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diff --git a/78149-h/78149-h.htm b/78149-h/78149-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..948a88b --- /dev/null +++ b/78149-h/78149-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11253 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <title> + When love dawns; or, Dark Magdalen | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} +.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 0.25em; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} +.tdc {text-align: center;} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + +blockquote { + margin-top: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.bbox {border: 2px solid; padding: 0 2em;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +/* Poetry */ +/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry */ +/* .poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} */ +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + + +/* Poetry indents */ +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3.0em;} +.poetry .indent1 {text-indent: -2.5em;} +.poetry .indent3 {text-indent: -1.5em;} + +.small {font-size: 75%;} +.medium {font-size: 125%;} +.large {font-size:150%;} +.sig0 {text-align: right; margin-right: 5em; } +.sig {text-align: right; margin-right: 2.5em; } + + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp51 {width: 51%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp51 {width: 100%;} +.illowe5 {width: 5em;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78149 ***</div> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp51" id="cover" style="max-width: 116.6875em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<table class="autotable" style="min-width: 20em;"> + <tr><td class="tdl">EAGLE SERIES</td><td class="tdr">NO. 448</td></tr> +</table> +<h1>WHEN LOVE DAWNS</h1> +<p class="center">BY</p> +<p class="center medium">ADELAIDE STIRLING</p> +<p class="center p2">STREET & SMITH :: PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Copyright_Fiction_by_the_Best_Authors"> + <i class="small">Copyright Fiction by the Best Authors</i> + <br> + NEW EAGLE SERIES + </h2> +</div> + +<hr class="r5"> +<p class="center medium">A Big New Book Issued Weekly in this Line.<br> +An Unequaled Collection of Modern Romances.</p> +<hr class="r5"> + + +<p>The books in this line comprise an unrivaled collection of copyrighted +novels by authors who have won fame wherever the +English language is spoken. Foremost among these is Mrs. +Georgie Sheldon, whose works are contained in this line exclusively. +Every book in the New Eagle Series is of generous length, of +attractive appearance, and of undoubted merit. No better literature +can be had at any price. Beware of imitations of the S. & S. novels, +which are sold cheap because their publishers were put to no expense +in the matter of purchasing manuscripts and making plates.</p> + + +<p class="center"><b>ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT</b></p> + +<blockquote> +<p>TO THE PUBLIC:—These books are sold by news dealers everywhere. +If your dealer does not keep them, and will not get them for +you, send direct to the publishers, in which case four cents must be +added to the price per copy to cover postage.</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr> + +<table> + <tr><td colspan="3" class="tdl"><b>Quo Vadis</b> (New Illustrated Edition)</td><td class="tdr"><b>By Henryk Sienkiewicz</b></td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Queen Bess</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Ruby’s Reward</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">7</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Two Keys</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">12</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Edrie’s Legacy</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">44</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">That Dowdy</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">55</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Thrice Wedded</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">66</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Witch Hazel</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">77</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Tina</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">88</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Virgie’s Inheritance</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">99</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Audrey’s Recompense</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">111</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Faithful Shirley</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">122</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Grazia’s Mistake</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">133</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Max</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">144</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Dorothy’s Jewels</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">155</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Nameless Dell</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">166</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Masked Bridal</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">177</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A True Aristocrat</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">188</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Dorothy Arnold’s Escape</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">199</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Geoffrey’s Victory</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">210</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Wild Oats</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">219</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lost, A Pearle</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">222</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Lily of Mordaunt</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">233</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Nora</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">244</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Hoiden’s Conquest</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">255</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Little Marplot</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">266</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Welfleet Mystery</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">277</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Brownie’s Triumph</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">282</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Forsaken Bride</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">288</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sibyl’s Influence</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">291</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Mysterious Wedding Ring</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">299</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Little Miss Whirlwind</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">311</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Wedded by Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">339</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Heart’s Queen</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">351</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Churchyard Betrothal</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">362</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Stella Rosevelt</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">372</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Girl in a Thousand</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">373</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Thorn Among Roses</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdl" colspan="4"><span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">Sequel to “A Girl in a Thousand”</span></td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">382</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Mona</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">391</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Marguerite’s Heritage</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">399</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Betsey’s Transformation</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">407</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Esther, the Fright</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">415</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Trixy</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">419</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Other Woman</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">433</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Winifred’s Sacrifice</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">440</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Edna’s Secret Marriage</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">451</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Helen’s Victory</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">458</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When Love Meets Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">476</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Earle Wayne’s Nobility</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">511</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Golden Key</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">512</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Heritage of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdl" colspan="4"><span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">Sequel to “The Golden Key”</span></td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">519</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Magic Cameo</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">520</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heatherford Fortune</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdl" colspan="4"><span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">Sequel to “The Magic Cameo”</span></td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">531</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Better Than Life</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">537</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Life’s Mistake</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">542</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Once in a Life</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">548</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">’Twas Love’s Fault</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">553</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Queen Kate</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">554</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Step by Step</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">555</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Put to the Test</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">556</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">With Love’s Aid</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">557</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">In Cupid’s Chains</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">558</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Plunge Into the Unknown</td><td class="tdr">By Richard Marsh</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">559</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Love That Was Cursed</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">560</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Thorns of Regret</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">561</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Outcast of the Family</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">562</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Forced Promise</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">563</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Old Homestead</td><td class="tdr">By Denman Thompson</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">564</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s First Kiss</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">565</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Just a Girl</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">566</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">In Love’s Springtime</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">567</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Trixie’s Honor</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">568</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Hearts and Dollars</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">569</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">By Devious Ways</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">570</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Heart’s Unbidden Guest</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">571</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Two Wild Girls</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Charlotte May Kingsley</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">572</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Amid Scarlet Roses</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">573</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Heart for Heart</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">574</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Fugitive Bride</td><td class="tdr">By Mary E. Bryan</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">575</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Blue Grass Heroine</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">576</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Yellow Face</td><td class="tdr">By Fred M. White</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">577</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Story of a Passion</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">579</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Curse of Beauty</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">580</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Great Awakening</td><td class="tdr">By E. Phillips Oppenheim</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">581</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Modern Juliet</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">582</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Virgie Talcott’s Mission</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy M. Russell</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">583</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Greatest Sacrifice; or, Manch</td><td class="tdr">By Mary E. Bryan</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">584</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Mabel’s Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">585</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Ape and the Diamond</td><td class="tdr">By Richard Marsh</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">586</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Nell, of Shorne Mills</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">587</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Katherine’s Two Suitors</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">588</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Crime of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Barbara Howard</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">589</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Father’s Crime</td><td class="tdr">By E. Phillips Oppenheim</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">590</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">What Was She to Him?</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">591</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Heritage of Hate</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">592</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Ida Chaloner’s Heart</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy Randall Comfort</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">593</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love Will Find the Way</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">594</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Case of Identity</td><td class="tdr">By Richard Marsh</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">595</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Shadow of Her Life</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">596</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Slighted Love</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">597</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Fatal Gift</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">598</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Wife’s Friend</td><td class="tdr">By Mary E. Bryan</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">599</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">At Love’s Cost</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">600</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">St. Elmo</td><td class="tdr">By Augusta J. Evans</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">601</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Fate of the Plotter</td><td class="tdr">By Louis Tracy</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">602</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Married in Error</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">603</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love and Jealousy</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy Randall Comfort</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">604</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Only a Working Girl</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">605</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love, the Tyrant</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">606</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Mabel’s Sacrifice</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">608</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love is Love Forevermore</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">609</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">John Elliott’s Flirtation</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy May Russell</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">610</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">With All Her Heart</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">611</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Is Love Worth While?</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">612</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Husband’s Other Wife</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">613</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Philip Bennion’s Death</td><td class="tdr">By Richard Marsh</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">614</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Little Phillis’ Lover</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">615</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Maida</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">617</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">As a Man Lives</td><td class="tdr">By E. Phillips Oppenheim</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">618</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Tide of Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">619</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Cardinal Moth</td><td class="tdr">By Fred M. White</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">620</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Marcia Drayton</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">621</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lynette’s Wedding</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">622</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Madcap Sweetheart</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">623</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love at the Loom</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">624</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Bachelor Girl</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy May Russell</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">625</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Kyra’s Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">626</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Joss</td><td class="tdr">By Richard Marsh</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">627</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">My Little Love</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">628</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Daughter of the Marionis</td><td class="tdr">By E. Phillips Oppenheim</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">629</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Lady of Beaufort Park</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">630</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Verdict of the Heart</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">631</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Love Concealed</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">633</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Strange Disappearance of Lady Delia</td><td class="tdr">By Louis Tracy</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">634</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Golden Spell</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">635</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Coronet of Shame</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">636</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sinned Against</td><td class="tdr">By Mary E. Bryan</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">637</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">If It Were True!