has commissioned me to beg your -acceptance--you and your friend--of these," he laid down two separate -pieces of paper upon the table. "She wishes to relieve you as soon as -possible to-night, if you can arrange it--of the care of a certain young -lady. There need be no hesitation about your acceptance. Royalty, as you -know, has special privileges so far as regards bounty, and her Highness -appreciates most heartily the care and kindness which the child has -received at your hands." - -I stared at my piece of paper. It was a cheque for five thousand pounds. -I looked at Mabane's. It was a cheque for a like amount. Then I looked -up at the Baron. The perspiration was standing out upon his forehead. He -was watching us as a man might watch one in whose hands lay the power of -life or death. I resisted my first impulse, which was simply to tear the -cheque in two. I simply pushed it back across the table. - -"Baron," I said, "if this is meant as a recompense for any kindness -which we have shown to a friendless child, it is unnecessary and -unacceptable. If it is meant," I added more slowly, "for a bribe, it is -not enough." - -"Call it what you will," he answered quickly. "Name your own price for -the child--brought here--to-night." - -"No price that you or your mistress could pay, Baron," I answered -quietly. "I told you my ultimatum two hours ago. The child remains with -us until she is claimed by one who has a legal right, and is not afraid -to invoke the law." - -"But I have explained the position," the Baron protested. "You must -understand why we cannot bring such a matter as this into the courts." - -"Your story is ingenious, and, pardon me, it may be true," I answered. -"We require proof!" - -The Baron's face was not pleasant to look upon. - -"You doubt my word, sir--my word, and the word of the Archduchess?" - -I rose to my feet. Mabane followed my example. I felt that a storm was -pending. - -"Baron," I said, "there are some causes which make strange demands upon -the best of us. A man may lie to save a woman's honour, or, if he be a -politician, for the good of his country. I cannot discuss this matter -any further with you. My sole regret is that we ever discussed it at -all. My friend and I must wish you good-night." - -"By heavens, you shall not go!" the Baron exclaimed. "What right have -you to the child? None at all! Her Highness wishes to be generous. It -pleases you to flout her generosity. Mr. Arnold Greatson, you are a -fool! Don't you see that you are a pigmy, who has stolen through the -back door into the world where great things are dealt with? You have no -place there. You cannot keep the child away from us. You have no -influence, no money. You are nobody. If you think----" - -Mabane interposed. - -"Baron," he said, "if you were not still, in a sense, our host, I should -knock you down. As it is, permit me to tell you that you are talking -nonsense." - -The Baron drew a sharp, quick breath. - -"You are right," he said shortly. "I am a fool to discuss this with you -at all. It is not worth while. The Archduchess, out of kindness, would -have treated you as friends. You decline! Good! You shall be treated--as -you deserve." - -The Baron threw open the door and bowed us out. The commissionaire -helped us on with our coats and summoned a hansom. We were just driving -off, when a man in a long travelling coat, who had been standing outside -the swing-door of the hotel, calmly swung himself up into the cab and -motioned to us to make room. I stared at him in blank amazement. - -"Hullo!" I exclaimed. "What----" - -"It is I, my friend," Mr. Grooten answered calmly. "Tell the man to -drive to your rooms." - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -"I am staying at Claridge's, or rather I was," Mr. Grooten remarked, as -we turned into Brook Street. "I saw you with Leibingen, and I have been -waiting for you. We will talk, I think, at your rooms." - -Whereupon he lit a fresh cigarette, and did not speak a word until we -had reached our destination. Isobel had gone to bed, and our -sitting-room was empty. I turned up the lamp, and pushed a chair towards -him. In various small ways he seemed to have succeeded in effecting a -wonderful change in his appearance. His hair was differently arranged, -and much greyer. His face was pale and drawn as though with illness. But -for his voice and his broad, humorous mouth I doubt whether I should -immediately have recognized him. - -"I perceive," he said, "that I am not forgotten. It is very flattering! -My friends abroad tell me that I have altered a good deal during the -last twelve months." - -"You have altered, without a doubt," I admitted. "But the circumstances -connected with our first meeting were scarcely such as tend towards -forgetfulness. You remember my friend, Mr. Allan Mabane?" - -"Perfectly," he assented, with a courteous little wave of the hand. "I -am very glad to have come across you both again so opportunely. I only -arrived in England a few days ago, but I did not hope to have this -pleasure until the morning at the earliest. You expected to have heard -from me, perhaps, before." - -"I don't know about that," I answered, "but I can assure you that we are -both very glad to see you, for more reasons than one. There are a good -many things which we are anxious to discuss with you." - -"The pleasure, then, is mutual," Mr. Grooten remarked affably. "Isobel -is, I trust, well?" - -"She is quite well," I answered. - -"You are helping her to spend her time profitably, I am glad to find," -he continued. "I saw two miniatures of hers yesterday at the Mordaunt -Rooms." - -"Isobel has gifts," I said. "We are doing our best to assist her in -their development." - -Mr. Grooten raised his eyes to mine. He looked at me steadily. - -"Why have you refused to use the money which I placed to your credit at -the National Bank for her?" he asked. - -"Because," I answered, "we are not aware what right you have to provide -for her." - -Mr. Grooten smiled upon us--much as a sphynx might have smiled. It had -the effect of making us both feel very young. - -"My claim," he murmured, "must surely be as good as yours." - -"Perhaps," I admitted. "At any rate, the money remains there in her -name. She may find herself in greater need of it later on in life." - -Mr. Grooten seemed to find some amusement in the idea. - -"No," he said, "I do not think that that is likely. You could safely -have used the money, but as you have not--well, it is of small -consequence. I presume that attempts have been made to withdraw the -child from your care?" - -"Several," I told him. "Madame Richard and Lady Delahaye were equally -importunate." - -Grooten nodded. - -"You have shown," he said, "an admirable discretion in refusing to give -her up to either of them." - -"And to-day," I continued, "a third claimant to the care of her has -intervened. The Archduchess of Bristlaw herself has offered to relieve -us of our guardianship." - -Mr. Grooten dropped the cigarette which he had only just lit, and seemed -for the moment unconscious of the fact. He made no effort to pick it up. -He quivered as though someone had struck him a blow. For a man whose -impassivity was almost a part of himself he was evidently deeply -agitated. - -"The Archduchess--has seen Isobel!" he muttered. - -"They met by chance at the Mordaunt Rooms a few afternoons ago," I told -him. "The Archduchess was accompanied by a girl of about Isobel's age. -We came upon them suddenly, and the likeness was so marvellous that we -were all startled. There was something in the nature of a scene. We left -the Gallery at once, but the Archduchess sent one of her suite for me. I -had some conversation with her concerning Isobel." - -"Can you repeat it?" Grooten asked. - -"In substance--yes," I told him. "The Archduchess plainly hinted that -she believed Isobel to be connected morganatically with her family. She -wished to take her under her own charge and provide for her." - -"And you?" - -"I thought it best to take some time for reflection. I had some idea of -looking up the history of the Archduchess's family." - -"You made no promise?" - -"Certainly not. To tell you the truth, I was influenced by the presence -of Lady Delahaye amongst the royal party. I have no faith in Lady -Delahaye's good intentions with regard to Isobel." - -Mr. Grooten flashed a quick glance upon me. - -"Yet," he said softly, "report says that you and Lady Delahaye have been -very good friends." - -"That," I answered, "is beside the mark. I knew her before her marriage, -but I have seen very little of her since. As a matter of fact, our -relations at the present time are scarcely amicable. We have had a -difference of opinion concerning our guardianship of Isobel. Lady -Delahaye does not approve of her presence here with us." - -Mr. Grooten smiled. - -"That," he said, "is probable. May I proceed to ask a somewhat -impertinent question? You were the guests to-night, I believe, of the -Baron von Leibingen, who is, I understand, a _persona grata_ with the -Archduchess. I presume that your meeting in some way concerned Isobel?" - -"Isobel was the sole cause of it," I answered. "The Archduchess is a -woman who perseveres. She declined to consider that my reply to her -first tentative offer was in any way final. She passed the matter on to -the Baron, and certainly until he lost his temper towards the end of our -interview, he was a very efficient ambassador. He proved to us quite -clearly that it was our duty to give Isobel up to those who had a better -right to assume the charge of her, and he wound up by handing us cheques -for--I think it was five thousand pounds each, wasn't it, Allan?" - -Mr. Grooten leaned back in his chair and laughed silently, yet with -obvious enjoyment. - -"That poor von Leibingen," he murmured, "how he blunders his way through -life! Yet, my friend, I am afraid that this charge which I so -thoughtlessly laid upon you is proving very troublesome. And you -perceive that I do not even offer you a cheque." - -Allan suddenly rose up and knocked the ashes from his pipe into the -fire. - -"You do not offer us a cheque, Mr. Grooten," he said quietly, "because -you have perceptions. But there is another way in which you can -recompense us for the trifling inconveniences to which we have been put. -You can make our task easier--and more dignified; you can answer a -question which I think I may say that we have an absolute right to ask -you." - -Mr. Grooten inclined his head slightly. He made no remark. Allan turned -to me. - -"Arnold," he said, "this is more your affair than mine, for it is you -who have borne the brunt of it from the first. I do not wish to -interfere in it unduly. But from every point of view, I think that the -time has come when all this mystery concerning Isobel's antecedents -should be, so far as we are concerned at any rate, cleared up. Our hands -would be immensely strengthened by the knowledge of the truth. Your -friend here, Mr. Grooten, can tell us if he will. Ask him to do so. I -will go further. I will even say that we have a right to insist upon -it." - -Mr. Grooten sat immovable. One could scarcely gather from his face that -he had heard a word of Allan's speech. - -"You are quite right, Allan," I answered. "Mr. Grooten," I continued, -turning towards him, "you are the best judge as to whether your presence -in this country is altogether wise, but I can assure you that for the -last six months we have looked for you every day, and for this same -reason. We want that question answered. The time has come when, in -common justice to us and the child, the whole thing should be cleared -up. Whatever knowledge rests with you is safe also with us. I think that -we have proved that. I think that we have earned our right to your -complete confidence. Mabane and I you can consider as one in this -matter. You can speak before him as though we were alone. Now tell us -the whole truth." - -"I cannot," Mr. Grooten answered simply. - -There was a certain crisp definiteness about those two words which -carried conviction with them. Mabane and I were a little staggered. Our -position was such a strong one, our request so reasonable, that I think -that we had never realized the possibility of a refusal. - -"May I ask you this?" Mabane said. "Do you expect that we shall continue -our--I suppose we may call it guardianship--of Isobel in the face of -your present attitude?" - -"I hope so, for the present," our visitor admitted softly. - -"Notwithstanding," Mabane continued, "our absolute ignorance of -everything connected with her, our lack of any sort of claim or title to -the charge of her, and the increasing number of people who still persist -in trying to take her from us?" - -Mr. Grooten shrugged his shoulders. - -"You omit to mention the factors in the situation which may be said to -be on your side," he murmured. - -"I should be interested to know what those are," I remarked. - -"Certainly. The first and most powerful of all is, of course, -possession." - -Mabane nodded. - -"And after that?" - -"The fact that not one of the three people who have appealed to you for -the charge of the child is in a position to use the only real force -which exists in this land. I mean the law," Grooten continued. - -This kept us silent again for a moment. Mabane, I could see, was getting -a little ruffled. - -"You pelt us with enigmas, sir," he said. "You answer our questions only -by propounding fresh conundrums. One thing, at least, you may feel -disposed to tell us. What is your own relationship to Isobel?" - -"None," Mr. Grooten answered. - -"Your interest, then?" - -Mr. Grooten remained silent. He sat in his chair, very still and very -quiet. Yet in his eyes there shone for a moment something which seemed -to bring into the little room the shadow of great things. Mabane and I -both felt it. We had the sense of having been left behind. The little -man in his chair seemed to have been lifted out of our reach into the -mightier world of passion and suffering and self-conquest. - -"I loved her mother," he said softly. "I was the man whom her mother -loved." - -There was a silence between us then. We had no more to say. We were at -that moment his bounden slaves. But by some evil chance, after a -lengthened pause, he continued-- - -"I, alas, could do little for the child. Yet when I heard that harm was -threatened to her through that scamp Delahaye, I crossed the ocean at an -hour's notice. I saved her from him. He deserved his fate, but I am no -murderer by profession, and the shock unnerved me for a time. Then----" - -"Hush!" Mabane cried. - -I sprang to the door. It had been thrust about a foot open. From outside -came the sound of angry voices, followed by a moment's silence. Then a -quick, shrill cry of triumph. - -"Let me in. Oh, you shall not stop me now. I am going to see the man who -boasts of being my husband's murderer!" - -It was the voice of Lady Delahaye. She was already upon the threshold. I -sprang to the table and saw her coming. Already she was behind the -screen, stealing into the room, her head thrust forward, her lips -parted, a peculiar glitter in her eyes. For a moment I stood rigid. The -sight of her fascinated me--there was something so wholly animal-like in -the stealthy triumph of her tiptoe approach. I recovered myself just in -time. One more step, a turn of her head, and she would have seen -Grooten. My finger pressed down the catch of the lamp, and a sudden -darkness filled the room. - -She stopped short. Her fierce little cry of anger told me exactly where -she was. I stepped forward and caught her wrists firmly. Then I faced -where I knew Grooten was still sitting. I could see the red end of his -cigarette still in his mouth. - -"Leave the room at once," I said. "You can push the screen on one side, -and you are within a yard of the door then. Please do exactly as I say, -and don't reply." - -"Let go my hands, sir! Arnold, how dare you! Let me go, or I'll scream -the place down. Mr. Mabane, you will not permit this?" she cried, in a -fury. - -Mabane closed the door through which Grooten had already issued, and I -heard the key turn in the lock. I released Lady Delahaye's hands, and -she sprang away from me. As the flame from the lamp which Allan had just -rekindled gained in power we saw her, still shaking the handle, but with -her back now against the wall turned to face us. She was calmer than I -had expected, but it was a terrible look which she flashed upon us. - -[Illustration: She was calmer than I had expected, but it was a terrible -look which she flashed upon us.] - -"In how many minutes," she asked, "may I be released?" - -Allan whispered in my ear. - -"In five minutes, Lady Delahaye," I said. "I regret very much the -necessity for keeping you at all. May I offer you a chair?" - -"You may offer me nothing, sir, except your silence," she answered -swiftly. - -She meant it too. I know the signs of anger in a woman's face as well as -most men, and they were written there plainly enough. So for a most -uncomfortable period of time we waited there until Allan, after a glance -at his watch, went and opened the door. She passed out without remark, -but from the threshold outside she turned and looked at me. - -"I warned you once before, Arnold Greatson," she said, "that you were -meddling with greater concerns than you knew of, and that harm would -come to you for it. Now you have chosen to shield a murderer, and to use -your strength upon a woman. These things will not go unforgotten!" - -Mabane closed the door, and threw himself into an easy chair. - -"For two easy-going sort of fellows, Arnold," he said to me, "we seem to -be making a lot of enemies. Don't you think it would be a good idea if -we drew stumps for a bit?" - -"Meaning?" I asked. - -"Roseleys!" - -"We'll go to-morrow," I declared. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -"I have never seen anything like this," Isobel said softly. I looked up -from the writing-pad on my knee, and she met my glance with a smile of -contrition. - -"Ah," she said. "I forgot that I must not talk. Indeed, I did not mean -to, but--look!" - -I followed her eyes. - -"Well," I said, "tell me what you see." - -"There are so many beautiful things," she murmured. "Do you see how -thick and green the grass is in the meadows there? How the quaker -grasses glimmer?--you call them so, do you not?--and how those yellow -cowslips shine like gold? What a world of colour it all seems. London is -so grey and cold, and here--look at the sea, and the sky, with all those -dear little fleecy white clouds, and the pink and white of all those -wild roses wound in and out of the hedges. Oh, Arnold, it is all -beautiful!" - -"Even without a motor-car!" I remarked. - -She looked at me a little resentfully. - -"Motoring is very delightful," she said, "although you do not like it. -Of course, it would be nice if Arthur were here!" - -She looked away from me seawards, and I found myself studying her -expression with an interest which had something more in it than mere -curiosity. At odd times lately I had fancied that I could see it coming. -To-day, for the first time, I was sure. The smooth transparency of -childhood, the unrestrained but almost animal play of features and eyes, -reproducing with photographic accuracy every small emotion and -joy--these things were passing away. Even before her time the child was -seeking knowledge. As she sat there, with her steadfast eyes fixed upon -the smooth blue line where sea and sky met, who could tell what thoughts -were passing in her mind? Not I, not Mabane, nor any of us into whose -care she had come. Only I knew that she saw new things, that the rush of -a more complex and stronger life was already troubling her, the sweet -pangs of its birth were already tugging at her heartstrings. My pencil -rested idly in my fingers, my eyes, like hers, sought that distant line, -beyond which lies ever the world of one's own creation. What did she see -there, I wondered? Never again should I be able to ask with the full -certainty of knowing all that was in her mind. The time had come for -delicate reserves, the time when the child of yesterday, with the first -faint notes of a new and wonderful song stealing into her heart, must -fence her new modesty around with many sweet elusions and barriers, -fairy creations to be swept aside later on in one glad moment--by the -one chosen person. There was a coldness in my heart when I realized that -the time had come even for the child who had tripped so lightly into our -lives so short a time ago, to pass away from us into that other and more -complex world. It was the decree of sex, nature's immutable law, -sundering playfellows, severing friendships, driving its unwilling -victims into opposite corners of the world, with all the pitilessness of -natural law. Nevertheless, the thought of these things as I looked at -Isobel made me sad. She was young indeed for these days to come, for the -shadows to steal into her eyes, and the song of trouble to grow in her -heart. - -"Tell me," I asked softly, "what you see beyond that blue line." - -"I can tell you more easily," she said, glancing down with a faint smile -at my empty pages, "what I see by my side--a very lazy man. And," she -continued, crumpling a little ball of heather in her fingers and -throwing it with unerring aim at Allan, "another one over there!" - -"My picture," Allan protested, "is finished." - -"Nonsense!" she exclaimed, preparing to rise, but he waved her back. - -"In my mind," he added. "Don't misunderstand me. The casual and ignorant -observer glancing just now at my canvas might come to the same -conclusion as you--a conclusion, by-the-bye, entirely erroneous. I will -admit that my canvas is unspoilt. Nevertheless, my picture is painted." - -She looked across at him reproachfully. - -"Allan, how dare you!" she exclaimed. "Only Arnold has the right to be -subtle. I have always regarded you as a straightforward and honest -person. Don't disappoint me." - -"St. Andrew forbid it!" Allan declared. "My meaning is painfully simple. -I build up my picture first in my mind. Its transmission to canvas is -purely mechanical. Here goes!" - -He took up his palette, and in a few moments was hard at work. Isobel -pointed downwards to my writing-pad. - -"Can you too match Allan's excuse?" she asked. "Is your story already -written?" - -I shook my head. - -"I have been watching you," I answered. "Besides, for a perfectly lazy -person, are you not rather a hard task-mistress? Consider that this is -our first day of summer--the first time we have seen the sun make -diamonds on the sea, the first west wind which has come to us with the -scent of cowslips and wild roses. I claim the right to be lazy if I want -to be." - -She smiled. - -"The poet," she murmured, "finds these things inspiring." - -"The poet," I answered, "is an ordinary creature. Nowadays he eats -mutton-chops, plays golf, and has a banking account. The real man of -feeling, Isobel, is the man who knows how to be idle. Believe me, there -is a certain vulgarity in seeking to make a stock-in-trade of these -delicious moments." - -"That is not fair," she protested. "How should we all live if none of -you did any work?" - -"For your age, Isobel," I declared seriously, "you are very nearly a -practical person. You make me more than ever anxious for an answer to my -last question. What were you thinking of just now?" - -Her eyes seemed to drift away from mine. A touch of her new seriousness -returned. She pointed to that thin blue line. - -"Beyond there," she said, "is to-morrow, and all the to-morrows to come. -One sees a very little way." - -"Our limitations," I answered, "are life's lesson to us. If to-morrow is -hidden, so much the more reason that we should live to-day." - -"Without thought for the morrow?" - -"Without care for it," I answered. "Are we not Bohemians, and is it not -our text?" - -She shook her head. - -"It is not yours," she answered slowly. "I am sure of that." - -I looked at her quickly. - -"What do you mean?" - -"Just what I say," she answered gravely. "Men and women to whom the -present is sufficient surely cannot achieve very much in life. All the -time they must concentrate powers which need expansion. I think that it -must be those who try to climb the walls, those even who tear their -fingers and their hearts in the great struggle for freedom, who can make -themselves capable of great things, even if escape is impossible. But I -do not think that escape is so impossible after all, is it? There have -been men, and women too, who have lived in all times, to whom there have -been no to-morrows or any yesterdays. Only it seems rather hard that -life for those who seek it must always be a battle!" - -I did not answer her for several minutes. It was true, then, that the -old days had passed away. Isobel, the child whom we had known and loved -so well, had disappeared. It was Isobel the incomprehensible who was -taking her place. What might the change not mean for us?... - -Later we walked back over an open heath yellow with gorse, and faintly -pink with the promise of the heather to come. Isobel carried her hat in -her hand. She walked with her head thrown back, and a smile playing -every now and then upon her lips. She was so completely absorbed that I -found myself every now and then watching her, half expecting, I believe, -to find some physical change to accord with that other more mysterious -evolution. She walked with all the grace of long limbs and unfettered -clothing. Her figure, though perfectly graceful, and with that same -peculiar distinction which had first attracted me, was as yet wholly -immature. But in the face itself there were signs of a coming change. -Wherein it might lie I could not tell, but it was there, an intangible -and wholly elusive thing. I think that a certain fear of it and what it -might mean oppressed me with the sense of coming trouble. I was more -fully conscious then than ever before of the moral responsibility of our -peculiar charge. - -We crossed a straight dusty road, cleaving the rolling moor like a belt -of ribbon. Isobel looked thoughtfully along it. - -"I wonder," she said, "when Arthur will come down!" - -The folly of a man is a thing sometimes outside his own power of -control. A second before I had been wondering of whom and what she had -been thinking. - -"Not just yet, I'm afraid," Allan answered, stopping to light his pipe. -"It is not easy for him to get backwards and forwards, and I believe -that he is by way of being rather busy just now." - -"What a nuisance!" Isobel declared, looking behind her regretfully. "The -roads about here seem so good." - -"The roads are good, but the heath is better," Allan answered. "I will -race you for half a pound of chocolates to that clump of pines!" - -"You are such a slow starter," she laughed, bounding away before he had -time to drop his easel. "Make it a pound!" - -I picked up Allan's easel and strolled away after them. Was it the -motoring, I wondered, which had prompted her half-wistful question, or -had I been wise too late? Arthur had been very confident. So much that -he had said had carried with it a certain ring of truth. Youth and the -temperament of youth were surely irresistible. Like calls to like across -the garden of spring flowers with a cry which no interloper can still, -no wanderer of later years can stifle. Somehow it seemed to me just then -that the sun had ceased to shine, and a touch of winter after all was -lingering in the western breeze.... - -They disappeared round the pine plantation, Isobel leading by a few -yards, her skirts blowing in the wind, running still with superb and -untired grace. I climbed a bank to gain a better view of the finish, and -became suddenly aware that I was not the only interested spectator of -their struggle. About a hundred yards to my left a man was standing on -the top of the same bank, a pair of field-glasses glued to his eyes, -watching intently the spot where they might be expected to reappear. The -sight of him took me by surprise. A few moments ago I could have sworn -that there was not a human being within a mile of us. There was only one -explanation of his appearance. He must have been concealed in the dry -mossy ditch at the foot of the bank. It was possible, of course, that he -might have been like us, a casual way-farer, and yet the suddenness of -his appearance, the intentness of his watch, both had their effect upon -me. I moved a few yards towards him, with what object I perhaps scarcely -knew. A dry twig snapped beneath my feet. He became suddenly aware of my -approach. Then, indeed, my suspicions took definite shape, for without a -moment's hesitation the man turned and strode away in the opposite -direction. - -I shouted to him. He took no notice. I shouted again, and he only -increased his pace. I watched him disappear, and I no longer had any -doubts at all. He was not in the least like a tramp, and his flight -could bear but one interpretation. Isobel was not safe even here. We had -been followed from London--we were being watched every hour. For the -first time I began seriously to doubt what the end of these things might -be. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -"Silence and perfume and moon-flooded meadows," Allan murmured. "Arnold, -we shall all become corrupted. You will take to writing pastorals, and -I--I--" - -Isobel, from her seat between us, smiled up at him. Touched by the -yellow moonlight, her face seemed almost ethereal. - -"You," she said, "should paint a vision of the 'enchanted land.' You see -those blurred woods, and the fields sloping up to the mists? Isn't that -a perfect impression of the world unseen, half understood? Oh, how can -you talk of such a place corrupting anybody, Allan!" - -"I withdraw the term," he answered. "Yet Arnold knows what I meant very -well. This place soothes while the city frets. Which state of mind do -you think, Miss Isobel, draws from a man his best work?" - -"Don't ask me enigmas, Allan," she murmured. "I am too happy to think, -too happy to want to do anything more than exist. I wish we lived here -always! Why didn't we come here long ago?" - -"You forget the wonders of our climate," I remarked. "A month ago you -might have stood where you are now, and seen nothing. You would have -shivered with the cold. The field scents, the birds, the very insects -were unborn. It is all a matter of seasons. What to-day is beautiful was -yesterday a desert." - -She shook her head slowly. Bareheaded, she was leaning now over the -little gate, and her eyes sought the stars. - -"I will not believe it," she declared. "I will not believe that it is -not always beautiful here. Arnold, Allan, can you smell the -honeysuckle?" - -"And the hay," Allan answered, smoking vigorously. "To-morrow we shall -be sneezing every few minutes. Have you ever had hay fever, Isobel?" - -She laughed at him scornfully. - -"You poor old thing!" she exclaimed. "You should wear a hat." - -"A hat," Allan protested, "is of no avail against hay fever. It's the -most insidious thing in the world, and is no respecter of youth. You, my -dear Isobel, might be its first victim." - -"Pooh! I catch nothing!" she declared, "and you mustn't either. I'm sure -you ought to be able to paint some beautiful pictures down here, Allan. -And, Arnold, you shall have your writing-table out under the chestnut -tree there. You will be so comfortable, and I'm sure you'll be able to -finish your story splendidly." - -"You are very anxious to dispose of us all here, Isobel," I remarked. -"What do you propose to do yourself?" - -"Oh, paint a little, I suppose," she answered, "and--think! There is so -much to think about here." - -I shook my head. - -"I am beginning to wonder," I said, "whether we did wisely to bring -you." - -"And why?" - -"This thinking you are speaking of. It is bad!" - -"You are foolish! Why should I not want to think?" - -"If you begin to think you will begin to doubt," I answered, "and if you -begin to doubt you will begin to understand. The person who once -understands, you know, is never again really happy." - -Isobel came and stood in front of me. - -"Arnold!" she said. - -"Well?" - -"I wish you wouldn't talk to me always as though I were a baby," she -said thoughtfully. - -I took her hand and made her sit down by my side. - -"Come," I protested, "that is not at all fair. I can assure you that I -was taking you most seriously. The people who get most out of life are -the people who avoid the analytical attitude, who enjoy but who do not -seek to understand, who worship form and external beauty without the -desire to penetrate below to understand the inner meaning of what they -find so beautiful." - -"That," she said, "sounds a little difficult. But I do not see how -people can enjoy meaningless things." - -"The source of all beauty is disillusioning." - -"Seriously," Mabane interrupted, "if this conversation develops I am -going indoors. Does Arnold want to penetrate into the hidden meaning of -that cricket's chirp--or is he going to give us the chemical formula for -the smell of the honeysuckle?" - -Isobel laughed. - -"He is rather trying to-night, isn't he?" she declared. "Listen! Is that -someone going by?" - -The footsteps of a man were clearly audible passing along the dusty -little strip of road which fronted our cottage. Leaning forward I saw a -tall, dark figure pass slowly by. From his height and upright carriage I -thought that it must be the village policeman, and I called out -good-night. My greeting met with no response. I shrugged my shoulders. - -"Some of these village people are not particularly civil!" I remarked. - -Mabane rose to his feet and strolled to the hedge. - -"Those were not the footsteps of a villager," he remarked. "Listen!" - -We stood quite still. The footsteps had ceased, although there was no -other habitation for more than half a mile along the road. We could see -nothing, but I noticed that Mabane was leaning a little forward and -gazing with a curious intentness at the open common on the other side of -the road. He stood up presently and knocked the ashes from his pipe. - -"What do you say to a drink, Arnold?" he suggested. - -"Come along!" I answered. "There's some whisky and soda on the -sideboard." - -Isobel laughed at us. She would have lingered where she was, but Allan -passed his arm through hers. - -"Sentiment must not make you lazy, Isobel," he declared. "I decline to -mix my own whisky and soda. Arnold," he whispered, drawing me back as -she stepped past us through the wide-open window, "I wonder if it has -occurred to you that if any of our friends who are so anxious to obtain -possession of Isobel were to attempt a coup down here, we should be -rather in a mess. We're a mile from the village, and Lord knows how many -from a police-station, and there isn't a door in the cottage a man -couldn't break open with his fist." - -"What made you think of it--just now?" I asked. - -"Three men passed by, following that last fellow--on the edge of the -common. I've got eyes like a cat in the dark, you know, and I could see -that they were trying to get by unnoticed. Of course, there may be -nothing in it, but--thanks, Isobel! By Jove, that's good!" - -I slipped upstairs to my room, and on my return handed Allan something -which he thrust quietly into his pocket. Then we went out again into the -garden. I drew Mabane on one side for a moment. - -"I don't think there's anything in it, Allan," I whispered. "It would be -too clumsy for any of our friends--and too risky." - -"It needn't be either," Allan answered, "but I daresay you're right." - -Then we hastened once more to the front gate, summoned there by Isobel's -cry. - -"Listen!" she exclaimed, holding up her hand. - -We stood by her side. From somewhere out of the night there came to our -ears the faint distant throbbing of an engine. Neither Allan nor I -realized what it was, but Isobel, who had stepped out on to the road, -knew at once. - -"Look!" she cried suddenly. - -We followed her outstretched finger. Far away on the top of a distant -hill, but moving towards us all the time with marvellous swiftness, we -saw a small but brilliant light. - -"A motor bicycle!" she cried. "I believe it is Arthur. It sounds just -like his machine." - -Arthur it was, white with dust and breathless. His first greeting was -for Isobel, who welcomed him with both hands outstretched and a delight -which she made no effort to conceal, overwhelming him with questions, -frankly joyful at his coming. Mabane and I stood silent in the -background, and we avoided each other's eyes. It was at that moment, -perhaps, that I for the first time realized the tragedy into which we -were slowly drifting. Isobel had forgotten us. She was wholly absorbed -in her joy at Arthur's unexpected appearance. The thing which in my -quieter moments had begun already vaguely to trouble me--a thing of slow -and painful growth--assumed for the first time a certain definiteness. I -looked a little way into the future, and it seemed to me that there were -evil times coming. - -Arthur approached us presently with outstretched hand. His manner was -half apologetic, half triumphant. He seemed to be saying to himself that -Isobel's reception of him must surely have opened our eyes. - -"Your coming, I suppose, Arthur," Mabane said quietly, "signifies----" - -"That I accept your terms for the present," Arthur answered, in a low -tone. "I had to see you. There are strangers continually watching our -diggings, and making inquiries about Isobel. There are things happening -which I cannot understand at all." - -I glanced towards Isobel. - -"We will talk about it after she has gone to bed," I said. "Come in and -have some supper now." - -He drew me a little on one side. - -"You remember the chap who was with the Archduchess at the Mordaunt -Rooms?" - -"Yes!" - -"He was at the hotel in Guildford when I stopped for tea, with two other -men. They're in a great Daimter car, and they're coming this way. I -heard them ask about the roads." - -"How far were they behind you?" I asked. - -"They must be close up," he answered. "Listen!" - -"Another motor!" Isobel cried suddenly. "Can you not hear it?" - -There was no mistaking the sound, the deep, low throbbing of a powerful -engine as yet some distance away. I was conscious of a curious sense of -uneasiness. - -"Isobel," I said, "would you mind going indoors!" - -"Indoors indeed!" she laughed. "But no. I must see this motor-car." - -I stepped quickly up to her, and laid my hand upon her arm. - -"Isobel," I said earnestly, "you do not understand. I do not wish to -frighten you, but I am afraid that the men in this car are coming here, -and it is better that you should be out of the way. They want to take -you from us. Go inside and lock yourself in your room." - -She looked at me half puzzled, half resentful. The car was close at hand -now. We ourselves were almost in the path of its flaring searchlights. - -"Arnold, you are joking, of course!" she exclaimed. "They cannot take me -away. I would not go." - -The car had stopped. It contained four men, one of whom at once alighted -and advanced towards us. I knew him by his voice and figure. It was the -Baron von Leibingen! - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -I made no movement towards opening the gate. The newcomer advanced to -within a few feet of me, and then paused. He leaned a little forward. He -was doubtful, as I could see, of my identity. - -"Can you tell me," he asked, raising his hat, "if this is Roseleys -Cottage, the residence of Mr. Arnold Greatson?" - -"Do you forget all your acquaintances so quickly, Baron?" I answered. -"This is Roseleys, and I am Arnold Greatson!" - -"Your voice," he declared, "is sufficient. I can assure you that it is a -matter of eyesight, not of memory. In the dark I am always as blind as a -bat." - -"It is," I remarked, "a very common happening. You are motoring, I see. -You have chosen a very delightful night, but are you not--pardon me--a -little off the track? You are on your way to the South Coast, I -presume?" - -"On the contrary," the Baron answered, "our destination is here. Will -you permit me to apologise for the lateness of my visit? We were -unfortunately delayed for several hours by a mishap to our automobile, -or I should have had the honour of presenting myself during the -afternoon." - -I did not offer to move. - -"Perhaps," I said, "as it is certainly very late, and we were on the -point of retiring, you will permit me to inquire at once into the nature -of the business which procures for me the honour of this visit." - -My visitor paused. His hand was upon the gate. So was mine, keeping it -all the time fast closed. - -"You will permit me?" he said, making an attempt to enter. - -"I regret," I answered, "that at this late hour I am not prepared to -offer you any hospitality. If you will come and see me to-morrow morning -I shall be happy to hear what you have to say." - -My visitor did not remove his hand from the gate. It seemed to me that -his tone became more belligerent. - -"You are discomposed to see us, Mr. Greatson," he said, "me and my -friends. As you see," he added, with a little wave of his hand, "I am -not alone. I have only to regret that you have made this visit -necessary. We have come to induce you, if possible, to change your mind, -and to give up the young lady in whom the Archduchess has been -graciously pleased to interest herself to those who have a better claim -upon her." - -"It is not a matter," I answered, "which I am prepared to discuss at -this hour--or with you!" - -"As to that," the young man answered, "I am the envoy of her Royal -Highness, as I can speedily convince you if you will." - -"It is unnecessary," I answered. "The Archduchess has already had my -answer. Will you allow me to wish you good-night?" - -"I wish, Mr. Greatson," the young man said, "that you would discuss this -matter with me in a reasonable spirit." - -"At a reasonable hour," I answered, "I might be prepared to do so. But -certainly not now." - -It seemed to me that his hand upon the gate tightened. He certainly -showed no signs of accepting the dismissal which I was trying to force -upon him. - -"I have endeavoured to explain my late arrival," he said. "You must not -believe me guilty of wilful discourtesy. As for the rest, Mr. Greatson, -what does it matter whether the hour is late or early? The matter is an -important one. Between ourselves, her Highness has made up her mind to -undertake the charge of the young lady, and I may tell you that when her -Highness has made up her mind to anything she is not one to be -disappointed." - -"In her own country," I said, "the will of the Archduchess is doubtless -paramount. Out here, however, she must take her chance amongst the -others." - -"But you have no claim--no shadow of a claim upon the child," the Baron -declared. - -"If the Archduchess thinks she has a better," I answered, "the law -courts are open to her." - -My visitor was apparently becoming annoyed. There were traces of -irritation in his tone. - -"Do you imagine, my dear Mr. Greatson," he said, "that her Highness can -possibly desire to bring before the notice of the world the peccadiloes -of her illustrious relative? No, the law courts are not to be thought -of. We rely upon your good sense!" - -"And failing that?" - -The Baron hesitated. It seemed to me that he was peering into the -shadows beyond the hedge. - -"The position," he murmured, "is a singular one. Where neither side for -different reasons is disposed to submit its case to the courts, then it -must be admitted that possession becomes a very important feature in the -case." - -"That," I remarked, "is entirely my view. May I take the liberty, Baron -von Leibingen, of wishing you good-night? I see no advantage in -continuing this discussion." - -"Possession for the moment," he said slowly, "is with you. Have you -reflected, Mr. Greatson, that it may not always be so?" - -"Will you favour me," I said, "by becoming a little more explicit?" - -"With pleasure," the Baron answered quickly. "I have three friends here -with me, and we are all armed. Your cottage is surrounded by half a -dozen more--friends--who are also armed. We are here to take Isobel de -Sorrens back with us, and we mean to do it. On my honour, Mr. Greatson, -no harm is intended to her. She will be as safe with the Archduchess as -with her own mother." - -"If you don't take your hand off my gate in two seconds," I said, "you -will regret it all your life." - -He sprang forward, but I fired over his shoulder, and with an oath he -backed into the road. Isobel meanwhile, now thoroughly alarmed, turned -and ran towards the house, only to find the path already blocked by two -men, who had stepped silently out from the low hedge which separated the -garden from the fields beyond. Allan promptly knocked one of them down, -only to find himself struggling with the other. Isobel, whose skirts -were caught by the fallen man, tried in vain to release herself. I dared -scarcely turn my head, for my levelled revolver was keeping in check the -Baron and his three friends. - -"Baron," I said, "your methods savour a little too much of comic opera. -You have mistaken your country and--us. There are three of us, and if -you force us to fight--well, we shall fight. The advantage of numbers is -with you, I admit. For the rest, if you succeed to-night you will be in -the police court to-morrow." - -The Baron made no answer. I felt that he was watching the struggle which -was going on behind my back. I heard Isobel shriek, and the sound -maddened me. I left it to the Baron to do his worst. I sprang backwards, -and brought the butt end of my revolver down upon the skull of the man -who was dragging her across the lawn. Then I passed my arm round her -waist, and called out once more to the Baron who had passed through the -gate, and was coming rapidly towards us. - -"You fool!" I cried. "Unless you call off your hired gang and leave this -place at once, every newspaper in London shall advertise Isobel's name -and presence here to-morrow." - -It was a chance shot, but it went home. I saw him stop short, and I -heard his little broken exclamation. - -"But you do not know who she is?" he cried. - -"I know very well indeed," I answered. - -Just then Mabane broke loose from the man with whom he had been -struggling, and rushed to Arthur's assistance. The Baron raised his hand -and shouted something in German. Instantly our assailants seemed to melt -away. The Baron stepped on to the strip of lawn and raised his hand. - -"I call a truce, Mr. Greatson," he said. "I desire to speak with you." - -I released my hold upon Isobel and turned to Mabane. Arthur too, -breathless but unhurt, had struggled to his feet. - -"Take her into the house," I said quickly. But her grasp only tightened -upon my arm. - -"I will not leave you, Arnold," she said. "I shall stay here. They will -not dare to touch me." - -I tried to disengage her arm, but she was persistent. She took no notice -of Allan, who tried to lead her away. I stole a glance at her through -the darkness. Her face was white, but there were no signs of fear there, -nor were there any signs of childishness in her manner or bearing. She -carried herself like an angry young princess, and her eyes seemed lit -with smouldering fire, as clinging to my arm she leaned a little -forwards toward the Baron. - -"Why am I spoken of," she cried passionately, "as though I were a baby, -a thing of no account, to be carried away to your mistress or disposed -of according to your liking? Do you think that I would come, Baron von -Leibingen----" - -She broke off suddenly. She leaned a little further forward. Her lips -were parted. The fire in her eyes had given way to a great wonder, and -the breathlessness of her silence was like a thing to be felt. It held -us all dumb. We waited--we scarcely knew for what. Only we knew that she -had something more to say, and we were impelled to wait for her words. - -"I have seen you before," she cried, with a strange note of wonder in -her tone. "Your face comes back to me--only it was a long time ago--a -long, long time! Where was it, Baron von Leibingen?" - -I heard his smothered exclamation. He drew quickly a step backwards as -though he sought to evade her searching gaze. - -"You are mistaken, young lady," he said. "I know nothing of you beyond -the fact that the lady whom I have the honour to serve desires to be -your friend." - -"It is not true," she answered. "I remember you--a long way back--and -the memory comes to me like an evil thought. I will not come to you. You -may kill me, but I will not come alive." - -"Indeed you are mistaken," he persisted, though he sought still the -shadow of a rhododendron bush, and his voice quivered with nervous -anxiety. "You have never seen me before. Surely the Archduchess, the -daughter of a King, is not one whose proffered kindness it is well to -slight? Think again, young lady. Her Highness will make your future her -special charge!" - -"If your visit to-night, sir," she answered, "is a mark of the -Archduchess's good-will to me, I can well dispense with it. I have given -you my answer." - -"You will remember, Baron," I said, speaking at random, but gravely, and -as though some special meaning lurked in my words, "that this young lady -comes of a race who do not readily change. She has made her choice, and -her answer to you is my answer. She will remain with us!" - -The Baron stepped out again into the rich-scented twilight. - -"You hold strong cards, Mr. Arnold Greatson," he said, "but I see their -backs only. How do I know that you speak the truth? From whom have you -learnt the story of this young lady's antecedents?" - -"From Mr. Grooten," I answered boldly. - -"I do not know the name," the Baron protested. - -"He is the man," I said, "who set Isobel free!" - -The Baron said something to himself in German, which I did not -understand. - -"You mean the man who shot Major Delahaye?" he asked. - -"I do!" - -"Then I would to Heaven I knew whose identity that name conceals," he -cried fiercely. - -"You would not dare to publish it," I answered, "for to do so would be -to give Isobel's story to the world." - -"And why should I shrink from that?" he asked. - -I laughed. - -"Ask your august mistress," I declared. "It seems to me that we know -more than you think." - -The Baron looked over his shoulder and spoke to his companions. From -that moment I knew that we had conquered. One of them left and went -outside to where the motor-car, with its great flaring lights, still -stood. Then the Baron faced me once more. - -"Mr. Greatson," he said, "you are playing a game of your own, and for -the moment I must admit that you hold the tricks against me. But it is -well that I should give you once more this warning. If you should decide -upon taking one false step--you perhaps know very well what I -mean--things will go ill with you--very ill indeed." - -Then he turned away, and our little garden was freed from the presence -of all of them. We heard the starting of the car. Presently it glided -away. We listened to its throbbing growing fainter and fainter in the -distance. Then there was silence. A faint breeze had sprung up, and was -rustling in the shrubs. From somewhere across the moor we heard the -melancholy cry of the corncrakes. A great sob of relief broke from -Isobel's throat--then suddenly her arm grew heavy upon mine. We hurried -her into the house. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -The perfume from a drooping lilac-bush a few feet away from the open -casement was mingled with the fainter odour of jessamine and homely -stocks. In the soft morning sunshine the terrors of last night seemed a -thing far removed from us. We sat at breakfast in our little -sitting-room, and as though by common though unspoken consent we treated -the whole affair as a gigantic joke. We ignored its darker aspect. We -spoke of it as an "opera-bouffe" attempt never likely to be -repeated--the hare-brained scheme of a mad foreigner, over anxious to -earn the favour of his mistress. But beneath all our light talk was an -undernote of seriousness. I think that Mabane and I, at any rate, -realized perhaps for the first time that the situation, so far as Isobel -was concerned, was fast becoming an impossible one. - -After breakfast we all strolled out into the garden. Isobel, with her -hands full of flowers, flitted in and out amongst the rose-bushes, -laughing and talking with all the invincible gaiety of light-hearted -youth, and Arthur hung all the while about her, his eyes following her -every movement, telling her all the while by every action and look--if -indeed the time had come for her to discern such things--all that our -compact forbade him to utter. Presently I slipped away, and shutting -myself up in the tiny room where I worked, drew out my papers. In a few -minutes I had made a start. I passed with a little unconscious sigh of -relief into the detachment which was fast becoming the one luxury of my -life. - -An hour may have passed, perhaps more, when I was interrupted. I heard -the door softly opened, and light footsteps crossed the room to my side. -Isobel's hand rested on my shoulder, and she looked down at my work. - -"Arnold," she exclaimed, "how dare you! You promised to read your story -when you had finished six chapters, and you are working on chapter -twenty now!" - -Her long white forefinger pointed accusingly to the heading of my last -page. Then I realized with a sudden flash of apprehension why I had not -kept my promise--why I could never keep it. The story which flowed so -smoothly from my pen was a record of my own emotions, my own sufferings. -Even her name had usurped the name of my heroine, and stared up at me -from the half-finished page. It was my own story which was written -there, my own unhappiness which throbbed through every word and -sentence. With a little nervous gesture I covered over the open sheets. -I rose hastily to my feet, and I drew her away from the table. - -"Another time, Isobel," I said. "It is too glorious a day to spend -indoors, and Arthur has taken holiday too. Tell me, what shall we do?" - -She looked at me a little doubtfully. I had grown into the habit of -consulting her about my work, of reading most of it to her. Sometimes, -too, she acted as my secretary. Perhaps she saw something of the trouble -in my face, for she answered me very softly. - -"I should like," she said, "to sit there before the open window on a -cushion, and to have you sit down in that easy-chair and read to me. -That is how I choose to spend the morning!" - -I shook my head. - -"How about the others?" I asked. - -"Oh, Arthur and Allan can go for a walk!" she declared. - -"What selfishness," I answered, as lightly as I could. "Arthur must go -back to town to-night, he says. I think that we ought all to spend the -day together, don't you? I rather thought that you young people would -have been off somewhere directly after breakfast." - -She looked at me earnestly. - -"Of course," she said, "if you want to be left alone----" - -"But I don't," I interrupted, reaching for my hat. "I want to come too." - -"You nice old thing!" she exclaimed, passing her arm through mine. -"We'll walk to Heather Hill. Arthur says that we can see the sea from -there. Come along!" - -So we started away, the four of us together. Presently, however, Arthur -and Isobel drew away in front. Allan, with a little grunt, stopped to -light his pipe. - -"Arthur may keep his compact in the letter," he said, "but in the spirit -he breaks it every time their eyes meet. You can't blame him. It's human -nature, after all--the gravitation of youth. Arnold, I'm afraid you -awoke to your responsibilities too late." - -"You think--that she understands?" I asked quietly. - -"Why not? She is almost a woman, and she is older than her years. Look -at them now. He wants to talk seriously, and she is teasing him all the -time. She has the instinct of her sex. She will conceal what she feels -until the--psychological moment. But she does feel--she begins to -understand. I am sure of it. Watch them!" - -We kept silence for a while, I myself struggling with a sickening sense -of despair against this newborn and most colossal folly. I think that I -was always possessed of an average amount of self-control, but my great -fear now was lest my secret should in any way escape me. Mabane's words -had carried conviction with them. Life itself for these few deadly -minutes seemed changed. The birds had ceased to sing, and the warmth of -the sunshine had faded out of the fluttering east wind. I saw no longer -the heath starred with yellow and purple blooms, the distant line of -blue hills. The turf was no longer springy beneath my feet, a grey mist -hung over the joyous summer morning. I was back again on my way from Bow -Street, threading a difficult passage through the market baskets of -Covent Garden, the child stepping blithely by my side, graceful even -then, notwithstanding her immatureness, and quaintly attractive, though -her deep blue eyes were full of tears, and the white terror had not -passed wholly from her face. It was those few moments of her complete -and trustful helplessness which had transformed my life for me, those -few moments in which the huge folly of these later days had been born. -For her very coming seemed to have been at a chosen time--at one of -those periods of weariness which a man must feel whose sympathy with and -desire for life leads him into many and devious forms of distraction, -only to find in time the same dregs at the bottom of the cup. The joy of -her fresh childish beauty, her pure sweet trustfulness, at all times a -delicate flattery to any man, just the more so to me, a little inclined -towards self-distrust, was like a fragrant, a heart-stirring memory even -now. I looked back upon these years which lay between her youth and my -fast approaching middle-age--grey, weary years, whose follies seemed now -to rise up and stalk by my side, the ghosts of misspent days, ghosts of -the sickly reasonings of a sham philosophy which lead into the broad way -because its thoroughfares are easy and pleasant, and pressed by the -feet of the great majority. I kept my eyes fixed upon the ground and -I felt that strange thrill of despair pulling at my heartstrings, -dragging me downwards--the despair which is almost akin to physical -suffering.... And then a voice came floating back to me down the west -wind. Its call at such a moment seemed almost symbolical. - -"Come along, you very lazy people! Arnold, may I walk with you for a -little way? Arthur is not at all brilliant this morning, and he does not -amuse me." - -"I am afraid," I began, "that as an entertainer----" - -"Oh, you want to smoke your pipe in peace, of course," she interrupted, -laughing, and passing her arm through mine. "Well, I am not going to -allow it. I want you--to tell me things." - -So our little procession was re-formed. Mabane, and Arthur with his -hands deep in his pockets and an angry frown upon his forehead, walked -on ahead. Behind came Isobel and I--Isobel with her hands clasped behind -her, her head a little thrown back, a faint, wistful smile lightening -the unusual gravity of her face. I looked at her in wonder. - -"Come," I said, "what are the things you want me to talk to you about, -and why are you tired of talking nonsense with Arthur?" - -She did not look at me, but the smile faded from her lips. Her eyes were -still fixed steadily ahead. - -"I believe you think, Arnold," she said quietly, "that I am still a -baby!" - -I saw her lips quiver for a moment, and my selfishness melted away. I -thought only of her. - -"No, I do not think that, Isobel," I said gently. "Only if I were you I -would not be in too great a hurry to grow up. It is when one is young, -after all, that one walks in the gardens of life. Afterwards--when one -has passed through the portals--outside the roads are dusty, and the way -a little wearisome. Stay in the gardens, Isobel, as long as you can. -Believe me, that life outside has many disappointments and many sorrows. -Your time will come soon enough." - -She smiled at me a little enigmatically. - -"And you?" she asked, "have you closed the gates of the garden behind -you?" - -"I am nearer forty than thirty," I answered. "I have grey hairs, and I -am getting a little bald. I may still be of some use in the world, and -there are very beautiful places where I may rest, and even find -happiness. But they are not like the gardens of youth. There is no other -place like them. All of us who have hurried so eagerly away, Isobel, -look back sometimes--and long!" - -She shook her head. Perhaps a little of the sadness of my mood had after -all found its way into my tone, for she looked at me with the shadow of -a reproach in her deep blue eyes, a faint tenderness which seemed to me -more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. - -"I do not think that I like your allegory, Arnold," she said. "After -all, the gardens are the nursery of life, are they not? The great things -of the world are all outside." - -I held my breath for a moment in amazement. Since when had thoughts like -this come to her? I knew then that the days of her childhood were -numbered indeed, that, underneath the fresh joyous grace of her -delightful youth, the woman's instincts were stirring. And I was afraid! - -"The great things, Isobel," I said slowly, "look very fine from a -distance, but the power of accomplishment is not given to all of us. -Every triumph and every success has its reverse side, its sorrowful -side. For instance, the whole judgment of the world is by comparison. A -great picture which brings fame to a man eclipses the work and lessens -the reputation of another. A successful book takes not a place of its -own, but the place of another man's work who must needs suffer for your -success. Life is a battle truly enough, but it is always civil war, the -striving of humanity against itself. That is why what looks so great to -you from behind the hedge may seem a very hollow thing when you have won -the power to call it your own." - -She looked at me as though wondering how far I were in earnest. - -"I think," she said, smiling, "that you are trying to confuse me. Of -course, I have not thought much about such things, but when I am a -little older, if there was anything I could do I should simply try to do -it in the best possible way, and I should feel that I was doing what was -right. There is room for a great many people in the world, Arnold--a -great many novelists and a great many artists and a great many thinkers! -Some of us must be content with lesser places. I for one!..." - -I walked home with Allan, and I spoke to him seriously. - -"There is a duty before us," I said, "which up to now we have shirked. -The time has come when we must undertake it in earnest." - -"You mean?" - -"We must abandon our negative attitude. Isobel comes, I am very sure, -from no ordinary people. We must find out her place in life and restore -her to it. She is a child no longer. It is not fitting that she should -stay with us." - -Mabane, too, was for a moment sad and silent. His face fell into stern -lines, but when he answered me his tone was steady and resolute enough. - -"You are right, Arnold," he answered. "We had better go back to London -and begin at once." - -It was perhaps a little ominous that I should find waiting for me on our -return a telegram from Grooten: - -"I must see you to-night. Shall call at your rooms twelve o'clock." - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -Isobel interrupted the discussion with an imperative little tap upon the -table. - -"Please listen, all of you!" she exclaimed. "I have something to say, -and an invitation for you all." - -We had been dining at a little Italian restaurant on our way home, and -over our coffee had been considering how to spend the rest of the -evening. Arthur had declared for a music hall; Mabane and I were -indifferent. Isobel up to now had said nothing. - -"All my life," she said slowly, "I have been wanting to see Feurgéres. -He is in London for one week with Rejani, and if we can get seats I am -going to take you all. I have twenty pounds in my pocket from that nice -man Mr. Grooten, who bought my other miniature, and I want to spend some -of it." - -Arthur, who understood no French, shook his head. - -"Not the slightest chance of seats," he declared. "They've all been -booked for weeks." - -"They often have some returned at the theatre," Isobel answered. "At -least, if you others do not mind, we will go and see." - -"Your proposal, Isobel," Allan said gravely, "indicates a certain amount -of recklessness which reflects little credit upon us, your guardians. I -propose----" - -"Please do not be tiresome!" she interrupted. "Arnold, you will come -with me, will you not?" - -"I shall be delighted," I answered. "I am sure that we all shall. Only I -am afraid that we shall not get in." - -We paid the bill and walked to the theatre. The man at the ticket-office -shook his head at our request for seats. People had been waiting in the -streets since morning for the unreserved places, and the others had been -booked weeks ago. But as we were turning away the telephone in his -office rang, and he called us back. - -"I have just had four stalls returned," he said. "You can have them, if -you like." - -"We are in morning dress," I remarked doubtfully. - -"They are in the back row, so you can have them if you care to," he -answered. - -"What luck!" Isobel exclaimed, delighted. "Arnold, how glorious! Here is -my purse. Will you pay for me, please?" - -So we went in just as the curtain rose upon the first act of Rostand's -great play. The house was packed with an immense audience. One box -alone, the stage box on the left, was empty. I leaned over to Isobel, -and would have told her the story which all the world knew. - -"You see that box?" I whispered. "Wherever he plays it is always empty." - -"I know," she answered. "His wife used to sit there--always in the same -place; and after her death, whatever theatre he played at, he always -insisted upon having it kept empty. They say that on great nights, when -the people go almost wild with enthusiasm, he looks into the shadows -there almost as though he really saw her still sitting in her old place. -It is a beautiful story." - -"Done for effect!" Arthur muttered, and was promptly snubbed, as he -deserved. They were friends again immediately afterwards, however, and I -saw him attempt to hold her hand for a moment. Decidedly it was time -that we carried out our new resolution. - -I think that from the moment I took my seat I was conscious in some -mysterious way of the coming of great things. There was a thrill of -excitement in the air, a sort of stifled electricity which one realizes -often amongst a highly cultured audience awaiting the production of a -great work. But apart from this sensation of which I was fully -conscious, I felt a curious sense of nervousness stealing in upon me for -which I could in no way account. I knew what it meant only when, amidst -a storm of cheers, Feurgéres entered. Then indeed I knew. - -I kept silent, for which I was thankful, but the programme in my hand -was crumpled into a little ball, and the figures upon the stage moved as -though in a mist before my eyes. Isobel noticed nothing, for her whole -breathless attention was riveted upon the play. I came to myself with -the rich sweet voice of the man, so tender, so infinitely pathetic, -ringing with a curious familiarity in my ears. From that moment I -followed the movement of the play. - -The curtain went down upon the first act amidst a silence so intense -that it seemed as though people might be listening still for the echoes -of that sad, sweet voice which had been playing so effectively upon -their heartstrings. Then came the storm of applause, which lasted for -several minutes. I turned towards Isobel. She was sitting very still, -and she did not join in the enthusiasm which seemed to find its way -straight from the hearts of the men and women who sat about us. But her -eyes were wet with tears, her lips a little parted. She gazed at the man -whom incessant calls had brought at last a little wearily before the -curtain, as one might look at a god. And their eyes met. He did not -start or betray himself in any way--perhaps his training befriended him -there, but as he left the stage he staggered, and I saw his hand go to -clutch the curtain for support. I knew then that, before the night was -over, Isobel's history would no longer be a secret to us. - -She turned to me with a little smile of apology. There was a new look in -her face too. She spoke gravely. - -"Was I very stupid? I am sorry, but I could not help it. I have never -seen anything like this before. It is wonderful!" - -We talked quietly of the play, and I was astonished at the keenness of -her perceptions, the unerring ease with which she had realized and -appreciated the self-abnegation which was the great underlying _motif_ -of the whole drama. And in the midst of our conversation, what I had -expected happened. A note was brought to me by an attendant. - -"Come to me after the next act, and bring her. An attendant will be -waiting for you at your left-hand door of egress." - -Mabane and Arthur had gone out to have a smoke. I had still a moment -before the curtain went up. I leaned over towards Isobel. - -"Isobel," I said, "I am going to tell you something which will surprise -you very much. It is necessary that I tell you at once. If you answer me -at all do not speak above a whisper." - -She only slightly moved her head. I had not any fear of her betraying -herself. - -"You have seen Feurgéres before. It was in the _café_. He was my -companion when I saw you first." - -"Mr. Grooten!" she murmured, so softly that her lips seemed scarcely to -move. - -I nodded assent. - -"You knew?" - -"Not until to-night." - -She was very pale, but her self-control was complete. - -"He wishes us--you and I--to go round to his room after this act. You -will be prepared?" - -"Of course," she answered simply. - -Mabane and Arthur came back, and the latter whispered several times in -her ear. I doubt, however, whether she heard anything. She sat through -the whole of the next act like one in a dream, only her eyes never left -the stage--never left, indeed, the figure of the man from whom all the -greatness of the play seemed to flow. As the curtain fell I leaned over -to Arthur. - -"Isobel and I are going to pay a visit," I said. "We shall be back in -time for the next act." - -"A visit!" he repeated doubtfully. "Is there anyone we know here, then?" - -"Allan will explain," I answered. "You had better tell him," I whispered -to Mabane. - -Allan was looking very serious. I think that he questioned the wisdom of -what I was doing. - -"You are going to see him?" he asked, in a low tone. - -"He has sent for us," I answered. - -We found the attendant waiting, and by a devious route along many -passages and through many doors we reached our destination at last. Our -guide knocked at a door on which was hanging a little board with the -name of "Monsieur Feurgéres" painted across it. Almost immediately we -were bidden to enter. Monsieur Feurgéres was sitting with his back to us -before a long dressing-table. He turned at once to the servant who stood -by his side. - -"Come back five minutes before my call," he ordered. "That will be in -about twenty minutes from now." - -The man bowed and silently withdrew. Not until he had left the room did -Feurgéres move from his place. Then he arose to his feet and held out -his hands to Isobel. - -"I knew your mother, Isobel!" he said simply. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -Isobel never hesitated. I think that instinctively she accepted him -without demur. Her eyes flashed back to him all those nameless things -which his own greeting had left unspoken. She took his hands, and looked -him frankly in the face. - -"All my life," she said softly, "I have wanted to meet someone who could -say that to me." - -He was dressed in a suit of mediæval court clothes, black from head to -foot, and fashioned according to the period of the play in which he was -acting. But if he had worn the garments of a pierrot or a clown, one -would never have noticed it. The man's individuality, magnetic and -irresistible, triumphed easily. Mr. Grooten had passed away. It was the -great Feurgéres, whose sad shining eyes lingered so wistfully upon -Isobel's face. - -"I can say more than that," he went on. "And now that I see you, Isobel, -I wonder that I have not said it long ago. You are like her, child--very -like her!" - -"I am glad," Isobel murmured. "Please tell me--everything!" - -"Everything--for me--is soon told," he answered, his voice dropping -almost to a whisper, his eyes still fixed upon Isobel's, yet looking her -through as though she were a shadow. "I loved your mother. I was the -man--whom your mother loved! The years of my life began and ended -there." - -Their hands had fallen apart a little while before, but Isobel, with an -impulsive gesture, stooped down and raised the fingers of his left hand -to her lips. I turned away. It seemed like sacrilege to watch a man's -soul shining in his eyes. I walked to the other end of the long narrow -room, and examined the swords which lay ready for use against the wall. -It was not many minutes, however, before Feurgéres recalled me. - -"To-night," he said, "I was coming to see Mr. Greatson." - -"It is better," she murmured, "to have met you like this." - -He smiled very slightly, yet it seemed to me that the curve of his lips -was almost a caress. There was certainly nothing left now of Mr. -Grooten. - -"I think that I, too, am glad," he said. "Your mother suffered all her -life because she permitted herself to care for me. We mummers, you see, -Isobel, though the world loves to be amused, are always a little outside -the pale. I think," he added, with a curious little note of bitterness -in his tone, "that we are not reckoned worthy or capable of the domestic -affections." - -"You do not believe--you cannot believe," she murmured, "that there are -many people who are so foolish! It is the dwellers in the world who are -mummers--those who live their foolish, orderly lives with their eyes -closed, and oppressed all the while with a nervous fear of what their -neighbours are thinking of them. Those are the mummers--but you--you, -Monsieur, are Feurgéres--the artist! You make music on the heartstrings -of the world!" - -For myself I was astonished. I had not often seen Isobel so deeply -moved. I had never known her so ready, so earnest of speech. But -Feurgéres was almost agitated. For the first time I saw him without the -mask of his perfect self-control. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes were -soft as a woman's. He raised Isobel's hand to his lips, and his voice, -when he spoke, shook with real emotion. - -"You are the daughter of your mother, dear Isobel," he said. "Beyond -that, what is there that I can say--I, who loved her!" - -"You can tell me about her," Isobel said gently. "That is what I have -been hoping for!" - -"A little, a very little," he answered, "and more to-night, if you will. -I have already written to Mr. Greatson, and I meant in a few hours to -tell him everything. But I would have you know this, Isobel, and -remember it always. Your mother was a holy woman. For my sake, for the -sake of the love she bore me, she abandoned a great position. She broke -down all the barriers of race, and all the conventions of a lifetime. -She lost every friend she had in the world; she even, perhaps, in some -measure, neglected her duty to you. Yet you were seldom out of her -thoughts, and her last words committed you to my distant care. I have, -perhaps, ill-fulfilled her charge, Isobel. Yet I have been watching over -you sometimes when you have not known it." - -"You were my saviour once," she said, "you and Arnold here, when I -sorely needed help." - -"I came from America at a moment's notice," he said, "when it seemed to -me that you might need my help. I broke the greatest contract I had ever -signed, and I placed my liberty, if not my life, at the mercy of your -wonderful police system. But those things count for little. I have been -forced, Isobel, to leave you very much to yourself. You come of a race -who would regard any association with me as defilement. And there is -always the chance that you may be able to take your proper position in -the world. That is why it has been my duty to keep away from you, why I -have been forced to leave to others what I would gladly have done -myself. To-night you will understand everything." - -"Nothing that you can tell me of my family or myself," she answered, -"will ever make me forget that, whereas of them I know nothing, you have -been my guardian angel. It was you who rescued me from the one person in -this world of whom I have been miserably, hatefully afraid. It was not -my family who saved me. It was you!" - -A shrill bell was ringing outside. We heard the commotion of hurrying -footsteps, the call-boy's summons, the creaking of moving scenery. -Feurgéres glanced at the watch which stood upon his table. His manner -seemed to undergo a sudden change. The man no longer revealed himself. - -"The curtain is going up," he said. "I can stay with you but two minutes -longer. I am coming to see Mr. Greatson to-night, Isobel, after the -performance, and I wish to see him alone. This is at once our meeting -and our farewell." - -"Our farewell!" she repeated doubtfully. "Surely you are not going to -leave us--so soon! You cannot mean that?" - -"To-morrow," he said, "I leave for St. Petersburg. My engagement there -has been made many months ago. But even if it were not so, dear child, -our ways through life must always lie far apart. If the necessity for it -had not existed, I should not have left you to the care of--of even Mr. -Greatson. To be your guardian, Isobel, would not be seemly. That you -will better understand--to-morrow." - -"Indeed!" she protested, "I would sooner hear it now from your own -lips--if, indeed, it must be so!" - -He shook his head very slowly, but with a decision more finite than the -most emphatic negation which words could have framed. - -"I must go away, Isobel," he said, "and you and I must remain apart. I -will only ask you to remember me by this. I am the man your mother -loved. Nothing else in my life is worth considering--but that. I am one -of those with whom fate has dealt a little hardly. I am as weary of my -work as I am of life itself. I go on because it was her wish. But I -cannot forget. The past remains--a blazing page of light. The present is -a very empty and a very cold place. My days here are a sort of -aftermath. My life ended with hers. To-night, for one moment--I want you -to take her place." - -Isobel looked at him eagerly. - -"Tell me how," she begged. "Tell me what to do!" - -"It may sound very foolish," he said, with a faint smile, "but I have a -fancy, and I am sure that you will do as I ask. I want you to sit where -she sat night after night. You will find some flowers in her chair. Keep -them. They were the ones she preferred." - -There was an imperative knocking at the door. Feurgéres caught up his -plumed hat and sword. - -"I am ready," he said quietly. "Mr. Greatson, my servant will take you -to the box, which I beg that you and Isobel will occupy for the rest of -the evening. It is a harmless whim of mine, and I trust that it will not -inconvenience you." - -With scarcely another word he left us, and a moment later we heard the -roar of applause which greeted his appearance on the stage. Isobel's -eyes kindled, and she moved restlessly towards the door. - -"I do hope," she said, "that someone will come for us soon. I want to -hear every word. I hate to miss any of it." - -The dark-visaged servant stood upon the threshold. - -"I have orders from Monsieur Feurgéres," he announced respectfully, "to -conduct you to his box. If Mademoiselle will permit!" - -We followed him on tiptoe to the front of the house. He unlocked the -door of the left-hand stage box with a key which he took from his -pocket. - -"Monsieur will permit me to remark," he whispered, "that this is the -first time since I have been in the service of Monsieur Feurgéres that -anyone has occupied his private box. I trust that Mademoiselle will be -comfortable." - -Then the door closed behind him, and we were left to ourselves. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -Isobel, her chair drawn a little behind the curtain, was almost -invisible from the house. With both hands she held the cluster of pink -roses which she had found upon the seat. Gravely, but with wonderful -self-composure, she followed the action of the play with an intentness -which never faltered. Occasionally she leaned a little forward, and at -such moments her profile passed the droop of the curtain, and was -visible to the greater part of the audience. It was immediately after -one of such movements that I noticed some commotion amongst the -occupants of the box opposite to us. Their attention seemed suddenly -drawn towards Isobel--two sets of opera-glasses were steadily levelled -at her. A woman, whose neck and arms were ablaze with diamonds, raised -her lorgnettes, and, regardless of the progress of the play, kept them -fixed in our direction. I changed my position to obtain a better view of -these people, and immediately I understood. - -I saw the house now for the first time, and I saw something which -pleased me very little. We were immediately opposite the Royal box, -which, with the one adjoining, was occupied by a very brilliant little -party. The Archduchess was there. It was she whose lorgnettes were still -unfalteringly directed towards Isobel. Lady Delahaye sat in the -background, and a greater personage than either occupied the chair next -to the Archduchess. Soon I saw that they were all whispering together, -all still looking from Isobel towards the stage, and from the stage to -Isobel; and in the background was a man whose coat was covered with -orders, and who held himself like a soldier. He looked at Isobel as one -might look at a ghost. I stood back almost hidden in the shadows, and I -wondered more than ever what the end of all these things might be. - -Towards the close of the act that wonderful voice, with its low burden -of sorrow so marvellously controlled, drew me against my will to the -front of the box. He stood there with outstretched arms, the prototype -of all pathos, and the low words, drawn as it were against his will from -his tremulous lips, kept the whole house breathless. His arms dropped to -his side, the curtain commenced to fall. In that moment his eyes, -suddenly uplifted, met mine. It seemed to me that they were charged with -meaning, and I read their message rightly. After all, though, I am not -sure that I needed any warning. - -The curtain fell. There was twenty minutes' interval. Isobel sat back in -her chair, and her hand lingered lovingly about the roses which lay upon -her lap. I did not speak to her. I knew that she was living in a little -world of her own, into which any ordinary intrusion was almost -sacrilege. Arthur and Allan had left their places. I judged rightly that -they had gone home. So I sat by myself, and waited for what I knew was -sure to happen. - -And presently it came--the knock at the box door for which I had been -listening. I rose and opened it. A tall young Englishman, with smooth -parted hair, whose evening attire was so immaculate as to become almost -an offence, stood and stared at me through his eyeglass. - -"Mr. Greatson!" he suggested. "Mr. Arnold Greatson?" - -I acknowledged the fact with becoming meekness. - -"My name is Milton," he said--"Captain Angus Milton. I am in the suite -of the Archduchess for this evening. Her Highness occupies the box -opposite to yours." - -I bowed. - -"I have noticed the fact," I answered. "The Archduchess has been good -enough to favour us with some attention." - -The young man stared at me for some moments. I found myself able to -endure his scrutiny. - -"Her Highness desires that you and the young lady"--for the first time -he bowed towards Isobel--"will be so good as to come to the anteroom of -the Royal box. She is anxious for a few minutes' conversation with you." - -"The Archduchess," I answered, "does us too much honour! I shall be -glad, however, if you will inform her that we will take another -opportunity of waiting upon her. Miss de Sorrens is much interested in -the play." - -The young man dropped his eyeglass. I was proud of the fact that I had -succeeded in surprising him. - -"You mean," he exclaimed softly, "that you won't--that you don't want to -come?" - -"Precisely," I answered. "I have already had the honour of one interview -with the Archduchess, and I imagine that no useful purpose would be -served by re-opening the subject of our discussion!" - -"The young lady, then?" he remarked, turning again to Isobel. - -"The young lady remains under my charge," I answered. "You will be so -good as to express my regrets to the Archduchess." - -He hesitated for a moment, and then, with a slight bow to Isobel, left -us. She spoke to me, and we had been so long silent that our voices -sounded strange. - -"Thank you, Arnold," she said quietly. "This is all so wonderful that I -could not bear to have it disturbed." - -"I pray that it may not be," I answered. "The Archduchess's interest is -flattering, but mysterious. I for one do not trust her. I wish----" - -I broke off in my speech, for I saw that the principal seat in the -opposite box was vacant. As for Isobel, I doubt whether she noticed my -sudden pause. Her hands were still caressing the soft pink blossoms in -her lap, her eyes were fixed upon vacancy. She was in a sort of dream, -from which I did not care to rouse her. I knew very well that the -awakening would come fast enough. - -Another imperative tap upon the door. I opened it, and the Archduchess -swept past me. In the darkness of our box her diamonds glittered like -fire, the perfume from her draperies was stronger by far than the -delicate fragrance of the roses which Isobel still held. Me she ignored -altogether. She went straight up to Isobel, and, stooping down, rested -her gloved hand upon the girl's shoulder. - -"I sent for you just now," she said. "Did you not understand?" - -Isobel raised her eyebrows. The Archduchess was angry, and her voice -betrayed her. - -"I do not know any reason," Isobel answered, "why I should do your -bidding." - -[Illustration: "I do not know any reason" Isobel answered, "why I should -do your bidding."] - -The Archduchess was silent for a moment. I think that she was waiting -until she could control her voice. - -"Isobel," she said, "I will tell you a very good reason. I cannot keep -silence any longer. They will not give you up to me any other way, so I -have come to claim you openly. You shall know the truth. I am your -mother's sister!" - -Isobel rose slowly to her feet. She was as tall as the Archduchess, and -the likeness which had always haunted me was unmistakable. Only Isobel -was of the finer mould, and her eyes were different. - -"Why did you not tell me this before--at the Mordaunt Rooms, for -instance?" she asked. - -"You came upon me like a thunderclap," the Archduchess answered quickly. -"For years we had lost all trace of you. Besides, there were -reasons--you know that there were reasons why I might surely have been -forgiven for hesitating. But let that go. We had better have your story -blazoned out once more to the world than that you should live your life -in this hole-and-corner fashion. I shall take you back to Waldenburg. I -presume, sir!" she added, turning suddenly towards me, "that even you -will not question my right to assume the guardianship of my own niece?" - -The memory of Feurgéres' look came to my aid, or I scarcely know how I -should have answered her. - -"Your Highness," I said, "it is for Isobel to decide. She is no longer a -child. Only I would remind you that you have on more than one occasion -endeavoured to assume that guardianship without mentioning any such -relationship." - -"You know Isobel's history," the Archduchess answered. "Can you wonder -that I was anxious to avoid all publicity?" - -"Your Highness," I said, "we do not know Isobel's history--yet. We shall -hear it to-night." - -"He has not told you--yet?" she asked incredulously. - -"He is coming to my rooms to-night," I answered. - -"You shall hear it before then," she exclaimed, with a little laugh. -"Put on your hat, child. We will drive to my house, you and I and Mr. -Greatson, and I will tell you everything. You will know then how greatly -that man insulted you by daring to allow you to occupy this box, to -approach you at all." - -"Madame," Isobel said, "I thank you, but I wish to hear the end of the -play. And as for my history, Monsieur Feurgéres has promised to tell it -to Mr. Greatson to-night." - -I saw the Archduchess's teeth meet, and a spot of colour that burned in -her cheeks. - -"You talk like a fool, child," she said fiercely. "You are being -deceived on every side. It is not fit that that man should come into -your presence. It is a disgrace that you should mention his name." - -"Mr.--Monsieur Feurgéres has proved himself my friend," Isobel answered -quietly. - -The Archduchess's eyes were burning. She was a woman of violent temper, -and it was fast becoming beyond her control. - -"Child," she said, "I am your aunt, the daughter of the King of -Waldenburg. You, too, are of the same race. You know well that I speak -the truth. How dare you talk to me of a creature like Feurgéres? You -have our blood in your veins. I command you to come with me, and break -off at once and for ever these remarkable associations. You shall make -what return you will later on to those whom you may think"--she darted a -contemptuous glance at me--"have been your friends. But from this moment -I claim you. Come!" - -Isobel looked her aunt in the face. She spoke courteously, but without -faltering. - -"Madame," she said, "it is not possible for me to do as you ask. -Whatever plans are made for my future, it is to my dear friend here," -she said, looking across at me with shining eyes, "that I owe -everything. And as for Monsieur Feurgéres, I have promised him to occupy -this box for this evening, and I shall do so." - -The Archduchess was very white. - -"You force me to tell you, child," she said. "This creature Feurgéres -was your mother's----" - -"Your Highness!" I cried. - -She stopped short and bit her lip. Isobel was very pale, but she pointed -to the door. The orchestra had commenced to play. - -"Madame," she said, "Monsieur Feurgéres loved my mother. I shall keep my -word to him." - -There was a soft knock at the door. Captain Milton stood on the -threshold. - -"Your Highness," he said, bowing low, "the curtain will rise in thirty -seconds." - -The Archduchess left us without a word. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -It was not often we permitted ourselves such luxuries, but as we left -the theatre I caught a glimpse of Isobel's white face, more clearly -visible now than in the dimly lit box, and I knew that, bravely though -she had carried herself through the whole of that trying evening, she -was not far from breaking down. So I called a hansom, and she sank back -in a corner with a little sigh of relief. I lit a cigarette, and -suddenly I felt a cold little hand steal into mine. I set my teeth and -held it firmly. - -"Arnold," she whispered, and her voice was none too steady, "I hate that -woman. I do not care if she is my aunt; and--Arnold----" - -"Yes." - -"I believe that she hates me too. She looks at me as though I were -something unpleasant, as though she wished me dead. I will not go to -her, Arnold. Say that I shall not." - -For a moment I was silent. Her little womanish airs of the last few -months, the quaint effort of dignity with which it seemed to have -pleased her to add all that was possible to her years, had wholly -departed. She was a child again, with frightened eyes and quivering -lips, the child who had walked so easily into our hearts in those first -days of her terror. To think of her as such again was almost a relief. - -"Dear Isobel," I said, "the Archduchess has told me now two different -stories concerning you. She appears to be very anxious to have you in -her care, but her methods up to the present have been very strange. We -shall not give you up to her unless we are obliged. But----" - -"Please what, Arnold?" she interrupted anxiously. - -"If the Archduchess is indeed your aunt, as she says she is, you must -have hundreds of other relations, many of whom you would without doubt -find very different people. Besides, in that case, you see, Isobel, you -ought to be living altogether differently. It is absurd for you to be -grubbing along with us in an attic when you ought to be living in a -palace, with plenty of money and servants and beautiful frocks, and all -that sort of thing. You understand me, don't you?" I concluded a little -lamely, for the steady gaze of those deep blue frightened eyes was a -little disconcerting. - -"No, I do not," she answered. "If I am a Waldenburg and the niece of the -Archduchess, why was I left alone at that convent for all those years, -and who was responsible for sending that man to fetch me away--that -terrible man? How are they going to explain that, these wonderful -relations of mine? Oh, Arnold, Arnold!" she cried, suddenly swaying over -towards me in the cab, "I don't want to leave you--all. Do not send me -away. Promise that you will not!" - -A child, I told myself fiercely, a mere child this! Nevertheless I was -thankful for the darkness of the silent street into which we had turned, -the darkness which hid my face from her. Her soft breath was upon my -cheek, her beautiful head very near my shoulder. Oh, I had need of all -my strength, of all my common-sense. - -"Dear Isobel," I said, looking straight ahead of me out of the cab, "I -cannot make you any promise. All must depend upon what Monsieur -Feurgéres tells us to-night. Nothing would make me--all of us--happier -than to keep you with us always. But it may not be our duty to keep you, -or yours to stay. Until we have heard Feurgéres' story we are in the -dark." - -She shrank, as it seemed, into herself. Her eyes followed mine -hauntingly. - -"Arnold," she said, with a little tremor in her tone, "you are not very -kind to me to-night, and I feel--that I want--people to be kind to me -just now." - -I bent down, and I raised her hands to my lips and kissed them. - -"My dear child," I said, "don't forget that I am your guardian, and I -have to think for you--a long way ahead. As for the rest, I have not a -single thought or hope in life which is not concerned for your -happiness." - -"I like that better," she murmured; "but--you are very fond of my -hands." - -Fortunately the cab pulled up with a jerk. I paid the man, and we -commenced to climb up the stone steps towards our rooms. Isobel, who was -generally a couple of flights ahead, slipped her hand through my arm and -leaned heavily upon me. - -"Arnold," she whispered, "why would you not read your story to me. Tell -me, please!" - -"My dear child!" I exclaimed, "what made you think of that just now?" - -She leaned forward. I think that she was trying to look into my face. - -"Never mind! Please tell me," she begged. - -"I will read it some day," I answered. "It is so incomplete. I think I -shall have to rewrite it." - -She shook her head. - -"You have always read to me before just as you have written it. I think -that you are not quite so nice to me, Arnold, as you were. I haven't -done anything that you do not like, have I? Because I am sure that you -are different!" - -"You absurd child," I answered, smiling at her as cheerfully as I could. -"You are in an imaginative frame of mind to-night." - -"It is not that! You look at me differently, you do not seem to want to -have me with you so much, and----" - -I stopped her. We had reached the fourth floor, where our apartments -were. With the key in the lock I turned and faced her for a moment. She -was as tall as I, and a certain grace of carriage which she had always -possessed, and which had grown with her years, redeemed her completely -from the _gaucherie_ of her uncomfortable age. Her features had gained -in strength, and lost nothing in delicacy. She wore even her simple -clothes with the nameless grace which must surely have come to her from -inheritance. I spoke to her then seriously. Yet if I had tried I could -not have kept the kindness from my tone. - -"Dear Isobel," I said, "if there is any difference--think! A year ago -you were a child. To-day you are a woman. You must understand that, side -by side with the pleasure of having you with us--the greatest pleasure -that has ever come into our lives, Isobel--has come a certain amount of -responsibility." - -"I am becoming a trouble to you, then!" she exclaimed breathlessly. - -"A trouble, Isobel!" - -I suppose I weakened for a moment. Some trick of tone or expression must -have let in the daylight, for she suddenly held out her hands with a -soft little cry. And then as she stood there, her eyes shining, the old -delightful smile curving her lips, the door before which she stood was -thrown open, and Arthur stood there. He had on his hat and coat, and I -saw at once that he was not himself. His cheeks were flushed with anger, -and he looked at us with a black frown. - -"So you've come back, then!" he exclaimed. "Allan and I got tired of -waiting. Just in time to say good-bye, Isobel. I'm off!" - -"Off? But where?" she asked, looking at him in surprise. - -I left them, and passed on into our studio sitting-room, where Mabane -was filling his pipe. - -"What's the matter with Arthur?" I asked. - -"Off his chump," Allan answered gravely. "Don't take any notice of him." - -Isobel and he were still talking together. Arthur's voice was a little -raised--then it suddenly dropped. - -"I think," Allan said, "that you had better interfere. Arthur has lost -his temper. I am afraid----" - -"He will break the compact?" I exclaimed. - -"I am afraid so!" - -I stepped back into the little hall. They were talking together -earnestly. Arthur looked up and glared at me. - -"Arthur," I said, "Allan and I want a few words with you before you -go--if you are going out to-night." - -"In a moment," he answered. "I have something to say to Isobel." - -But Isobel had gone. He looked for a moment at the door of her room -through which she had vanished, and then he turned on his heel and -followed me. He threw his hat upon the table and faced us both -defiantly. - -"It is I," he said, "who have something to say to you, and I'd like to -get it over quick. D--n your hypocritical compact, Arnold Greatson! -There! You're in love with Isobel! Any fool can see it, and you want to -keep the child all to yourself." - -Allan took a quick step forward, but I held out my hand. - -"Don't interfere, Allan," I said. "Let him say all that he has to say." - -"I mean to!" Arthur continued, "and I hope you'll like it. The compact -was a fraud from beginning to end, and I'll have no more to do with it. -Isobel's too old to live here with you fellows, and I'm going to ask her -to marry me. I'm going to advise her to go and stay with Lady Delahaye, -who wants her, and I'm going to marry her from there if she'll have me." - -"Lady Delahaye," I repeated thoughtfully. "You have been in -communication with her, have you?" - -"Yes, I have! And I think she's right. Isobel ought to have some women -friends. She may have enemies, but I'm not so sure about that. Lady -Delahaye isn't one of them, at any rate. The people who want to get her -away from here may be her best friends, after all." - -"Is that all, Arthur?" - -"It's enough, isn't it?" he answered doggedly. - -"Quite! Now listen," I said. "To-night we are going to hear Isobel's -history. We are going to know who she is, and all about her. Stay with -us, and you shall share the knowledge. As for the rest, you have been -talking like a fool. We do not wish to take you seriously. We took up -the charge of Isobel jointly. If the time has come now for us to give -her up, I should like us all to be in agreement. It is very likely that -the time has come. I, too, think that in many ways it would be for her -benefit. We are prepared to give her up when we know the proper people -to undertake the care of her--but never, Arthur, to Lady Delahaye." - -Arthur smiled slowly, but it was not a pleasant smile. - -"Ah!" he said, "I forgot. Lady Delahaye is an old friend of yours, isn't -she?" - -"Your insinuations are childish, Arthur," I answered. "Lady Delahaye is -an old friend of the Archduchess's, and their interest in Isobel is -identical. For many reasons I am going to know Isobel's history before I -give her up to either of them." - -"And who is going to tell it to you?" he asked. - -"Feurgéres," I answered. "He sent for us at the theatre to-night. He is -coming on here." - -There was a sharp tapping at the door. I moved across the room to open -it. Arthur threw his hat upon the table. - -"I will wait!" he declared. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -We all knew Isobel's history. It had taken barely twenty minutes to tell -it, but they had been twenty minutes of tragedy. We were all, I think, -in different ways affected. Monsieur Feurgéres alone sat back in his -seat like a carved image, his face white and haggard, his deep-set eyes -fixed upon vacancy. We felt that he had passed wholly away from the -world of present things. He himself was lingering amongst the shadows of -that wonderful past, upon which he had only a moment before dropped the -curtain. He had told us to ask him questions, but I for my part felt -that questions just then were a sacrilege. Arthur, however, seemed to -feel nothing of this. It was he who took the lead. - -"Isobel, then," he said, "is the granddaughter of the King of -Waldenburg, the only child of his eldest daughter! Her mother was -divorced from her husband, Prince of Herrshoff, and afterwards married -to you. What about her father?" - -"He died two years after the divorce was granted," Feurgéres said -without turning his head. "Isobel was hurried away from the Court -through the influence of her aunt, the Archduchess of Bristlaw, and sent -to a convent in France. It was not intended that she should ever -reappear at the Court of Waldenburg." - -"Why not?" - -"The King is very old, and he is the richest man in Europe. Isobel is -the daughter of his eldest and favourite child. The Archduchess also has -a daughter, and, failing Isobel, she will inherit." - -"Has the King," I asked, "taken any steps to discover Isobel?" - -"He has been told that she is dead," Feurgéres answered. - -We were all silent then for several minutes. The things which we had -heard were strange enough, but they let in a flood of light upon all the -events of the last few months. It was Feurgéres himself who broke in -upon our thoughts. - -"Gentlemen," he said, "there is another thing which I must tell you." - -His voice was very low but firm. He had turned in his chair, and was -facing us all. His eyes were no longer vacant. He spoke as one speaks of -sacred things. - -"All Europe," he said, "was pleased to discuss what was called the -elopement of the Princess Isobel with Feurgéres the player. The -gutter-press of the world filled their columns with sensational and -scandalous lies. We at no time made any reply. There was no need. If now -I break the silence of years it is that Isobel shall know the truth. It -is you, Mr. Greatson, who will tell her this, and many other things. -Listen carefully to what I say. The husband of the Princess Isobel was a -blackguard, a man unfit for the society of any self-respecting woman. -She was living in misery when I was bidden to the Court of Waldenburg. I -was made the more welcome there, perhaps, because I myself am a -descendant of an ancient and honourable French family. I met the -Princess Isobel often, and we grew to love each other. Of the struggle -which ensued between her sense of duty and my persuasions I say nothing. -She was a highly sensitive and very intellectual woman, and she had a -profound conviction of the unalienable right of a woman to live out her -life to its fullest capacity, to gather into it to the full all that is -best and greatest. Her position at Waldenburg was impossible. I proved -it to her. I prevailed. But----" - -He paused, and held up his hand. - -"The whole story of our elopement was a lie. There was no elopement. The -Princess Isobel left her husband accompanied only by a maid and a -lady-in-waiting. They lived quietly in Paris until her husband procured -his divorce. Then we were married, but until then we had not met since -our parting at Waldenburg. Isobel's mother was ever a pure and holy -woman. Let Isobel know that. Let her know that the greatest and most -wonderful sacrifice a woman ever made was surely hers--when she denied -herself her own daughter lest the merest shadow of shame should rest -upon her in later years. It is for that same reason that I myself have -kept away from Isobel. I have watched over her always, but at a -distance. That is why I am content to stand aside even now and yield up -my place to strangers." - -It was Arthur again who questioned him. - -"Mr. Feurgéres," he said, "you have told us wonderful things about -Isobel. You have told us wonderful things about the past, but you have -not spoken at all about the future. Is it your wish that she returns to -Waldenburg, or is she to remain Isobel de Sorrens?" - -Feurgéres turned his head and looked searchingly at Arthur. The boy's -face was flushed with excitement. He made no effort to conceal his great -interest. Feurgéres looked at him steadfastly, and it was long before he -spoke. - -"You are asking me," he said slowly, "the very question which I have -been asking myself for a long time. Isobel's proper place is at -Waldenburg, and yet there are many and grave reasons why I dread her -going there. The King is an old man, the Court is ruled by the -Archduchess, a hard, unscrupulous woman. Already she has schemed to get -the child into her power. I dread the thought of her there, alone and -friendless. Her mother spoke of this to me upon her deathbed. She shrank -always from the idea that even the shadow of those hideous calumnies -which oppressed her own life should darken a single moment of Isobel's. -I believe that if she were here at this moment she would place the two -issues before her and bid her take her choice. I think that it is what -we must do." - -Arthur stood up. He looked very eager and handsome, though a little -boyish. - -"Monsieur Feurgéres," he said, "I love Isobel. Give her to me, and I -will look after her future. I am not rich, but I will make a home for -her. She is too old to stay here with us any longer. I will make her -happy! Indeed I will!" - -Monsieur Feurgéres looked back at that vacant spot upon the wall, and -was silent for some time. It was impossible to gather anything from his -face, though Arthur watched him fixedly all the time. - -"And Isobel?" he asked at length. - -"I have not spoken to her," Arthur said. "There was a compact between us -that we should not whilst she was under our care." - -Monsieur Feurgéres turned to me. - -"That sounds like a compact of your making, Arnold Greatson," he said. -"What am I to say to your friend?" - -"It is surely," I said, "for Isobel to decide. It is only another issue -to be placed before her with those others of which you have spoken. You -say that you must leave for St. Petersburg to-morrow. Will you see her -now?" - -He shook his head. I might almost have imagined him indifferent but for -the sudden twitching of his lips, the almost pitiful craving which -flashed out for a moment from his deep-set eyes. These were signs which -came and went so quickly that I doubt if either of the others observed -them. But I at least understood. - -"I will not see her at all," he said. "It is better that I should not. -If she should decide upon Waldenburg, the less she has seen of me the -better. I leave it to you, Arnold Greatson, to put these matters -faithfully before Isobel. I claim no guardianship over her. Her mother's -sole desire was that when she had reached her present age the whole -truth should be placed before her, and she should decide exactly as she -thought best. That is my charge upon you," he continued, looking me -steadfastly in the face, "and I know that you will fulfil it. I shall -send you my address in case it is necessary to communicate with me." - -He rose to his feet, prepared for departure. Arthur intercepted him. - -"If Isobel will have me, then," he said, "you will not object?" - -"Isobel shall make her own choice of these various issues," he answered. -"I claim no guardianship over her at all. If any further decision has to -be given, you must look to Mr. Greatson." - -Arthur did look at me, but his eyes fell quickly. He turned once more to -Monsieur Feurgéres. - -"Whether you claim it or not," he said, "you are really her guardian, -not Arnold. I shall tell her that you left her free to choose." - -"I have said all that I have to say," Monsieur Feurgéres replied. -"Except this to you, Mr. Greatson," he added, turning to me. "You can -have no longer any hesitation in using the money which stands in -Isobel's name at the National Bank. You will find that it has -accumulated, and I have also added to it. Isobel will always be -reasonably well off, for I have left all that I myself possess to her, -with the exception of one legacy." - -Without any further form of farewell he passed away from us. It was so -obviously his wish to be allowed to depart that we none of us cared to -stop him. Then we all three looked at one another. - -"To-morrow," Mabane said, "you must tell Isobel." - -"Why not to-night?" Arthur interposed. - -"Why not to-night, indeed?" Isobel's soft voice asked. "If, indeed, -there is anything more to tell." - -We were all thunderstruck as she glided out from behind the screen which -shielded the inner door, the door which led to her room. It needed only -a single glance into her face to assure us that she knew everything. Her -eyes were still soft with tears, shining like stars as she stood and -looked at me across the floor; her cheeks were pale, and her lips were -still quivering. - -"I heard my name," she said. "The door was unfastened, so I stole out. -And I think that I am glad I did. I had a right to know all that I have -heard. It is very wonderful. I keep thinking and thinking, and even now -I cannot realize." - -"You heard everything, Isobel?" Arthur exclaimed meaningly. - -"Everything!" she answered, her eyes suddenly seeking the carpet. "I -thank you all for what you have said and done for me. To-morrow, I -think, I shall know better how I feel about these things." - -"Quite right, Isobel," Allan said quietly. "There are great issues -before you, and you should live with them for a little while. Do not -decide anything hastily!" - -Arthur pressed forward to her side. - -"You will give me your hand, Isobel?" he pleaded. "You will say -good-night?" - -She gave it to him passively. He raised it to his lips. It was his -active pronouncement of himself as her suitor. I watched her closely, -and so did Allan. But she gave no sign. She held out her hand to us, -too--a cold, sad little hand it felt--and turned away. There was -something curiously subdued about her movements as well as her silence -as she passed out of sight. - -Arthur took up his hat. He was nervous and uneasy. His tone was almost -threatening. - -"I shall be here early in the morning," he said. "I suppose you will -allow me to see Isobel?" - -"By all means," I answered. "As things are now you need not go away -unless you like. Your room is still empty. Our compact is at an end. -Stay if you will." - -He hesitated for a moment, and then threw down his hat. He sank into an -easy chair, and covered his face with his hands. - -"I've been a beast, I know!" he half sobbed. "I can't help it. Isobel is -everything in the world to me. You fellows can't imagine how I care for -her." - -I laid my hand upon his shoulder--a little wearily, perhaps, though I -tried to infuse some sympathy into my tone. - -"Cheer up, Arthur!" I said. "You have your chance. Don't make a trouble -of it yet." - -Arthur shook his head despondently. - -"I think," he said, "that she will go to Waldenburg!" - - - - -Book III - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -Arthur flung himself into the room pale, hollow-eyed, the picture of -despair. - -"Any news?" he cried, hopelessly enough, for he had seen my face. - -"None," I answered. - -"Anything from Feurgéres?" - -"Not yet." - -"Tell me again--where did you telegraph him?" - -"Dover, Calais, Paris, Ostend, Brussels, Cologne!" - -"And no reply?" - -"As yet none." - -"Let us look again at the note you found." - -I smoothed it out upon the table. We had read it many times. - - "There is something else which I must tell you before I leave - England. Come to me at once. The bearer will bring you. Come alone. - - "HENRI FEURGÉRES. - - "P.S.--You will be back in an hour. Disturb no one. It is possible - that I may ask you to keep secret what I have to say." - -"This note," I remarked, tapping it with my forefinger, "was taken in to -Isobel by Mrs. Burdett at a quarter to eight. It was brought, she said, -by a respectable middle-aged woman, with whom Isobel left the place soon -after eight. We heard of this an hour later. At eleven o'clock we began -the search for Monsieur Feurgéres. At three, Allan discovered that he -had left the _Savoy Hotel_ at ten for St. Petersburg. Since then we have -sent seven telegrams, the delivery of which is very problematical--and -we have heard--nothing!" - -Allan laid his hand gently upon my shoulder. - -"We may get a reply from Feurgéres at any moment," he said, "but there -will be no news of Isobel. That note is a forgery, Arnold." - -"I am afraid it is," I admitted. "Feurgéres was a man of his word. He -would never have sent for Isobel." - -"Then she is lost to us," Arthur groaned. - -I caught up my hat and coat. - -"Not yet," I said. "I will go and see what Lady Delahaye has to say -about this. It can do no harm, at any rate." - -"Shall I come?" Arthur asked, half rising from his chair. - -"I would rather go alone," I answered. - - * * * * * - -The butler, who knew me by sight, was courteous but doubtful. - -"Her ladyship has been receiving all the afternoon," he told me, "but I -believe that she has gone to her rooms now. Her ladyship dines early -to-night because of the opera. I will send your name up if you like, -sir." - -I walked restlessly up and down the hall for ten minutes. Then a lady's -maid suddenly appeared through a green baize door and beckoned me to -follow her. - -"Her ladyship will see you upstairs, sir, if you will come this way," -she announced. - -I followed her into a little boudoir. Lady Delahaye, in a blue -dressing-gown, was lying upon a sofa. She eyed me as I entered with a -curious smile. - -"This is indeed an unexpected pleasure," she murmured. "Do sit down -somewhere. It is long past my hour of receiving, and I am just getting -ready for dinner, but I positively could not send you away. Now, please, -tell me all about it." - -"You know why I have come, then?" I remarked. - -"My dear man, I haven't the least idea," she protested. "It is sheer -unadulterated curiosity which made me send Perkins for you up here. -We're not at all upon the sort of terms, you know," she added, looking -up at me with her big blue eyes, "for this sort of thing." - -"Isobel left us this morning!" I said bluntly. "She received a note -signed Feurgéres, which I am sure was a forgery. She left us at eight -o'clock, and she has not returned." - -Lady Delahaye looked at me with a faint smile. Her expression puzzled -me. I was not even able to guess at the thoughts which lay underneath -her words. - -"How anxious you must be," she murmured. "Do you know, I always wondered -whether Isobel would not some day weary of your milk-and-water -Bohemianism. Your Scotch friend is worthy, no doubt, but dull, and the -boy was too hopelessly in love to be amusing. And as for you--well--you -would do very nicely, no doubt, my dear Arnold, but you are too stuffed -up with principles for a girl of Isobel's antecedents. So she has cut -the Gordian knot herself! Well, I am sorry!" - -"You are sorry!" I repeated. "Why?" - -She smiled sweetly at me. - -"Because my dear friend has promised me that wonderful emerald necklace -if I could get the child away from you, and I think that very soon, with -the help of that stupid boy, I should have succeeded," she said -regretfully. "Such emeralds, Arnold! and you know how anything green -suits me." - -"You do not doubt, then, but that it is the Archduchess who has done -this?" I said. - -Lady Delahaye lifted her eyebrows. - -"Either the Archduchess, or Isobel has walked off of her own sweet -will," she remarked calmly. "In any case you have lost the child, and I -have lost my necklace. I positively cannot risk losing my dinner too," -she added, with a glance at the clock, "so I am afraid--I am so sorry, -but I must ask you to go away. Come and see me again, won't you? Perhaps -we can be friends again now that this bone of contention is removed." - -"I have never desired anything else, Lady Delahaye," I said. "But if my -friendship is really of any value to you, if you would care to earn my -deepest gratitude, you could easily do so." - -"Really! In what manner?" - -"By helping me to regain possession of the child." - -She laughed at me, softly at first, and then without restraint. Finally -she rang the bell. - -"My dear Arnold," she exclaimed, wiping her eyes, "you are really too -naïve! You amuse me more than I can tell you. My maid will show you the -way downstairs. Do come and see me again soon. Good-bye!" - -So that was the end of any hope we may have had of help from Lady -Delahaye. I called a hansom outside and drove at once to Blenheim House, -the temporary residence of the Archduchess and her suite. A footman -passed me on to a more important person who was sitting at a round table -in the hall with a visitor's book open before him. I explained to him my -desire to obtain a few moments' audience with the Archduchess, but he -only smiled and shook his head. - -"It is quite impossible for her Highness to see anyone now before her -departure, sir," he said. "If you are connected with the Press, I can -only tell you what I have told all the others. We have received a -telegram from Illghera with grave news concerning the health of his -Majesty the King of Waldenburg, and notwithstanding the indisposition of -the Princess Adelaide, the Archduchess has arranged to leave for -Illghera at once. A fuller explanation will appear in the _Court -Circular_, and the Archduchess is particularly anxious to express her -great regret to all those whom the cancellation of her engagements may -inconvenience. Good-day, sir!" - -The man recommenced his task, which was apparently the copying out of a -list of names from the visitor's book, and signed to the footman with -his penholder to show me out. But I stood my ground. - -"You are leaving to-day, then?" I said. - -"We are leaving to-day," the man assented, without glancing up from his -task. "We are naturally very busy." - -"Can I see the Baron von Leibingen?" I asked. - -"It is quite impossible, sir," the man answered shortly. "He is engaged -with her Highness." - -"I will wait!" I declared. - -"Then I must trouble you, sir, to wait outside," he said, with a little -gesture of impatience. "I do not wish to seem uncivil, but my orders -to-day are peremptory." - -At that moment a door opened and a man came across the hall, slowly -drawing on his gloves. I looked up and saw the Baron von Leibingen. He -recognized me at once, and bowed courteously. At the same time there was -something in his manner which gave me the impression that he was not -altogether pleased to see me. - -"Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Greatson?" he asked, pausing -for a moment by my side. - -"I am anxious to obtain five minutes' interview with the Archduchess," I -answered. "If you could manage that for me I should be exceedingly -obliged." - -He shook his head. - -"It is quite impossible!" he said decisively. "You have heard of the -serious news from Illghera, without doubt. We shall be on our way there -in a few hours." - -I drew him a little on one side. - -"Is Isobel here, Baron?" I asked bluntly. - -"I beg your pardon--is who here?" he inquired, with the air of one who -is puzzled by an incomprehensible question. - -"Isobel--the Princess Isobel, if you like--has been lured from our care -by a forged message. We know her history now, and we are able to -understand the nature of the interest which your mistress has shown in -her. Therefore, when I find her missing I come to you. I want to know if -she is in this house." - -"If she were," the Baron remarked, "I, and everyone else who knows -anything about it, would say at once that she was in her proper place. -If she were, I should most earnestly advise the Archduchess to keep her -here. But I regret to say that she is not. To tell you the truth, the -Archduchess is so annoyed at the young lady's refusal to accept her -protection, that she has lost all interest in her. I doubt whether she -would receive her now if she came." - -"Perhaps," I remarked slowly, "she has gone to Illghera." - -"It is, of course," the Baron agreed, "not an impossibility." - -"If I do not succeed in my search," I said, "it is to Illghera that I -shall come." - -"You will find it," the Baron assured me, with a smile, "a most charming -place. I shall be delighted to renew our acquaintance there." - -"His Majesty," I continued, "is, I have heard, very accessible. I shall -be able to tell him Isobel's story. You may keep the child away from -him, Baron, but you cannot prevent his learning the fact of her -existence and her history." - -"My young friend," the Baron answered, edging his way towards the door, -"your enigmas at another time would be most interesting. But at present -I have affairs on hand, and I am pressed for time. I will permit myself -to say, however, that you are altogether deceiving yourself. It was the -one wish of the Archduchess to have taken Isobel to her grandfather and -begged him to recognize her." - -"You decline to meet me fairly, then--to tell me the truth? Mind, I -firmly believe that Isobel is now under your control. I shall not rest -until I have discovered her." - -"Then you may discover, my young friend," the Baron said, putting on his -hat, and turning resolutely away, "the true meaning of the word -weariness. You are a fool to ask me any questions at all. We are on -opposite sides. If I knew where the child was you are the last person -whom I should tell. Her place is anywhere--save with you!" - -He bowed and turned away, whispering as he passed to a footman, who at -once approached me. I allowed myself to be shown out. As a matter of -fact, I had no alternative. But on the steps was an English servant in -the Blenheim livery. I slipped half a sovereign into his hand. - -"Can you tell me what time the Archduchess leaves, and from what -station?" I asked. - -"I am not quite sure about the time, sir," the man answered, "but the -'buses are ordered from Charing Cross, and they are to be here at eight -to-night." - -It was already past seven. I lit a cigarette and strolled on towards the -station. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -At Charing Cross station a strange thing happened. The Continental train -arrived whilst I was sauntering about the platform, and out of it, -within a few feet of me, stepped Feurgéres. He was pale and haggard, and -he leaned heavily upon the arm of his servant as he stepped out of his -carriage. When he saw me, however, he held out his hand and smiled. - -"You expected me, then?" he exclaimed. - -"Not I," I answered. "You have taken my breath away." - -"I had your telegram at Brussels," he explained. "I wired St. Petersburg -at once, and turned back. Any news?" - -"None," I answered. - -"What are you doing here?" - -I told him in a few rapid words. He listened intently, nodding his head -every now and then. - -"The Archduchess has her," he said, "and if only one of us had the ghost -of a legal claim upon the child our difficulties would end. She is an -unscrupulous woman, but there are things which even she dare not do. -What are they doing over there?" - -He pointed to the next platform. I took him by the arm and dragged him -along. - -"It is the special!" I exclaimed. "We must see them start." - -Red drugget was being stretched across the platform, and to my dismay -the barricades were rolled across. The luggage was already in the van, -and the guard was looking at his watch. Then a small brougham drove -rapidly up and stopped opposite to the saloon. Baron von Leibingen -descended, and was immediately followed by the Archduchess. Together -they helped from the carriage and across the platform a dark, tall girl, -at the first sight of whom my heart began to beat wildly. Then I -remembered the likeness between the cousins and what I had heard of the -Princess Adelaide's indisposition. She was almost carried into the -saloon, and at the last moment she looked swiftly, almost fearfully, -around her. I could scarcely contain myself. The likeness was -marvellous! As the train steamed out of the station Feurgéres pushed -aside the barricade and walked straight up to the station-master. - -"I want a special," he said, "to catch the boat. I am Feurgéres, and I -am due at Petersburg Wednesday." - -The station-master shook his head. - -"You can have a special, sir, in twenty minutes, but you cannot catch -the boat. The one I have just sent off would never do it, but the boat -has a Royal command to wait for her." - -"Can't you give me an engine which will make up the twenty minutes?" -Feurgéres asked. - -"It is impossible, sir," the station-master answered. "We have not an -engine built which would come within ten miles an hour of that one." - -"Very good," Feurgéres said. "I will have the special, at any rate. Be -so good as to give your orders at once." - -"You will gain nothing if you want to get on, sir," the station-master -remarked. "An ordinary train will leave here in two hours, which will -catch the next boat." - -"The special in twenty minutes," Feurgéres answered sharply. "Forty -pounds, is it not? It is here!" - -The station-master hurried away. I scarcely understood Feurgéres' haste -to reach Dover. When I told him so he only laughed and led me away -towards the refreshment-room. He ordered luncheon baskets to be sent out -to the train, and he made me drink a brandy-and-soda. Then he took me by -the arm. - -"You are not much of a conspirator, my friend, Arnold Greatson," he -said. "You have been within a dozen yards of Isobel within the last few -minutes, and you have not recognized her." - -I stopped short. That wonderful likeness flashed once more back upon my -mind. Certainly in the Mordaunt Rooms it had not been so noticeable. And -her eyes! I looked at Feurgéres, and he nodded. - -"The Princess Adelaide either remains in England or has gone on quietly -ahead," he said. "They have dressed Isobel in her clothes, and the -general public could never tell the difference. You see how difficult -they have made it for us to approach her. They will be hedged around -like this all across the Continent. Oh, it was a very clever move!" - -I scarcely answered him. My eyes were fixed upon the tangled wilderness -of red and green lights, amongst which that train had disappeared. What -had they done to her, these people, that she should scarcely have been -able to crawl across the platform? What had they done to make her accept -their bidding, and leave England without a word or message to any of us? -It had not been of her own choice, I was sure enough of that. - -"Come!" Feurgéres said quietly. - -I followed him to the platform, where the saloon carriage and engine -were already drawn up. Feurgéres brought with him his servant and all -his luggage. A few curious porters and bystanders saw us start. No one, -however, manifested any particular interest in us. There was no one -whose business it seemed to be to watch us. - -I sat back in my corner and looked out into the darkness. Feurgéres, -opposite to me, was leaning back with half-closed eyes. From his soft, -regular breathing it seemed almost as though he slept. For me there was -no thought of rest or sleep. I made plans only to discard them, -rehearsed speeches, appeals, threats, only to realize their hopeless -ineffectiveness. And underneath it all was a dull constant pain, the -pain which stays. - -Our journey was about three-parts over when Feurgéres suddenly sat up in -his seat, and opening his dressing-case, drew out a Continental -timetable. - -"In a sense that station-master was right," he remarked, turning over -the leaves. "We shall not reach Paris any the sooner for taking this -special train. On the other hand, we shall have time to ascertain in -Dover whether our friends really have gone on to Calais, or whether they -by any chance changed their minds and took the Ostend boat. I sincerely -trust that that course will not have presented itself to them." - -"Why?" I asked. - -"Somewhere on the journey," he remarked, "they must pause. They will -have to exchange Isobel for the Princess Adelaide, and make their plans -for the disposal of Isobel. If they should do this, say, in Brussels, we -shall be at a great disadvantage. If, however, they should stay in -Paris, we should be in a different position altogether. The chief of the -police is my friend. I am known there, and can command as good service -as the Archduchess herself. We must hope that it will be Paris. If so, -we shall arrive--let me see, six hours behind them; but supposing they -do break their connection, we shall have still five hours in Paris with -them before they can get on. If they are cautious they will go to -Illghera _viâ_ Brussels and their own country. If, however, they do not -seriously regard the matter of pursuit they will go direct." - -A few moments later we came to a standstill in the town station. -Feurgéres let down the window, and talked for a few minutes with the -station-master. Then he resumed his seat. - -"We will go on to the quay," he said. "It is almost certain that our -friends left by the Paris boat. We shall have four hours to wait, but we -can secure our cabins, and perhaps sleep." - -We moved slowly on to the quay. A few enquiries there completely assured -us. Midway across the Channel, plainly visible still, was a disappearing -green light. - -"That's the _Marie Louise_, sir," a seaman told me. "Left here five and -twenty minutes ago. The parties you were enquiring about boarded her -right enough. The young lady had almost to be carried. She's the new -turbine boat, and she ought to be across in about half an hour from -now." - -Monsieur Feurgéres engaged the best cabin on the steamer, and his -servant fitted me up a dressing-case with necessaries for the journey -from his master's ample store. Then we went into the saloon, and had -some supper. Afterwards we stood upon deck watching the passengers come -on board from the train which had just arrived. Suddenly I seized -Feurgéres by the arm and dragged him inside the cabin. - -"The Princess Adelaide!" I exclaimed. "Look!" - -We saw her distinctly from the window. She was dressed very plainly, and -wore a heavy veil which she had just raised. She stood within a few feet -of us, talking to the maid, who seemed to be her sole companion. - -"Find my cabin, Mason," she ordered. "I shall lie down directly we -start. I am always ill upon these wretched night boats. It is a most -unpleasant arrangement, this." - -Feurgéres looked at me and smiled. - -"Isobel's features," he remarked, "but not her voice. You see, we are on -the right track. We must contrive to keep out of that young lady's way." - - * * * * * - -To keep out of the way of the Princess Adelaide was easy enough, -presuming that she kept her word and remained in her cabin. I watched -her enter it and close the door. Afterwards I wrapped myself in an -ulster of Feurgéres' and went out on deck. It was a fine night, but -windy, and a little dark. I lit a pipe and leaned over the side. I had -scarcely been there two minutes when I heard a light footstep coming -along the deck and pause a few feet away. A girl's voice addressed me. - -"Can you tell me what that light is?" - -I knew who it was at once. It was the most hideous ill-fortune. I -answered gruffly, and without turning my head. - -"Folkestone Harbour!" - -I thought that after that she must surely go away. But she did nothing -of the sort. She came and leaned over the rail by my side. - -"You are Mr. Arnold Greatson, are you not?" - -My heart sank, and I could have cursed my folly for leaving my cabin. -However, since I was discovered there was nothing to do but to make the -best of it. - -"Yes, I am Arnold Greatson," I admitted. - -"I wonder if you know who I am?" she asked. - -"You are the Princess Adelaide of----" - -She held up her hand. - -"Stop, please! I see that you know. For some mysterious reason I am -travelling almost alone, and under another name which I do not like at -all. You are very fond of my cousin, Isobel, are you not, Mr. Greatson?" - -I tried to see her face, but it was half turned away from me. Her voice, -however, reminded me a little of Isobel's. - -"Yes," I admitted slowly. "You see, she was under our care for some -time, and we all grew very fond of her." - -"But you--you especially, I mean," she went on. "Do not be afraid of me, -Mr. Greatson. I know that my mother is very angry with you, and has -tried to take Isobel away, but if I were she I would not come. I think -that she must be very much happier as she is." - -"I--I am too old," I said slowly, "to dare to be fond of anyone--in that -way." - -"How foolish!" she murmured. "Do you know, Mr. Greatson, that I am only -eighteen, and that I am betrothed to the King of Saxonia. He is over -forty, very short, and he has horrid turned-up black moustaches. He is -willing to marry me because I am to have a great fortune, and my mother -is willing for me to marry him because I shall be a Queen. But that is -not happiness, is it?" - -"I am afraid not," I answered. - -"Mr. Greatson," she continued, "I feel that I can talk to you like this -because I have read your books. I like the heroes so much, and of course -I like the stories too. I think that Isobel is very wise not to want to -come back to Waldenburg. I wish that I were free as she is, and had not -to do things because I am a Princess. And I am sure that she is very -fond of you." - -"Princess----" I began. - -She stopped me. - -"If you knew how I hated that word!" she murmured. "I may never see you -again, you know, after this evening, so it really does not matter--but -would you mind calling me Adelaide?" - -"Adelaide, then," I said, "may I ask you a question?" - -"As many as you like." - -"Do you know where Isobel is now?" - -Her surprise was obviously genuine. - -"Why, of course not! Is she not at your house in London?" - -I shook my head. - -"She is a few hours in front of us on her way to Paris," I said, "with -your mother and the Baron von Leibingen and the rest of your people. She -is travelling in your clothes and in your name. That is why you were -left to follow as quietly as possible." - -She laid her hand upon my arm. Her eyes were full of tears, and her -voice shook. - -"Oh, I am so sorry," she cried softly, "so very sorry. Why cannot my -mother leave her alone with you? I am sure she would be happier." - -"I think so too," I answered. "That is why I am going to try and fetch -her back." - -She looked at me very anxiously. - -"Mr. Greatson," she said, "you do not know my mother. If she makes up -her mind to anything she is terribly hard to change. I do hope that you -succeed, though. Why ever did Isobel leave you?" - -"She received a forged letter, written in somebody else's name," I said. -"How your mother has induced her to stay since, though, I do not know. -She looked very ill at Charing Cross, and she had to be helped into the -train." - -The Princess Adelaide went very white. - -"It was she I heard this morning--cry out," she murmured. "They told me -it was one of the servants who had had an accident. Mr. Greatson, this -is terrible!" - -She turned her head away, and I could see that she was crying. - -"You must not distress yourself," I said kindly. "I daresay that it will -all come right. You will see Isobel, I think, in Paris. If you do, will -you give her a message?" - -"Of course, I will," she answered. - -"Tell her that we are close at hand, and that we have powerful friends," -I whispered. "We shall get to see her somehow or other, and if she -chooses to return she shall!" - -"Yes. Anything else?" - -"I think not," I answered. - -"Do you not want to send her your love?" she asked, with a faint smile. - -"Of course," I said slowly. - -She leaned a little over towards me. - -"Mr. Greatson," she said, "do you know what I should want you to do if I -were Isobel--what I am quite sure that she must want you to do now?" - -"Tell me!" - -"Why, marry her! She would be quite safe then, wouldn't she?" - -I tried to smile in a non-committal sort of way, but I am afraid there -were things in my face beyond my power to control. - -"You forget," I answered. "I am thirty-four, and Isobel is only -eighteen. Besides, there is someone else who wants to marry Isobel. He -is young, and they have been great friends always. I think that she is -fond of him." - -She shook her head doubtfully. - -"I do not think that thirty-four is old at all, and if you care for -Isobel, I would not let anyone else marry her," she declared. "Is that -Calais?" - -"Yes." - -"I think that I will go now in case my maid should see us together," she -said. "Oh, I can tell you where we are going in Paris. Will that help -you?" - -"Of course it will," I answered. - -"Number 17, Rue Henriette," she whispered. "Please come a little further -this way a moment." - -I obeyed her at once. We were quite out of sight now, in the quietest -corner of the ship. - -"Mr. Greatson," she said, "you will think that I am a very strange girl. -I am going to be married in a few months to a man I do not care for one -little bit, and it seems to me that that will be the end of my life. I -want you to marry Isobel, and I hope you will both be very -happy--and--will you please kiss me once? I am Isobel's cousin, you -know." - -I leaned forward and touched her lips. Then I grasped her hands warmly. - -"You are very, very kind," I said gratefully, "and you can't think how -much happier you have made me feel. If only--you were not a Princess!" - -She flitted away into the darkness with a little broken laugh. She -passed me half an hour later in the Customs' house with a languid -impassive stare which even her mother could not have excelled. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Feurgéres looked at me in surprise. - -"What have you been doing to yourself?" he exclaimed. "Is the fresh air -so wonderful a tonic, or have you been asleep and dreaming of Paradise?" - -I laughed. - -"The sea air was well enough," I answered, "but I have been having a -most interesting conversation." - -"With whom?" he asked. - -"The Princess Adelaide!" - -He drew a little closer to me. - -"You are serious?" - -"Undoubtedly. Listen!" - -Then I told him of my conversation with Isobel's cousin, excepting the -last episode. His gratification was scarcely equal to mine. He was a -little thoughtful for some time afterwards. I am sure he felt that I had -been indiscreet. - -"The Princess Adelaide," I said, "will not betray us. I am sure of that. -She will tell her mother nothing." - -"These Waldenburgs," he answered gravely, "are a crafty race. It is in -their blood. They cannot help it." - -"Isobel is a Waldenburg," I reminded him. - -"She is her mother's daughter," he said. "There is always one alien -temperament in a family." - -"In this case," I declared, "two!" - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -"We shall soon know," he said, "whether this young lady is honest or -not. A man will meet us at Paris with an exact record of the doings of -the Archduchess and her party. We shall know then where Isobel is. If -the address is the same as that given you by the Princess Adelaide, I -will believe in her." - -"But not till then?" I remarked, smiling. - -"Not till then!" he assented. - -Before we left Calais, Feurgéres sent more telegrams, and for an hour -afterwards he sat opposite to me with wide-open eyes, seeing nothing, as -was very evident, save the images created by his own thoughts. As we -reached Amiens, however, he spoke to me. - -"You had better try and get some sleep," he said. "You may have little -time for rest in Paris." - -"And you?" I asked. - -"It is another matter," he answered. "I am accustomed to sleeping very -little; and besides, it is probable that this affair may become one -which it will be necessary for you to follow up alone. The sight of me, -or the mention of my name, is like poison to all the Waldenburgs. They -would only be the more bitter and hard to deal with if they knew that I, -too, had joined in the chase. I hope to be able to do my share -secretly." - -I followed his suggestion, and slept more or less fitfully all the way -to Paris. I was awakened to find that the train had come to a -standstill. We were already in the station, and as I hastily collected -my belongings I saw that Feurgéres had left me, and was standing on the -platform talking earnestly to a pale, dark young Frenchman, sombrely -dressed and of insignificant appearance. I joined him just as his -companion departed. He turned towards me with a peculiar smile. - -"My apologies to the Princess," he said. "The address is correct. They -have gone to a suite of rooms belonging to the Baron von Leibingen." - -"They are there still, then?" I exclaimed. - -"They are there still," Feurgéres assented, "and they show no immediate -signs of moving on. They are apparently waiting for someone--perhaps for -the Princess Adelaide. Inside the house and out they are being closely -watched, and directly their plans are made I shall know of them." - -I looked, as I felt, a little surprised. Feurgéres smiled. - -"I am at home here," he said, "and I have friends. Come! My own -apartments are scarcely a stone's-throw away from the Rue Henriette. -Estere will see our things safely through the Customs." - -We drove through the cold grey twilight to the Rue de St. Antoine, where -Feurgéres' apartments were. To my surprise servants were at hand -expecting us, and I was shown at once into a suite of rooms, in one of -which was a great marble bath all ready for use. Some coffee and a -change of clothes were brought me. All my wants seemed to have been -anticipated and provided for. I had always imagined Feurgéres to be a -man of very simple and homely tastes, but there were no traces of it in -his home. He showed me some of the rooms while we waited for breakfast, -rooms handsomely furnished and decorated, full of art treasures and -curios of many sorts collected from many countries. - -But, in a sense, it was like a dead house. One felt that it might be a -dwelling of ghosts. There were nowhere any signs of the rooms being -used, the habitable air was absent. Everything was in perfect order. -There was no dust, none of the chilliness of disuse. Yet one seemed to -feel everywhere the sadness of places which exist only for their -history. One door only remained closed, and that Feurgéres unlocked with -a little key which hung from his chain. But he did not invite me to -enter. - -"You will excuse me for a few moments," he said. "My housekeeper will -show you into the breakfast-room. Please do not wait for me." - -An old lady, very primly dressed in black, and wearing a curious cap -with long white strings, bustled me away. As Feurgéres opened the door -of the room, in front of which we had been standing, the air seemed -instantly sweet with the perfume of flowers. The old lady sighed as she -poured me out some coffee. I am ashamed to say that I felt, and -doubtless I looked, curious. - -"Would it not be as well for me to wait for Monsieur Feurgéres?" I -asked. "He will not be very long, I suppose?" - -The old lady shook her head sadly. - -"Ah! but one cannot say!" she answered. "Monsieur had better begin his -breakfast." - -"Your master has perhaps someone waiting to see him?" I remarked. - -Madame Tobain--she told me her name--shook her head once more. She spoke -softly, almost as though she were speaking of something sacred. - -"Monsieur did not know, perhaps--it was the chamber of Madame. Always -Monsieur spends several hours a day there when he is in Paris, and -always after he has performed at the theatre he returns immediately to -sit there. No one else is allowed to enter; only I, when Monsieur is -away, am permitted once a day to fill it with fresh flowers--flowers -always the most expensive and rare. Ah, such devotion, and for the dead, -too! One finds it seldom, indeed! It is the great artists only who can -feel like that!" - -She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron, dropped me a curtsey, -and withdrew. Feurgéres came in presently, and I avoided looking at him -for the first few minutes. To tell the truth, there was a lump in my own -throat. When he spoke, however, his tone was as usual. - -"I shall ask you," he said, "to stay indoors, but to be prepared to -start away at a moment's notice. I am going to make a few enquiries -myself." - -His voice drew my eyes to his face, and I was astonished at his -appearance. The skin seemed tightly drawn about his cheeks, and he was -very white. As though in contradiction to his ill-looks, however, his -eyes were unusually brilliant and clear, and his manner almost buoyant. - -"Forgive me, Monsieur Feurgéres," I said, "but it seems to me that you -had better rest for a while. You have been travelling longer than I -have, and you are tired." - -He smiled at me almost gaily. - -"On the contrary," he declared, "I never felt more vigorous. I----" - -He stopped short, and walked the length of the room. When he returned he -was very grave, but the smile was still upon his lips. He laid his hand -almost affectionately upon my shoulder. - -"My dear friend," he said softly, "I think that you are the only one to -whom I have felt it possible to speak of the things which lie so near my -heart. For I think that you, too, are one of those who know, and who -must know, what it is to suffer. We who carry the iron in our hearts, -you know, are sometimes drawn together. The things which we may hide -from the world we cannot hide from one another. Only for you there is -hope, for me there has been the wonderful past. People have pitied me -often, my friend, for what they have called my lonely life. They little -know! I am not a sentimentalist. I speak of real things. Isobel, my -wife, died to the world and was buried. To me she lives always. Just -now--I have been with her. She sat in her old chair, and her eyes smiled -again their marvellous welcome to me. Only--and this is why I speak to -you of these things--there was a difference." - -He was silent for a few minutes. When he continued, his voice was a -little softer but no less firm. - -"Dear friend," he said, "I will be honest. When Isobel was taken from me -I had days and hours of hideous agony. But it was the craving for her -body only, the touch of her lips, the caress of her hands, the sound of -her voice. Her spirit has been with me always. At first, perhaps, her -coming was faint and indefinable, but with every day I realized her more -fully. I called her, and she sat in her box and watched me play, and -kissed her roses to me. I close the door upon the world and call her -back to her room, call her into my arms, whisper the old words, call her -those names which she loves best--and she is there, and all my burden of -sorrow falls away. My friend, a great love can do this! A great, pure -love can mock even at the grave." - -I clasped his hand in mine. - -"I think," I said, "that I will never pity you again. You have triumphed -even over Fate--even over those terrible, relentless laws which -sometimes make a ghastly nightmare of life even to the happiest of us. -You have turned sorrow into joy. It is a great deed. You have made my -own suffering seem almost a vulgar thing." - -"Ah, no!" he said, "for you, too, there is hope. You, too, know that we -need never be the idle, resistless slaves of Fate--like those others. -Will and faith and purity can kindle a magic flame to lighten the -darkness of the greatest sorrow. I speak to you of these -things--now--because I think that the end is near." - -He suddenly sank into a chair. I looked at him in alarm, but his face -was radiant. There was no sign of any illness there. - -"You are young, Arnold Greatson," he said. "They tell me that you will -be famous. Yet you are not one of those to turn your face to the wall -because the greatest gift of life is withheld from you. That is why I -have lifted the curtain of my own days. I know you, and I know that you -will triumph. It is a world of compensations after all for those who -have the wit to understand." - -I think that he had more to say to me, but we were interrupted. There -was a knock at the door, and the man entered whom I had seen talking -with Feurgéres upon the platform of the railway station. Feurgéres rose -at once, calm and prepared. They talked for a while so rapidly that I -could not follow them. Then he turned to me. - -"They are preparing for a move," he announced. "They are going south as -though for Marseilles and Illghera, but they insist upon a special -train. They have declined a saloon attached to the train de luxe, and -Monsieur Estere here has doubts as to their real destination. Wait here -until I return. Be prepared for a journey." - - * * * * * - -They left me alone. I lit a cigarette and settled down to read. In less -than half an hour, however, I was disturbed. There was a knock at the -door, and Madame Tobain entered. - -"There is a lady here, sir, who desires to see Monsieur!" she announced. - -A fair, slight woman in a long travelling cloak brushed past her. She -raised her veil, and I started at once to my feet. It was Lady Delahaye. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -It did not need a word from Lady Delahaye to acquaint me fully with what -had happened. Indeed, my only wonder had been that this knowledge had -not come to her before. She greeted me with a smile, but her face was -full of purpose. - -"Where is he?" she asked simply. - -"Not here," I answered. - -She seated herself, and began to unpin the travelling veil from her hat. - -"So I perceive," she remarked. "He will return?" - -"Yes," I admitted, "he will return." - -She folded the veil upon her knee and looked across at me thoughtfully. - -"What an idiot I have been!" she murmured. "After all, that emerald -necklace might easily have been mine." - -"I am not so sure about that," I answered. "I think I know what is in -your mind, but I might remind you that suspicion is one thing and proof -another." - -"The motive," she answered, "is the difficult thing, and that is found. -I suppose the police are good for something. They should be able to work -backwards from a certainty." - -"Are you," I asked, "going to employ the police? Don't you think that, -for the good of everyone, and even for your husband's own sake, the -thing had better remain where it is?" - -She laughed scornfully. - -"You would have me let the man go free who shot another in the back -treacherously and without warning?" she exclaimed. "Thank you for your -advice, Arnold Greatson. I have a different purpose in my mind." - -I moved my chair and drew a little nearer to her. - -"Lady Delahaye--" I began. - -"The use of my Christian name," she murmured, "would perhaps make your -persuasions more effective. At any rate, you might try. I have never -forbidden you to use it." - -"If you have any regard for me at all, then, Eileen," I said, "you will -think seriously before you take any steps against Monsieur Feurgéres. -Remember that he had, or thought he had, very strong reasons for acting -as he did. Looking at it charitably, your husband's proceedings were -open to very grave misconstruction. There will be a great deal of -unpleasant scandal if the story is raked up again, and Isobel's whole -history will be told in court. How will that suit the Archduchess?" - -"Not at all," Lady Delahaye admitted frankly; "but the Archduchess is -not the only person to be considered. You seem to forget that this is no -trifling matter. It is a murderer whom you are shielding, the man who -killed my husband whom you would have me let go free." - -"Technically," I admitted, "not actually. Your husband did not die of -his wound. He was in a very bad state of health." - -"I cannot recognize the distinction," Lady Delahaye declared coldly. "He -died from shock following it." - -"Consider for a moment the position of Monsieur Feurgéres," I pleaded. -"Isobel was the only child of the woman whom he had dearly loved. The -care of her was a charge upon his conscience and upon his honour. Any -open association with him he felt might be to her detriment later on in -life. All that he could do was to watch over her from a distance. He saw -her, as he imagined, in danger. What course was open to him? Forget for -the moment that Major Delahaye was your husband. Put yourself in the -place of Feurgéres. What could he do but strike?" - -"He broke the law," she said coldly, "the law of men and of God. He must -take the consequences. I am not a vindictive woman. I would have -forgiven him for making a scene, for striking my husband, or taking away -the child by force. But he went too far." - -"Have you," I asked, "been to the police?" - -"Not yet." - -I caught at this faint hope. - -"You came here to see him first? You have something to propose--some -compromise?" - -She shook her head slowly. - -"Between Monsieur Feurgéres and myself," she said, "there can be no -question of anything of the sort. There is nothing which he could offer -me, nothing within his power to offer, which could influence me in the -slightest." - -"Then why," I asked, "are you here?" - -"To see you," she answered. "I want to ask you this, Arnold. You wish -Monsieur Feurgéres to go free. You wish to stay my hand. What price are -you willing to pay?" - -I looked at her blankly. As yet her meaning was hidden from me. - -"Any price!" I declared. - -Then she leaned over towards me. - -"What is he to you, Arnold--this man?" she asked softly. "You are -wonderfully loyal to some of your friends." - -"I know the story of his life," I answered, "and it is enough. Besides, -he is an old man, and I fancy that his health is failing. Let him end -his days in peace. You will never regret it, Eileen. If my gratitude is -worth anything to you----" - -"I want," she interrupted, "more than your gratitude." - -We sat looking at each other for a moment in a silence which I for my -part could not have broken. I read in her face, in her altered -expression, and the softened gleam of her eyes, all that I was expected -to read. I said nothing. - -"It is not so very many years, Arnold," she went on, "since you cared -for me, or said that you did. I have not changed so much, have I? Give -up this senseless pursuit of a child. Oh, you guard your secret very -bravely, but you cannot hide the truth from me. It is not all -philanthropy which has made you such a squire of dames. You believe that -you care for her--that child! Arnold, it is a foolish fancy. You belong -to different hemispheres; you are twice her age. It will be years before -she can even realize what life and love may be. Give it all up. She is -in safe hands now. Come back to London with me, and Monsieur Feurgéres -shall go free." - -"Monsieur Feurgéres, Madame, thanks you!" - -He had entered the room softly, and stood at the end of the screen. Lady -Delahaye's face darkened. - -"May I ask, sir, how long you have been playing the eavesdropper?" she -demanded. - -"Not so long, Madame, as I should have desired," he answered, "yet long -enough to understand this. My young friend here seems to be trying to -bargain with you for my safety. Madame, I cannot allow it. If your -silence is indeed to be bought, the terms must be arranged between you -and me." - -She looked at him a trifle insolently. - -"I have already explained to Mr. Greatson," she remarked, "that -bargaining between you and me is impossible because you have nothing to -offer which could tempt me." - -"And Mr. Greatson has?" - -"That, Monsieur," she answered, "is between Mr. Greatson and myself." - -Monsieur Feurgéres stood his ground. - -"Lady Delahaye," he said, "I want you to listen to me for a moment. It -is not a justification which I am attempting. It is just a word or two -of explanation, to which I trust you will not refuse to listen." - -"If you think it worth while," she answered coldly. - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -"Who can tell! I have the fancy, however, to assure you that what took -place that day at the Café Grand was not the impulsive act of a man -inspired with a homicidal mania, but was the necessary outcome of a long -sequence of events. You know the peculiar relations existing between -Isobel and myself. I had not the right to approach her, or to assume any -overt act of guardianship. Any association with me would at once have -imperilled any chance she may have possessed of being restored to her -rightful position at Waldenburg. I accordingly could only watch over her -by means of spies. This I have always done." - -"With what object, Monsieur Feurgéres?" Lady Delahaye asked. "You could -never have interfered." - -"The care of Isobel--the distant care of her--was a charge laid upon me -by her mother," Feurgéres answered. "It was therefore sacred. I trusted -to Fate to find those who might intervene where I dared not, and Fate -sent me at a very critical moment Mr. Arnold Greatson. Lady Delahaye, to -speak ill of a woman is no pleasant task--to speak ill of the dead is -more painful still. Yet these are facts. The Archduchess was willing to -go to any lengths to prevent Isobel's creditable and honourable -appearance in Waldenburg. It was the Archduchess who, after what she has -termed her sister's disgrace, sent Isobel secretly to the convent, and -your husband, Lady Delahaye, who took her there. It was your husband who -brought her away, and it was the announcement of his visit to the -convent, and an ill-advised confidence to a friend at his club in Paris, -which brought me home from America. I will only say that I had reason to -suspect Major Delahaye as the guardian of Isobel--even the Archduchess -was ignorant of the position which he had assumed. Since I became a -player there are many who forget that my family is noble. Major Delahaye -was one of these. He returned a letter which I wrote to him with a -contemptuous remark only. My friend the Duc d'Autrien saw him on my -behalf. From him your husband received a second and a very plain -warning. He disregarded it. Once more I wrote. I warned him that if he -took Isobel from the convent he went to his death. That is all!" - -There was a silence. Lady Delahaye was very pale. She looked imploringly -at me. - -"Monsieur Feurgéres," she said, "I am not your judge. I do not wish to -seem vindictive. Will you leave me with Mr. Greatson for a few minutes?" - -"Madame, I cannot," he answered gravely. "Apart from the fact that I -decline to have my safety purchased for me, especially by one to whom I -already owe too much, it is necessary that Mr. Greatson leaves this -house within the next quarter of an hour." - -I sprang to my feet. I forgot Lady Delahaye. I forgot that this man's -life and freedom rested at her disposal. The great selfishness was upon -me. - -"I am ready!" I exclaimed. - -Lady Delahaye looked, and she understood. Slowly she rose to her feet -and crossed the room towards the door. I was tongue-tied. I made no -protest--asked no questions. Feurgéres opened the door for her and -summoned his servant, but no word of any sort passed between them. Then -he turned suddenly to me. His tone was changed. He was quick and alert. - -"Arnold," he said, "the rest is with you. They are taking her to the -convent. Madame Richard is here, and the Cardinal de Vaux. They have a -plot--but never mind that. If she passes the threshold of the convent -she is lost. It is for you to prevent it." - -"I am ready!" I cried. - -He opened a desk and tossed me a small revolver. - -"Estere waits below in the carriage. He will drive with you to the -station. You take the ordinary express to Marcon. There an automobile -waits for you, and you must start for the convent. The driver has the -route. Remember this. You must go alone. You must overtake them. Use -force if necessary. If you fail--Isobel is lost!" - -"I shall not fail!" I answered grimly. - -"Bring her back, Arnold," he said, with a sudden change in his tone. "I -want to see her once more." - -I left him there, and glancing upwards from the street as the carriage -drove off, I waved my hand to the slim black figure at the window, whose -wan, weary eyes watched our departure with an expression which at the -time I could not fathom. It was not until I was actually in the train -that I remembered what Lady Delahaye's silent departure might mean for -him. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Our plans were skilfully enough laid, but the Archduchess also had -missed nothing. We rushed through the village of Argueil without having -seen any sign of the carriage, and it was not until we had reached the -vineyard-bordered road beyond that we saw it at last climbing the last -hill to the convent. - -"Shall we catch it?" I gasped. - -The _chauffeur_ only smiled. - -"Monsieur may rest assured," he answered, changing into his fourth -speed, notwithstanding the slight ascent. - -Half-way up the hill we were barely one hundred yards behind. The man -glanced at me for instructions. - -"Blow your horn," I said. - -He obeyed. The carriage drew to the side of the road. We rushed by, and -I caught a glimpse of three faces. My spirits rose. There was only the -Baron to deal with. Madame Richard and Isobel were the other occupants -of the carriage. - -"Stop, and draw the car across the road!" I ordered. - -The man obeyed. I sprang to the ground. The Baron had his head out of -the window, and the driver was flogging his horses. - -"If you do not stop," I called out, "I shall shoot your horses." - -The driver took no notice. He had flogged his horses into a gallop, and -was coming straight at me. I fired, and one of the horses, after a wild -plunge came down, dragging the other with him, and breaking the pole. -The driver was thrown on to the top of them and rolled off into the -hedge, cursing volubly. The Baron leaned out of the window, and he had -something in his hand which gleamed like silver in the sunlight. - -"I have had enough of you, my young friend," he said fiercely, and -instantly fired. - -An unseen hand struck his arm as he pulled the trigger. I felt my hat -quiver upon my head as I sprung forward. The Baron had no time to fire -again. I caught him by the throat and dragged him into the road. - -"I have had more than enough of you, you blackguard," I muttered, and I -shook him till he groaned, and threw him across the road. - -Isobel stretched out her arms to me--Isobel herself, but how pale and -changed! - -"Arnold, Arnold, take me away!" she moaned. - -I would have lifted her out, but Madame Richard had seized her. - -"The child is vowed," she said. "You shall not touch her. She belongs to -God." - -"Then give her to me," I cried, "for I swear she is nearer to Heaven in -my arms than yours." - -The woman's black eyes flashed terrible things at me, and she wound -herself round Isobel with a marvellous strength. For a moment I was -helpless. - -"Madame," I said, "I have never yet raised my hand against a woman, but -if you do not release that girl this moment I shall have to forget your -sex." - -"Never!" she shrieked. "Help! Baron! Cocher!" - -Some blue-bloused men looked up from their work in the vineyards a long -way off. It was no time for hesitation. I set my teeth, and I caught -hold of the woman's arms. Her bones cracked in my hands before she let -go. Isobel at last was free! - -"Jump up and get in the automobile, Isobel!" I said. "Bear up, dear! It -is only for a moment now." - -Half fainting she staggered out and groped her way across the road. Once -she nearly fell, but my _chauffeur_ leaped down and caught her. Then -Madame Richard looked in my eyes and cursed me with slow, solemn words. - -I sprang away from her. She followed. I jumped into the automobile. She -stood in front of it and dared us to start. The driver backed a little, -suddenly shot forward, and with a wonderful curve avoided her. She ran -to meet the peasants who were streaming now across the fields. We could -hear for a few minutes her shrill cries to them. Then the vineyards -became patchwork, and the still air a rushing wind. Our _chauffeur_ sat -grim and motionless, like a figure of fate, and we did our forty miles -an hour. - -"You have orders?" I asked him once. - -"But yes, Monsieur," he answered. "We go to Paris--and avoid the -telegraph offices." - -All the while Isobel was only partially conscious. Gradually, however, -her colour became more natural, and at last she opened her eyes and -smiled at me. Her fingers faintly pressed mine. She said nothing then, -but in about half an hour she made an effort to sit up. - -"Dear Arnold," she murmured, "you are indeed my guardian. Oh----" - -She broke off, and shuddered violently. - -"Please don't try to talk yet," I said. "I shouldn't have been much of a -guardian, should I, if I hadn't fetched you out of this scrape? Besides, -it was Monsieur Feurgéres who planned everything." - -"Arnold," she murmured, "I--haven't eaten anything for some time. They -put things in my food to make me drowsy, so I dared not." - -Under my breath I made large demands upon my stock of profanity. Then I -leaned over and spoke to the _chauffeur_. We were passing through a -small town, and he at once slackened pace and pulled up at a small -restaurant. With the first mouthful of soup Isobel's youth and strength -seemed to reassert themselves. After a cutlet and a glass of wine she -had colour, and began to talk. She even grumbled when I denied her -coffee, and hurried her off again. In the automobile she came close to -my side, and with a shyness quite new to her linked her arm in mine. So -we sped once more on our way to Paris. - -Conversation, had Isobel been fit for it, was scarcely possible. But in -a disjointed sort of way she tried to tell me things. - -"I was inside the house," she said, "and the door of the room was locked -before I knew that Monsieur Feurgéres was not there--that the letter was -not a true one. My aunt came and talked to me. She tried to be kind at -first. Afterwards she was very angry. She said that my grandfather was -an old man, that he wished to see me before he died. I must go with her -at once. I said that I would go if I might see you first, but that only -made her more angry still. She said that my life had been a disgrace to -our family, that I must not mention your name, that I must speak as -though I had just left the convent. Then I, too, lost my temper. I said -that I would not go to Illghera. I did not want to see my grandfather, -or any of my relations. They had left me alone so many years that now I -could do without them altogether. She never interrupted me. She looked -at me all the time with a still, cold smile. When I had finished she -said only, 'We shall see,' and she left me alone. They brought me food, -and after I had taken some of it I was ill. After that everything seemed -like a dream. I simply moved about as they told me, and I did not seem -to care much what happened. Then in Paris Adelaide came into my room. -She brought me some chocolate, and she told me that you were near. I -think that I should have died but for her. I began to listen to what -they said. I found out that they never meant to take me to Illghera. It -was the convent all the time. Adelaide brought me more chocolate, and -kissed me. Then I made up my mind to fight. I would not take their food. -I told myself all the time that I was not ill--I would not be ill. That -is why I was able to look out for you, to strike at the Baron when he -tried to shoot you, and to walk by myself. Arnold, why does my aunt hate -me so?" - -I did not answer her, for even as she talked her voice grew fainter and -fainter, and in a moment or two she was in a dead sleep. Her head fell -upon my shoulder, her hand rested in mine. So she remained until we -reached the outskirts of Paris. Then the noise of passing vehicles, and -the altered motion of the car over the large cobble-stones woke her. She -pressed my arm. - -"I am safe, Arnold?" she murmured, with a shade of anxiety still in her -tone. - -"Quite," I assured her. - -In a few moments we turned into the Rue de St. Antoine and drew up -before Monsieur Feurgéres' house. In the hall we met Tobain. I could see -that she had been weeping, and her tone, as she took me a little on one -side, was full of anxiety. - -"Monsieur," she murmured, "I am afraid----" - -I stopped her. - -"The young lady first," I said. "She has been ill. Where shall I take -her?" - -She threw open the door of the dining-room. A small round table, -elegantly appointed, was spread with such a supper as Feurgéres knew -well how to order. There was a gold foiled bottle, flowers, salads and -fruits. Tobain nodded vigorously as she drew up a chair for Isobel. - -"It was Monsieur himself who ordered everything," she exclaimed. "He was -so particular that everything should be of the best, and the wine he -fetched himself." - -"Where is Monsieur Feurgéres?" I asked, struck by some note of hidden -feeling in her tone. - -"I will take you to him," she answered, "if Mademoiselle will wait -here." - -In the hall she no longer concealed her fears. - -"Monsieur," she said, "I am afraid. Soon after you had left, and the -master had given his orders for the supper, he called me to him. He was -standing before the door of Madame's chamber, the room which it is not -permitted to enter, and his hands and arms were full of flowers. He had -been to the florists himself, I knew, for there were more than usual. -'Tobain,' he said, 'always, as you know, I lock the door of this room -when I enter. To-day I shall not do so. But you must understand that no -one is permitted to enter but my friend, Mr. Arnold Greatson, who will -return this evening. Those are my orders, Tobain.' 'But, Monsieur, -dejeuner?' 'Remember, Tobain--Mr. Arnold Greatson only.' Then I caught a -glimpse of his face, Monsieur, and I was afraid. I have been afraid ever -since. It was the face of a young man, so brilliant, so eager. I was at -my master's marriage, and the look was there then. He went in and he -closed the door, and since then, Monsieur, I have heard no sound, and -many hours have passed. Monsieur will please enter quickly." - -For myself, I shared, too, Tobain's nameless apprehensions. I left her, -and knocked softly at the door. There was no answer. So I entered. - -The room was in darkness, but the opening of the door touched a spring -under the carpet, and several heavily-shaded electric lamps filled the -apartment with a soft dim light. Monsieur Feurgéres was sitting opposite -to me, his eyes closed, a faint smile upon his lips. He had the air of a -man who slept with a good conscience, and whose dreams were of the -pleasantest. Close drawn to his was another chair, against which he -leaned somewhat, and over the arm of which one hand was stretched, -resting gently upon the soft mass of deep pink roses, whose perfume made -fragrant the whole room. I spoke to him. - -"Monsieur Feurgéres," I cried, "it is done. I have brought Isobel. She -is here." - -There was no answer. Had I, indeed, expected any, I could almost have -believed that the smile, so light and delicate a thing, which quivered -upon his pale lips, deepened a little as I spoke. But that, of course, -was fancy, for Monsieur Feurgéres had won his heart's desire. Softly, -and with fingers which felt almost sacrilegious, I broke off one of the -blossoms with which the empty chair was laden, and with it in my hands I -went back to Isobel. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -Isobel knew the whole truth. I told her one evening--the only one on -which we two had dined out together alone. I think that the weather had -tempted me to this indulgence, which I had up to now so carefully -avoided. An early summer, with its long still evenings, had driven us -out of doors. The leaves which rustled over our heads, stirred by the -faintest of evening breezes, made sweeter music for us than the violins -of the more fashionable restaurants, and no carved ceiling could be so -beautiful as the star-strewn sky above. I omitted nothing. I laid the -whole situation before her. When I had finished, she was very white and -very quiet. - -"And now that you have told me all this," she asked, after a long -silence, "does it remain for me to make my choice? Even now I do not see -my way at all clearly. My relations do not want me. Monsieur Feurgéres -has left me some money. Cannot I choose for myself how I shall spend my -life?" - -"I am afraid," I answered, "that you may not. For my part I am bound to -say, Isobel, that I think Monsieur Feurgéres was right. The letter of -which I have told you, and which I found in my room, was written only a -few hours before his death. At such a time a man sees clearly. You are -not only yourself the Princess Isobel of Waldenburg, but you have a -grandfather who has never recovered the loss of your mother and of you. -It was not his fault or by his wish that you were sent away from -Waldenburg. He has been deceived all the time by your aunt the -Archduchess. I think that it is your duty to go to him." - -"You will come with me?" she murmured anxiously. - -"I shall not leave you," I answered slowly, "until you are in his -charge. But afterwards----" - -"Well?" she interrupted anxiously. - -"Afterwards," I said, firmly keeping my eyes away from her and bracing -myself for the effort, "our ways must lie apart, Isobel. You are the -daughter of one of Europe's great families, you have a future which is -almost a destiny. You must fulfil your obligations." - -I saw the look in her face, and my heart ached for her. I leaned forward -in my chair. - -"Dear child," I said, "remember that this is what your mother would have -wished. Monsieur Feurgéres believed this before he died, and I think -that no one else could tell so well what she would have desired for you. -Just now it may seem a little hard to go amongst strangers, to begin -life all over again at your age. But, after all, we must believe that it -is the right thing." - -Her face was turned away from me, but I could see that her cheeks were -pale and her lips trembling. She said nothing, I fancied because she -dared not trust her voice. Above the tops of the trees the yellow moon -was slowly rising; from a few yards away came all the varied clatter of -the Boulevard. And around us little groups and couples of people were -gay--gay with the invincible, imperishable gaiety of the Frenchman who -dines. The white-aproned waiters smiled as with deft hands they served a -different course, or with a few wonderful touches removed all traces of -the repast, and served coffee and liqueurs upon a spotless cloth. And -amidst it all I watched with aching heart Isobel, the child of to-day, -the woman of to-morrow, as she fought her battle. - -Her face seemed marble-white in the strange light, half natural, half -artificial. When she spoke at last she still kept her face turned away -from me. - -"The right thing!" she murmured. "That is what I want to do. I want to -do what she would have wished. But just now it seems a little hard. I do -not want to be a princess. I do not want to be rich. Monsieur Feurgéres -has made me independent, and that is all I desire. I would like to be -free to live always my own life--free like you and Allan, who paint and -write and think, for I, too, would love so much to be an artist. But it -seems that all these things have been decided for me--by you and -Monsieur Feurgéres. No," she added quickly, "I know very well that you -are right. I am willing to do what Monsieur Feurgéres thinks that my -mother would have wished. I will go to my grandfather, and if he wishes -it I will stay with him. But there will be a condition!" - -She turned at last and looked at me. The lines of her mouth had altered, -the carriage of her head, a subtle change in her tone, told their own -story. It was the Princess Isobel who spoke. - -"I will not have my mother ignored or spoken of as one who forgot her -rank and station. These are all very well, but they are trifles compared -with the great things of life. I am proud of my mother's courage, I am -proud of the love which made his life, after she had gone, so beautiful. -I know that you understand me, Arnold, but I do not think that those -others will. They must bear with me, or I shall not stay." - -I looked at her wonderingly. It seemed to me so strange that, under our -very eyes, the child whom I had led by the hand through Covent Garden on -that bright Spring morning should have developed in thought and mind -under our own roof, and with so little conscious instruction, into a -woman of perceptions and character. Somewhere the seed of these things -must have lain hidden. One knows so little, after all, of those whom one -knows best. - -"It is a fair condition, Isobel," I said. "You are going into a world -which is hedged about with conventions and prejudices. The things which -are so clear to you and to me, they may look at differently. You must be -received as your mother's daughter, and not as the King's -granddaughter." - -She nodded gravely. Then she leaned across the table and looked into my -eyes. Notwithstanding her pallor and her black dress, I was forced to -realize what I ever forbade my thoughts to dwell upon--her great and -increasing beauty. She looked into my eyes, and my heart stood still. - -"Arnold," she murmured, "shall you miss me?" - -My heel dug into the turf beneath my foot. My eyes fell from hers. I -dared not look at her. - -"We shall all miss you so much," I said gravely, "that life will never -be the same again to us. You made it beautiful for a little time, and -your absence will be hard to bear. I suppose we shall all turn to hard -work," I added, with an attempt at lightness. "Allan will paint his -great picture, Arthur will invent a new motor and make his fortune, and -I shall write my immortal story." - -"The story," she said, "which you would not show me?" - -Show her! How could I, when I knew that for one who read between the -lines the story of my own suffering was there? My secret had been hard -enough to keep faithfully, even from her to whom the truth, had she ever -divined it, must have seemed so incredible. - -"That one, perhaps," I answered lightly, "or the next! Who can tell? One -is never a judge of one's own work, you know." - -"Why would you not show me that story, Arnold?" she asked softly. - -I met her eyes fixed upon me with a peculiar intentness. I tried to -escape them, but I could not. It was impossible for me to lie to her. My -voice shook as I answered her. - -"Don't ask me, Isobel!" I said. "We all make mistakes sometime, you -know. Not to show you that story when you asked me was one of mine." - -"If you had it here----?" - -"If I had it here I would show it you," I declared. - -She sighed. She did not seem altogether satisfied. - -"Sometimes, Arnold," she said thoughtfully, "you puzzle me very much. -You treat me always as though I were a child; you keep me at arm's -length always, as though there were between us some impassable barrier, -as though it could never be possible for you to come into my world or -for me to pass into yours. I know that you are wiser and cleverer than I -am, but I can learn. I have been learning all the time. Are we always to -remain at this great distance?" - -"Dear Isobel," I answered, "you forget that I am more than twice your -age. You are eighteen, and I am thirty-four. I cannot make myself young -like you. I cannot call back the years, however much I might wish to do -so. And for the rest, I have been your guardian. I, a poor writer of no -particular family and very meagre fortune, and you my ward, a princess -standing at the opposite pole of life. I have had to remember these -things, Isobel." - -She leaned a little further across the table. Again her eyes held mine, -and I felt my heart beat like a boy's at the touch of her soft white -fingers as she laid her hand on mine. - -"I wish," she murmured, "oh, I wish----" - -"So we've found you at last, have we?" - -Isobel's speech was never ended. Mabane and Arthur stood within a few -feet of us, the former grave, the latter white and angry. I rose slowly -to my feet and held out my hand to Allan. - -"I am glad to see you, Allan!" I said. - -He looked first at my hand, and afterwards at me. Then, with a sigh of -relief, he took it and nearly wrung it off. - -"And I can't tell you how glad I am to see you both again!" he -exclaimed. "We've heard strange stories--or rather Arthur has--from his -friend Lady Delahaye, and at last we decided to come over and find out -all about it for ourselves. Don't take any notice of Arthur," he added -under his breath, "he's not quite himself." - -Arthur was standing with his back to me, talking to Isobel. Certainly -her welcome was flattering enough. I realized with a sudden gravity that -I had not heard her laugh like this since she had been in England. -Arthur continued talking in a low, earnest tone. - -"How did you find us?" I asked Allan. - -"We called at the Rue de St. Antoine," he answered. "The housekeeper -said that she had heard you talk about dining at one of these places. -Arnold?" - -"Well?" - -"Why are you and Isobel staying on in Paris?" - -"First of all," I answered promptly, "we had to stay for the funeral, -and now there are some legal formalities which cannot be finished until -to-morrow. I am Monsieur Feurgéres' executor, Allan, and he has left me -twenty thousand pounds. Isobel has the rest." - -"I am delighted, old chap," Mabane declared heartily. "In fact, I'll -drink your health." - -I called a waiter and ordered liqueurs. Arthur took his with an ill -grace, and he still avoided any direct speech with me. Isobel was -evidently uneasy, and looked at me once or twice as though anxious that -I should break up their _tête-à-tête_. But when I had paid the bill and -we rose to go, Allan passed his arm through mine, and I was forced to -let the two go on. - -"Let the boy have his chance," Allan said, pausing a little as we turned -into the Boulevard. "He's in such a state that he won't listen to reason -only from her." - -"But," I protested, "it is absurd for him to speak to her. Does he know -who she is? The Princess Isobel of Waldenburg! Their little kingdom is -small enough, but they play at royalty there." - -Allan nodded. - -"He knows. But he's a good-looking boy, and the girls have spoilt him a -little. He has an idea that she cares for him." - -"Impossible!" I declared, sharply. - -"No! Not impossible!" Allan answered, shaking his head. "They have been -together a great deal, you must remember, and Arthur can be a very -delightful companion when he chooses. No, it isn't impossible, Arnold." - -I shook my head. - -"Isobel's future is already arranged," I said. "In three days' time I am -taking her to her grandfather. If he receives her, as I believe that he -will receive her, she will pass out of our lives as easily as she came -into them. She will marry a grand duke, perhaps even a petty king. She -will be plunged into all manner of excitements and gaiety. Her years -with us will never be mentioned at Court. She herself will soon learn to -look back on them as a quaint episode." - -"You do not believe it, Arnold?" Mabane declared scornfully. - -"Heaven only knows what I believe," I answered, with a little burst of -bitterness. "Look at that!" - -We had reached the Rue de St. Antoine. Isobel stood in the doorway at -the apartments waiting for us. But Arthur had already disappeared. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -I examined the tickets carefully and placed them in my pocket-book. Then -I paused to light a cigarette on my way out of the office, and almost -immediately felt a hand upon my arm. I looked at first at the hand. It -was feminine and delicately gloved. Then I looked upwards into the blue -eyes of Lady Delahaye. - -"Abominable!" she murmured. "You are not glad to see me!" - -I raised my hat. - -"The Boulevard des Italiennes," I said, "has never seemed to me to be a -place peculiarly suitable for the display of emotion." - -"Come and try the Rue Strelitz," she answered, smiling. - -I glanced down at her. She was gowned even more perfectly than -usual--Parisienne to the finger-tips. She had too all the delightful -confidence of a woman who knows that she is looking her best. - -I smiled back at her. It was impossible to take her seriously. - -"Your invitation," I said, "sounds most attractive. But I am curious to -know what would happen to me in the Rue Strelitz. Should I be offered -poison in a jewelled cup, or disposed of in a cruder fashion? Let me -make my will first, and I will come. I am really curious!" - -"Arnold," she said, looking up at me with very bright eyes, "you are -brutal." - -"Not quite that, I hope," I protested. - -"Let me tell you something," she continued. - -We were in rather a conspicuous position. Lady Delahaye seemed suddenly -to realize it. - -"May I beg for your escort a little way?" she said. "I am not -comfortable upon the Boulevard alone." - -"You could scarcely fail," I remarked, throwing away my cigarette, "to -be an object of attention from the Frenchman, who is above all things a -judge of your sex. I will accompany you a little way with pleasure. -Shall we take a fiacre?" - -"I would rather walk," she answered. "Do you mind coming this way? I -will not take you far." - -"I have two whole unoccupied hours," I assured her, "which are very much -at your service." - -"Where, then," she asked, "is Isobel?" - -"Shopping with Tobain," I answered. - -"Are you not afraid," she asked with a smile, "to send her out alone -with Tobain?" - -"Not in the least," I answered. "Monsieur Feurgéres' only friend in -Paris was the chief commissioner of police, and he has been good enough -to take great interest in us. Isobel is well watched." - -"I wonder," she said, after a moment's pause, "whether you have still -any faith in me!" - -"My dear lady!" - -"I wish I could make you believe me. The--her Highness--she prefers us -here to call her Madame--has relinquished altogether her designs against -you. She desires an alliance." - -"Is this," I asked, "an invitation to me to join in the spoils? Am I to -become murderer, or poisoner, or abductor, or what?" - -Lady Delahaye bit her lip. - -"You are altogether too severe," she said. "Madame simply realizes that -she has been mistaken. She is willing for Isobel to be restored to her -grandfather. It will mean a million or so less dowry for Adelaide, but -that must be faced. Madame desires to make peace with you." - -"I am charmed," I answered. "May I ask exactly what this means?" - -Lady Delahaye smiled up at me. - -"The Archduchess will explain to you herself," she said. "I am taking -you to her." - -I slackened my pace. - -"I think not," I said. "To tell you the truth, the Archduchess terrifies -me. I see myself inveigled into a room with a trap-door, or knocked on -the head by hired bullies, and all manner of disagreeable things. No, -Lady Delahaye, I think that I will not run the risk." - -She laughed softly. - -"I know that you will come," she said softly. - -"And why?" I asked. - -"Because you are a man, and you do not know fear!" - -I raised my hat and proceeded. - -"My head is turned," I said. "Nothing flatters a coward so much as the -imputation of bravery. I think that I shall go with you anywhere." - -"Even--to the Rue Strelitz?" - -"My courage may fail me at the last moment," I answered. "At present it -feels equal even to the Rue Strelitz." - -Again she laughed. - -"You are a fraud, Arnold," she declared. "As if we did not know--I and -Madame and all of us, that in Paris, even throughout France, you could -walk safely into any den of thieves you choose. Your courage isn't worth -a snap of the fingers. Any man can be brave who has the archangels of -Dotant at his elbows." - -"What an easily pricked reputation," I answered regretfully. "Well, it -is true. Dotant was Feurgéres' greatest friend, and even Isobel might -walk the streets of Paris alone and in safety. Hence, I presume, the -amiable desire of the Archduchess for an alliance." - -Lady Delahaye shrugged her lace-clad shoulders. - -"My dear Arnold," she said, "for myself I adore candour, and why should -I try and deceive you? Madame has played a losing game, and knows it. -She has the courage to admit defeat. She can still offer enough to make -an alliance desirable. For instance, those tickets in your pocket for -Illghera will take you there, it is true, but they will not take you -into the presence of the King." - -"The King," I remarked pensively, "leads a retired life." - -"He does," Lady Delahaye answered. "He has the greatest objection to -visitors, and for a stranger to obtain an audience is almost an -impossibility. He never leaves the grounds of the villa, and his -secretary, who opens all his letters, is--a friend of Madame's." - -"You have put your case admirably," I remarked. "If Madame is sincere, I -should at least like to hear what she has to say." - -Lady Delahaye drew a little sigh of content. - -"At last," she exclaimed, "I do believe that you are going to behave -like a reasonable person." - -I could not refrain from the natural retort. - -"I have an idea," I said, "that up to now my actions have been fairly -well justified." - -We were mounting the steps of her house. She looked round and raised her -eyebrows. - -"We must let bygones be bygones!" she said. "Madame has declared that -henceforth she adjures all intrigue." - -A footman took my hat and stick in the hall. Lady Delahaye led me into a -small boudoir leading out of a larger room. She herself only opened the -door and closed it, remaining outside. I was alone with the Archduchess. - -She rose slowly to her feet, a very graceful and majestic-looking -person, with a suggestion of Isobel in her thin neck and the pose of her -head. She did not hold out her hand, and she surveyed me very -critically. I ventured to bestow something of the same attention upon -her. She was certainly a very beautiful woman, and her expression by no -means displeasing. She had Isobel's dark blue eyes, and there was a -humorous line about her mouth which astonished me. - -"I am not offering you my hand, Mr. Greatson," she said, "because I -presume that until we understand each other better it would be a mere -matter of form. Still, I am glad that you have come to see me." - -"I am very glad too, Madame," I answered, "especially if my visit leads -to a cessation of the somewhat remarkable proceedings of the last few -weeks." - -The Archduchess smiled. - -"Well," she said, "I am forced to admit myself beaten. I have been -ill-served, it is true, but I suppose my methods are antiquated." - -"They belong properly," I admitted, "to a few centuries ago." - -Madame smiled a little queerly. - -"A few centuries ago," she said, "I fancy that if our family history is -true, the affair would have been more simple." - -"I can well believe it," I answered. - -Madame relapsed into her chair, from which I judged that the preliminary -skirmishing was over. - -"You will please to be seated, Mr. Greatson!" - -I obeyed. - -"I am not going to play the hypocrite with you, sir," she said quietly. -"It is not worth while, is it? The object of the struggle between us has -been, on my part, to keep Isobel and her grandfather apart. You have -doubtless correctly gauged my motive. Isobel's mother was my father's -favourite child. If he had an idea that her child was alive, he would -receive her without a word. She would completely usurp the place of -Adelaide, my own daughter, in his affection--and in his will." - -"In his will!" I repeated quietly. "Yes, I understand." - -Madame nodded. - -"It is quite simple," she said. "For myself I am willing to admit that I -am an ambitious woman. Money for its own sake I take no heed of, but it -remains always one of the great levers of the world, and it is the only -lever by means of which I can gain what I desire. I never forget that -the country over which my father rules was once an absolute kingdom, and -semi-Royalty does not appeal to me. The betrothal of my daughter -Adelaide to Ferdinand of Saxonia was of my planning entirely. The dowry -required by the Council of Saxonia is so large that it could not -possibly be paid if any portion of my father's fortune, great though it -is, is diverted towards Isobel. Hence my desire to keep Isobel and her -grandfather apart." - -"Madame," I said, "you are candour itself. I can only regret that it is -my hard fate to oppose such admirable plans." - -"I have been given to understand," the Archduchess said, "that it is now -your intention to take Isobel yourself to Illghera!" - -"The tickets," I murmured, "are in my pocket." - -Madame bowed. - -"Well," she said, "I have seen and heard enough of you to make no -further effort to thwart or even to influence you. Yet I have a -proposition to make. First of all, consider these things. If we come to -no arrangement with each other I shall use every means I can to prevent -your obtaining an interview with my father. Everything is in my favour. -He is very old, he has a hatred of strangers, he grants audiences to no -one. He never passes outside the grounds of the villa, and all the gates -are guarded by sentries, who admit no one save those who have the -entrée. Then, if you attempt to approach him by correspondence, his -private secretary, who opens every letter, is one of my own appointing. -I have exaggerated none of these things. It will be difficult for you to -approach the King. You may succeed--you seem to have the knack of -success--but it will take time. Isobel's re-appearance will be without -dignity, and open to many remarks for various reasons. You may even fail -to convince my father, and if you failed the first time there would be -no second opportunity." - -"What you say, Madame," I admitted, "is reasonable. I have never assumed -that as yet my task is completed. I recognize fully the difficulties -that are still before me." - -"You have common-sense, Mr. Greatson, I am glad to see," she continued. -"I am the more inclined to hope that you will accede to my proposition. -Briefly, it is this! Let me have the credit of bringing Isobel to her -grandfather. Her year in London would at all times, in these days of -scandal, be a somewhat delicate matter to publish. What you have done, -you have done, as I very well know, from no hope of or desire for -reward. Efface yourself. It will be for Isobel's good. I myself shall -stand sponsor for her to the world. I shall have discovered her in the -convent here, and I shall take her back to her rightful place with -triumph. All your difficulties then will vanish, your end will have been -creditably and adequately attained. For myself the advantage is obvious. -A difference to Adelaide it must make, but it will inevitably be less if -the credit of her discovery remains with me. Have I made myself clear, -Mr. Greatson?" - -"Perfectly," I answered. "But you forget there is Isobel herself to be -considered. She is no longer a child. She has opinions and a will of her -own." - -"She owes too much to you," Madame replied quietly, "to disregard your -wishes." - -I believed from the first that the woman was in earnest, and her -proposal an honest one. And yet I hesitated. The past was a little -recent. She showed that she read my thoughts. - -"Come," she said, "I will prove to you that I mean what I say. To-night -I will give a dinner-party--informal, it is true, but the Prince of -Cleves, my cousin the Cardinal, and your own ambassador, shall come. I -will introduce Isobel as my niece. The affair will then be established. -Do you consent?" - -For one moment I hesitated. I knew very well what my answer meant. -Absolute effacement, the tearing out of my life for ever of what had -become the sweetest part of it. In that single moment it seemed to me -that I realized with something like complete despair the barrenness of -the days to come. - -"Madame, if Isobel is to be persuaded," I answered, "I consent." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -"This, then," the Prince remarked, raising his eyeglass, "is the young -lady whose romantic history you have been recounting to me? But, my dear -lady, she is charming!" - -Madame held out her hands affectionately and kissed Isobel, who had -entered the room with her cousin, on both cheeks. Then she took her by -the hand and presented her to the Prince of Cleves and several others of -the company. Isobel was a little pale, but her manner was perfectly easy -and self-possessed. She was dressed, somewhat to my surprise, in the -deepest mourning, and she even wore a band of black velvet around her -neck. - -"My dear child," her aunt said pleasantly, "I scarcely think that your -toilette is a compliment to us all. White should be your colour for many -years to come." - -Isobel raised her eyes. Her tone was no louder than ordinary, but -somehow her voice seemed to be possessed of unusually penetrating -qualities. - -"My dear aunt," she said, "you forget I am in mourning for my -stepfather, Monsieur Feurgéres, who was very good to me." - -A company of perfectly bred people accepted the remark in sympathetic -silence. There was not even an eyebrow raised, but I fancy that Isobel's -words, calmly spoken and with obvious intent, struck the keynote of her -future relations with her aunt. - -Isobel, a few minutes later, brought her cousin over to me. - -"Adelaide is very anxious to know you, Arnold!" she said quietly. This -was all the introduction she offered. Immediately afterwards her aunt -called Isobel away to be presented to a new arrival. - -"Mr. Greatson," Adelaide said earnestly, "I cannot tell you how -delighted I am that all this trouble is over, and that Isobel is coming -to us. But I think--I think she is paying too great a price. I think my -mother is hatefully, wickedly cruel!" - -"My dear young lady," I protested, "I do not think that you must say -that. Your mother's conditions are necessary. In fact, whether she made -them or not, I think that they would be inevitable." - -"You are not even to come to Illghera with us? Not to visit us even?" - -I shook my head. - -"I belong to the great family of Bohemians," I reminded her, "who have -no possessions and but one dress suit. What should I do at Court?" - -"What indeed!" she answered, with a little sigh, "for you are a citizen -of the greater world!" - -"There is no such thing," I answered. "We carry our own world with us. -We make it small or large with our own hands." - -"For some," she murmured, "the task then is very difficult. Where one -lives in a forcing-house of conventions, and the doors are fast locked, -it is very easy to be stifled, but it is hard indeed to breathe." - -"Princess," I said gravely, "have you examined the windows?" - -"I do not understand you," she answered. - -"But it is simple, surely," I declared. "Even if you must remain in the -forcing-house, it is for you to open the windows and breathe what air -you will. For your thoughts at least are free, and it is of our thoughts -that our lives are fashioned." - -She sighed. - -"Ah, Mr. Greatson," she said, "one does not talk like that at Court." - -"You have a great opportunity," I answered. "Character is a flower which -blossoms in all manner of places. Sometimes it comes nearest to -perfection in the most unlikely spots. Prosperity and sunshine are not -the best things in the world for it. Sometimes in the gloomy and -desolate places its growth is the sturdiest and its flowers the -sweetest." - -The service of dinner had been announced. The English Ambassador took -Adelaide away from me, but as she accepted his arm she looked me in the -eyes with a grave but wonderfully sweet smile. - -"I thank you very much, Mr. Greatson," she said. "Our little -conversation has been most pleasant." - -The Archduchess swept up to me. She was looking a little annoyed. - -"Mr. Greatson," she said, "Isobel is pleading shyness--an absurd excuse. -She insists that you take her in to dinner. I suppose she must have her -own way to-night, but it is annoying." - -Madame looked at me as though it were my fault that her plans were -disarranged, which was a little unfair. And then Isobel, very serene, -but with that weary look about the eyes which seemed only to have -increased during the evening, came quietly up and took my arm. - -"If this is to be our last evening, Arnold, we will at least spend as -much of it as possible together," she said gently. "I will be a very -dutiful niece, aunt, to-morrow." - -We moved off together, but not before I was struck with something -singular in Madame's expression. She stood looking at us two as though -some wholly new idea had presented itself to her. She did not follow us -into the dining-room for some few moments. - -The dinner itself, for an informal one, was a very brilliant function. -There were eighteen of us at a large round table, which would easily -have accommodated twenty-four. The Cardinal, whose scarlet robes in -themselves formed a strange note of colour, sat on the Archduchess's -right, touching scarcely any of the dishes which were continually -presented to him, and sipping occasionally from the glass of water at -his side. The other men and women were all distinguished, and their -conversation, mostly carried on in French, was apt, and at times -brilliant. Isobel and I perhaps, the former particularly, contributed -least to the general fund. Isobel met the advances of her right-hand -neighbour with the barest of monosyllables. Lady Delahaye, who sat on my -left, left me for the most part discreetly alone. Yet we two spoke very -little. I could see that Isobel was disposed to be hysterical, and that -her outward calm was only attained by means of an unnatural effort. Yet -I fancied that my being near soothed her, and every time I spoke to her -or she to me, a certain relief came into her face. All the while I was -conscious of one strange thing. The Archduchess, although she had the -Cardinal on one side and the Prince of Cleves on the other, was -continually watching us. Her interest in their conversation was purely -superficial. Her interest in us, on the contrary, was an absorbing one. -I could not understand it at all. - -The conclusion of dinner was marked by an absence of all ceremony. The -cigarettes had already been passed round before the Archduchess rose, -but those who chose to remain at the table did so. Isobel leaned over -and whispered in my ear. - -"Come with me into the drawing-room. I want to talk to you." - -I obeyed, and the Archduchess seemed to me purposely to leave us alone. -We sat in a quiet corner, and when I saw that there were tears in -Isobel's eyes, I knew that my time of trial was not yet over. - -"Arnold," she said quietly, "you care--whether I am happy or not? You -have done so much for me--you must care!" - -"You cannot doubt it, Isobel," I answered. - -"I do not. This sort of life will not suit me at all. I do not trust my -aunt. I am weary of strangers. Let us give it all up. Take me back to -London with you. I feel as though I were going into prison." - -"Dear Isobel," I said, "you must remember why we decided that it was -right for you to rejoin your people." - -"Oh, I know," she answered. "But even to the last Monsieur Feurgéres -hesitated. My mother would never have wished me to be miserable." - -I shook my head. - -"I believe that Feurgéres was right," I answered. "I believe that your -mother would wish to see you in your rightful place. I believe that it -is your duty to claim it." - -Then I think that for the first time Isobel was unfair to me, and spoke -words which hurt. - -"You do not wish to have me back again," she said slowly. "I have been a -trouble to you, I know, and I have upset your life. You want me to go -away." - -I did not answer her. I could not. She leaned forward and looked into my -face, and instantly her tone changed. Her soft fingers clutched mine for -a moment. - -"Dear Arnold," she whispered, "I am sorry! Forgive me! I will do what -you think best. I did not mean to hurt you." - -"I am quite sure that you did not, Isobel," I answered. "Listen! I am -speaking now for Allan as well as for myself, and for Arthur too. To -tear you out of our lives is the hardest thing we have ever had to do. -Your coming changed everything for us. We were never so happy before. We -shall never know anything like it again. If you were what we thought, a -nameless and friendless child, you would be welcome back again, more -welcome than I can tell you. But you have your own life to live, and it -is not ours. You have your own place to fill in the world, and, forgive -me, your mother's memory to vindicate. Monsieur Feurgéres was right. For -her sake you must claim the things that are yours." - -"But shall I never see you again, Arnold?" she asked, with a little -catch in her breath. - -I set my teeth. I could see that the Archduchess was watching us. - -"Our ways must lie far apart, Isobel," I said. "But who can say? Many -things may happen. The Princess Isobel may visit the studios when she is -in London or at Homburg. She may patronize the poor writer whose books -she knows." - -Isobel sat and listened to me with stony face. - -"I wonder," she murmured, "why the way to one's duty lies always through -Hell?" - -Isobel's lips were quivering, and I dared make no effort to console her. -The Archduchess came suddenly across the room to us, and bent -affectionately over Isobel. - -"My dear child," she said, "you are overtired. Go and talk to Adelaide. -She is alone in the music-room. I have something to say to Mr. -Greatson." - -Isobel rose and left us at once. The Archduchess took her place. She was -carrying a fan of black ostrich feathers, and she waved it languidly for -some time as though in deep thought. - -"Mr. Greatson," she said at length. - -I turned and found her eyes fixed curiously upon me. These were moments -which I remembered all my life, and every little detail in connection -with them seemed flashed into my memory. The strange perfume, something -like the burning of wood spice, wafted towards me by her fan, the -glitter of the blue black sequins which covered her magnificent gown, -the faint smile upon her parted lips, and the meaning in her eyes--all -these things made their instantaneous and ineffaceable impression. Then -she leaned a little closer to me. - -"Mr. Greatson," she repeated, "I know your secret!" - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -I am afraid that for the moment I lost my self-possession. I had gone -through so much during the last few hours, and this woman spoke with -such confidence--so quietly, and yet with such absolute conviction--that -I felt the barriers which I had built about myself crumbling away. I -answered her lamely, and without conviction. - -"My secret! I do not know what you mean. I have no secret!" - -The black feathers fluttered backwards and forwards once more. She -regarded me still with the same quiet smile. - -"You love my niece, Mr. Greatson," she said. - -"Madame," I answered, "you are jesting!" - -"Indeed I am not," she declared. "I have made a statement which is -perfectly true." - -"I deny it!" I exclaimed hoarsely. - -"You can deny it as much as you like, if you think it worth while to -perjure yourself," she replied coolly. "The truth remains. I have had a -good deal of experience in such matters. You love Isobel, and I am not -at all sure that Isobel does not love you." - -"Madame," I protested, "such statements are absurd. I am no longer a -young man. I am thirty-four years old. I have no longer any thought of -marriage. Isobel is no more than a child. I was nearly her present age -when she was born. The whole idea, as I trust you will see, is -ridiculous." - -The Archduchess regarded me still with unchanged face. - -"Your protestations, Mr. Greatson," she said, "amuse, but utterly fail -to convince me." - -"Let us drop the subject, then," I said hastily. "At least, if you -persist in your hallucination, I hope you will believe this. I have -never spoken a word of what could be called love-making to the child in -my life." - -"I believe you implicitly," she answered promptly. "I believe that I -know and can appreciate your position. Let me tell you that I honour you -for it." - -"Madame," I murmured, "you are very good. Let us now abandon the -subject." - -"By no means," she answered. "On the contrary, I should like to discuss -it with you fully." - -"Madame!" I exclaimed. - -"Let us suppose for a moment," she went on calmly, "that I am correct, -that you really love Isobel, but that your peculiar position has imposed -upon your sense of honour the necessity for silence. Well, your -guardianship of her may now be considered to have ended. From to-night -it has passed into my hands. Still, you would say the difference between -your positions is immeasurable. You are, I doubt not, a gentleman by -birth, but Isobel comes from one of the ancient and noble families of -the world, and might almost expect to share a throne with the man whom -she elects to marry. It is true, in effect, Mr. Greatson, that you are -of different worlds." - -"Madame," I answered, "why do you trouble to demonstrate such obvious -facts? They are incontestable. But supposing for a moment that your -surmises concerning myself were true, you will understand that they are -painful for me to listen to." - -"You must have patience, Mr. Greatson," she said quietly. "At present I -am feeling my way through my thoughts. There is rash blood in Isobel's -veins, and I should like her life to be happier than her mother's. She -is unconventional and a lover of freedom. The etiquette of our Court at -Illghera will chafe her continually. I wonder, Mr. Greatson, if she -would not be happier--married to some one of humbler birth, perhaps, but -who can give her the sort of life she desires." - -I was for a moment dumb with astonishment. Apart from the amazement of -the whole thing, the Archduchess was not in the least the sort of person -to be seriously interested in the abstract question of Isobel's -happiness. At least, I should not have supposed her capable of it. I -imagine that she must have read my thoughts, for after a searching -glance at me she continued: - -"You doubt my disinterestedness, Mr. Greatson. Perhaps you are right. I -wish the child well, but there is also this fact to be considered. -Isobel married to an English gentleman such as, say, yourself, would be -no longer a serious rival to my daughter in the affections of her -grandfather." - -Then indeed I began to understand. What a woman of resource! She watched -me closely behind the feathers of her fan. - -"Come," she said, "this time my plot is an innocent one, and it is for -Isobel's happiness as well as for my daughter's benefit. Speak to her -now. Marry her at once, here in Paris, and I will give her for dowry -twenty thousand pounds!" - -I ground my heel into the carpet, and I was grateful for those long -black feathers which waved gracefully in front of my face. For I was -tempted--sorely tempted. The woman's words rang like mad music in my -brain. Speak to her! Why not? It was the great joy of the world which -waited for me to pluck it. Why not? I was not an old man, the child was -fond of me, a single word of compliance, and I might step into my -kingdom. Oh, the rapture of it, the wonderful joy of taking her hands in -mine, of dropping once and for ever the mask from my face, the gag from -my tongue! A rush of wild thoughts turned me dizzy. My secret was no -longer a secret at all. The Archduchess leaned a little closer to me, -and whispered behind those fluttering feathers-- - -"You are a very wonderful person, Mr. Greatson, that you have kept -silence so long. The necessity for it has passed. The child loves you. I -am sure of it." - -But my moment of weakness was over. I had a sudden vision of Feurgéres, -standing on the stage, listening with bowed head to the thunder of -applause, but with his eyes turned always to the darkened box, with its -lonely bouquet of pink roses--lonely to all save him, who alone saw the -hand which held them--of Feurgéres in his sanctuary, bending lovingly -over that chair, empty to all save him, Feurgéres, with that smile of -unearthly happiness upon his lips--calm, debonair and steadfast. This -was the man who had trusted me. I raised my head. - -"Madame," I said quietly, "what you suggest is impossible." - -She stared at me in incredulous astonishment. - -"But I do not understand," she exclaimed weakly. "You agree, surely?" - -I shook my head. - -"On the contrary, Madame," I said, "I beg that you will not allude -further to the matter." - -The Archduchess muttered something in German to herself which I did not -understand. Perhaps it was just as well. - -"You will vouchsafe me," she begged, speaking very slowly, and keeping -her eyes fixed on me, "some reason for your refusal?" - -"I will give you two," I answered. "First, it is contrary to the spirit -of my promise to Monsieur Feurgéres." - -Her lip curled. - -"Well?" - -"Secondly," I continued, "I should be taking a dishonourable advantage -of my position with regard to Isobel. She is very grateful to me, and -she would very likely mistake her sentiments if I were to speak to her -as you suggest. She is too young to know what love is. She has met no -young men of her own rank, she does not understand in the least what -sort of position is in store for her." - -"These are your reasons, then?" - -"I venture to think that they are sufficient ones, Madame," I answered. - -The Archduchess rose. - -"We shall need a new Cervantes," she remarked, "to do justice to the -Englishman of to-day. I shall keep my word, Mr. Greatson, as regards -Isobel, and I can promise you this. If gaiety and eligible suitors, and -the luxury of her new life are not sufficient to stifle any sentimental -follies she may be nursing just now, I will not rest till I find other -means. Adelaide's future is arranged. I will set myself to make Isobel's -equally brilliant. I will make her the beauty of Europe. She shall -forget in a month the squalid days of her life with you and your friends -in an attic." - -"So long as Isobel is happy," I answered, "my mission is accomplished, -and I am content." - -"You are a fool and a liar!" she answered contemptuously. "You will love -her all your days, and you know it. You will grow to curse the memory of -this hour in which you threw away the only chance you will ever have of -winning her. The only chance, mind, I will answer for that. I wish you -good-evening, Mr. Greatson. You are excused. Isobel, as you are aware, -remains here. You will find her in the music-room with Adelaide. Go and -make your adieux, and make them quickly. You will be interrupted in -three minutes." - -She swept away from me with only the slightest inclination of her head. -I made my way to the music-room, where Isobel and her cousin were -sitting together. Directly I entered, the latter, with a little nod of -curious meaning to me, rose and left us alone. I held out my hands. - -"Isobel, dear," I said, "this must be--our farewell, then--for a time!" - -She placed her hands in mine. They were as cold as ice. Her cheeks were -white, her eyes seemed fastened upon mine. All the while her bosom was -heaving convulsively, but she said nothing. - -"I can only wish you what Arthur and Allan have already wished you," I -said, "happiness! You have every chance of it, dear. You surely deserve -it, for you brightened up our dull lives so that we can, no one of us, -ever forget you. Think of us sometimes. Good-bye!" - -I stooped and kissed her lightly on the cheek. But suddenly her arms -were wound around my neck. With a strength which was amazing she held me -to her. - -"Arnold!" she sobbed. "Oh, Arnold!" - -Her lips were upon mine, and in another second I should have been lost, -for my arms would have been around her. The door opened and closed. We -heard the jingling of sequins, the sweep of a silken train. The -Archduchess had entered. Isobel's arms fell from my neck, but her cheeks -were scarlet, and her eyes like stars. - -"You--are going?" she pleaded. - -"I am going," I answered huskily. - -The Archduchess came down the room, humming a light tune. - -"So the dread farewell is over, then!" she exclaimed, with light good -humour. "Come, child, no red eyes. Remember, a Waldenburg weeps only -twice in her life. Once more, good-night, Mr. Greatson." - -I had reached the door. Isobel was standing still with outstretched -arms. The Archduchess glided between us--and I went. - - * * * * * - -The next morning I travelled unseen by the Riviera express, to which the -saloon of the Archduchess had been attached, all the way to Illghera. I -saw her driven with the others to the villa. - -Two days afterwards, from a hill overlooking the grounds, I saw an old -gentleman in a pony chaise preceded by two footmen in dark green livery. -Adelaide walked on one side, and Isobel on the other. That night I left -Illghera for England. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -I knew the moment I opened the door that changes were on foot. Our -studio sitting-room was dismantled of many of its treasures. Allan, with -his coat off and a pipe in his mouth, was throwing odds and ends in a -promiscuous sort of way into a huge trunk which stood open upon the -floor. Arthur, a few yards off, was rolling a cigarette. - -Our meeting was not wholly free from embarrassment. I think that for the -first time in our lives there was a cloud between Allan and myself. He -stood up and faced me squarely. - -"Arnold," he said, "where is Isobel?" - -"In Illghera with her grandfather," I answered. "Where else should she -be?" - -"Are you sure?" - -"I have seen her there with my own eyes," I affirmed. - -There was a moment's pause. I saw the two exchange glances. Then Allan -held out his hand. - -"That damned woman again!" he exclaimed. "Forgive me, Arnold!" - -"Willingly," I answered, "when I know what for." - -"Suspecting you. Lady Delahaye wrote Arthur a note, in which she said -that the Archduchess and you had made fresh plans. You can guess what -they were. And Illghera was off. You did hurry us away from Paris a bit, -you know, and I was fool enough to imagine for a moment that there might -be something in it. Forgive me, Arnold!" he added, holding out his hand. - -"And me!" Arthur exclaimed, extending his. - -I held out a hand to each. There was something grimly humorous in this -reception, after all that I had suffered during the last few days. My -first impulse of anger died away almost as quickly as it had been -conceived. - -"My friends," I said, "the Archduchess did propose some such scheme to -me, but you forget that my honour was involved, not only to you, not -only to the child, but to a dead man. I can look you both in the face -and assure you that in word and letter I have been faithful to my -trust." - -"I knew it!" Allan declared gruffly. "Dear old chap, forgive me!" - -"I am the brute who dangled the letter before his eyes," Arthur -exclaimed bitterly, "and I am the only one of the three who has broken -our covenant." - -"My dear friends," I said slowly, "the things which are past, let us -forget. Isobel has gone back to the life which claimed her. No barrier -which human hand could rear could separate her from us so effectually -and irrevocably as the mere fact that she has taken up the position -which belongs to her. She is the Princess Isobel of Waldenburg, a king's -grandchild. And we are--what we are! Let me now make my confession to -you. I, too, loved her." - -The two hands which held mine tightened for a moment their grasp. The -old "camaraderie" was established once more. - -"It is I who was responsible for her coming," I continued. "It is only -fitting that I, too, should suffer. How she grew into our hearts you all -know. She has gone, and nothing can ever be the same. Yet I for one do -not regret it. I regret nothing! I am content to live with the memory of -these wonderful days she spent with us." - -"And I!" Allan declared. - -"And I!" Arthur echoed. - -I wrung their hands, for it was a joy to me to feel that we had come -once more into complete accord. - -"You know what sort of a state we were drifting into when she came," I -continued. "We were like thousands of others. We were rubbing shoulders, -hour by hour and day by day, with the world which takes no account of -beautiful things. She came and laid the magician's hand upon our lives. -We had perforce to alter our ways, to alter our surroundings, our -amusements, our ideals. Joy came with her, and pain may find a secret -place in our hearts now that she has gone, but I do not think that -either of us would willingly blot out from his life these last two -years. Would you, Arthur?" - -"Not I!" he declared. "We had to learn ourselves to teach her. To chuck -the things that were rotten, anyhow, just because she was around. Jolly -good for us, too!" - -"I agree with Arthur and you," Allan said. "I agree with all that you -have said. The child was dear to me too. So dear, that I do not think -that it would be easy to go back to our old life without her. That is -why----" - -He glanced around the room. Our hands fell apart. I lit a cigarette and -looked at the open trunk. - -"You are going away, Allan?" - -He nodded. - -"I'm off to Canada," he said. "I've an old uncle there who's worth -looking after, and he's always bothering me to pay him a visit. Right -time of the year, too--and hang it all, Arnold, I've sat here for a week -in front of an empty canvas, and I'd go to hell sooner than stand it any -longer!" - -"And you, Arthur?" - -"I have been appointed manager of our Paris Depôt," Arthur answered a -little grandiloquently. "I couldn't refuse it. Much better pay and more -fun, and all that sort of thing, and--oh, hang it all, Arnold, is it -likely a fellow could stay here now she's gone?" he wound up, with a -little catch in his throat. - -So the old days were over! I looked at my desk, and by the side of it -was the chair in which she used sometimes to sit while I read to her. -Then I think that I, too, was glad that this change was to come. - -"There is one thing, Arnold," Mabane said quietly, "about her things. We -locked the door of her room. Mrs. Burdett has packed up most of her -clothes, but there are the ornaments and a few little things of her own. -We should like to go in--Arthur and I. We have waited for you." - -"We will go now," I answered. "She will have no need of anything that -she has left behind. We will each choose a keepsake, and lock the rest -up." - -We entered the room all together, almost on tiptoe. If we had been -wearing hats I am sure that we should have taken them off. How, with -such trifling means at her command, she could have left behind in that -tiny chamber so potent an impression of daintiness and comfort I cannot -tell. But there it was. Her little bed, with its spotless counterpane, -was hung with pink muslin. There was a lace spread upon her -toilet-table, on which her little oddments of silver made a brave show. -Only one thing seemed out of place, a worn little slipper peeping out -from under a chair. I thrust it into my pocket. The others took some -trifle from the table. Then, as silently as we had entered, we left the -room. As I turned the key I choked down something in my throat, and did -my best to laugh--a little unnaturally, I am afraid. - -"Come!" I cried, "it is I who am responsible for this attack of -sentiment. I will show you how to get rid of it. You dine with me at -Hautboy's. I have money--lots of it. Feurgéres left me twenty thousand -pounds. Hautboy's and a magnum of the best. How long will you fellows be -dressing?" - -They tried to fall into my mood. Allan mixed cocktails. We drank and -smoked and shouted to one another uproariously from our rooms as we -changed our clothes. We drove to Hautboy's three in a hansom, and Arthur -spent his usual five minutes chaffing the young lady behind the tiny -bar. But when the wine came, and our glasses were filled, a sudden -silence fell upon us. We looked at each other, and we all knew what was -in the minds of all of us. It was Allan who spoke. - -"To Isobel!" he said softly. - -We drank in silence, each busy with his own thoughts. But afterwards -Arthur raised his glass high above his head. - -"To the Princess Isobel!" he cried. "Long life and good luck to her!" - -Afterwards there were no more toasts. - - * * * * * - -Arthur and Allan went their several ways within twenty-four hours of our -farewell dinner. I saw them both off, and I forced them with great -difficulty to share to some small extent in Feurgéres' legacy. Then I -took some rooms near my club in the heart of London, and line for line, -word for word, I re-wrote the whole of the story which I had not dared -to show to Isobel, determined that the one thing I still had which was -part of her body and soul should be the best that my brain and skill -could fashion. So the winter and the early spring passed, and then my -story was published. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -A miracle of white daintiness, from the spotless muslin of her gown to -the creamy lace which hung from her parasol. So far as toilette went, -Lady Delahaye was always an artist. Yet my pulses were unmoved, and my -heart unstirred, as she stood under my dark cedar-tree and welcomed me -with all the expression which her tone and eyes could command. - -"So you see, Sir Hermit," she murmured, "what happens to those who will -not go to the mountain? Seriously, I hope you are glad to see me." - -"Why not?" I answered calmly. "Will you come inside, or shall we sit -here in the shade?" - -"Here, by all means," she answered, subsiding gracefully into a wicker -chair. - -"You will let me order you some tea?" - -She checked my movement towards the house. - -"For Heaven's sake, no! I have been paying calls all the afternoon with -Mrs. Jerningham, and you know what that means. She has gone to the Hall -now, and I am to pick her up in half an hour." - -"You are staying at Eastford House, then?" I remarked. - -"For a few days. Can you guess why?" - -"The house parties there have the reputation of being amusing," I -suggested. - -She shook her head. - -"It was not that. Can you make no better guess?" - -"I am a dunce at riddles," I admitted. - -"You are a dunce at many things," she replied. "The reason I came was -because I knew that you were living in these parts, and I had a fancy to -see you again." - -"You are very good," I remarked. - -She looked at me critically. - -"You have not changed," she said slowly. "One would almost say that the -life of a recluse agrees with you. You have by no means the white and -wasted look which I expected. Is it fame which you have found so potent -a tonic?" - -I laughed lightly. - -"Don't call it fame," I answered. "Success, if you will. My profession -is so much of a lottery. A whiff of public opinion, a criticism which -hits the popular fancy, and the bubble is floated. I'm not pretending -that I don't appreciate it, but it was a stroke of luck all the same." - -She was silent for a few moments. From outside we could hear the -jingling of harness as Mrs. Jerningham's fat bays resented the onslaught -of officious flies. Nearer at hand there was only the lazy humming of -bees to break the stillness of the summer afternoon. Lady Delahaye -sighed. - -"You are talking nonsense, and you know it," she said. "I do not want to -flatter you. Any man who has the trick of the pen, and chooses to give -himself wholly and utterly away, can write a powerful story." - -"I am afraid that I do not understand you," I protested. - -"Yes, you do. You cut open your own heart, and you offered the world a -magnifying glass to study its wounds. You wrote your own story. You told -the tale of your own suffering. Of course it was strong, of course it -rang with all the truth of genius. So you loved that child, Arnold! You, -a man of the world, not a callow schoolboy. You loved her magnificently. -Did she know?" - -"She did not know," I answered. "She never will know." - -"She may read the book!" - -"She may read it, and yet not know," I answered. - -"It is true," she murmured. "Unless she loved herself she might not -understand." - -Again we were silent for a while. The perfume of the cedars floated upon -the hot breathless air. Lady Delahaye half closed her eyes and leaned -back. - -"You read the newspapers, Sir Hermit?" - -"Sometimes." - -"You have heard the news from Waldenburg?" - -"I read of the King's death." - -"And of the betrothal of the Princess Isobel?" - -"Yes. I have read also of that." - -"The cousins will both be the consorts of reigning sovereigns, small -though their kingdoms may be. One reads great things of Adelaide. Her -people call her already 'the well-beloved.'" - -A swift rush of thought carried me back to the dark stormy crossing, -when the rain had beaten in our faces, and the wind came booming down -the Channel. Adelaide stood once more by my side. I heard the quiet, -bitter words, the low, passionate cry of her troubled heart. "The -well-beloved" of her people! After all, race tells. - -"I spoke but twice alone to the Princess Adelaide," I said. "I learnt -enough of her, however, to be sure that in any position she would do the -thing that was right and gracious." - -"And so will Isobel," Lady Delahaye said. "I know the race well. The men -are degenerates, but the women have nerve to rule and courage to hold -their own against the world. Isobel's future may well be the more -brilliant of the two. Can you realize, I wonder, that Isobel of -Waldenburg was once the child who filled your brain with such strange -fancies?" - -"I never think," I answered, "of Isobel of Waldenburg." - -"You are wise," she answered. "She is as surely separated from us -eternally as though she had made that little journey from which one does -not return. Yet you--you are going to hug your wounds all your life. Is -that wise, my friend?" - -I laughed softly. - -"You are mistaken," I assured her. "I have no wounds--not even regrets. -I believe that there are few men happier. Look at my home!" - -"It is beautiful," she admitted. - -"My gardens, my flowers, my cedar-tree and my books," I said. "These are -all a joy to me. What more can a man want? Friends have moods, and they -pass away out of one's life. The friends who smile from my study wall -are patient and always ready. There is one to fit every hour. They do -not change. They are always ready to show me the way into the world -beautiful, to cheer me when I am sad, to laugh with me when I am gay. -You must not waste any sympathy on me, Lady Delahaye. The man who has -learnt to live alone is the man who has learnt the greatest lesson life -has to teach. He is the man for whom the sun shines always, who carries -with him for ever the magic key." - -Lady Delahaye disturbed the smoothness of my turf with the point of her -parasol. - -"Are there no times," she asked in a low tone, "when these things fail -you? No times when like calls for like, when the human part of you finds -the comfort of ashes a dead thing? You and your books and your flowers!" -she cried scornfully, raising her head and looking at me with heightened -colour. "Bah! You are a man, are you not, like the others? How long will -these content you? How long will you stop your ears and forget that life -has passions and joys which these dead things can never yield to you?" - -"Until," I answered, "the magician comes who can make me believe it. And -I am afraid, Lady Delahaye, that he has passed me by." - -She rose to her feet. - -"I am answered," she said. "I promise you that I will not intrude again -into this Paradise of wood and stone. Give me a cigarette to keep off -these flies, and take me down to the carriage. Thanks! If one might -venture upon a prophecy, my dear Arnold, I think that I can see your -fate very clearly written. I do not even need your hand to read it." - -"Would the spell," I asked, "be broken if I shared the knowledge?" - -"Not in the least," she answered, with a hard little laugh. "You will -become one of those half-mad sort of creatures whom people call cranks, -or you will marry your housekeeper. In either case you will deserve your -fate." - -So Lady Delahaye drove away down the white dusty road, and I walked back -to the study from whence her coming had brought me. As I sat down to my -interrupted work I smiled. How little she understood! - -I wrote till seven o'clock. Punctually at that hour there was a discreet -knock at the door, and my servant reminded me that it was time to -change. At a quarter before eight I strolled into the garden and -selected a piece of heliotrope for the buttonhole of my dinner coat. A -few minutes later my dinner was served. - -My table was a small round one set in front of the open French windows. -Looking a little to the right I could see the extent of my domain--a low -laurel hedge, a sloping field beyond, in which my two Alderneys were -standing almost knee-deep amongst the buttercups; a ring fence, a -paddock, and, beyond, the road. To the left were my gardens, the -sweetness of which came stealing through the window with the very -faintest breath of the slowly moving air, bordered by that ancient red -brick wall, mellowed and crumbling with the sun and west winds of -generations, and in front of me my lawn and the cedar-tree under which -Lady Delahaye had sat an hour or so ago and prophesied evil things. My -lips parted into a smile as I thought of her words. Did she indeed think -me a creature so weak as to pile gloom on the top of sorrow, to shut my -eyes to all the joys of life, because supreme happiness was denied me, -to play skittles with my self-respect, and--marry a kitchen-maid? I, who -had turned over great pages in the book of life! I, who had known -Feurgéres! Wallace had left the room for a moment, and I raised my glass -full of clear amber wine, and drank silently my evening toast. I drank -to the memory of the greatest love I had ever known, to the man whose -strong and beautiful life had taught me how to fashion my own. Perhaps -my thoughts flashed a little further afield. It was so always when I -thought of Feurgéres, but it was to the joyous and wonderful memory of -those earlier days, to Isobel the child I drank. Isobel of Waldenburg -had passed away into the world of shadows. I courted no heartaches by -vain thoughts of her. I pored over no papers to find mention of her -name. I was content with what had gone before. - -I morbid! Lady Delahaye had judged me wrongly indeed. I, before whom two -great worlds stretched themselves continually, full of countless -treasures, always changing, yet always beautiful. Only yesterday I had -seen the sun rise. I had seen the still slumbering world break into -quivering life. I had seen the curtain roll up on a new act of this most -wonderful of all plays to the music of an orchestra hidden indeed in my -grove of chestnuts, but sweeter, more joyous, more full of the promise -of perfect things than ever a violin touched by human fingers. Then the -thrushes had hopped out on to my dew-spangled lawn, where before the hot -sun the grey, gossamer-like mist was vanishing like breath from a -mirror; my roses raised their heads, and the breeze from the west--a -lazy, fluttering breeze--borrowed their sweetness; my peaches cracked -through their full skins upon the wall, and the bees commenced their -eternal lullaby of murmuring sounds. Then at night--such a night as -this, too, promised to be--I had watched the shadows come creeping over -the land when the sun had set and the moon had barely risen; a new order -of things had come. The fire of the day was replaced by the infinite -peace of night. Beyond the confines of my little domain the whole world -lay hushed and hidden. There were few stars as yet to mock with their -passionless serenity the toilers of the earth, worn out with the long -day's struggle. Only a great quiet--a great, peaceful quiet--and the -shadows of dim things! - -I morbid, with eyes to see these things, with a whole room full of -waiting friends, ready at a touch of my fingers, the turning of a page, -to take me by the hand and lead into even other worlds as beautiful as -this, to scale with me the mountains, or to wander along the -flower-strewn valleys. Lady Delahaye was a very foolish woman. She had -seen nothing of my well-ordered household, of the ease, the -luxury--simple, yet almost Sybaritic--with which I had surrounded -myself. She did not understand life from my point of view--life as -Feurgéres had lived it. The life sentimental, but not passionate; the -life to be evolved by will from the tangle of bruised hopes and hot -desires. The life---- - -I set down my glass empty. The last drop had tasted like vinegar. Always -one has to fight, and for a while I sat in silence before my table piled -now with dishes of fruit. My hands gripped the sides of my chair, my -eyes were fixed upon a twinkling light which had shot out from the -distant hillside. Always one has to fight for the things worth -having--and the pain soon passes. - -In a few minutes I rose. I lit a cigarette from the box which Wallace -had placed at my elbow, and with a handful more in my pocket I stepped -outside. On the lawn under the cedar-tree something was lying--something -pink and fluffy, and very soft to the fingers. As I held it at arm's -length a faint, familiar perfume stole up from its flouncy depths. The -pain was all gone now. I smiled as I looked at it. It was Lady -Delahaye's parasol! - -I turned it over meditatively. The fancy seized me that it had been left -there on purpose--my last chance! Eastford House was barely a mile and a -half away--a very reasonable after-dinner stroll. I smiled to myself as -I summoned Wallace from the dining-room. - -"Take this parasol over to Eastford House as soon as you have served my -coffee," I directed. "Lady Delahaye must have left it here this -afternoon." - -"Very good, sir," Wallace answered, relieving me of my burden and -carrying it into the house. - -Then I departed on my usual evening pilgrimage. I entered the flower -garden by a little iron gate, and walked slowly amongst my roses. Here -the air was full of delicate scents--lavender insistent; mignonette -faint, but penetrating; homely wall-flowers, sweet even as the roses -themselves. Night insects now were buzzing around me; the bushes took to -themselves phantasmal shapes; even the path, very narrow and overgrown, -was hard to find. I filled my hand with flowers and made my way slowly -back to the cedar-tree. The shadows were deeper now. It was the one hour -of darkness before the rising of the late moon. I threw myself into a -low chair, and the flowers on to the seat which encircled the -cedar-tree. Oh, wonderful Feurgéres, who had taught me the sweetness of -such moments as this! - -Always she came the same way; yet to-night it seemed to me that a -startling note of reality heralded her coming. The ghostliness of her -movements, that noiseless flitting across the lawn were changed. Almost -I could have sworn that the little iron gate had indeed been opened and -closed, that real footsteps had fallen lightly enough, but, with actual -sound, upon the gravel path, that I could hear the soft swish of a real -dress from the slim white figure which came hesitatingly across the -lawn. Oh, Feurgéres was a great man! It was a great thing which he had -taught me. My pulses were thrilled with expectant joy. Reality itself -could be no more real. But to-night--to-night was a triumph indeed! She -was dressed differently. She wore a long white travelling cloak, a veil -pushed back from her hat. I did not understand. My fancy had never -dressed her like this. That little cry, her pause. Had I indeed done -greater things than Feurgéres, and summoned to my side real flesh and -blood? - -"Arnold!" - -I gripped the sides of my chair. I felt my breath coming shorter. A cry. -I could not keep it back from my quivering lips. - -"Isobel!" - -I could not move. I was afraid of what I had done. And then she dropped -on her knees by my side, and real arms were about my neck, real kisses -were upon my lips. Then I no longer had any fear, for from whatever -world she had come the joy of it was like a foretaste of heaven. I drew -her to me, held her passionately, and I knew that this was no creature -of my mind's fashioning, but a live woman, whose heart beat so wildly -against my own.... - -"It was all Adelaide," she murmured presently. "She brought me your -book, and afterwards we talked. She was alone with my grandfather--and -then he sent for me. I was afraid, for this was in his last days. Shall -I tell you what he said, Arnold?" - -"Yes," I answered, tightening my grasp upon her. "Go on talking!" For I -was fighting still for belief. - -"He took my hand quite calmly, and I knew at once that I had nothing to -fear. 'Isobel,' he said, 'they tell me that you have your mother's blood -in your veins, that freedom means more to you than ambition, that you -are a woman first and a Waldenburg afterwards. Is this true?' Then I -told him everything, and he kissed me. 'Go your own way, Isobel,' he -said, 'but stay with me while I live. Adelaide has shown me many things -which I did not understand. Poor child!' He sent for his lawyers, -Arnold, and he made me a poor woman. I am much too poor to be a princess -any longer--unless I may be yours." - -Then I believed--this, the strangest of all things that may happen to a -man. My garden of fancies, which Feurgéres had shown me so well how to -cultivate, passed away into the mists. Before the moon rose, Paradise -was there. - - -THE END - - * * * * * - -THE NOVELS OF E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM - - - A Prince of Sinners - Anna the Adventuress - The Master Mummer - A Maker of History - Mysterious Mr. Sabin - The Yellow Crayon - The Betrayal - The Traitors - Enoch Strone - A Sleeping Memory - The Malefactor - A Daughter of the Marionis - The Mystery of Mr. Bernard Brown - A Lost Leader - The Great Secret - The Avenger - As a Man Lives - The Missioner - The Governors - The Man and His Kingdom - A Millionaire of Yesterday - The Long Arm of Mannister - Jeanne of the Marshes - The Illustrious Prince - The Lost Ambassador - Berenice - The Moving Finger - - * * * * * - -Popular Copyright Books - -AT MODERATE PRICES - -Any of the following titles can be bought of your bookseller at 50 cents -per volume. - - -The Shepherd of the Hills. By Harold Bell Wright. - -Jane Cable. By George Barr McCutcheon. - -Abner Daniel. By Will N. Harben. - -The Far Horizon. 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By Holman Day. - -Macaria. (Illustrated Edition.) By Augusta J. Evans. - -Meryl. By Wm. Tillinghast Eldredge. - -Old, Old Story, The. By Rosa Nouchette Carey. - -Quest Eternal, The. By Will Lillibridge. - -Silver Blade, The. By Charles E. Walk. - -St. Elmo. (Illustrated Edition.) By Augusta J. Evans. - -Uncle William. By Jennette Lee. - -Under the Red Robe. By Stanley J. Weyman. - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Master Mummer, by E. Phillips Oppenheim - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MASTER MUMMER *** - -***** This file should be named 28161-8.txt or 28161-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/1/6/28161/ - -Produced by D. 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