</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">638</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Golden Barrier</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">639</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Hateful Bondage</td><td class="tdr">By Barbara Howard</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">640</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Girl of Spirit</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">641</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Master of Men</td><td class="tdr">By E. Phillips Oppenheim</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">642</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Fair Enchantress</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">643</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Power of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">644</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">No Time for Penitence</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">645</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Jest of Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">646</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Sister’s Secret</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">647</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Bitterly Atoned</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. E. Burke Collins</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">648</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Gertrude Elliott’s Crucible</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">649</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Corner House</td><td class="tdr">By Fred M. White</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">650</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Diana’s Destiny</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">651</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Clouded Dawn</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">652</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Little Vixen</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">653</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Heart’s Challenge</td><td class="tdr">By Barbara Howard</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">654</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Vivian’s Love Story</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. E. Burke Collins</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">655</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Linked by Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">656</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Hearts of Stone</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">657</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">In the Service of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Richard Marsh</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">658</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Devious Course</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">659</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Told in the Twilight</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">660</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Mills of the Gods</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">661</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Man of the Hour</td><td class="tdr">By Sir William Magnay</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">662</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Little Barbarian</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte Kingsley</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">663</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Creatures of Destiny</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">664</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Southern Princess</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">666</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Fateful Promise</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">667</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Goddess—A Demon</td><td class="tdr">By Richard Marsh</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">668</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">From Tears to Smiles</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">670</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Better Than Riches</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">671</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When Love Is Young</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">672</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Craven Fortune</td><td class="tdr">By Fred M. White</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">673</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Life’s Burden</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">674</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heart of Hetta</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">675</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Breath of Slander</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">676</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">My Lady Beth</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">677</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Wooing of Esther Gray</td><td class="tdr">By Louis Tracy</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">678</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Shadow Between Them</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">679</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Gold in the Gutter</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">680</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Master of Her Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">681</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">In Full Cry</td><td class="tdr">By Richard Marsh</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">682</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">My Pretty Maid</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">683</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">An Unhappy Bargain</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">684</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Enduring Love</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">685</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">India’s Punishment</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">686</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Castle of the Shadows</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. C. N. Williamson</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">687</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">My Own Sweetheart</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">688</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Only a Kiss</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">689</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lola Dunbar’s Crime</td><td class="tdr">By Barbara Howard</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">690</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Ruth, the Outcast</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Mary E. Bryan</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">691</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Dearest Love</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">692</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Man of Millions</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">693</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">For Another’s Fault</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">694</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Belle of Saratoga</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy Randall Comfort</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">695</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Mystery of the Unicorn</td><td class="tdr">By Sir William Magnay</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">696</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Bride’s Opals</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">697</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">One of Life’s Roses</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">698</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Battle of Hearts</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">700</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">In Wolf’s Clothing</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">701</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Lost Sweetheart</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">702</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Stronger Passion</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Lillian R. Drayton</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">703</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Mr. Marx’s Secret</td><td class="tdr">By E. Phillips Oppenheim</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">704</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Had She Loved Him Less!</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">705</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Adventure of Princess Sylvia</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. C. N. Williamson</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">706</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">In Love’s Paradise</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">707</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">At Another’s Bidding</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">708</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sold for Gold</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">710</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Ridgeway of Montana</td><td class="tdr">By William MacLeod Raine</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">711</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Taken by Storm</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">712</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love and a Lie</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">713</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Barriers of Stone</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">714</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Ethel’s Secret</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">715</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Amber, the Adopted</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">716</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">No Man’s Wife</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">717</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Wild and Willful</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy Randall Comfort</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">718</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When We Two Parted</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">719</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Earnest Prayer</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">720</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Price of a Kiss</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">721</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Girl from the South</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">722</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Freak of Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">723</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Golden Sorrow</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">724</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Norna’s Black Fortune</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Alien</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">725</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Thoroughbred</td><td class="tdr">By Edith MacVane</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">726</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Diana’s Peril</td><td class="tdr">By Dorothy Hall</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">727</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Willing Slave</td><td class="tdr">By Lillian R. Drayton</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">728</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Share of Sorrow</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">729</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Loved at Last</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">730</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">John Hungerford’s Redemption</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">731</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Two Loves</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">732</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Eric Braddon’s Love</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">733</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Garrison’s Finish</td><td class="tdr">By W. B. M. Ferguson</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">734</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sylvia, the Forsaken</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">735</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Married for Money</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy Randall Comfort</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">736</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Married in Haste</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">737</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">At Her Father’s Bidding</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">738</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Power of Gold</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">739</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Strength of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">740</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Soul Laid Bare</td><td class="tdr">By J. K. Egerton</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">741</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Fatal Ruby</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">742</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Strange Wooing</td><td class="tdr">By Richard Marsh</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">743</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Lost Love</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">744</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Useless Sacrifice</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">745</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Will of Her Own</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">746</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">That Girl Named Haze</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">747</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">For a Flirt’s Love</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">748</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The World’s Great Snare</td><td class="tdr">By E. Phillips Oppenheim</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">749</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heart of a Maid</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">750</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Driven from Home</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">751</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Gypsy’s Warning</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">752</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Without Name or Wealth</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">753</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Loyal Unto Death</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">754</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Lost Heritage</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">755</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Priceless Love</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">756</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Leola’s Heart</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">757</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Dare-devil Betty</td><td class="tdr">By Evelyn Malcolm</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">758</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Woman in It</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">759</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">They Met by Chance</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">760</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love Conquers Pride</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">761</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Reckless Promise</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">762</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Rose of Yesterday</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">763</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Other Girl’s Lover</td><td class="tdr">By Lillian R. Drayton</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">764</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Unbounded Faith</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">765</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When Love Speaks</td><td class="tdr">By Evelyn Malcolm</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">766</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Man She Hated</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">767</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">No One to Help Her</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">768</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Claire’s Love-Life</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy Randall Comfort</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">769</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Harvest</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Fox Robinson</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">770</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Queen of Song</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">771</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Nan Haggard’s Confession</td><td class="tdr">By Mary E. Bryan</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">772</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Married Flirt</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">773</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Thorns of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Evelyn Malcolm</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">774</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love in a Snare</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">775</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">My Love Kitty</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">776</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">That Strange Girl</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">777</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Nellie</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">778</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Miss Estcourt; or, Olive</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">779</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Virginia Goddess</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">780</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Love He Sought</td><td class="tdr">By Lillian R. Drayton</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">781</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Falsely Accused</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">782</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His First Sweetheart</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy Randall Comfort</td></tr> + <tr><td class="tdr">783</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">All for Love</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +</table> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2>WHEN LOVE DAWNS</h2> +<p class="center medium">OR,</p> +<p class="center large">DARK MAGDALEN</p> + +<p class="p6 center small">BY</p> +<p class="center large">ADELAIDE STIRLING</p> +<p class="center small">AUTHOR OF</p> +<p class="center"> + “Nerine’s Second Choice,” “The Purple Mask,”<br> + “Lover or Husband?” etc. +</p> +<p class="p2"> </p> +<figure class="figcenter illowe5" id="i1"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i1.jpg" alt="S AND S NOVELS"> +</figure> + +<p class="center p4"> + <span class="medium">NEW YORK</span><br> +<span class="large">STREET & SMITH, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span></span><br> + <span class="smcap medium">79-89 Seventh Avenue</span> +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"> + Copyright, 1900<br> + By STREET & SMITH +</p> +<hr class="r5"> +<p class="center"> + When Love Dawns +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="bbox"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak u" id="THE_BEST_OF_EVERYTHING"> + THE BEST OF EVERYTHING! + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>Our experience with the American reading public +has taught us that it expects better reading than readers +of any other nationality. Why? Because Americans, +as a rule, are better educated and more intelligent. +We make it a point to cater to all classes of readers +with our paper-covered novels. If a man likes adventure +or detective stories, he can find more and better +ones in the S. & S. novel list than he can among the +cloth books. If a woman wants love, society, or mystery +stories, the S. & S. catalogue again contains just what +she wants at the lowest possible price. If a boy wants +up-to-date baseball, athletic, or treasure-hunt stories, +he cannot get anything that will please him so much +as the books in the MEDAL and NEW MEDAL LIBRARIES, +no matter how much he has to spend for his reading +matter.</p> + +<p>Here are a few suggestions:</p> + + +<h3>BOOKS FOR MEN.</h3> + +<p>The Nick Carter stories in the <span class="smcap">New Magnet Library</span>.</p> + +<p>The Howard W. Erwin stories in the <span class="smcap">Far West +Library</span>.</p> + +<p>The William Wallace Cook stories in the <span class="smcap">New Fiction +Library</span>.</p> + +<p>The Dumas stories in the <span class="smcap">Select Library</span>.</p> + + +<h3>BOOKS FOR WOMEN.</h3> + +<p>The Mrs. Georgie Sheldon stories in the <span class="smcap">New Eagle +Series</span>.</p> + +<p>The Charles Garvice stories in the <span class="smcap">New Eagle Series</span>.</p> + +<p>The Bertha Clay stories in the <span class="smcap">Bertha Clay Library</span>.</p> + +<p>The Southworth stories in the <span class="smcap">Southworth Library</span>.</p> + +<p>The Mrs. Mary J. Holmes stories in the <span class="smcap">Eagle</span> and +<span class="smcap">Select Libraries</span>.</p> + + +<h3>BOOKS FOR BOYS.</h3> + +<p>The Burt L. Standish stories in the <span class="smcap">New Medal +Library</span>.</p> + +<p>The Horatio Alger stories in the <span class="smcap">Medal</span> and <span class="smcap">New +Medal Libraries</span>.</p> + +<p>The Oliver Optic stories in the <span class="smcap">Medal</span> and <span class="smcap">New +Medal Libraries</span>.</p> + +<p>The Edward C. Taylor stories in the <span class="smcap">New Medal +Library</span>.</p> + +<p>Send for our complete catalogue and look these +stories up. It will pay you.</p> + +<hr> + +<p class="center medium">STREET & SMITH, <i>Publishers</i>, NEW YORK</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Why_Take"> + Why Take + a Chance? + </h2> +</div> + +<hr> + +<p>Most everybody thinks that the public library is a +mighty fine institution—teaches people to read, and all +that. Well, so it does, but does any one ever think of +the great risk that a person, who takes a book out of +a public library, runs of catching some contagious +disease?</p> + +<p>Every time a bacteriological examination is made of +the public-library book, germs of every known disease +are found among its pages. Probably, from your own +experience, you know that lots of people never think +of taking a book from the public library, until some +one in their family is sick and wants something to read.</p> + +<p>As records prove that ninety per cent of the demand +for books at the public libraries is for works of fiction, +it strikes us that the reading public would do better to +patronize the S. & S. novel list which contains hundreds +of books to be found in the public libraries, and many +hundreds of others just as good and interesting.</p> + +<p>The price of the S. & S. novels is a low one indeed +to pay for protection from disease-laden literature. +Why run the risk, then, when you can get a fresh, +clean book for little money and thus insure your +health?</p> + +<hr> + +<p class="center"> + <span class="large">STREET & SMITH, <i>Publishers</i></span><br> + <span class="medium">NEW YORK</span> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="WHEN_LOVE_DAWNS"> + WHEN LOVE DAWNS. + </h2> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS"> + CONTENTS + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="center"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. PROFITS OF A PAST.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. WHEN THE PRESENT’S QUESTIONABLE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. EYES THAT LOOKED INTO EYES.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. AN OUTCAST.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. “I NEVER KNEW HIM.”</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. A GOLDEN FUTURE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. ACROSS CLYDE WATER.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. MAGDALEN DREAMS.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. DOLLY’S PREDICAMENT.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. BETWEEN TWO EVILS.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. THE EYES BEHIND THE GLASS.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. IN THE CHAPEL.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. STRATHARDEN “SEES THEM OFF.”</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. “MURDER!”</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. DOLLY SEES DAYLIGHT.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. “DARK MAGDALEN.”</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. FOR THE HOUSE OF BARNYSDALE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. EYES TO THE BLIND.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. “GOOD LORD, DELIVER US!”</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. DOLLY TAKES FEAR BY THE THROAT.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. IN DISGUISE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. WHEN LOVE DAWNS.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. THE NAKED FOOTSTEP.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. AT AUNT MANETTE’S.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. “BUFF OGILVIE!”</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. A CURTAIN AND A SHADOW.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. “WHY SHOULD I TRUST YOU?”</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. ONLY A BIT OF GOLD FILIGREE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX. THE GREEN BAIZE DOOR.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. LORD STRATHARDEN BEGINS.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI. THE BLIND GUIDE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII. IN THE HOUSE OF AH LEE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII. IN THE HOUSE OF HER DREAM.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV. ONE THAT WAS LOST.</a><br> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I"> + CHAPTER I. + <br> + PROFITS OF A PAST. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>“Why didn’t you tell me?” The girl had her back +turned on the extravagant, luxurious room and its one +other occupant. Her voice was full of anger and she +stared out of the window as though she had not patience +to meet the other woman’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“What good would it have done?” Mrs. Arden lay +stretched full length on the sofa, her untidy dressing-gown +disposed gracefully about her.</p> + +<p>“I could have done something?”</p> + +<p>“What? Gone without meat on Fridays and had bread +without butter? You may as well turn round, Magdalen! +I know you’re raging.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not.” She wheeled slowly. “It wasn’t my +money, it was yours. But if I’d known I wouldn’t +have helped you waste it, I’d have worked, I wouldn’t +have lived on you. Oh, Doll!” hotly, “can’t you see it’s +been madness? What have you ever got for all you’ve +thrown away?”</p> + +<p>“We’ve had a good time,” calmly. “What’s the use of +talking about it? My money’s s-p-e-n-t, spent—and +that’s the end of it. Now we’ve got to live on our wits.”</p> + +<p>Magdalen Clyde looked at her stepsister curiously, as +though she saw her for the first time—her fragile, waxen +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span>prettiness; her careless mouth! her eyes, half tired and +half mocking. For all the soft lines of her face there +was something reckless in it this morning.</p> + +<p>“Don’t stare at me,” cried Dolly petulantly. “You’ve +seen me before and I’m not looking my best on this delightful +occasion. And what you’re thinking is a waste +of time! I’m not going to look for a place as housekeeper +while you go out as a nursery governess. I’m +thirty years old and the world owes me a living. It +wasn’t my fault that I came into it.”</p> + +<p>“Why did you take me on your shoulders? I could +have worked for myself.”</p> + +<p>A curious expression flitted across Dolly’s face. But +whatever caused it she kept to herself. Perhaps for only +one second had she meant to tell why she had taken +Magdalen.</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk rubbish!” she said shortly. “Mother died—I +had the money. You went to school and I got married; +not for long, thank the powers! And anyhow, here +we are without one penny. Your assets, I believe,” and +she laughed, “are two black frocks, three indifferent hats +and a red head. Mine are: Item—one husband, kindly +removed by desertion; item—one small boy of three and +<i>ad infinitum</i>—do you like my delicate wit?—debts, debts +and duns. My looks I will leave out of the question; +perhaps they are a little frayed around the edges. But +my reputation, thanks to your eternal vigilance, is good! +You’ve been quite worth your keep, my beloved!”</p> + +<p>“What does your reputation matter?” hastily; with +sense enough not to say what was on her tongue. Dolly +Arden’s reputation! A hundred lucky slides over cracking +ice, a habit of knowing no women who could talk +about her escapades or her parties, a childlike callousness +that thought the world both deep and blind. If +these things build up a good reputation, Dolly Arden +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span>had one. The girl dismissed the long list of men who +had adorned her stepsister with various jewelry and vanished—though +their presents stayed—and asked her question +over again scornfully:</p> + +<p>“What does your reputation matter?”</p> + +<p>“Everything,” returned Mrs. Arden calmly. “It’s my +stock in trade. I’m going to become a British matron; +well-dressed, too. I’m going to drive through the rest +of my life in a carriage and have bishops’ wives to tea.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean”—there was never much color in +Magdalen’s face, but now it was as white as paper—“he +isn’t—you’re not going to dare to get married again?”</p> + +<p>“On the contrary, I’m going to become a widow! +You don’t look pretty with your mouth open like a codfish, +my child, and your horror’s wasted. He,” significantly, +“is not going to marry me. It’s my previous history +that will enable me to consort with bishops’ wives +when convenient, not my future.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean the kind who abide in asylums?” trenchantly. +“For goodness’ sake, Doll, speak out! What +do you mean? I know something’s happened. Last +night you walked the floor, for I heard you, and this +morning you’re a different creature.”</p> + +<p>“Last night I saw no resource for us but to turn costermongers +on half a crown capital! This morning”—a +queer look, half excitement, half determination, came +on her face; she stood up with her torn dressing-gown +let hang as it liked—“this morning, Magdalen, Lord +Barnysdale’s dead!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, sit down,” wrathfully. “You look like Crazy +Ann. I’m too tired for jokes. I never heard of Lord +Barnysdale when he was alive; what does his being dead +matter to us?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arden laughed; then pirouetted with a childish, +careless grace.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span></p> + +<p>“Everything!” she cried. “Barnysdale’s dead, I’m a +widow—a widow!” and she waltzed round the room.</p> + +<p>“Dolly, for Heaven’s sake!” said Magdalen furiously, +yet her pale face, with its level black brows and somber +eyes, might have been a picture in black and white for +all the life there was in it as she caught the small dancing +figure gently enough. “Are you demented or do +you think I am?”</p> + +<p>“Neither,” panting. “I mean Barnysdale’s dead and +I’m rich!”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean he was—Arden?” blankly.</p> + +<p>For all she knew about her stepsister’s marriage was +that it had been unhappy, that the man had deserted her +and that Dolly, in a moment of unwonted frankness, had +once said his name was not Arden; though what it was +she had not disclosed. For all her gaiety and her recklessness +there was never a more secretive woman on +earth—about her own affairs—than Dolly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do.” Dolly’s lips grew very pale, her eyes defiant. +“Let go of me and sit down while I tell you. But +for Heaven’s sake poke the fire first! I’m frozen,” with +a shiver, as if all her dancing had not quickened her +blood.</p> + +<p>“This is the last of the coal.” Magdalen’s hand +dropped from her stepsister’s arm, but she did not move +to the ugly, dull fire.</p> + +<p>“The last? You idiot, I’m a countess! I’ll never +worry about coal again as long as I live.”</p> + +<p>“Dolly,” said Magdalen slowly, “I don’t believe you!”</p> + +<p>For one second there was on Dolly Arden’s face a +look that might have been terror. The next her small, +fair head went back defiantly; if she found her voice by +an effort it was imperceptible.</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to,” she returned. “Look here,” pointing +to the morning paper she had calmly taken from +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span>the door of the next flat, “Barnysdale died last night; +there’s the notice. And here’s the rest!” she pulled an +envelope from her pocket and threw it to Magdalen.</p> + +<p>As the girl took out the three papers that were in it +Mrs. Arden looked, not at her, but at her own stone-cold +hands. Her small face was bloodless; every fine +line time—or other things—had marked on it showed out +in the gray November light. If she were thirty and +owned to it she looked forty, with that dreadful tenseness +on her face as if she were trying an experiment she +dared not watch.</p> + +<p>But Magdalen had no eyes for her.</p> + +<p>There, in black and white, staring her in the face, was +the marriage certificate of Dorothy Deane and John +Ogilvie, Earl of Barnysdale, Viscount Stratharden; the +baptismal register of Ronald, their only son.</p> + +<p>“Doll!” she exclaimed, “why did you never tell me? +And why did you worry like you’ve been doing? Why +didn’t you go to him while he was alive? He would +have had to do something for you.”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t,” hoarsely. “Read the last paper and +you’ll see why!” but her mouth had grown suddenly lax +as if with relief, and as she looked up her beautiful, shallow +eyes were for the first time steady.</p> + +<p>“Was he out of his mind?” said Magdalen, gathering +the sense of that third paper incredulously.</p> + +<p>“No,” doubtfully, hesitating, “only tired, I—I think. +He——” She gave herself an angry little shake. Why +was she telling her story as though it were that of some +one else?</p> + +<p>“Here,” she cried roughly, “give me the papers. I’ll +tell you the whole thing! You know when mother died +I went on the stage. Well, I wasn’t a success—that’s +the long and short of it! And I got ill. I went down +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span>to Hastings to a good hotel, with the last money I had. I +thought I would eat and drink that, and then, if nothing +turned up, the sea would be convenient. You were at +that convent; you were only a girl I hardly knew. Anyhow”—as +if she were defending herself—“you’ve never +known, as I have, what it was to be afraid of life because +you were poor.”</p> + +<p>“Poor! But you’d mother’s money.”</p> + +<p>“Not then,” impatiently. “Can’t you remember? +When she died there was just a lump sum and some +stock in a mine that hadn’t paid for eight years; but of +that lump sum I paid the money down for the rest of +your education; you were only fifteen then and I didn’t +want you with me, and the rest I kept for myself. It +was only a hundred pounds and it went like that”—snapping +her fingers—“and I went to Hastings. I didn’t care +a straw for you in those days.”</p> + +<p>The girl nodded. She remembered that well enough.</p> + +<p>“Well, I met him there!” with a hard breath through +pinched nostrils. “We were married; not a soul knew +but the registrar. He had his yacht there and we went +away in her, and I was never called anything but Mrs. +Arden! I didn’t care, because I had good clothes and +enough to eat, but he told me plainly enough he didn’t +mean to announce his marriage. He said he was sick of +the people he lived among and—well, I suppose I wasn’t +much like them,” bitterly, yet somehow with the bitterness +of the actress she once had been. “We left the +yacht and lived in London. My God! how dull it was! +He was out all day long. I never knew a creature except +my own maid.”</p> + +<p>She moistened her lips, stiff and dry; it was harder to +tell all this than she had thought. “Then Ronald was born +and he—he was furious! I can see him now raging up +and down. He wouldn’t have the child christened—wouldn’t +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span>look at him. But when I got better”—every +word seemed dragged out of her and, seeing the humiliation +of her story, Magdalen could not wonder—“I had +it done; and the next week he left me. That charming +document,” pointing to the largest of the three papers on +her lap, “was what he left behind him. You see that it’s +to the point, genuine; no one,” with a crooked smile, +“would ever think of making up or inventing a letter like +that!”</p> + +<p>Magdalen read it once more, this time aloud. It was +scrupulously signed and dated, but it began with neither +formality nor affection:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“When this is handed to you I shall be gone. To my +regret I find the atmosphere of middle-class domesticity +even less bearable than my former surroundings. I have +no fault to find with either your conduct or your character, +which are flawless to the utmost boredom—at least +they have produced that in me. I leave in your hands, +chiefly because I cannot avoid it, irrefragable proofs of +your marriage to me; and I rely on your affection and +your honor not to use them.</p> + +<p>“My heir I leave to your care, and I also leave you a +sufficient amount of money for present expenses. When +that is done, you understand that there will be no more, +nor do I mean to acknowledge you in any way. You +may say that you can force me to do so, which is perfectly +true; but you doubtless know me well enough by +this time to realize what the consequences of that course +of action would be.</p> + +<p>“If, on the contrary, you obey my instructions—and +I think I do not build too greatly on your wifely and +motherly affection—I make you the following offer: At +my death you are free to claim your rights for yourself +and your son. As I am nearly thirty years your senior, +you may not have long to wait. I will leave a letter, +written at the same time as this, with my lawyers, acknowledging +the legality of your marriage and the legitimacy +of my son’s birth. If I seemed annoyed at the latter +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span>event it was merely momentary. I married you for +a purpose which I find you cannot fulfil. My son’s existence +is, during my lifetime, of no importance; after +my death, very much the reverse; but during my life I +have no desire to be hampered with either you or him. I +leave you—since you are a woman, and must have reasons—because +you can neither please, interest nor amuse +me. Kindly let me know your decision on this matter +by a telegram to the enclosed address. Any letter will +only be returned to you.</p> + +<p>“I have, madam, the honor to remain,</p> + +<p class="sig0"> + “Your husband, +</p> +<p class="sig"> + “<span class="smcap">Barnysdale</span>. +</p> + +<p>“P. S.—I should advise you to dismiss your maid, who +deserves a less confined sphere for her delightfully outspoken +tongue. As for your livelihood I have no fears, +remembering how many times you have assured me that +it would gratify you to be allowed to return to your +profession.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“Of all the wicked letters!” began Magdalen Clyde +slowly, and sat looking at the unspeakable document. +“What did you do? I would have”—her beautiful mouth +straightened, her eyes grew veiled and evil—“I would +have made him acknowledge me that very day or I’d +have killed him!”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t know him,” sharply. “I did. And nothing, +not Ronald’s future nor starvation, would have made +me live with him a single day when I’d once got rid of +him! I sent the telegram.”</p> + +<p>“You agreed! To be thrown over like that?”</p> + +<p>“I did. I wired that in accordance with his wishes I +would make no claim on him during his lifetime. I hated +him. I was thankful, thankful to have him out of my +sight.”</p> + +<p>“And you never heard from him?”</p> + +<p>“I never heard.” All her old lightness had come back +to her and a certain something her stepsister had never +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span>seen in her. “He’s dead!” she cried with dreadful, venomous +joy. “He’s cold, and they’ll put him in the +ground. And I’m alive and warm and a countess!”</p> + +<p>“Hush! Stop! It’s unlucky,” Magdalen said sharply. +“You’re not a countess yet.”</p> + +<p>“It’s all the same. We’re made, Magdalen! I need +never worry again about what my clothes cost. And +now you can lend me your black hat and I’ll hasten to +my defunct John’s lawyers. John was his name. Fancy +an earl named John!”</p> + +<p>“You’d better not go while you look like you do, wild +with joy,” bluntly.</p> + +<p>But Dolly only kissed her hand as she went out.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II"> + CHAPTER II. + <br> + WHEN THE PRESENT’S QUESTIONABLE. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>Dolly—headlong, hard, pretty Dolly—a countess!</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe it,” said Magdalen Clyde to herself, +even after seeing Dolly depart in a black gown—got, +Heaven knows where—and the borrowed black hat.</p> + +<p>Exactly what she had done to make herself look so +pathetic and yet so dignified her stepsister did not +know. She looked precisely as a deserted wife should +look; tremulously brave, meek, yet determined. But +even so, and in the face of those certificates and that letter +there was cold, lurking disbelief in the heart of the +girl she left behind.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what ails me,” she thought angrily. +“Dolly tells lies, of course, but not to me. And this +couldn’t be a lie, or she wouldn’t dare. But how on earth +she can ever be a countess? Dolly, who hates everything +conventional and never was civil to a woman in her life. +Bah!” with sudden self-contempt, “it isn’t that and I +know it. It’s that I’m frightened. I’d rather go and +sing in a music-hall than have to live with Dolly if they +find her story’s true.”</p> + +<p>She looked round her with a queer feeling of being in +a dream. Here in this little rose-colored room she and +Dolly had lived for two years. She remembered how +dumfounded she had been when Dolly appeared at the +convent and calmly announced that she wanted her sister. +Her maid was dead and she was too young to live +alone. With hostile eyes under level black brows, Magdalen +had stared at the pretty, exquisitely dressed stepsister +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span>whom she barely knew. She had gone with her +distastefully enough. And now——</p> + +<p>“Now I’m glad I did,” she thought. “Dolly’s right; +she’d have been talked about long ago if it hadn’t been +for me. We sailed too close to the wind as it is. If I’d +known what might hang on Dolly’s ‘reputation,’” quoting +unconsciously, “I’d have made more fuss than I did +about the men who gave parties for us. But it doesn’t +really matter. She’s never lived alone since that man +left her. A few dinners and suppers,” mendaciously, +“can’t matter. She said we had a good time. Well,” +with that sudden dark look, “she may have; we didn’t. +I never enjoyed one of the parties she dragged me to. +I hated the men and their suppers. I wish we’d never +seen one of them,” and not even to herself did she say +what she meant; that only one man of all they knew +was loathsome to her.</p> + +<p>Too full of suspense to settle to anything, not daring +to go out lest Dolly should come home, she sat down, +listlessly wishing that Dolly had not seen fit to take Ronald +with her. The child’s society would have been better +than her own.</p> + +<p>The striking of the clock startled her. Five strokes, +and two hours since Dolly went.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve got to eat!” said she frowning, “even if +it’s only bread. And I feel as if I’d sell my soul for a +leg of mutton,” for luncheon, except for Ronald, had +been an empty name.</p> + +<p>She strolled into the servantless kitchen, where there +was no fire and nothing to make one, and with a distasteful +shrug provided herself with all there was—dry +bread and tea. With these and a black kettle she returned +to the sitting-room fire. The half pint of milk +must be kept for Ronald.</p> + +<p>She was an incongruous figure enough in the little +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span>rose-hung room that she hated. Her black gown was +only a shade neater than Dolly’s dressing-gown, but out +of it rose a throat and face that in their strange way +had no match in London. For if ever there was a beauty +that was wild and uncanny it was Magdalen Clyde’s as +she sat huddled by the grate trying to make a sooty kettle +boil. Her almost white skin—and not a woman in +ten thousand has a white skin—her black eyes that had +bottomless depths in them under narrow, level brows +blacker than they, were lovely enough. But under the +crown of thick hair that waved back from her forehead +their black and whiteness was a thing to marvel at. For +her hair was the color of rusted iron—not red nor +brown, but glorious; and she hated it every time she +combed it. But her thoughts were anywhere but on her +looks as she made tea to-day.</p> + +<p>She had the steaming, comfortless cup at her lips when +a knock came at the door. Not a loud knock, but a peculiar +one. Miss Clyde set down her cup with absolute +noiselessness and smiled.</p> + +<p>“You can knock,” she thought, “but knocking never +opened a door. I hate you, hate you, and if you could +feel it through that door you’d——” But the queer uneasiness +that had been on her ever since Dolly’s extraordinary +tale was told deepened suddenly.</p> + +<p>If the man at the door knew how she loathed him he +would simply knock all the harder. And just as if he +read her thoughts the would-be visitor gave the door a +vicious shake. The girl sat without breathing till she +heard him go away.</p> + +<p>She had forgotten that man when she said she would +even sing at music-halls for a living. If she and Dolly +lost all their belongings and had to live by their wits +they would never get rid of him. But if Dolly could +prove her claims he would not dare to trouble them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span></p> + +<p>“Oh, I can pray she can!” Magdalen thought passionately, +all her distrust and terror lost in something far more +tangible. “We mayn’t know how to be great ladies, but +Dolly need never be civil to a man like that again.”</p> + +<p>She took up her tea and drank it thirstily, though it +was flat and lukewarm. If Dolly were really Countess +of Barnysdale there would be cream every day and——</p> + +<p>The latch clicked, the door flew open and banged behind +some one.</p> + +<p>It was Dolly. Dolly, half crying, half laughing, her +demure hat on the back of her head, her gown unspotted +by the rain that had set in out of doors. And +the pretty, fragile child beside her had an armful of +toys.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Magdalen thickly. Her cup went over +as she jumped up and she let the tea lie in a pool on the +rose-velvet table-cloth. “Well?”</p> + +<p>“That’s just what it is! I went. I asked for Mr. +Barrow, and—oh, it was awful! I was kept waiting in +a musty little room and I could hear people talking behind +a glass door. It made me frantic, for I knew they +were talking about me.”</p> + +<p>“They couldn’t have been!”</p> + +<p>“They were. When Mr. Barrow came in I saw he +knew all about us; he wasn’t surprised.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say he observed you were very +welcome, and could walk in to-morrow and take possession?” +scornfully.</p> + +<p>“No, he was non-committal enough. But he was civil +and—— Magdalen, they can’t have any hope that I’m +not Barnysdale’s wife, not a ghost of a hope! For Barrow +gave himself away. He let me have ten pounds; I +told the bare, plain fact that I was starving, but I might +have starved ten times if that smug, respectable lawyer +had not thought I was going to win.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t have taken it,” doubtfully. “But—oh, +Dolly! you’re sure it’s all right? There isn’t anything +they can bring up against you? Think! Because if we +have to fight them we must fight well. There mustn’t +be any surprises.”</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing,” slowly. “Every step of my life +since Barnysdale left me is clear and plain. I went from +the rooms I was in to others, but always respectable. In +the last of them my maid died when Ronald was a year +old. And the day she was buried I went for you.”</p> + +<p>“It’s only three years,” Magdalen said hopefully. +“The people in the house where Barnysdale left you +would know you. They could identify you.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Arden’s face flushed.</p> + +<p>“Don’t rely on that,” she sharply returned. “The +woman who kept those lodgings is dead. The place is +turned into offices. All the others, though,” with a +vehement confidence, “will know me.”</p> + +<p>“Barnysdale may have left a photograph of you in +his papers, too.”</p> + +<p>“A photograph!” Dolly had turned her back and +was locking away the papers she had been too cautious +to trust to Barnysdale’s lawyer. For a moment she stood +with the key half turned, as motionless as a woman +painted on canvas. “No,” she said slowly, breathlessly, +“I don’t think there was any photograph. I—I would +remember.” Her face was almost gray as she turned +round, though it was only a very small proof to be +missing.</p> + +<p>“Where’s the money he gave you?” said Magdalen, +pitifully. “I must get Ronald something to eat.”</p> + +<p>“I bought things. They’re in the hall.”</p> + +<p>She shivered as she sat down by the fire. Why could +they not put her out of her misery to-day? If Magdalen +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span>kept on harping about the thing she would never +be able to bear it.</p> + +<p>“I must think it’s all right,” she muttered feverishly, +“or I’ll fail. After everything it would kill me if I +failed,” and watching Ronald at his tea, Dolly Arden for +once was hungry and could not eat.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III"> + CHAPTER III. + <br> + EYES THAT LOOKED INTO EYES. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>“Magdalen!” she said with a sudden sharp appeal as +the girl came back from putting Ronald to bed, “I can’t +stand this. It’s only seven and I won’t sit thinking till +twelve. Go and get Mrs. Taylor to sit with Ronald and +we’ll go out to dinner. We’ve money.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t—to-night!” quickly. “We daren’t go anywhere +with Barnysdale lying dead. It wouldn’t be decent.”</p> + +<p>“Who’ll know?” contemptuously. “I tell you I’ll go +alone if you won’t come. I can’t sit here.”</p> + +<p>There was never any arguing with Dolly, and Magdalen +knew it. With a heavy heart she went for the +janitor’s wife, who was used to taking charge of Ronald; +with a heart heavier still she put on her hat while Dolly’s +strained voice called to her to hurry.</p> + +<p>“I am hurrying,” she said sullenly, “but I think you’re +doing a wild thing. We’re sure to meet some one who +knows us. And I forgot to tell you, Starr-Dalton was +here to-day!” significantly.</p> + +<p>“What did you tell him?” Mrs. Arden turned sharply +from the glass, her pinched face almost ugly.</p> + +<p>“You don’t think I let him in! I let him kick till he +was tired. It was just before you came. Didn’t you +meet him?”</p> + +<p>“No! I was in a hansom with the glass down. He’d +never think of me in a hansom unless he paid for it.”</p> + +<p>“Doll, you’ll pay him, won’t you, with the first money +you get?” Magdalen’s voice was wistful.</p> + +<p>“Yes. Don’t talk about it, please. I mayn’t get it, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span>after all,” and the look she gave her own reflection was +that of one hunted from one desperate extremity to another.</p> + +<p>“Come on,” she cried impatiently. “I suppose we’ve +got to eat. Let’s go to some place where we’re not +known—somewhere that the band plays.”</p> + +<p>Once out in the air she thought her nerves would +steady, but in Oxford Street she caught Magdalen by +the arm.</p> + +<p>“Here’s Krug’s,” she cried; “it’s as good as any. My +knees won’t stop shaking. I can’t go any further.”</p> + +<p>Magdalen looked at the flaring restaurant. “All +right,” she said, but as soon as they were inside the red-carpeted +place she wished they had gone anywhere else. +The smoke, the women’s hats, a certain silence that fell +as the newcomers found a table, were all obvious signs +enough. The girl rose deliberately and changed her seat +so that she faced the looking-glassed wall instead of the +room.</p> + +<p>“It’s beastly!” she muttered trenchantly. “Look at +the men and the women!”</p> + +<p>“It’s cheap,” studying the menu. “The people don’t +matter. Anyhow, it’s better than sitting at home and +worrying,” her lips quivering—Dolly’s, who never cried.</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry now,” said Magdalen gently. She had +no idea what a striking figure she was in her plain black +dress and hat, nor that half the men in the room were +twisting round in the effort to see her face in the glass. +But something made her look to her left and then +sharply back again.</p> + +<p>A tall man in evening clothes, with a hard-cut, brown +face, was looking intently at her. There was something +sweet in his gaze, though his eyes were not soft at all, +but steely, and the line of his thin cheek and jaw was +grim.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span></p> + +<p>He had the grace to look down at his dinner as for +one second he caught the tragic, fathomless glance fate +had put into Magdalen Clyde’s eyes. But he looked up +again at the lovely profile against the blue-walled room, +at the strange rusty-iron hair, the languorous power in +the firm, dull-rose lips. He was not especially sensitive, +but to see such a face in this place angered him. There +was blood in it and breeding, but there was as well a +strange, pure beauty that took his breath.</p> + +<p>When his dinner was finished he rose. The girl did +not concern him, and might be like all the others, but +he had a curious dislike to seeing her beside the riotous, +rouged women at the next table. He never noticed +Dolly Arden at all. As he turned to get his coat there +was a sudden commotion in a distant corner.</p> + +<p>A pale man with the hall-mark of death on his face +had sprung up on drunken legs; he was gazing across +the heads of his party and their mock diamonds at the +two women in black.</p> + +<p>“Doll!” he shouted. “By ——, it’s Doll!” He +knocked over his chair, lurched against the next table +and stood pointing, glassy-eyed, at Dolly Arden.</p> + +<p>“Don’t move!” Magdalen whispered. “Don’t look! +Oh, Doll, he can’t mean you! You don’t know him!”</p> + +<p>Dolly turned her eyes and not her head; sat ghastly, +immovable.</p> + +<p>The man began to cross the room toward her; nearly +fell over a girl, who screamed; struck passionately at the +man with her; came nearer every instant to Dolly, whose +lips were curled away from her teeth as if she saw +death.</p> + +<p>If she meant to or not, Magdalen never knew. She +rose, turned and met the eyes of the dark, hard-faced +man who was putting on his coat; met them with terror +in hers, that were inky in the pallor of her face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span></p> + +<p>To be in a restaurant before Barnysdale was buried +was bad enough; to be involved in the drunken row +that was spreading like an epidemic from table to table, +would ruin them. And worse than all was the look on +Dolly’s face. She knew that consumption-wasted, staggering +man who was getting closer every minute, calling +more loudly on Dolly’s name.</p> + +<p>“We must get out, quick!” Magdalen whispered, but +her eyes never left those hard one’s that met them comprehendingly.</p> + +<p>Dolly never answered, never stirred. It was as though +she heard nothing but her own name over the hubbub; +for as the author of the disturbance passed each table +he hurled insults at the occupants, and the women who +were concerned demanded loud vengeance.</p> + +<p>“Quick, Dolly—come!” Magdalen repeated.</p> + +<p>And just as if he had heard her the hawk-faced man +opposite made a quick step, which was instantly retraced. +He was too late. That drunken beast would +be at the girl’s side before he was and, if he knew anything, +would be unmanageable. He nodded sharply to +the white-faced girl who had sprung before the other +woman; moved carelessly against the wall and touched +something with his elbow.</p> + +<p>The room was in black darkness. He had switched +off the electric light.</p> + +<p>A hand that was light, yet firm as iron, fell on Magdalen +Clyde’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Come, both of you,” said a voice she would never +forget to her dying day. “Hurry!”</p> + +<p>The girl, clutching Dolly’s hand, felt herself pushed +out of the room like a child.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV"> + CHAPTER IV. + <br> + AN OUTCAST. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>The dark man’s knowledge of the restaurant was evidently +as accurate as his acquaintance with the locality +of the switch which would plunge it in darkness. How +he piloted them Magdalen could not tell, but in a breathless +instant she found herself in a back street. Behind +them she saw the lights flash up in Krug’s windows.</p> + +<p>“Call a hansom,” she said, for to walk might be to +come straight on the man, who by this time was sure to +have been put out. “Oh, I haven’t thanked you! I +can’t. What made you do it?”</p> + +<p>The man whistled for a cab before he answered her, +and then lied—scrupulously.</p> + +<p>“I’ve seen rows here before,” with a shrug. “I fancy +you haven’t.” He could not tell the girl that what he +had done was simply for what he had seen in her great +eyes—for the pride and shame and anger in them.</p> + +<p>“We never were here before!” she cried sharply. +“We were lonely, we’d”—with truth—“no cook, so we +came out to dinner. My sister was tired, and we thought +Krug’s would do. How dare they let in men like that?” +Even in the dim street he could see the dark fire in her +glance. “He was coming straight for us, and I never +saw him in my life.”</p> + +<p>“He was ‘running amuck,’” he coolly remarked. “Suppose +we walk on to meet a cab!”</p> + +<p>He had no desire to be discovered on the back steps +by an outraged proprietor. Half-a-dozen people must +have seen who put out the lights.</p> + +<p>Dolly, hanging heavily on Magdalen’s arms, had never +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span>opened her mouth. The girl gave her an impatient +shake.</p> + +<p>“Come,” she said, “and do thank the man, Doll! If it +hadn’t been for him we should have been in the papers; +say something civil.”</p> + +<p>But Dolly was past speaking. Limp and lifeless, she +slipped through Magdalen’s arm to the pavement. The +girl stooped and lifted her like a child.</p> + +<p>“She’s fainted,” she said. “She was frightened to +death. Where’s that hansom?”</p> + +<p>“Here,” as one drew up beside the curb. “Please +let me take her. You can’t manage it,” taking her words +for gospel.</p> + +<p>Dolly had had her back to him in the restaurant; +he had no idea it was her name the man was bawling, +though he might have put two and two together if he +had seen her face. But Magdalen turned an abrupt +shoulder as he would have taken Dolly from her.</p> + +<p>“I can carry her,” she said with a queer feeling that +she had been carrying Dolly all the time they had been +together, and would have to carry her as long as they +lived. The man stepped back quietly as she lifted the +other woman into the hansom. He knew it was all she +could do, yet she managed to look as if it were effortless. +He had never thought a girl could be so strong. But, +for all her strength she was panting as she turned to him +and held out a slim bare hand.</p> + +<p>“Good-night,” she said; “it’s no use trying to thank +you, for I can’t. But if it hadn’t been for you there +would have been—oh, I can’t think of it! But I want +you to believe something. I didn’t know that man. I +don’t see why he should have been coming straight for—me!” +with a hesitation so short he did not see it.</p> + +<p>“He imagined he knew you. They often do,” almost +roughly. “Don’t thank me; I saw you didn’t want a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span>row, that was all. But if you’ll forgive me, I’d keep +out of restaurants you know nothing about. Worse +things might happen than a man calling across the +room to you.”</p> + +<p>The girl gave him a sudden glance. If it was full of +uneasiness it was also somewhat threatening.</p> + +<p>“It was not my name he called,” she said slowly, as +if she were thinking between each word. “My name is +Magdalen.”</p> + +<p>Before he could answer she had slipped into the hansom, +said to the driver something he did not catch and +was gone. Her benefactor was left on the curbstone, +with the vanishing cab the only object in view.</p> + +<p>“Magdalen!” he thought, remembering the wonderful +white and blackness of the girl, her strange, rusty +hair. “Well, it’s no concern of mine, for I’ll never lay +my eyes on her again, but I wish to Heaven she’d been +called something else. For all the faces ever made for +tragedy and passion that’s one of the most striking I +have ever seen!”</p> + +<p>But the girl was none of his business, of all men’s on +earth. For which reason probably he turned and went +back to the restaurant, in spite of his conviction that all +the breakages during the evening would be put down +to the person who had dared to take the law in his own +hands and turn off Harry Krug’s electric light. Of +money he had little enough, or he would never have +entered the half-caste place, but it had suddenly come +over him that the black-browed girl who could lift another +woman like a feather and make a man who never +acted on impulse play the fool to get her out of a tight +place could also forget her unpaid-for-dinner. Really +forget, or he would never have stirred a peg for her in +spite of Krug’s long arm.</p> + +<p>And so it happened that a tall man, with a cool and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span>guiltless countenance, appeared to the head-waiter in the +now calm dining-room and paid “Magdalen’s” bill; also +to his own surprise was caught and thanked by the proprietor +for his evil action.</p> + +<p>“In the dark he was removed,” said Krug gaily. +“Next minute lights and—as you see! All compose +themselves. You save me, sir, much noise, also police. +Have at least a Benedictine?”</p> + +<p>His benefactor was almost too surprised to decline, +but he did and got out; to stand on the pavement outside +with a grim hand in his pocket.</p> + +<p>He had one penny.</p> + +<p>Yesterday his prospects had been gorgeous, even from +his point of view; to-night——</p> + +<p>“By George, I’d forgotten!” he said with a blank face +enough. “Well, my dinner’s paid for, and I’ve often +despised breakfast. I suppose the governor”—but his +eyes hardened.</p> + +<p>After to-day he had no desire to apply to his father +for breakfast or anything else. With a whistle that +was not gay this new pauper pursued his way past his +club. That his subscription was unpaid had been quite +unimportant yesterday; to-night he had no desire to go +into a place where next week he would be posted. Besides, +for all he knew, the thing might be common gossip, +and a pitying look would make him wish to kick his +best friend.</p> + +<p>It was the melodrama of the thing that annoyed him; +next week all the papers would have “Curious Case in +High Life. Great Sensation.” And the papers, thank +God! would not begin to know how curious the case +might have been if it were known. In a black humor +he made his way to the uncomfortable rooms he had +called home since yesterday, when he had dashed out of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span>his father’s house for the last time. And there he sat +down and reviewed the situation.</p> + +<p>Assets—one penny and a large wardrobe. Occupation—none. +Former employment—waiting for dead +men’s shoes. Prospects—<i>nil</i>.</p> + +<p>His glance fell on a book lying open on the table, as +it had fallen from a hastily unpacked portmanteau. And +his excellent eyesight was no pleasure to him as it +marked a sentence in his brain.</p> + +<p>“Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your +songs? your flashes of merriment that were wont to set +the table on a roar? Not one now to mock your own +grinning! Quite chopfallen!”</p> + +<p>Where indeed? The man shut the book quietly.</p> + +<p>“Chopfallen I won’t be,” he said to himself. “After +all, I believe I’m glad: I never liked my father. What +does knowing him a little better matter? And if things +turn out as I think they will, I’m done with the whole +brood. To-morrow I’ll set about making my living!”</p> + +<p>The last sentence sounded so ludicrous that he laughed +alone in the chilly, untidy bedroom. He who had never +been taught to do anything but spend an allowance, to +talk of earning.</p> + +<p>With a real yawn he cast his troubles behind him and +went to bed. And the curious thing was that instead of +dreaming of his own probable starvation he only saw in +his sleep a strange face, with black eyes and rusty-iron +hair, a face that cried to him for help.</p> + +<p>In his dream he thought he turned away laughing.</p> + +<p>“The girl’s name,” he said, “is Magdalen!”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V"> + CHAPTER V. + <br> + “I NEVER KNEW HIM.” + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>In their pink drawing-room the sisters sat at breakfast, +both neat in black gowns, since goodness knew +who might come to see Dolly; both oddly silent; both +looking furtively at the cheerful little boy on the floor, +whose existence might be going to change the whole +face of life. Not one word had Dolly on the way home, +or after, about that queer scene at Krug’s. She had +crawled out of the hansom to her own room and locked +the door, but this morning she knew by Magdalen’s face +that the thing had to be thrashed out.</p> + +<p>“You may as well say it,” she exclaimed harshly. “I +know you’re thinking that last night’s affair wasn’t an +accident. I suppose you imagine that beast was some +one who knew me, and would spoil my luck. But you’re +wrong. I never knew the man,” with a hard-set lip. +“He frightened me because I thought he called me, and +everything might matter now, even a drunken man and +the straws in the gutter,” bitterly. “But if you’re thinking +I knew him you’re cherishing a mare’s nest. I never +knew him,” her small face assuming a curiously absent +expression as if she raked in a half-forgotten past.</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t thinking that at all.” The answer was unexpected. +“I did think it, if you want to know, but in cold +blood I know that if you’d a pleasant friend like that +with a hold on you you’d not dare to play the game +you’re at. You’re not brave, Dolly!”</p> + +<p>“How do you mean?” viciously.</p> + +<p>“You temporize. Starr-Dalton, for instance! Why +didn’t you tell him long ago, before you borrowed from +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span>him, that you hated him? That he couldn’t come here? +You can’t bear him. I’ve seen you quiver with rage at +him.”</p> + +<p>“I mayn’t like him, but he’s been kind.”</p> + +<p>“Kind!” with a discordant laugh. “Because he lent +you money? So would a Jew. And a Jew would only +ask fifty per cent., while Starr-Dalton will want all +you’ve got. But it’s not that,” trenchantly, “for if things +are all right you can pay him—cash, not interest! It’s +that it came over me while we were driving home last +night that I saw Starr-Dalton in Krug’s restaurant—thick +lips, blue eyes and all.”</p> + +<p>“Magdalen!” It was a whispered shriek, if there is +such a thing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”</p> + +<p>“Because you made a fool of yourself and fainted, +and then locked your door on me. I had enough to do +with thanking a strange man who may have got himself +into an awful scrape for sheer kindness. You needn’t +look as if I’d seen a tiger!” grimly.</p> + +<p>“It might have mattered if you’d known that pasty-looking, +shouting man.”</p> + +<p>But Dolly only shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Tell me about him. Where was he?” she said.</p> + +<p>“I think he was at the end table of all, behind the +man when he got up. But I can’t be sure, for you know +I’d my back to the room. It was only just before I saw +our man,” with a half laugh, “intended to turn off the +lights that I seemed to know Starr-Dalton was looking +at us over that hurly-burly of noise. When I got out, +as I said, I had an impression of his face, and it seemed +to me that he was behind everyone, and instead of trying +to help us just sat with that thick smile of his and +waited. Luckily it’s no matter. And if he was there, +and says so, we’ll have an excuse for being chilly to him +hereafter.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span></p> + +<p>“After we’ve paid him! You can’t snub a man when +you owe him a hundred pounds,” but it was not the +money she thought of. Before her there rose that hateful +restaurant, seen with Starr-Dalton’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“I wish we knew what became of the man! Where +he went afterward,” she said, getting up restlessly.</p> + +<p>“Why? Since he doesn’t know you it would be all +the same if he and Starr-Dalton walked out arm-in-arm!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t,” said Dolly, and her face was livid. “Let me +forget it. Ronald, come to mother. You love her, don’t +you?” catching him to her passionately. “You trust +mother?”</p> + +<p>“Loves mummy!” he returned gaily. “Put me down.”</p> + +<p>But Magdalen’s laugh was undeserved. There had +been no affectation in Dolly’s sudden clutching of the +child. In her fierce, frivolous way she was devoted to +him. He was a trust to her, the only trust of her life +that she meant to keep.</p> + +<p>The postman’s electric summons made her put her boy +down weakly. Her nerves were like water this morning. +For a moment she literally could not read as she +tore open the letter Magdalen brought in. The blue envelope +was ominous. She had not expected any letter. +Mr. Barrow had said—but the sense of the few lines +suddenly pierced her terrified brain:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Madam</span>: The funeral of the late Lord Barnysdale +takes place to-morrow morning from his town +house. It is for you to say whether you will attend it or +not. If you will meet Lord Stratharden and myself at +my office at three o’clock on the same day we will, after +the reading of the late peer’s will, give your documents +and claims every consideration. Your obedient servant,</p> + +<p class="sig"> + “<span class="smcap">James Barrow</span>.” +</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Lord Barnysdale’s widow sank into a chair and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span>laughed; laughed till her stepsister shook her, till tears +ran down her face.</p> + +<p>“Let me alone,” she sobbed. “Can’t you see it’s going +to be all right. He says——”</p> + +<p>“He doesn’t say anything, as far as I can see.”</p> + +<p>Dolly sat up, a different Dolly from the one who had +pushed away her breakfast.</p> + +<p>“You little fool!” she cried; “he says I may go to the +funeral. Do you think they’d have me there if they +were doubtful? And can’t you see he says Lord ‘Stratharden’? +If he meant to fight he would have said Lord +Barnysdale.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean? Who’s Stratharden?”</p> + +<p>“Barnysdale’s brother. I never saw him. But if it +were not for Ronald it’s he who would be Lord Barnysdale +now.”</p> + +<p>Every worry of last night’s adventure had gone from +her. There was, as Magdalen said, nothing to matter. +The Countess of Barnysdale and a drunken man seen +in a doubtful restaurant would be no more likely to meet +again than Barnysdale to get up out of his shroud. +Starr-Dalton she forgot completely.</p> + +<p>“Dolly,” Magdalen broke the silence curiously, “what +about the funeral? You won’t go, will you?”</p> + +<p>Dolly poured out fresh tea and drank it.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said, “I’ll go of course! In a carriage. +I’d be a fool not to. It wouldn’t look well to stay away.”</p> + +<p>It was a queer reason for attending the funeral of a +husband, but it struck Magdalen that Dolly, for all her +talk, had cared for the man. That was the only thing +that explained her acceptance of his insulting terms, her +quiet endurance of his desertion.</p> + +<p>Oddly enough the girl was right; Lord Barnysdale’s +wife had loved him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span></p> + +<p>“Will you go to the house and see—him?” she hesitated.</p> + +<p>“No!” With a violence her sister did not know was +in her Dolly turned. “I won’t see him! I won’t! I +hated him!”</p> + +<p>She recoiled from the very thought of the dead man +in his coffin; not for ten earldoms would she look on +that face.</p> + +<p>“He might be smiling!” she cried hysterically. “I +couldn’t bear it if he were dead and smiling, Magdalen. +You don’t think dead people can see us, do you?”</p> + +<p>“Not they,” practically. “Why should they care? +Don’t look like that, Dolly; there’s no need for you to +see him. I only asked you.”</p> + +<p>“No, I’m sure there’s no need,” eagerly. “I can’t help +being silly, Magdalen. I’m so nervous. But it will soon +be over now; things always come right just when you’re +despairing. When I’d spent the money Barnysdale left +behind him and didn’t know which way to turn, that mine +stock that mother left proved useful, although it hasn’t +paid any dividends for the past six years. I sold out the +stock and we’ve lived on it till now. I was in as low +water then as we are to-day. And after to-morrow”—her +small, pretty face confident, though she did not lift +her eyes—“we’ll never want money again!”</p> + +<p>But Magdalen was not listening. She had never noticed +before that Dolly had cat’s teeth—white, narrow, +sharp. It was queer she should think of that instead of +Dolly’s prospects.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI"> + CHAPTER VI. + <br> + A GOLDEN FUTURE. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>Dolly Arden was right. Mr. Barrow’s letter meant +more than it expressed.</p> + +<p>There was no shadow of doubt to cast on her claims; +the dead man had kept his word and left a will that +made them irrefutable. Without talk of law or courts, +with merely a triumphal proving of his mother’s identity +by the owners of the houses in which she had lodged +with her baby and maid, three-year-old Ronald entered +into his inheritance, Earl of Barnysdale, without let or +hindrance.</p> + +<p>And Dolly, with her old name, shook away all the +haunting fears she had done her best to keep to herself. +She asked for only one thing, that there should be as +little publicity as possible.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” she said with a pathetic face, “I know it +will have to be in the papers, but I’ve led a hard life. I +was humiliated and—surely, Mr. Barrow, you can understand! +All this has been so abhorrent to me it was +only for Ronald’s sake that I felt I had no right to remain +silent.”</p> + +<p>She breathed freely as she saw how short and how +matter-of-fact the newspaper comments were. There +was no nine days’ wonder about it, no staring headlines. +She, Dolly Arden, was triumphant, was tasting +the sweet after the bitter. It had been worth it after all. +She had been a fool ever to doubt.</p> + +<p>Barnysdale had been rather poor, for a peer, but to the +new Lady Barnysdale her son’s revenues, or all she could +touch of them, seemed inexhaustible. But at the thought +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span>of the gloomy house in Berkeley Square, where Barnysdale +died, she shivered. She could not live there—not +yet. Besides, for many reasons, it would be better to +get out of London. The men who had been welcome +to Mrs. Arden would be doubtful acquaintances for +Lady Barnysdale.</p> + +<p>No, she would go to Scotland, to Ardmore Castle. It +might be dull, but it was the right thing to be dull. She +would not think any more on the matter, but pack up +and go.</p> + +<p>If Lady Barnysdale was triumphant, her sister was +busy. It was she who bought new clothes, paid bills, engaged +a nurse for Ronald. And so it chanced that when +Lord Stratharden—who, for excellent reasons, had made +up his mind to welcome the sister-in-law he could not +cast out—came to offer her any information or help she +needed, he did not see Magdalen Clyde. If he pictured +Dolly’s sister to himself it was her double—small, fair, +bloodlessly pretty—and not quite a lady.</p> + +<p>If he could have seen her at that moment, with her +dull hair, her pale, smooth cheeks, her dark, fathomless +eyes lovely under her black hat, perhaps nothing on earth +would have made him believe she was Lady Barnysdale’s +sister.</p> + +<p>Dolly walking up Fleet Street in the afternoon would +have had eyes for every man she met. Magdalen never +even saw that their heads turned as she passed, till one +man, coming out of a dingy doorway, nearly fell over +her and stopped dead, as she did; for neither had ever +expected to see the other again.</p> + +<p>Her first thought as he took off his hat and greeted +her was that he was both thinner and older than she had +fancied him, yet infinitely—oh! infinitely, better-looking. +Tanned, strong, tall, his lean face like no face she had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span>ever seen, he stood in front of her. And as he smiled +his eyes grew suddenly sweet.</p> + +<p>Under them she was for one moment speechless. +What long lashes he had! She wished he would not +throw back his head and look at her through them.</p> + +<p>“Fancy my meeting you!” was what she said; and +if she was confused she did not show it. “You must let +me thank you again now. I hope you heard no more +of it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I did,” he said, and laughed, for she had to +thank him for more than she knew—all his worldly +wealth but one penny. “I went back and was thanked +by the proprietor. You see,” softly, “it saved him a +row.”</p> + +<p>“The proprietor,” Magdalen started. “Oh!” she said. +“My—our dinner. I never paid him!”</p> + +<p>“You forget,” with calm mendacity. “You or your +sister left the money on the table. I hope she’s all right—quite +forgotten your friend?”</p> + +<p>“Did he tell you so? Krug, I mean?” for it was +not like Dolly to leave money anywhere.</p> + +<p>Her nameless acquaintance nodded, and with some +haste changed the subject.</p> + +<p>“Do you often honor Fleet Street?” he said. He had +a way of drawling that was not like the speech of Dolly’s +friends, any more than his look of perfect cleanliness +resembled their rather tumbled fashion.</p> + +<p>“No! I came on an errand for—my sister.” She +dared not say Dolly. “Do you?”</p> + +<p>For the first time he saw her smile, and Magdalen +Clyde’s smile was a thing to live to see. The unworn +youth of it, the lovely lips and teeth, the sudden light in +her deep eyes, took away the man’s breath.</p> + +<p>“I live here, work and have my being!” he returned as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span>if there were humor in it. “I work at a photographer’s +up-stairs,” with a backward fling of his head.</p> + +<p>If he had said he broke stones it could not have +amazed her any more.</p> + +<p>“You don’t look as though you worked!” she said with +involuntary truth.</p> + +<p>“I assure you I earn my own bread—and consider +myself lucky.”</p> + +<p>He had quietly fallen into her step and was walking +beside her toward Charing Cross. For the life of him +he could not help wondering who she was and where +she lived.</p> + +<p>But she had evidently no idea of enlightening him, for +at the end of the Strand she stopped.</p> + +<p>“I’m late,” she said, and her face changed. “I must +take a cab. But first will you tell me something? Why +did you do that the other night? We were nothing to +you.” Something in her straight, direct look made him +tell the plain truth.</p> + +<p>“Because I never saw any woman like you,” he said, +as if he were remarking on the weather, “and it annoyed +me to see you put in such a position.”</p> + +<p>She put her hand to her hair sullenly.</p> + +<p>“There isn’t another like me,” she retorted as if he +had hurt her. “Luckily for them! Do you suppose I +like being black and white and red like a poster? I’m +tired of being stared at, tired of—but it doesn’t matter!” +bruskly. “I’m leaving London for good to-morrow. +And I’m glad.”</p> + +<p>“Why?” He left her looks alone with late wisdom.</p> + +<p>“I hate it. I’m afraid of it. I haven’t a friend. Oh, +yes!” stopping him coolly. “I know plenty of men, but I +hate men. I don’t think I like anyone in the world but +my sister; and I know I don’t trust anyone.”</p> + +<p>“You’re trusting me,” said the man quietly. “Now +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span>let me tell you something. It wasn’t because I thought +you handsome that I turned out those lights, but because +there was such a curious, lonely look about you, and, +though you mayn’t think it, I’m lonely, too. I did what I +could for some one who was like me, without a soul on +earth to turn to. And if ever I can do anything for you +again I will. My name,” with a little halt, for he was +not used to it yet, “is Lovell—Dick Lovell. Now I shall +call a hansom for you.”</p> + +<p>The girl stood on the curbstone and looked at him. +This was not the manner of the men Dolly knew. He +meant what he was saying. Though his face was hard, +almost indifferent, she had an odd feeling that for the +first time in her life she had made a friend.</p> + +<p>“You’ve done enough for me,” she said slowly. “If +I ever see you again it will be my turn. Good-by.”</p> + +<p>But as she got into her hansom a strange feeling +came over her, as if in this utter stranger she were +leaving behind some one known before, dear to her; +some one, too, who would get nothing but ill for helping +her. She held out her hand with a smile, though +there were quick tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Good-by and good luck to you!” she cried, senselessly +enough, and as she drove off remembered he knew +no more of her name than Magdalen. Well, it was no +matter—and her strange beauty hardened, darkened; +the less he knew the less he would be likely to hear of +Starr-Dalton and the others; of her reputation, that +must be written down with Dolly’s. Dolly, who was +Countess of Barnysdale and had given up cakes and ale!</p> + +<p>“You’re a fool,” she said to herself. “The man’s +nothing to you,” and knew she would have sold her soul +for him. She, Magdalen Clyde, who had always boasted +to herself that she was like a man who could not get +drunk—she could not care.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span></p> + +<p>With Dick Lovell’s face—and even the set of his collar—before +her eyes she came into Lady Barnysdale’s +flat. And there, smug, thick-lipped, too polite by far, +sat Starr-Dalton with a gardenia in his coat. Magdalen +could not be even civil, and Dolly was nervously, profusely +so. When Starr-Dalton said good-by she turned +on Magdalen viciously.</p> + +<p>“Why did you look at him like that?”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean you hadn’t paid him?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I paid him,” slowly. “Magda, you’re right. He +isn’t kind. I wish we’d never seen him.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr-Dalton would not have echoed the wish. +Divided between fury and amusement he was fingering +the notes in his pocket.</p> + +<p>“So,” he thought, “I’ve been useful, useful! And now +I’m to discreetly vanish. It’s not good enough, Dolly,” +and he turned toward Krug’s restaurant that he had +never mentioned to her. It was raging passion, half +love, half hatred, that made his thick smile evil as he +strolled. For in his way he loved her, and what Mr. +Starr-Dalton wanted he usually got, cleanly or otherwise.</p> + +<p>But Dolly was singing, as she thought she would +never see him again.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII"> + CHAPTER VII. + <br> + ACROSS CLYDE WATER. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>“Ardmore Castle!” said the station-master in broad +Scotch; “ye’ll be going there? Well, they’ve no sent for +ye. Ye can get a fly to the ferry.” And he turned +away.</p> + +<p>“I’m——” Dolly was going to say Lady Barnysdale, +but Magdalen caught her arm.</p> + +<p>“It’s none of his business who you are,” she said angrily. +“What does he mean about the ferry?”</p> + +<p>“Ardmore’s across the Firth of Clyde. There’s no +station; it’s an island. How dare the servants behave +like this? I telegraphed.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps they didn’t get it,” indifferently. For it was +cold, nearly dark, and she was tired of Dolly’s new grandeur, +full of senseless, terrified depression that grew on +her with each mile from London. If she could have +done it decently she would have turned on the dirty little +station and taken the first train back. But there was no +leaving Dolly in a strange place to fight her own battles.</p> + +<p>“Though there can’t be any to fight,” the girl thought +scornfully as she collected the luggage and pushed Dolly +into the moldy fly. It seemed a week before they stopped +at a long pier, and even in the dusk could see the dark, +swirling river between them and the opposite hills.</p> + +<p>“And that’s what I’m named after!” exclaimed Dolly.</p> + +<p>Magdalen turned from the roaring tide that held death +in it to the black hills, the flying clouds. “I always knew +I should hate it. I always knew it was just like this.”</p> + +<p>The ferry was only a rowboat. It seemed there was no +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span>regular ferry to Ardmore. And to the girl’s foreboding +spirit every wave and eddy of the Clyde seemed to snatch +at them threateningly, every whine of the wind from the +hills to mock them.</p> + +<p>“The tide runs strong the night,” said one of the two +boys who rowed. “They say Clyde has its nights, and +this’ll be one of them.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” said Magdalen fiercely.</p> + +<p>“Night’s that it drowns,” carelessly. “Ye’re here. This +is Ardmore.”</p> + +<p>The girl looked at the towering shore. It would be +pitch-dark among those rocks and bushes.</p> + +<p>“Show us the way,” she said. “I’ll pay you.” And +so it was that Lady Barnysdale came for the first time +to her husband’s house—by a back way, in the dark, and +with no more state than one sulky boy could lend her.</p> + +<p>“They’ll no’ be expecting you,” said the boy insolently +as they rounded a turn and saw the castle black against +the sky, not a light in all the height of it.</p> + +<p>Lady Barnysdale knocked and rang furiously at her +own door without noticing him.</p> + +<p>To her surprise it opened almost instantaneously, and +an old man peered out.</p> + +<p>“What’s wanting?” he said, standing with bleared +eyes and a hanging, repulsive lip.</p> + +<p>“Open the door!” cried Dolly furiously. “Did you +not get my telegram that I’m left to come here like this? +I’m Lady Barnysdale.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Keith’s away,” the old man returned dully. +“There was a telgram. I did na’ open it. I ask your +ladyship’s pardon.”</p> + +<p>He took the bag she gave him, but he bestowed +neither glance nor word on the new earl, who, being +three years old, was placidly asleep in his nurse’s arms. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span>Magdalen saw the servant was very old and half palsied, +and a queer shudder came over her.</p> + +<p>What a home-coming! A doddering old man, who +had not a word of welcome, a great stone hall, cold as a +vault, with no fire in its wide hearth, one candle to +light its lurking shadows.</p> + +<p>It was all she could do to lift her foot and cross the +threshold. She would as soon have entered a den of +thieves as this house. Something tangible seemed to +warn her out of the chilly, echoing place to go back; +something evil seemed lying in wait for her, just as every +wave of the river had seemed to snatch at her. Was +she getting nerves like Dolly’s?</p> + +<p>With a queer effort the girl stepped forward.</p> + +<p>“Is there no one here but you?” she asked kindly.</p> + +<p>“There’s Grizel and Sophy,” doubtfully. “Mrs. +Keith’s away,” he repeated, as if that explained everything.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Keith’s the housekeeper,” interrupted Dolly. +“Please fetch one of the other servants and bring the +telegram. Hurry!” furiously, conscious of the wondering +gaze of Ronald’s grand new nurse, she stamped her +foot at the old man.</p> + +<p>It was a long while before a footstep came from the +door by which he had vanished. And then it was only +an obsequious country girl, with Lady Barnysdale’s unopened +telegram in her hand.</p> + +<p>“I suppose there are beds in the house,” Dolly cried, +opening her own telegram and showing it to the girl. +“Here is a letter from Lord Stratharden to Mrs. Keith. +As she’s away perhaps you had better open it.”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t dare, my lady!” the girl faltered. “I’ll +give it to David. He’s Mrs. Keith’s husband; but you’ll +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span>have seen he’s doddering. Grizel is lighting the fires in +the guest-rooms, if you’ll please to come with me.”</p> + +<p>“Guest-rooms!” cried Dolly. “Didn’t Mrs. Keith get +my letter either? Why are my rooms not ready?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t say, my lady. I’ll do my best,” nervously; +“but you’ll understand we’d heard nothing but that his +lordship was dead, and——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, never mind!” sharply. “Take me to a fire, my +good girl, and get us something to eat.” She would +not have her antecedents aired before Ronald’s nurse.</p> + +<p>But when she saw the bare, half-warmed rooms got +ready for her she looked at Ronald with terror. The +child might get his death here!</p> + +<p>About one room only was there any semblance of +comfort. It was small, with chintz-hung walls, less +barnlike and drafty than the others. With her own +hands Dolly—whom Magdalen had never known to do +anything—aired sheets, piled wood on the fire, saw +Ronald bathed and fed before she went down to her own +dinner, and even then gave sharp instructions to his +nurse not to leave him. As she opened the nursery +door on the cold stone passage old David stood there.</p> + +<p>“Dinner is served, your ladyship,” he said dully, as if +he were repeating a lesson.</p> + +<p>Dolly, with a queer impulse, drew the old man into the +warm room behind her.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you welcome Lord Barnysdale home?” she +said almost piteously, pointing to the pretty child in his +cot.</p> + +<p>The nurse was for the moment in the next room and +could not hear the tremor in her voice.</p> + +<p>The old man glanced at the boy with a momentary +flash in his old eyes.</p> + +<p>“That’s no him!” he said contemptuously.</p> + +<p>Dolly turned on him savagely, her grand manner all +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span>forgotten. Not Barnysdale’s son! This child at whom +she looked with terror sometimes, lest she should see +his father’s likeness in him; her trust for whom she had +faced the whole world.</p> + +<p>“How dare you say he’s not Barnysdale’s son?” she +cried, her muffled voice furious.</p> + +<p>But the old man never even looked at her.</p> + +<p>“Barnysdale’s son,” he mumbled toothlessly. “Oh, +ay! Ye’re dinner is served.”</p> + +<p>Magdalen looked from Dolly to him as he shuffled out.</p> + +<p>“Never mind him,” she said contemptuously. “Can’t +you see he’s childish?”</p> + +<p>“He can go and be childish somewhere else then!” +Dolly’s fury was more like that of a lady’s-maid than a +countess. “Every servant in this house shall go packing, +except that Sophy girl. She did her best.”</p> + +<p>She swept out into the bare stone passage, where a +hanging lamp shone pale and every footstep rang. +Down-stairs a fire had been lit on the wide hearth in the +hall, but the crackling logs gave only light as they roared +up the chimney.</p> + +<p>Old David shambled forward and pointed to the dining-room +door. As Magdalen followed Dolly in the +quaintness of the room pleased her, for there was no +stone here, only high oak wainscoting that shone with +age and blackness. With shaded lights, new, brisk servants, +a cook—and she laughed as she saw the new countess’ +home-coming dinner was cold mutton—this room at +least would lose the eery look of the rest of the house.</p> + +<p>She looked behind her and was not so sure.</p> + +<p>A long, low window in the wall opened into the +great hall itself. Through it weird shadows from the +sputtering fire seemed to nod at her. It looked a place +for spying, for eavesdropping.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span></p> + +<p>“Is there a curtain outside?” Involuntarily she had +turned to David. “Then draw it, please.”</p> + +<p>But it was Sophy, who was quicker-witted, that obeyed +her. The old man only gave her a cunning glance as +he lifted a decanter with a shaking hand.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII"> + CHAPTER VIII. + <br> + MAGDALEN DREAMS. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>In the cold dawn Magdalen Clyde got out of the +hideous four-poster where she had tossed all night, and +with shaking hands rekindled the dead fire. When a +blaze was roaring up the chimney she bathed and +dressed, as if cold water and clean linen could drive +away the senseless terrors of the night.</p> + +<p>“I’ll never sleep in this room again,” she thought +crossly. “No wonder I had bad dreams in a bed walled +in with purple rep!” She shuddered, as if the bare +memory of her dream sickened her. “I was tired; I’d +nightmare. What should I ever have to do with a Chinaman?” +She scoffed at herself, and for distraction went +to the window, where a cold rain beat upon the glass.</p> + +<p>Outside lay a sodden, wind-swept garden, behind it +black-clefted, threatening hills. In her ears as she leaned +out, regardless of the wet, the muffled sound of the +Clyde water that she hated, beyond reach, except that it +seemed like a living jailer to keep her in this cheerless +place. She drew back shivering and shut out the sound +of the river with the raw, cold morning, as some one +knocked at her door.</p> + +<p>It was Ronald’s nurse with a cup of tea in her hand, +and the neat woman stood staring at Miss Clyde.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, miss,” she said. “I heard you stirring, +and as I’d made my tea I brought you some. Oh, +you do look ill this morning! Is anything the matter?”</p> + +<p>For in the dull-gray light the girl’s eyes were inky in +her dead white face, uncanny under her queer, dull-red +hair.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span></p> + +<p>“The matter? No!” And then she laughed. What +was she making a mystery about? “I had a bad dream, +Pearce; but don’t tell your mistress. Thank you for +the tea; it was very thoughtful of you.”</p> + +<p>“My lady’s not awake, miss. She was very tired. +His lordship seems well. But if I might advise you I +should go back to bed.” This was vague, if well meaning, +advice.</p> + +<p>“Bed!” Miss Clyde glanced at the purple catafalque. +“Oh, I couldn’t! But you’re right, I don’t feel well. Do +you believe in dreams, Pearce?”</p> + +<p>“No, miss,” she cheerfully replied.</p> + +<p>“Well, neither do I! But this was so vivid that I’ve +felt weak ever since.” She laughed at the fancy that +came over her that if she told the thing she would forget +it, and yet it drove her on, restlessly. “It was absurd. I +thought I was sitting in a small room off a large one; +it had two doors, one leading into a passage, the other +into the big room, exactly opposite a long glass. It was +that queer light you see in dreams, and I noticed everything +that was reflected in the glass; just a bare, empty +room. And then—I heard something. Some one moving +with very quiet feet outside in the passage, and I +heard the creaking of the door that led from it into the +large room. I couldn’t move—in my dream; I sat and +stared at the door in front of me, and I can’t tell you +the awful terror that was on me. Just the terror of +death, and nothing else.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t see anything, only hear that noise like +some one moving, crawling. And then I knew that if I +sat there one second longer it would have me—I’d be +killed! I got up and went out into the passage, and I +meant to run out of the house, but I felt there was some +one between me and the entrance and I couldn’t.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span></p> + +<p>“I looked from the passage into the big room, and +over by the fireplace I saw a woman standing with her +back to me. I didn’t know her. But between her and +me, going to her step by step, was a Chinaman. He +was directly in the light that seemed to come from a +street lamp outside, and I could see his side face. He +looked like a devil—a stooping, yellow devil, with a +hideous white scar on his neck. I don’t know how I +saw it, but I did.</p> + +<p>“He had long, long nails, and he held his hands out +crooked and wicked. I knew he was going to pounce +on the woman by the fireplace and strangle her with +those long, wicked fingers. I ran and tried to catch him, +but I was too late.</p> + +<p>“He had jumped at the woman. And as she turned—and +if you can understand me, the silence of it all was +the dreadful part, for she never screamed—I saw her +face, and it was me. Me! And then I wasn’t watching +any longer, for it was I, not she, who was struggling +with him; I felt his claws of hands on my throat +as we rolled over and over on the floor. I could see +his face, all yellow and distorted, but his eyes were the +worst. They looked like dead eyes, fixed and glassy.</p> + +<p>“I think I must have fainted then; I was cold and +wet when I woke up. It was only half-past twelve; I +couldn’t have been in that bed,” with a glance of detestation, +“more than an hour, and I’ve never slept since. +Ugh! I can feel those nails on my throat yet.”</p> + +<p>“It was horrid, miss,” said Pearce, “but it was only +nightmare. You know, miss, you couldn’t have seen +yourself.”</p> + +<p>“But I did,” she firmly persisted. “I saw my own self +looking at me to save her. Yet at first I was sure it +was a stranger, for the figure was more like Lady +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span>Barnysdale’s than mine. I think if I were to see the +mildest-looking Chinaman I should run miles!”</p> + +<p>Pearce smiled respectfully.</p> + +<p>“You’re not likely to, miss—not here! But I shouldn’t +tell her ladyship; she seemed nervous enough in this +strange house last night. I hope it will be more comfortable +soon. The maids tell me the housekeeper returns +to-day.”</p> + +<p>“I shan’t mention it, but it did me good to tell you,” +smiling at the woman as if she liked her. “You have +plenty of sense, Pearce.”</p> + +<p>“You need it, Miss Clyde, when you earn your living,” +returned the nurse soberly.</p> + +<p>When she was gone a queer thought overtook Lady +Barnysdale’s stepsister. In spite of the absurdity of +that dream she would not stay, or let Dolly stay, another +night in this house, if it held two rooms like those in +her dream—rooms opening into each other, with right-angled +outside doors forming the corner of a corridor.</p> + +<p>She ran down the stone stairs and went methodically +from room to room of the large, rambling place. Some +doors were open and some locked, but in no passage up-stairs +or down were there two close together in the way +her dream made vivid.</p> + +<p>With a laugh at her own folly Magdalen ran down +again to breakfast.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>“Magdalen!” cried Dolly blankly, flying into the small +room they had elected to sit in instead of the cold and +hideous drawing-room. “Did you ever hear anything +like it? I can’t send her away!”</p> + +<p>“Who?” lazily questioned Magdalen. She had been +out roaming the lonely hillsides in the wet, and if Ardmore +Castle were not a bright abode it was better to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span>come back to than an unpaid-for flat, with no prospect +of dinner.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Keith,” with wrath. “You know when she +came back yesterday I thought everything would be all +right. She was civil enough for a sour old Scotch +woman. You haven’t seen her, have you?” breaking off.</p> + +<p>“No!” She had no fancy for bothering about other +people’s servants. Pearce was different since it was she, +not Dolly, who had engaged her. “Why?”</p> + +<p>“Because she’s an insolent old hag,” vindictively. “To-day, +when you were out, I thought I’d go over the house +and see what rooms I’d take instead of the barns we +have. I want Ronald to have all the sunshine there is in +this dismal country,” with a cross glance at the rain that +had never ceased since their arrival. “I saw the old +woman looking at me over the stairs as I rambled round, +and when I got up to that cross-corridor on the second +story there she was, with both maids, and a perfect +storm of sweeping—in the afternoon. I told them to +stop, and Mrs. Keith never took any notice. Said it was +the regular day. Then I ordered her to get the keys of +the locked rooms down-stairs; so she did. And when I +opened them I saw her grin, for they were all empty. +Just bare, cobwebbed holes. When we got up to that +corridor again I marched over Sophy and the tea-leaves,” +with fresh annoyance, “and found three locked +doors at the very end of it, quite cut off from our part +of the house. I asked for the keys—and what do you +think she said? That they were Stratharden’s rooms, +and not to be opened without his leave. Stratharden’s +rooms in my own house!—and the very best southern +aspect in the place, for up-stairs there are no windows +on that side. Mrs. Keith looked at me as if I were +just nobody, and didn’t even pretend to obey me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span></p> + +<p>“Perhaps he was always allowed those rooms,” Magdalen +pondered. “You don’t know, Dolly!”</p> + +<p>“I know I’m not going to have shut-up rooms in my +house, and I said so. I told her she must get more +servants, that I would not have that doddering old David +to wait on table; he drops things so frequently that I +cannot resist screaming.”</p> + +<p>“What did she say?”</p> + +<p>“Said there were servants enough for people who +came from the Lord knows where. So then I told her to +go, bag and baggage.”</p> + +<p>“Then we’d better write to London to-night. Did +she seem routed?”</p> + +<p>“She turned round and said I was wasting breath. +That old David and she could not be sent away by me, +Mr. Stratharden, or anyone. That his lordship’s will—and +she didn’t mean Barnysdale’s, but his father’s—forbade +it. And her eyes were just like gimlets in her +horrid old head.”</p> + +<p>Magdalen sat up.</p> + +<p>“I suppose they can be retired as superannuated,” she +observed. “The old lady doesn’t seem to think of that. +We can’t live like this. I’ve rung for tea four times +and not a soul has come.”</p> + +<p>“Superannuated! I’ll have her put in jail,” violently. +“Do you know Pearce has gone?”</p> + +<p>“Pearce! Who sent her? What for?”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Keith. I went up and found Ronald alone, and +rang for Pearce. By and by Sophy came and said she +had gone, that Mrs. Keith had dismissed her for impertinence +and had her ferried over to the station.”</p> + +<p>“But why did Pearce take her warning?” Magdalen +asked utterly confounded. “She could have come to +you, to me!”</p> + +<p>“You were out. I was exploring the garrets. I found +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span>a note from Pearce, who had evidently thought I had deputed +Mrs. Keith to get rid of her. So then I sent for +the old woman again. She said, quite coolly, that she +could not bear strange women about the place, and that +she’d paid Pearce and told her I should not require her +any longer. Then she turned her back on me and walked +out just as if she were the mistress, not I.”</p> + +<p>“She must be mad. Pearce was a fool to go,” with a +cold anger, very different from Dolly’s.</p> + +<p>“What could the poor soul do? Mrs. Keith said I +sent her, paid her and carted her off. And the unlucky +part of it was that Pearce was stupid about Ronald this +morning, and I was angry with her. She must have +thought her dismissal was because of that.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry,” said Magdalen as calmly as if she +were not raging. “We’ll get her back. You go and +bring Ronald down here and I’ll make somebody bring +tea. I don’t care who does, but bring it they shall.”</p> + +<p>“Good gracious! You do look awful when you +scowl,” and Dolly really started. “You ought to be able +to manage people. I shouldn’t like to quarrel with a +girl with eyes like yours and a dead-white face. You’ll +never be pretty, Magdalen, but you could be dangerous.”</p> + +<p>For the courage and power in her stepsister’s face +had suddenly flashed on Dolly like a revelation, though +she was blind to the wild beauty of it.</p> + +<p>“You couldn’t quarrel with me,” Magdalen laughed, +in spite of herself, remembering the times when Dolly +had tried it and failed. “Go on, I’ll get the tea.”</p> + +<p>And when Dolly came back it was there, and Magdalen +was laughing.</p> + +<p>“Poor Sophy!” she observed. “She was between the +devil and the deep sea. Now, Dolly, what are you going +to do? Give in to Mrs. Keith and take charge of +Ronald?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span></p> + +<p>Dolly’s cat’s teeth showed.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to write to Stratharden this minute and +ask if what she said was true, about my not being able +to dismiss her. I’ll give the letters to the postboy when +he comes with the papers. My dear Mrs. Keith would +probably claw it out of the bag. Does she think I am to +be bullied in my own house?”</p> + +<p>Magdalen laughed.</p> + +<p>“If we can’t send her away I’ll wrestle with her,” she +said. “I don’t believe you understand Scotch people. +You have to get the upper hand once and for all.”</p> + +<p>“How on earth do you know?”</p> + +<p>“I!” The girl gave a queer laugh. “I don’t know +exactly, but they’re just like the Clyde—precisely as I +knew they would be. I’ve the funniest feeling in this +house, Dolly, as if I’d seen it all before,” her wonderful +eyes clouding.</p> + +<p>“Then I’ve no opinion of your sense. If I’d known +what it was like, as you think you did, wild horses +wouldn’t have got me here. I’d rather be in London, +snubbing Starr-Dalton.”</p> + +<p>“What made you think of him?”</p> + +<p>“I only just remembered that I’d never asked him if +he were at Krug’s that night. Perhaps it was just as +well I didn’t. He knows my name’s Dolly.”</p> + +<p>“What does it matter since you weren’t the Dolly the +man meant?”</p> + +<p>Lady Barnysdale opened her mouth and shut it again +with ill-considered words still in it. In silence she wrote +and despatched her outraged letter to Stratharden, beseeching +him to deal with Mrs. Keith and send a proper +staff of servants.</p> + +<p>It was two days before she got his answer. Forty-eight +hours, when she fretfully refused to go out or +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span>leave Ronald, even to let Magdalen try to put the fear of +God into Mrs. Keith.</p> + +<p>“What’s the good when we don’t know whether we +can do anything?” she demanded sensibly enough, and +Magdalen agreed with a shrug of her lovely shoulders. +But she could stay in no four walls even for Dolly. She +tramped up the high hill above Ardmore Castle on the +second day and looked down on all Ronald’s property, +on the rushing Clyde water that hemmed Ardmore in. +And not till then did the full loneliness of the place +come over her.</p> + +<p>Ardmore had been a famous stronghold in its day; +even now it was nothing but a rocky island, some five +miles long and half as wide. There was not a village or +a house on it, but some fishermen’s huts that she could +scarcely see in the dazzle of the low sunlight. They were +far below her on the shore, and three miles off if a +yard.</p> + +<p>As she watched she saw a small steamer touch at a +point and go off again. That must be the ferry Sophy +said you must cross by when the Clyde ran too heavily +for a rowboat. The opposite shore was Ronald’s, too, +and a queer possession it looked, all rolling hills black +against the sunset.</p> + +<p>Magdalen turned and saw on the other side of the +river from which they had come to Ardmore, more wild +hills, higher, more desolate, showing their teeth of +crags and gullies as the sun dropped.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve got my bearings, and much good may it +do me,” she said, little knowing. But the walk and the +air had raised her spirits.</p> + +<p>She went into the castle humming a song Dolly assuredly +had never heard, and gazed with astonishment +when the door was opened to her by an immaculate London +footman. Lord Stratharden then had not let the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span>grass grow. The man must have come by that steamer +she had seen touch at the point this afternoon.</p> + +<p>“Stratharden must be a marvel,” she said, finding +Dolly by her sitting-room fire. “Catch me getting servants +for a lady who’d supplanted me and my son! And +such an immaculate footman, too!”</p> + +<p>But there was no jubilation on Dolly’s face.</p> + +<p>“He’s done the best he can,” she returned, “but even +he says Mrs. Keith can’t be dismissed, and begs I’ll be +patient with her. Where’s his letter? Oh, here! Listen: +‘I know Keith’s cross-grained ways must be a sore +trial to you, and for her unpardonable conduct in dismissing +your maid I can of course offer no excuse. I +can only ask you to be patient with her, and remember +that she was my son’s nurse, and is broken-hearted that +he is no longer heir to Ardmore. I hope you can find +some capable country girl to look after your boy, and in +the meantime, as I am going abroad, it is both a pleasure +and a convenience to me to send you my two men servants, +hoping you may keep them till I return. James is +a capable servant and used to managing Keith. My +Chinese butler you will find better than any nurse, and +most useful to——’”</p> + +<p>“The what?” cried Magdalen.</p> + +<p>“The Chinese butler. He’s dressed like an Englishman +and he speaks perfectly. What about him?”</p> + +<p>But Magdalen sat staring, every drop of blood drained +from her cheeks and lips.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX"> + CHAPTER IX. + <br> + DOLLY’S PREDICAMENT. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>It is hard to tell how commonplace things grow +slowly into terror, intangible and unseen, but sure as +death. Into the dull life at Ardmore Castle horror had +crept; even Dolly could not be blind to it, and it haunted +Magdalen Clyde by night and day.</p> + +<p>The awful loneliness of the place began to hang over +them like a pall. For a month they had been installed, +and not a visitor from all the countryside had been near +them.</p> + +<p>“Not even a grocer’s boy!” Dolly said to herself uncomfortably, +though there was nothing remarkable in +that. Their meat was home-killed, their other stores +came once a year from Edinburgh. And in spite of the +silver-decked table and Stratharden’s invaluable servants, +there was no doubt that Mrs. Keith barely doled them +out enough to eat—that was eatable.</p> + +<p>The horses, in spite of reiterated orders, had never +come. James made one respectful and well-grounded +excuse after another—“next week,” “to-morrow”—and +neither brought them. As for rowing across the Clyde +it was not to be done. One winter storm after another +made it angry, and not a servant in the house could row. +Magdalen, going to the tumble-down boathouse to see +the boats, found none; she screamed herself hoarse in +trying to hail a boat from the opposite shore that was +two miles off; and found herself civilly assisted by +James, at whose appearance she turned about and went +home.</p> + +<p>After long wet days in the house, when the clouds +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span>broke at sundown she would drag Dolly out to walk in +the evergreen shrubberies. But in a little while Dolly’s +eyes would meet hers and they would go indoors quickly, +Ronald angrily protesting from his aunt’s shoulder. But +to the lonely, unhappy women it had been certain that +stealthy feet kept pace with them behind the dripping +firs, that eyes were on them hungrily as they walked.</p> + +<p>“It’s nerves,” said Dolly in an angry whisper; “nerves, +or Mrs. Keith.”</p> + +<p>They had long ago moved into those forbidden rooms +of Stratharden’s, but neither of them felt any better for +the change. The southern aspect was a mockery in a +Scotch winter.</p> + +<p>Ronald grew paler every day, had a queer little asthmatic +cough and seized every chance of spending his +time with Ah Lee, who seemed to fascinate him. On +Mrs. Keith Magdalen had never laid eyes. Sometimes +in the long nights she fancied she could hear the old +woman’s skirts brushing against her door, and would +get up silently and creep there and then on to Dolly’s +and Ronald’s apartments, for the three rooms connected; +would feel that the bolts were all shot home, and slip +back to bed again, not even owning to herself that it was +not terror of Mrs. Keith that made her do it.</p> + +<p>She turned now to where Dolly sat on her bed taking +off her wet boots after one of those garden outings that +had been worse than usual.</p> + +<p>“It may be nerves, but it isn’t Keith,” she began, and +then decided, for the fiftieth time, that it would be madness +to frighten Dolly about Ah Lee because of a dream.</p> + +<p>“Do you know what I found out just now?” for she +had sent Dolly and Ronald to the house, while she ran +back in a towering rage to ransack the shrubberies. “I +ran along by the garden wall till I came out on the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span>avenue, ever so far from the house; and there was the +postboy! He was giving letters and papers to James.”</p> + +<p>“Then the boat can cross again! Hurrah!” cried +Dolly quite gay again.</p> + +<p>“It never stopped crossing,” Magdalen dryly replied, +“except for two days. I asked the boy.”</p> + +<p>“Then where—why—what did James say?” with incoherent +energy.</p> + +<p>“James explained,” more dryly than ever, “he had +been no wiser than we, etc. Mrs. Keith must have done +it to annoy us. He would take great care in future; +could not be too glad that he had been tempted to investigate—but +he did not say it before the boy! Here +are some papers and a letter for you.”</p> + +<p>But Dolly looked at neither.</p> + +<p>“Who do you think it is? And what do they mean?” +she said, with a queer look in her shallow eyes. “I think +James told the truth, and it’s just old Keith, who, because +she hates us, wants to drive us away.”</p> + +<p>Magdalen threw open the door into the passage. It +was empty, dark and cold, and she shut it again. For a +moment she stood facing Dolly, stood stretching like a +cat, as if she were trying every muscle in her body.</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t do gymnastics; talk!” cried Dolly pettishly. +“Don’t you think the old wretch wants to drive us +away?”</p> + +<p>“She takes a queer way to do it,” Magdalen gravely +answered, seating herself close to Dolly and speaking in +a subdued tone. “Hasn’t it struck you that being a +countess here is extremely like being in jail? Suppose +we say we’re going to London to-morrow? Well! there +are no horses to take us the five miles to the steamer +that comes here, and you and Ronald can’t walk.”</p> + +<p>“We can go the way we came!” sharply.</p> + +<p>“We can’t, for I’ve tried it! We’ve no boat, and it’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span>no more use to try and hail one from the other side than +to sit here. There’s a rocky point between us and the +mainland; no one can see us.”</p> + +<p>“You’re talking nonsense.” The familiar obstinacy +was in Dolly’s voice. “I’m mistress in my own house, I +suppose. It’s rubbish to say I can’t get away from it. +But I don’t mean to be driven out to please Mrs. Keith. +It’s she who’s always crawling after us. She shan’t +think she can frighten me.”</p> + +<p>It was not Mrs. Keith who was frightening Magdalen. +She looked at Dolly with veiled black eyes and lay back +on the bed, a lovely, careless figure; against the old embroidered +coverlet her rusty hair seemed to catch all +the light left in the room. There was only one thing +to be done—get away from here and tell Dolly afterward. +The very inaction of the quiet face showed the +utter strength in it as she thought of something that had +never entered Dolly Barnysdale’s head.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t fuss over Mrs. Keith’s feelings,” she observed +calmly. “It’s deadly dull here, and some one +hates us, it doesn’t matter who. And I don’t think Ronald’s +well.”</p> + +<p>Dolly jumped up, scattering her papers and her dirty +boots.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” she angrily cried. “Are you +trying to frighten me? Of course I know he’s pale and +has a cough, but he was always pale.” There was something +wild and untamed about her small figure as she +stood over the quiet girl on the bed.</p> + +<p>“He wasn’t always—drowsy!” said Miss Clyde slowly. +“Look at him now.”</p> + +<p>Dolly whirled round, took a quick step and stood still. +There on the hearthrug in the middle of his toys lay +Ronald—asleep! He was pale indeed, and round his +open mouth and his closed eyes were faint blue stains.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span></p> + +<p>Lady Barnysdale shook as she saw them; yet for a +moment her face was that of a woman looking at a child +she saw for the first time. The next instant she had +the boy in her arms with the fierce, soft tenderness Magdalen +hated. “Do you mean——” she began in a hushed +rage not like her.</p> + +<p>“I don’t mean anything. The boy’s ill and we’re not +comfortable, so don’t let us stay.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be superior,” said Dolly sharply. “You as good +as said Keith was drugging the boy, and now you try to +back out of it. But we’ll go to-morrow.” Her voice +rose hysterically. “She hates me because she’s just devoted +to Stratharden, and she’s capable of anything.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think she has anything to do with it,” Magdalen +coolly declared. “She wouldn’t dare. But we’ll +go to-morrow. I’ll be only too glad.” There was no +use in telling Dolly things till they were away from this +house.</p> + +<p>But Dolly was no fool.</p> + +<p>“It couldn’t be!” she said barely over her breath.</p> + +<p>“He was kind, he——”</p> + +<p>“We’ll see to-morrow,” Magdalen Clyde said to herself. +Outwardly she only shrugged her shoulders and +turned away.</p> + +<p>Dolly sat clutching Ronald like a woman possessed. +She never touched the dinner sent up to her—for she +had no intention of letting the boy from her sight while +Mrs. Keith was in the house—and never even thought +of her unread London letter till Magdalen came back +from the meal she had made as short as possible, under +Ah Lee’s hateful eyes.</p> + +<p>The girl glanced at Dolly’s set little face, the tension +of her figure. She had been a fool to get her into a +state like this, but——</p> + +<p>“If I hadn’t waked her up to it Ronald would never +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span>have left this house alive!” she thought, for she had not +lived in London for nothing, nor for nothing haunted +the slums near Dolly’s house, while Dolly had men to +tea. “Here’s your letter,” she said in a matter-of-fact +way; “aren’t you going to read it? I’ll put Ronald to +bed.”</p> + +<p>She was half-way into the next room when a queer +sound made her turn sharply; she had no fear of waking +the boy she had taken from Dolly’s tired clasp.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” she cried, for on Lady Barnysdale’s +face was the look Dolly Arden had worn that night +in Krug’s restaurant.</p> + +<p>“It’s——” The words came stammering, incoherent. +“We must get out of this. It’s Starr-Dalton. He wants +to come here.”</p> + +<p>It seemed to Magdalen that even Starr-Dalton would +be better than no one. Had Dolly no sense? Did not +she see what was plain as print?</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s hateful,” she said slowly; “but—what does +he say?”</p> + +<p>Magdalen put out a hand as if to take the letter, but +Dolly ran to the fire and threw it into the blaze.</p> + +<p>“What does it matter what he says?” she cried contemptuously. +“Starr-Dalton! I didn’t half read the +thing.”</p> + +<p>There was no earthly reason that it should matter, yet +as she turned away Magdalen knew Dolly was lying.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X"> + CHAPTER X. + <br> + BETWEEN TWO EVILS. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>For once the sun shone into those southern rooms next +morning when Lady Barnysdale woke, and for an instant +it cheered her. Rain would have meant another day in +this dull, eery house, where some one hated her, where +at any moment Starr-Dalton might arrive with his two +days’ worn collars and his coarse smile.</p> + +<p>She got up and dressed with feverish haste, yet when +she looked at Ronald she felt as if the worst fear of +all had vanished. He looked a different child after his +night’s rest. Magdalen had frightened her for nothing; +the thing was too monstrous; no one, even in this house, +would harm a little child.</p> + +<p>Magdalen read her face like a book; and the relief on +it made her shrug her shoulders. She had not told Dolly +even half of the queer things she had seen yesterday +afternoon; in consequence “everything was lovely and +the goose hung high” this morning to that lady. But +tell she would not till the last pinch.</p> + +<p>“Well!” she said, “are we going to-day, or not? Because +I want to know what boots to put on.”</p> + +<p>Dolly started without seeing.</p> + +<p>To go meant a five-mile walk to a doubtful ferry; +Ronald was himself again; there was no need—but suddenly +she saw Starr-Dalton’s envelope that she had forgotten +to burn.</p> + +<p>“Go! Of course we’re going!” she said sharply; for +nothing on earth would make her stay where that man +could find her. “But I’m sure you’re wrong about Ronald. +Look at him.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span></p> + +<p>“I dare say,” responded Magdalen carelessly enough. +Her heart gave a bound at the thought that Dolly was +absolutely moved to do something; saw that she had no +desire to be friendly with Starr-Dalton, though, if she +had not been so full of other things, that might have +seemed the worst sign of all.</p> + +<p>“Well, after breakfast then!” she said cheerfully.</p> + +<p>After all it only took a little resolution to cut most +coils, and this one was disappearing like an ugly fog. +All they had to do was to walk out of Ardmore Castle, +and there would be no more remembrance of queer +dreams, nor terrors of servants.</p> + +<p>It was not at breakfast or lunch that Magdalen had +any fears for Ronald; it was his milk at night, his cups +of soup during the day. But after to-day there would +be no more of that.</p> + +<p>Miss Clyde’s thought turned gaily to that big, safe +London she had once said she hated; to a little house +somewhere, with nice women servants; to—and the blood +flashed into her pale face and sank again—the chance +sight of a calm, self-possessed face and clear eyes that +were like no others.</p> + +<p>“I’m a fool; he’s forgotten me by this time,” she +thought scornfully, and set herself to the business in +hand.</p> + +<p>There was to be no mention of their purpose, even to +Ronald. They would just stroll out in the garden as +usual, and once out of sight of the castle windows make +for the highroad leading those five long miles to the +fishing village, by a short cut over the hills. Those long +prowls of hers had been useful, for all Dolly’s growls at +them.</p> + +<p>Magdalen turned where she stood in the garden, waiting +for Dolly—and bit her lip with helpless annoyance +at a very small thing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span></p> + +<p>Lady Barnysdale stood at her elbow with Ronald, and +instead of her short country skirt and her sailor hat, was +attired from head to foot in her best and most becoming +widow’s weeds.</p> + +<p>“You might as well have given out your intentions,” +Magdalen dryly observed. “For Heaven’s sake, Dolly, +what possessed you to dress like that?”</p> + +<p>“I’m not going to London looking like a sweep!” she +smartly replied. “Besides I want my veil; we might +meet Starr-Dalton.”</p> + +<p>“As if it mattered!” Magdalen contemptuously replied, +but Dolly seemed deaf.</p> + +<p>“Come on,” she said, picking up her long skirt. “You +needn’t think I’m going back to change; it’s no use +glaring at me.”</p> + +<p>It was certainly no use to stand there, with Dolly’s +purpose advertised in her town clothes; but all the girl’s +gaiety was gone as she took Ronald’s hand silently and +led the way hastily into a screen of shrubs. Yet no +one could have been spying on them so early in the +morning, for there was assuredly not a soul about the +devious paths that led out on the wide moor they must +cross to get to the highroad. It was steep, but it cut off +two miles; and even Dolly never grumbled as she toiled +along, her elegant train cast over her arm. Magdalen +with Ronald on her back panted a little as she led the +way. To carry even a light child piggy-back is harder +work than one knows.</p> + +<p>“There!” she cried, stopping on the brow of the hill +and pointing down. “There’s the road and now it’s +only a mile to the store. We must keep to this little +track that goes through that cluster of firs. It’s frightfully +swampy on each side.”</p> + +<p>Success and exertion had painted Magdalen’s cheeks +a pale-rose; she was a sight to make an old man young +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span>as she stood with the child on her back, her gorgeous +hair catching the sun and her deep eyes blacker than +ever.</p> + +<p>Dolly, exhausted and bedraggled with holding up her +finery, was another story. Her smart widow’s bonnet +was over on one side and her whole appearance worthy +of bedlam, between mud and bushes.</p> + +<p>“I think we’ve made frightful fools of ourselves,” she +said crossly as they neared the bleak grove of stunted +firs. “I wish to goodness I’d just said I was going and +made James get a boat. Of course he would have done +so. It was just your nonsense that he wouldn’t; like +you thinking that stuff about Ronald.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps it was,” returned Magdalen dryly.</p> + +<p>She was staring at the path where it entered the firs +with a curious sense of danger. A cloud swept over the +sun and made her shiver; from the time she was a tiny +child she had always hated stray clouds to obscure the +sun. She shifted Ronald to her shoulders and let Dolly +pass her.</p> + +<p>As she was moving on a shriek of rage made her +spring forward wildly.</p> + +<p>Dolly had disappeared in the firs and her angry voice +came back on the wind. Who was she talking to?</p> + +<p>Magdalen clutched Ronald’s thin, black legs and tore +down the hill.</p> + +<p>Well inside the cluster of firs stood Dolly with her +back to her; in front of her, completely blocking up the +narrow path between the thick trees, stood a gamekeeper +in worn velveteen; a burly, respectable person +with a smooth-shaven face, remarkably pale for a person +who spent his life out of doors. And Dolly was +storming at him like a fury.</p> + +<p>“Pass? Why shouldn’t I pass?” she cried, and her +rakish bonnet was ludicrous, her held-up skirts filthy. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span>“How dare you stop me on my own place? I’m Lady +Barnysdale.”</p> + +<p>“That may be,” returned the gamekeeper, with a grin, +and Magdalen saw he was not Scotch, “but you don’t +pass here.”</p> + +<p>“What’s all this?” said she from behind, and the man’s +face changed a little as he saw her, but he never budged.</p> + +<p>“You can’t go through here, and that’s all about it,” +he said, taking no notice of Dolly’s furious tongue.</p> + +<p>“Are you mad?” So taken aback was Magdalen that +she was scarcely angry.</p> + +<p>The man burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>“No, not I,” he coolly returned. “But this is no place +for walks and you’d better go back.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense!” Magdalen’s temper had come to her at +that laugh. “Lady Barnysdale and I are going to the +village. Get out of the way at once.”</p> + +<p>“Then you’ll not go this way,” with impudent admiration +of the tall girl’s black eyes.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you’re Lady Barnysdale’s servant,” said +Magdalen icily. “Do you mean to disobey her orders?”</p> + +<p>“Just that,” he said rudely. “Get back now the both +of you. My orders are that no one’s to go to the village—even +if it were the queen!”</p> + +<p>There was something in his face that made Dolly +shrink. She sprang to Magdalen’s side.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” she said in a whisper, “who is he? I don’t believe +he’s a servant. I’m afraid of him. Come away.”</p> + +<p>Magdalen looked the man up and down. If he had +been respectful she could have dealt with him; as it was +she suddenly remembered that they were two women +on a lonely hillside, and their way was obstructed by a +burly blackguard.</p> + +<p>As she thought it he stretched a hand to clap her on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span>the shoulder, half threatening, all insolent. And for a +second her black eyes staggered even him.</p> + +<p>“You’re lying, and you know it,” she said composedly. +“There’s no excuse for your not letting us pass. But +if you won’t get out of our way we can get out of yours. +Come, Dolly!” and she had Dolly turned and safe in +front of her before she took her eyes from that evil face.</p> + +<p>Magdalen’s knees were shaking as she followed, leaving +the man laughing. She tried to believe he was a +poacher and that to pass him would mean insult, perhaps +robbery—and Dolly had fifty pounds in her pocket. But +she knew quite well that, whoever he was, he was all of +a piece with every other thing in Ardmore Castle.</p> + +<p>“Come,” she said bravely and not casting a glance behind +her. “We’ll have to go back and take to the highroad, +where we came out of the garden. We won’t +be stopped by a tramp.”</p> + +<p>Dolly gave her no answer, but a feverish cry to hurry. +The one cloud had stretched all over the sky and rain +was spitting in their faces. By the time they got back +to their starting-point all three were drenched, Dolly’s +crape a reeking, flabby mass.</p> + +<p>White as death, her breath coming hardly, she turned +on Magdalen.</p> + +<p>“We must go home. It would kill Ronald to do anything +else,” she said, and if her voice was hoarse it was +not cowed. “Anyhow it seems to me we’d have no better +luck on the highroad. That man was no accident; +but one more in my little score against Mrs. Keith.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said Magdalen dully. “Get on, Doll; +we can’t stand here in the rain.”</p> + +<p>She looked sharply at James as he met them in the +hall, with a face of commiserating wonder at their +plight.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my lady!” he said quite naturally, “I had no idea +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span>you were out till you did not come to luncheon. I was +just going to look for you with umbrellas.”</p> + +<p>“It would have been quite useless,” said Dolly quietly. +“Please send Sophy up with hot tea at once. It’s too +late for lunch.”</p> + +<p>At the man’s concerned look as he hurried away Magdalen +began to wonder if the balance of her mind were +right, and she was not imagining stuff because of that +coincidence of her own dream about a Chinaman. That +man on the hill might have been a poacher; but if there +were any truth in what she really thought of him it lay +deeper than any old woman’s hatred for Dolly. No +housekeeper, sour as she might be, would dare to play +a trick like that. And it was all very well to sneer at +herself for a superstitious fool, but it was after Stratharden’s +men came, and not before, that some one had +been always haunting their footsteps; let alone that thing +of yesterday, of which she had not told Dolly.</p> + +<p>With a shiver that was only half weariness she busied +herself in getting off Ronald’s wet clothes. When the +tea came—with a separate jug of milk for Ronald—she +quickly gave him cream and hot water instead.</p> + +<p>In exhausted silence Dolly lay back and watched her. +They were both thinking the same thing, with a different +theory behind it; but before Ronald, who loved Ah Lee, +Magdalen dared not let Dolly speak of it.</p> + +<p>At Ronald’s bedtime the two looked at each other. +There were no keys to the nursery door, and during dinner +they must leave the child alone. It was in Magdalen’s +room that they left him, sound asleep and locked +in.</p> + +<p>With the keys in her pocket Dolly talked at dinner +with her old, reckless gaiety. Neither James nor Ah +Lee should be able to report to Mrs. Keith that her ladyship +had met with a reverse in her morning walk.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span></p> + +<p>But Ah Lee, after the soup, disappeared; and James +was unaccountably lazy in bringing the pudding.</p> + +<p>“That brute Keith!” exclaimed Dolly angrily. “If I +wasn’t still hungry I wouldn’t wait. Oh, Magdalen, +can’t you think of something?” bursting out with what +she had had on her mind all dinner-time. “Some plan +of getting away, for after to-day——Oh! I’m frightened! +The place is just our jail.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” said Magdalen softly. “I——” She gazed +at her own reflection in the glass above the high mantel-shelf +as she tried to think what was the best thing to +do. If she were right, and not Dolly, it looked as if +they must stay here till some one had had his way with +Ronald.</p> + +<p>As she stared at her own pale reflection a quick astonishment +came into her eyes; why she shaded them with +her hand she best knew, and certainly her answer was a +queer one—to the miserable appeal that had been in +Dolly’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“I dare say it’s very nice in summer,” and the slow, +irrelevant words were utterly indifferent. “Don’t let’s +wait for pudding, Dolly. I’m tired.”</p> + +<p>Magdalen got up and stood waiting, her eyes still on +the glass. Dolly stared at her. Too amazed to speak +she pushed back her chair and followed Magdalen out.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with you?” she began crossly +when they were in her room. She unlocked the door +leading into Magdalen’s, and was turning back to her +own fire when she saw her stepsister’s face.</p> + +<p>“Come here in my room,” said the girl very softly, +passing her like a noiseless wind and drawing the bolt +across the door.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” Dolly whispered. “For Heaven’s sake, +what makes you look like that?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span></p> + +<p>Magdalen sat down and looked her straight in the +face.</p> + +<p>“Doll,” she said soberly, “who is the man?”</p> + +<p>“Man!” Lady Barnysdale cried. “Do you mean the +one we met this morning? How on earth should I +know?”</p> + +<p>“No! The man who’s living in this house.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean a servant?” Dolly amazedly asked.</p> + +<p>“No!” roughly. “A gentleman.”</p> + +<p>“A gentleman! You’re mad,” said Dolly. Surely she +had enough to worry her without being told things like +this. “There can’t be anyone in the house but us.”</p> + +<p>A queer thought came over Magdalen.</p> + +<p>“Dolly,” she said slowly, “you really have no idea +where Lord Stratharden is?”</p> + +<p>“If I had I wouldn’t be here. What in the world are +you driving at?”</p> + +<p>“Listen!” and there was something in the hushed +voice that made Dolly quiet. “Is your brother-in-law +dark-haired, with light eyes sunk in wrinkles? Has he a +way of smiling—that isn’t smiling—when he’s interested? +And eyebrows like”—she signed with her fingers +over her own level ones—“crooked, you know, and very +finely marked?”</p> + +<p>“You never saw him!” said Dolly, recoiling as from a +too life-like portrait. “You said so.”</p> + +<p>“I never did—till to-night.”</p> + +<p>“To-night! How could you? He’s away abroad,” +with scornful eyes on the girl who sat between her and +the light, uncanny in her black and whiteness. “What +do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“I mean he’s here,” said Magdalen grimly. “I saw +him to-night in this house.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI"> + CHAPTER XI. + <br> + THE EYES BEHIND THE GLASS. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>Lady Barnysdale’s tongue clicked against the roof of +her mouth; her dry lips shaped the words she could +not say. She sprang to the bell and a hand drew hers +from the bell-rope.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be so mad!” said Magdalen quietly. “Sit +down.”</p> + +<p>Dolly looked at her.</p> + +<p>“But if Stratharden’s here—oh, you don’t understand; +he was more than kind to me—all I have to do is to tell +him about Keith. But—he can’t be here! He wouldn’t +arrive and I not know. You couldn’t have seen him.”</p> + +<p>“Be quiet,” said her stepsister with a sudden, hushed +force.</p> + +<p>She stood a second listening; then, as if she heard +what she expected, pushed Dolly back into her chair. +She pulled a note-book from her pocket and wrote furiously, +thankful that Dolly had sense enough to sit silent, +and presently pointed imperiously at the page.</p> + +<p>The penciled lines swam before Dolly Barnysdale’s +eyes.</p> + +<p>“Don’t speak,” she read. “I hear some one in the corridor. +I saw the man I told you of to-night when we +were at dinner. I was looking in the glass, and that curtained +window leading into the hall was reflected there. +Some one lifted a corner of the curtain outside and I +saw a man’s face—a gentleman’s. He must be living in +the house, for I saw the collar of his smoking-jacket. +If it was Stratharden what is he doing here secretly? +Why does he spy at what you do?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p> + +<p>“You mean——” said Dolly huskily.</p> + +<p>Magdalen took the book and wrote again.</p> + +<p>“I mean we can’t get away, and I found out—never +mind how—that Ronald’s milk was being drugged. Is +Stratharden poor because of him and you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Very poor? In difficulties?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“You knew his brother!” wrote the girl cruelly. “You +were married to him.”</p> + +<p>“My God!” said Dolly exactly as if she were praying +in church. “But Stratharden could not be like him.”</p> + +<p>The words were not over her breath—a queer thing +for Dolly; her lips parted as if she were going to faint.</p> + +<p>Magdalen owned no smelling-bottle. She moved +sharply into Dolly’s room to get hers, and something +made her glance at the door she had bolted and then go +into Ronald’s empty nursery. When she came back no +one could have suspected the awful terror in her soul.</p> + +<p>“Do you bolt your doors at night?” she said softly, +for Dolly at that minute could not have read another +line to save her life.</p> + +<p>Dolly nodded dumbly, and Magdalen waited patiently +till the color came back to her sister’s lips. Then she +wrote something she dared not say, wondering all the +time if she were a fool to let Dolly know it.</p> + +<p>“Then lock them,” she scowled; “there’s only one +screw in each bolt socket—and leave the keys crossways +in the keyholes.”</p> + +<p>Slowly, like an uneducated woman, Lady Barnysdale +wrote a sentence that was barely readable.</p> + +<p>“There are no keys. You knew that. There’s nothing +to help me.”</p> + +<p>Magdalen gave her a queer look.</p> + +<p>“There’s me!” she wrote with a half laugh. And if +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span>she were Dolly’s sister there must have been good +blood in her somewhere, for a sudden courage shone in +her face; while Dolly sat more dead than alive, her lower +lip drawn away from her teeth. Magdalen could not +think looking at Dolly, and think she must. She moved +noiselessly into her sister’s room and stood there checking +off her thoughts on her fingers.</p> + +<p>“First, there’s Ronald! He looks just like Mrs. Malone’s +boy there was all the fuss about—and a Chinaman +was at the bottom of that! Then here’s a house +miles from anywhere, Scotch servants who believe some +lie—no matter what—about Dolly; a footman and a +Chinaman”—once more that horrid thrill of fear came +over her—“who belong to a man who’s supposed to be +abroad and is in this house! I wonder how long he’s +been here! I’ll go bail Mrs. Keith had excellent reasons +for not letting Dolly explore! If I know anything +about faces he is clever, but he was frightened, too, because +we so nearly got off to-day. A frightened man +does things in a hurry.”</p> + +<p>She drew a long breath. With three men and an old +woman against her it was long odds against Magdalen +Clyde; but even so she would be harder to handle than +Dolly.</p> + +<p>“One good thing, he can’t know I saw him. I covered +my eyes too quickly,” she ended and turned to go +back to Dolly as quietly as if she did not hear in the corridor +outside a step that crept foot by foot with hers. +Half-way in her own room she stopped and looked behind +her.</p> + +<p>There was a little click, a gleam, as the polished brass +handle of the door leading into the corridor slipped—evidently +from the hold of some one outside—back into its +place, then turned again slowly, noiselessly, evilly.</p> + +<p>She stared at the moving convex of shining brass, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span>stepping quietly into her own room bolted the door behind +her. With herself, Dolly and Ronald inside and a +good door at her back it was not worth while to worry.</p> + +<p>“You’re done up, Dolly,” she said softly. “Get into +bed beside Ronald and I’ll take the sofa. I don’t want +to sleep alone to-night.”</p> + +<p>Dolly shuddered; nothing would have made her go +into her own room.</p> + +<p>“If you’re right, and he’s here,” she said, “what shall +I say?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t imagine for one second that he’ll show up. If +he does I’d hold my tongue, except to inform him that +we’re going at once. You mustn’t tell him about Ronald.”</p> + +<p>Dolly was shivering as she lay down by the boy.</p> + +<p>“Surely he’ll explain,” she said.</p> + +<p>Magdalen gasped. If she had been a man she would +have had fists first and explanations afterward in the +police court. As she sat wearily on the sofa the incongruity +of the whole thing came over her. The homelike +room with the candle-light on Ronald’s waxen face; +down-stairs the evil, scarred Chinaman; the man peering +through the window. She dared think no longer, remembering +the look in those pale eyes behind the glass; +except that with daylight they must get away from this +evil house, over the swirling firth where the tide raced +like death incarnate, back to the safety of the packed +streets of London town.</p> + +<p>She had meant to keep awake, but her tired bones +were too much for her. When she started up, at a loud +knocking at the door of Dolly’s vacant room, it was half-past +eight and broad daylight.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” she cried, half awake.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Keith,” said Dolly, utterly astounded. She +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span>jumped up and hurried into her own room at the +woman’s call.</p> + +<p>Magdalen tumbled off her sofa and peered through +the crack of the door.</p> + +<p>A gaunt old woman in a white cap and print gown +stood in the middle of Dolly’s room staring at the unused +bed; a terrible old woman, but, as Magdalen had +all along felt certain, an honest one.</p> + +<p>“What capers are these?” she cried harshly. “What +for did ye no’ sleep in your own bed? No wonder Sophy +could na wake ye. His lordship’s here. I’m to tell +you; and he’d like to see ye at once.”</p> + +<p>“Stratharden!” cried Dolly. “Then he——” She +pulled herself together viciously. “When did he come?” +she asked.</p> + +<p>“I did no’ let him in,” returned Mrs. Keith calmly, +and Magdalen saw she meant to say no more. “But ye’d +do well to make haste.”</p> + +<p>“That’s for me to say,” said Dolly valiantly.</p> + +<p>“You can send Miss Clyde’s breakfast up here. She’s +tired,” for Ronald could neither breakfast with Stratharden +and spill egg on his pinafore, nor be left alone.</p> + +<p>“I’ll do no such a thing,” announced the retainer. +“There’s breakfast in the dining-room and she can go +there. It seems to me ye’ll have queer ways when ye’ll +eat alone and sleep three in a bed!” and she marched +out.</p> + +<p>“What on earth shall I do?” said Dolly.</p> + +<p>“Don’t do anything. Just say we’re going away to-day. +Brace up, Doll; you’re clever enough! I never +saw you like this.”</p> + +<p>“Sometimes I think I used up all my strength in London,” +Dolly muttered with an odd flatness.</p> + +<p>“Shall I come?”</p> + +<p>“No! I get on better alone with men, even with a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span>brother-in-law,” and at last there was something of the +old Dolly in the way she said it.</p> + +<p>“I want my breakfast,” Ronald announced when she +was gone and he was dressed.</p> + +<p>“So do I,” said his aunt. But as she glanced at the +boy’s pallor and the unnatural circles round his eyes she +had no desire to get that meal as served by Ah Lee. A +quiet idea took her.</p> + +<p>“Come,” she cried; “you and I, your lordship, will go +and look for breakfast! Do you know the way to the +kitchen?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but Mrs. Keith’s cross, Aunt Magdalen.”</p> + +<p>“We’re not afraid of her,” said the aunt cheerfully, +and hand-in-hand with the small person who had been +unwise enough to succeed to an earldom, Miss Clyde +made her way through deserted passages to an enormous +kitchen, where one woman sat at her breakfast, +her back turned to the door, neither hearing nor seeing +the intruders.</p> + +<p>For one moment Magdalen surveyed her in silence. +She was alone, and so much the better.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Mrs. Keith!” she cried maliciously. +“I want some breakfast.”</p> + +<p>The housekeeper bounced in her chair, turned round +with an ungainly wrench, then sat gaping open-mouthed, +her lean, knotted hands flung out.</p> + +<p>“Who are ye?” she said in a kind of shriek. “My +woman, who are ye?”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII"> + CHAPTER XII. + <br> + IN THE CHAPEL. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>“Her ladyship’s sister,” said Magdalen smartly.</p> + +<p>It was nonsense Mrs. Keith’s pretending not to know +when she had been in the house more than a month, and +had been followed wherever she went for a week.</p> + +<p>Was the old housekeeper crazy?</p> + +<p>For, like a woman startled out of her senses, she +was coming over to the intruders, peering at them under +her bushy brows till her eyes were like green sparks. +Ronald began to cry at the look on the gnarled face +that was pushed so close to Magdalen’s.</p> + +<p>“Speak out!” cried Mrs. Keith. “What’s your name?”</p> + +<p>“You’re frightening the child,” cried Magdalen indignantly. +“You know perfectly well who I am—Lady +Barnysdale’s sister. As for my name, it’s Clyde—though +I can’t see how it matters to you what it is. Get me +some breakfast,” she commanded, for her patience was +exhausted.</p> + +<p>“Heavens! ’tis the very speech of him!” said the +housekeeper to herself. “Clyde, she says——” She put +a knotted work-worn hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Speak +out,” she muttered; “ye can! I’m Mrs. Keith.”</p> + +<p>“I have spoken out.” Magdalen stamped her foot, +for in this house it was waste of time to be either polite +or considerate, knowing what she knew. “Now get me +some breakfast. You can see for yourself I can’t take +such a little child as this to breakfast with Lord Stratharden.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith stood looking at her.</p> + +<p>“If I was wrong,” she said, “you’ll pardon me! Ye +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span>have a look of one I knew that’s dead, and for the sake +of him ye’ll have all that’s in this house. Though,” under +her breath, and turning away, “if ye were aught to +him ye’d not hold that child by the hand!”</p> + +<p>For want of an answer Magdalen sat down on a spotless +wooden chair and took Ronald on her lap.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith, with that queer surprise still on her face, +went to and fro awkwardly, putting such a meal on the +kitchen-table as Lady Barnysdale had assuredly never +seen in that house; and Magdalen’s black eyes followed +her every movement. Through the open door into the +dairy she saw the milk taken fresh from the pan; at +her very elbow watched the boiling of the eggs, the slicing +of the bacon. There might be dislike of the new +Lord Barnysdale here, but there were certainly no underhand +tricks with his food. To her surprise the grim +old woman laid the table with fine china, not the thick +crockery she had used herself.</p> + +<p>“Ye’re served,” she said briefly; and if ever the words +were welcome it was to half-starved Magdalen Clyde.</p> + +<p>“Will ye be living here for good?” said the housekeeper +suddenly.</p> + +<p>“No. I’m going back to London as soon as I can,” +something beyond her control making her tell the truth +as better than lies.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Keith made no comment.</p> + +<p>In silence Magdalen finished the breakfast that was +putting courage into her with every mouthful, and then +lifted Ronald from his chair.</p> + +<p>“Say good morning to Mrs. Keith, boy,” she cried +lightly, “and thank her for such a good breakfast!” with +her lovely laugh.</p> + +<p>“Ye needn’t prompt him. I’ll have none of his thanks, +the spawn!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></p> + +<p>The sudden, harsh voice made the child clutch Magdalen +in silent terror.</p> + +<p>“How dare you speak like that?” she cried, turning +angrily on the housekeeper. “He’s a child, not three +years old. It isn’t his fault that he supplanted the boy +you nursed.”</p> + +<p>The woman looked at her.</p> + +<p>“Who may ye be meaning?” she quietly asked.</p> + +<p>“Lord Stratharden’s son,” Magdalen replied, seeing +no reason for the question.</p> + +<p>“Stratharden’s? Oh, ay!” and her eyes narrowed +oddly. “He’s a guid lad enough, Buff Ogilvie. But if +ye come here to teach me my duty ye’d best be going +back to your own affairs.”</p> + +<p>“I’m at them!” with a sudden inspiration. Hateful, +half daft, as this old woman seemed, she was yet the +one soul in the house who could be trusted even half-way. +“While I think of it,” she continued boldly, “why +are all the screws drawn from the bolt-sockets in her +ladyship’s room?”</p> + +<p>“Who told ye so?” but she did not look the least put +out.</p> + +<p>“My eyes.”</p> + +<p>“Ye’ll see the same thing in a madhouse,” said Mrs. +Keith, dryly, and her hearer wondered if she had ever +been shut up in one. “Come ye’re ways with me,” the +housekeeper went on hastily. “I’ll show ye something, +and for the sake of him that ye favor I’ll tell ye something, +too. I’d not be so free with your tongue in a +place ye know nothing about!” Having uttered the advice +she turned away.</p> + +<p>Without answering Magdalen picked up Ronald and +followed the gaunt old figure so strangely set off in a +blue cotton gown. Up-stairs, through long passages, +across a wide hall—where it seemed to her that her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span>guide fairly ran, and had no desire to be seen—and +into a closed room that was curiously high and dark.</p> + +<p>The housekeeper whipped a candle from somewhere +and lighted it. Magdalen Clyde drew back with a +startled cry.</p> + +<p>They stood in a deserted, dismantled chapel. Over +the bare, dusty altar was the despairing agony of Mary +Magdalen at the foot of the cross; all else of religion was +gone from the place. The windows were boarded up, +the dust of years was soft on the floor—and in the dim +candle-light that flickered in the close air that other +Magdalen turned on the housekeeper.</p> + +<p>“Why do you bring me here?” she demanded. “Take +me away. The place smells of death.”</p> + +<p>“It may well; it may well.” Mrs. Keith’s face was +drawn and livid, and Magdalen saw suddenly that she +was a very, very old woman. “I brought ye here for +this—and for the look on your face!”</p> + +<p>She turned, pointing behind the girl’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>Magdalen wheeled. There, over the door by which +they had entered, hung a second picture, facing the Mary +Magdalen over the altar. And but for a something in +the cut of the mouth it might have been her own face +that was painted there, though the picture was not that +of a woman, but of a man.</p> + +<p>A man of five-and-twenty, with a face of burned-out +sorrow; yet the eyes of it were brave still.</p> + +<p>“That was the boy I nursed!” cried the housekeeper +under her breath. “Because ye had a look of him I fed +ye. And now, if ye’re wise, ye’ll get away to your home. +His hair—that’s black in the painting—was the color of +yours when he was a child.”</p> + +<p>Magdalen stared at the picture.</p> + +<p>The boy Mrs. Keith nursed! Did she mean——Oh, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span>it was not Stratharden, nor never had been. Was it +Dolly’s husband?</p> + +<p>“Was he——” she began, and did not know why she +stopped short. “It’s a curious chance that I should look +like him!” she said with bewilderment.</p> + +<p>“There’s no such thing as chance. We’re all born to +an ending.” The words were so low and dreary that +Miss Clyde looked sharply at the withered old speaker.</p> + +<p>There were tears in the woman’s hard eyes. She +brushed them away as she motioned the girl to follow +her.</p> + +<p>To Magdalen’s surprise only two short, dingy passages +lay between the desolate chapel and her own +room, at the door of which Mrs. Keith stopped abruptly.</p> + +<p>“I’ll bring your luncheon to ye,” she said harshly, “if +you’re meaning not to go down. And if ye’ve any wit +of your own ye’ll say nothing about what I showed ye. +Did ye say ye were going away from here?” she suddenly +inquired.</p> + +<p>“As soon,” said Miss Clyde truthfully, “as ever I can.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, ay! Well, when ye’re wanting to leave ye’ll tell +me!” She turned and was gone.</p> + +<p>“Well!” Magdalen thought, staring after her, “of all +the unearthly houses and people! But my black and +whiteness has done me some good at last. I never +thought I should get a good breakfast because I had the +luck to look like a dead man’s picture. It’s a pity Dolly +couldn’t get on the right side of Mrs. Keith!” But even +as she thought it she knew it was impossible; it was +no light hatred that had fired Mrs. Keith’s face when +she looked at Ronald. And—that queer answer about +the madhouse flashed suddenly clear to Magdalen. It +was Dolly the woman had meant was mad!</p> + +<p>In spite of her substantial breakfast Miss Clyde sat +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span>down limply. She had thought of many things, but +never of this. The pale indoor face of the man who had +barred their way yesterday sprang up before her with a +sudden horrid significance, and then the devilish cleverness +that was at the bottom of it all turned her cold.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII"> + CHAPTER XIII. + <br> + STRATHARDEN “SEES THEM OFF.” + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>But it was cold rage, not cold fright, that had kept +Magdalen from even hearing a foot on the floor till +Dolly’s hand was on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Well?” Magdalen said, and there was only curiosity +in her voice. “How did you get on? What did he +say?”</p> + +<p>Dolly sat down on the rug by Ronald and snatched +him to her.</p> + +<p>“Say?” she cried. “It was I that said! We’re to go +to-night—to London. The horses came this morning +anyhow. Magdalen,” with a sudden doubt, “I don’t +know what to think about him. Before I could ask +him when he arrived he said he came late last night and +feared to disturb me.”</p> + +<p>Late—at dinner-time? But she did not say it.</p> + +<p>“Then you didn’t let out that I saw him?”</p> + +<p>“No,” she responded not too comfortably. She had +been, as she said, a failure on the stage; she knew her +surprise at seeing Stratharden had been acting of the +same class.</p> + +<p>“What did you tell him?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, except what I said in my letters. I didn’t +think it would do to say we’d tried to get away and +couldn’t. He said it was my letter that brought him; +he was anxious to see for himself that I was comfortable.”</p> + +<p>“What did you say?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span></p> + +<p>“That we weren’t, and I didn’t think Ronald’s food +agreed with him here.”</p> + +<p>Magdalen’s face grew perfectly expressionless. Truly, +Dolly must have used up all her wits in London! She +had said the very last thing she should have let out she +knew. If she was going to tell everything the less she +knew the better; if it once dawned on her that she was +here in the character of a madwoman she would do her +best to behave like one.</p> + +<p>“Why aren’t we going till to-night?” Magdalen asked. +“It seems to me the ferry-boat comes here at three in the +day.”</p> + +<p>“It did, but it’s changed. It comes at eight now.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said the girl carelessly. If that were true it +made Stratharden a liar when he said he came last night. +Nothing could have got him over five miles and into a +smoking-jacket by seven minutes past eight. But he +must be a poor sort of villain to give in so easily and +let them go. She felt strangely uneasy for a person +whose trouble would be over in eight hours; it did not +seem possible that a man who had gone to such pains to +keep them here should let them go at the bare asking. +She was so sure that all the queer things in Ardmore +Castle were Stratharden’s work that she would not trust +herself to see him; as for going to luncheon with him +she would as soon have dined with the devil.</p> + +<p>When Dolly would have taken Ronald to see him she +called her a fool to her face. It might be their last day +under Stratharden’s auspices, but, all the more, she +would not let the child out of her own keeping for five +minutes.</p> + +<p>“You can go on saying he’s not well, since you’ve already +admitted it,” she remarked obdurately, “and I’m +packing.”</p> + +<p>But if Stratharden kept his word, and she packed to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span>any purpose, she knew she would be pleasurably astounded.</p> + +<p>To her utter amazement he did.</p> + +<p>At seven Dolly flew up-stairs.</p> + +<p>“The carriage is here!” she cried. “Stratharden has +gone on to the ferry to see us on board.”</p> + +<p>“Is he coming, too?”</p> + +<p>“No. He’ll come back in the carriage and stay here a +day or two. Then he’s going to Russia. Come on, and +for Heaven’s sake be civil when he meets us at the boat, +no matter what you think.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what to think,” she replied in perplexity, +for the actual carriage at the door had knocked all +her theories to bits. As for telling Mrs. Keith she was +going—with an uneasy remembrance of the woman’s +words—for all she knew, that might stop them. The +housekeeper might be innocent about Ronald, but what +she said about a madhouse had fitted in too well with the +face of the man who had turned them back yesterday.</p> + +<p>“My going away might be very different to my taking +Dolly!” Magdalen thought swiftly, and with Ronald +in her arms followed Dolly down-stairs.</p> + +<p>It was odd how slowly her heart beat. It should have +been thumping with joy that she was turning her back +on this hateful house forever, and need never again +think of Ah Lee and her dream of him, need only see +his hateful face this once more as she passed by him to +the carriage.</p> + +<p>She looked over Dolly’s shoulder and saw she was +spared even one more sight of the man. There was +no one in the hall but James, holding the front door +wide. And outside, in the seven-o’clock darkness, was +a closed carriage and a pair of strong young horses pawing +the gravel. At the blessed sight the girl’s black +eyes were suddenly alive in her pale face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p> + +<p>She looked at the horses like friends; at her old acquaintance, +the red-headed boy, who sat alone on the +box; followed Dolly into the carriage with a laugh of +pure gaiety, and fell back into her seat as James shut +the carriage door behind her with a bang that made the +horses start nearly out of their skins.</p> + +<p>They were off, after all her doubts! Ardmore and its +mysteries were behind them; her dream and the Chinaman +off her mind forever.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to shout hurrah,” she cried. “Oh! Dolly, +wouldn’t you?”</p> + +<p>“We’re going awfully fast,” said Dolly irrelevantly. +“Is it down-hill?”</p> + +<p>Magdalen looked out of the window.</p> + +<p>There was nothing to see but bare hills, dark against +the watery night-sky.</p> + +<p>“The horses are fresh,” she returned comfortably. “It’s +all right.” She wished she were as sure about the boat; +it was queer how quickly her exultation left her.</p> + +<p>In a little while Magdalen put her head out of the +window again and caught her breath with surprise. +Surely they had never come five miles. For before her +was the Firth of Clyde; and black against its dark water +there lay a long pier, like a pointing finger. They were +at the ferry.</p> + +<p>The horses dropped into a walk half-way out on the +ramshackle pier, stopped and stood uneasily. There +was no Stratharden, no ferry-boat; no sign that anyone +ever came to the desolate place.</p> + +<p>The wind whined from the hills once and again; the +tide sucked at the shaky wharf; overhead it was spitting +rain. To a London girl’s eyes the pier was horribly +narrow. If anything frightened the horses there would +be no room to turn.</p> + +<p>“Do you see Stratharden?” asked Dolly quickly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span></p> + +<p>“No. He’s not here, Dolly; there’s no ferry-boat +here either!”</p> + +<p>Dolly shut her teeth.</p> + +<p>“I won’t go back if I wait till daylight,” she said. “Do +you think Stratharden’s done it on purpose and there +won’t be any boat? Can’t you see him?”</p> + +<p>“Wait,” said Magdalen, peering into the darkness.</p> + +<p>In the deadly quiet she could have heard the lightest +footstep on the pier, as she heard her own heart and the +spattering rain on the carriage. Wherever Lord Stratharden +was he was not here.</p> + +<p>She got out noiselessly and stood, a darker shadow in +the dark. The carriage door swung under her hand as +the horses shifted restlessly in the chilly wind, the boy on +the box——</p> + +<p>“Get out!” said Magdalen suddenly, thrusting her +head into the dim carriage. “Get out! Don’t speak!”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV"> + CHAPTER XIV. + <br> + “MURDER!” + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>Magdalen had noted that there was something queer +about the boy on the box, something terrifying in the +look of him where he sat in a hunched heap, regardless of +the driving rain or the horses pulling the reins through +his listless fingers as they tossed and fretted at their bits.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she could no longer distinguish him. A +black rain-squall fell from the sky and shut her in, she +could not see Dolly and Ronald at her elbow, or her own +hand on the carriage door. By some instinct she shut it +softly.</p> + +<p>“Keep still,” she said, and felt her way round the +hind wheels to wake the red-headed boy. How dared +he sleep here? It was not safe, it——”</p> + +<p>A narrow flash, strangely red for lightning, blinded +her; the carriage backed and knocked her down.</p> + +<p>In an instant she was on her feet, clutching Dolly in +the dark.</p> + +<p>“Don’t scream!” she fiercely breathed. “Hold on to +my skirts and come.”</p> + +<p>Stooping, gasping, she felt her way off that pier, its +wooden coping her only guide.</p> + +<p>The noise of wheels, of tearing hoofs, of a horse’s +scream, tore the air—the latter a sound to stop the heart.</p> + +<p>“What was that?” Dolly stood paralyzed.</p> + +<p>“Murder!” said Magdalen to herself as she felt solid +ground under her groping hands, and stood up. “Come +on.”</p> + +<p>She dragged Dolly and Ronald behind some bushes +she could feel more than see.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span></p> + +<p>“Oh, what was it?” Dolly repeated tremulously.</p> + +<p>“The carriage is in the Clyde,” Magdalen briefly replied, +“and if we’re not quiet we’ll be there, too.”</p> + +<p>For that red flash had done more than frighten the +horses; it had showed the end of the pier to Magdalen +Clyde, with a stout post at each corner of it, the top of +the right-hand one square and blank against the flare.</p> + +<p>On the other post, squatting motionless, like some horrible +heathen god, was the Chinese butler, waiting. For +what?</p> + +<p>“For just what he saw!” thought Magdalen with a +terror that would have been unreasonable in broad daylight +or in another place. “That flash wasn’t an accident. +The carriage was meant to go over with us inside. +The boy was drugged! Oh!”—with a sick shudder—“the +poor boy! The poor horses!”</p> + +<p>It was useless for common sense to assure her that +she was all wrong; that Stratharden had for some reason +not come himself to see them off, but sent the butler; +and that the obvious thing to do was to call to the +Chinaman, tell him how miraculously they had escaped, +and go back to Ardmore till the morning. For if common +sense said all this instinct clamored louder that if +the man had been there to help them, he would have +come over to the carriage; that if he had perched himself +on the post, it was to be safe when the carriage and +horses tore past him!</p> + +<p>Trembling she cleared the rain from her face and +strained eyes to the pier-end. If all were right human +flesh and blood could not have kept silent when the carriage +crashed into the water. Yet the Chinaman had +not made a sound.</p> + +<p>Through the dark she could see nothing; could hear +only the lap of the water, the pattering rain; but +through it the man might be creeping on them, step by +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span>step, might have guessed the carriage was empty, +might——</p> + +<p>“Come away,” she whispered, and her lips were stone-cold. +“Don’t let Ronald cry,” for the shrill child’s voice +could be heard above the storm.</p> + +<p>“Come where?” muttered Dolly. “Not back! I won’t +go back.”</p> + +<p>There was no fear of Ronald’s crying; he was nearly +fainting with terror; the feel of his rigid little body in +her arms made her swear to herself that for nothing on +earth would she take him back to the house where they +hated him.</p> + +<p>“Back? No! Anywhere out of this.”</p> + +<p>Step by step they crept along the hillside, away from +the pier; edging from one clump of grass to another, +from one stunted fir to the next; since, for all they knew, +their figures might be plain enough if a man had a night-glass.</p> + +<p>Every now and then Magdalen stopped to listen to +the noise of the river. They must go up-stream, not +down. Anyone who wanted to make sure of wreckage +would go down. Suddenly her feet felt the smoothness +of a well-worn path leading downward to the water. It +seemed better than aimless zigzagging on the hillside, +and she followed it with Dolly treading on her heels. It +came to an end on the very edge of the frith, with a +sharp turn where a boulder and some low firs made a +shelter from the rain.</p> + +<p>“We can’t go on,” she whispered, feeling the turf under +the trees; “it’s dry here. Sit down. Is Ronald +wet?”</p> + +<p>“No; he’s covered with my cloak.” Under the strain +Dolly’s nerve had come back to her; the vicious fury of +a woman who has lived by her wits was in her voice. +“I’ll keep him dry somehow. He shan’t die in my arms +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span>when we kept him safe in that awful house,” she fiercely +added.</p> + +<p>“They meant to murder us,” said Magdalen in a husky +voice. “Did you think that flash was lightning? It was +some kind of devilish firework, and it did what they +meant—but it saved us, too, for I saw him!”</p> + +<p>“Stratharden?”</p> + +<p>“No; the Chinaman. I don’t believe Stratharden ever +left the house. Can’t you see now that he was at the +bottom of everything? Keith was only his tool, that he +lied to. He told her you were mad.”</p> + +<p>Dolly caught her by the hand.</p> + +<p>“What do I care what he said? If it hadn’t been for +you I would have stayed in the carriage,” she whispered—Dolly, +who had never been grateful in her life before!</p> + +<p>“We might just as well have stayed if Ah Lee’s at +our heels,” said Magdalen grimly. “Don’t talk,” and in +odd contrast to her hard voice she stooped gently and +covered the huddled pair with her own heavy traveling-coat +that she had stripped off in the dark. If she shivered +as she tucked it round Ronald it was only half from +cold.</p> + +<p>“For we can’t stay here,” she thought. “I must do +something. And I’m afraid to move or even to breathe! +It’s no use to mince things, I daren’t go back to that +house, even if I could find the way in the dark. Mrs. +Keith might help me but she’d hang before she’d help +Dolly. And if I dared go back to the pier—but I daren’t +and that’s the end of it!”</p> + +<p>She slipped down beside Dolly and spoke in her ear.</p> + +<p>“Dolly,” she said, “do you know where we are? For +I don’t. All I know is that this pier isn’t the one the +boat comes to at all, for I saw that one from the top +of the hill one day, and there were cottages all round +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span>the head of it. Do you suppose we could find our way +there?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. You forget I never was out of the +garden but that once when the man turned us back. +We can’t do anything but sit here till daylight. If the +Chinaman knows we weren’t in the carriage he’ll be +scouring every path. If he found us he wouldn’t dare +to let us go; he’d know we knew something, and——”</p> + +<p>“Hush!” Magdalen breathed. “Hush! I hear some +one! Don’t let Ronald move.”</p> + +<p>“He’s asleep,” whispered Dolly.</p> + +<p>Magdalen leaned in the supposed direction of the +sound and listened. It was all very well to think that +she needed her coat less than the delicate child in Dolly’s +arms, but thinking could not stop her teeth chattering. +She bit fiercely into her own hand.</p> + +<p>“It’s a boat—oars——” she muttered. “It’s——Crawl +in behind the rock, between it and the fir trees—quick!” +and as Dolly obeyed her she huddled herself in +after, face down, a shapeless heap in the dark.</p> + +<p>Motionless, scarcely breathing, terrified lest Ronald +should wake and cry, they heard a boat crunch on the +pebbly beach not three yards away.</p> + +<p>“If it’s a fisherman,” Magdalen thought, trying to +check those horrible shivers, “we’re saved! If it’s +not——”</p> + +<p>A man’s quick spring from the boat sounded loud on +the stones, and in the dull grind of the keel as it was +pulled up a foot or so over the pebbles, Magdalen flattened +herself under the fir branches.</p> + +<p>That quick foot on the shore was not the heavy thud +of country-made boots. It was the Chinaman! They +were found, they——</p> + +<p>The steps came closer, were so near that——He was +stopping!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span></p> + +<p>The girl felt he must hear those thin, crawling shivers +that swept her body. She gathered herself up to spring +and face him, when a slither of falling stones, an oath +that was not the swearing of a foreigner, nor yet a fisherman, +drew her very strength out of her.</p> + +<p>The voice was a gentleman’s, and Dolly’s hand gripped +her fiercely.</p> + +<p>“Where the devil’s the path?” went on the voice that, +for all its irritation, was like silk. “Oh, here! The boat +can go to the devil. I’ve had enough of it. I’m dirty +enough to have been in ten accidents. Even Ah +Lee——” and he laughed.</p> + +<p>At the most evil sound of that laughter rage made +one listener start; but the squish of the wet moss and +mud under the man’s groping feet covered it.</p> + +<p>It seemed hours before that slow tread died away; +hours when it was not safe to move or breathe.</p> + +<p>When there was no sound but the rain Magdalen sat +up.</p> + +<p>“Did you hear?” Dolly’s whisper sounded like a +shriek to her. “That was Stratharden—and he laughed!”</p> + +<p>“He’s looking for our bodies,” with stern coolness.</p> + +<p>“Well, he won’t find them. The fool has saved us. +Come quick; he’s left his boat!”</p> + +<p>With a man’s strength Magdalen lifted Dolly to her +feet and got her to the beach. In the quiet the crunch +of the pebbles sounded like pistol-shots as they felt their +way to the boat.</p> + +<p>“Get in,” Magdalen whispered. “Don’t stumble.” And +when Dolly was seated she lifted the bow of the clumsy +tub Stratharden had been good enough to leave behind +him; the keel made no sound as the boat slipped out +and Magdalen swung herself into the bow.</p> + +<p>Drenched to the skin she crept to the oars, and knew +she dared not row, for the noise they would make against +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span>the thole-pins. Yet if she let the boat drift the current +would sweep them broadside on against the pier. +She crawled into the bow again and paddled desperately +with one oar, knowing she could never get out into midstream, +but hoping against hope.</p> + +<p>Her strong strokes were making no difference; broadside +on they were drifting down to the pier—and there +was a light there!</p> + +<p>“We’re done!” she muttered to herself, and nearly fell +flat where she knelt.</p> + +<p>The boat had fairly leaped under her, had swung +round, was going out into midstream, bows on. The +outgoing tide had snatched them from the shore eddy; +they were flying on it like a chip or a straw. Every +minute was taking them further from Stratharden, +further from the island that had been their prison. Triumph +shook the girl like a leaf.</p> + +<p>When the light on the pier was but a distant star she +set the oars boldly into the thole-pins and began to row.</p> + +<p>“Where shall we go?” said Dolly feverishly. “Can’t +you see any lights on the banks? We must land at the +first village.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said her stepsister, thanking Heaven that +she had learned to row on the lake at her country convent. +“We’ll be in London to-morrow, Dolly,” she +added cheerfully, as if in her heart she did not know +she was lost on the wide black frith, and for all she +knew was rowing out to sea in the cold, stinging rain +that hid the shore on either hand.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV"> + CHAPTER XV. + <br> + DOLLY SEES DAYLIGHT. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>“What next?” said the toneless voice from the bed. +“What next?”</p> + +<p>The girl who sat by the fire started. That ceaseless +question of all last night had been silent for the last four +hours; she had thought that when Dolly had slept she +would wake quite sensible.</p> + +<p>“There’s no next,” Magdalen patiently answered just +as if it were not for the twentieth time. “I rowed and +rowed. Daylight finally dawned and we were close to a +rocky shore. When we got out I pushed the boat out +into the river and we walked. We came to a town and +a station, and that’s all. You had plenty of money.”</p> + +<p>“I know all that, you idiot!” The unexpected retort +was hoarse, but unmistakably to the point. “I mean what +are we going to do next? I feel awfully ill. I must +have taken a chill.”</p> + +<p>“Chill!” said Magdalen. She got up and went over +to the bed. “I thought you’d got your death. You +couldn’t hold your head up when we got to Euston. I +had to come here and send for a doctor, and nothing he +gave you would keep you quiet.”</p> + +<p>“It was that powder he gave me,” said Dolly crossly. +“Those things don’t quiet me; they only make me silly. +I remember all that, and your lugging me into the Euston +Hotel, and the doctor, and the awful pain in my +head. Did I talk?”</p> + +<p>“You kept saying ‘What next?’ all the time. I thought +you were beginning it again,” looking at the drawn face. +“Have some tea, Dolly; it’s just after lunch.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span></p> + +<p>“No. I feel sick. Oh, how sore I am! It was sitting +in those wet clothes. But I kept Ronald dry,” with +a laugh that hurt her.</p> + +<p>“Dry as a bone! And I was rowing; I didn’t get +chilled. I forgot how easily you took cold, and you +would go straight to the train, wet clothes and all.”</p> + +<p>“I’d had enough of Scotland,” she admitted with a +shudder. “Magdalen, you didn’t write our names here—our +own names, I mean?” Dolly questioned to sudden +panic.</p> + +<p>“I wrote ‘Mrs. Morton, child and maid,’ just as badly +as I could. I don’t know why I did it; for it’s we who +have the whip-hand now,” Magdalen musingly replied.</p> + +<p>“Whip-hand?” Dolly sat up rather dizzily.</p> + +<p>“Oh! Stratharden, you mean?” she said. Then, as +her head ceased to swim, she continued, “I don’t know +but I’m glad you didn’t write down Lady Barnysdale; +it would have made me nervous; the other gives us time +to think. Magdalen, I will have tea, if it’s there. I’m +all right now, except that I ache all over.”</p> + +<p>She drank the tea and lay quiet, revolving a thousand +things in her mind. Some were good and some +bad, but to her worn-out nerves the bad predominated. +She tossed restlessly in the wide bed. The good thing +was that Ronald was safe and well; her eyes fairly devoured +him where he played on the floor. The bad +things, or one of them, was that her cleverness seemed +to have deserted her. She could not think.</p> + +<p>“Magdalen,” she said sharply, “talk! Have you heard +anything? Countesses can’t get drowned and have +nothing said about it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, there’s been something said about it,” Magdalen +observed without much spirit. “Look here.”</p> + +<p>She brought the evening paper to the bedside and +pointed to a paragraph among the telegraphic despatches.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span></p> + +<p>“Terrible accident at Ardmore. Death of Lady Barnysdale +and her son.”</p> + +<p>“Death!” cried Dolly. “Then he must have been +sure!”</p> + +<p>“Read this.” Magdalen turned over to “Notes of the +News,” and Dolly Barnysdale looked dull-eyed on her +own name.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“The sad death of Lady Barnysdale and her young son +in a carriage accident will be a lesson to those ladies +who allow half-trained stable-boys to drive them at +night. The unfortunate countess, accompanied by her +sister and her little boy, was driving from Ardmore Castle +to Ardmore Pier, but on her way must have discovered +that she had mistaken the hour of the daily ferry-boat’s +arrival there, and given orders to the lad who +was driving her to go to a nearer pier long since disused +by the ferry, but where, by taking a rowboat always +kept there, she might cross the Firth of Clyde and still +be in time to catch the night-train for London. On the +steep descent to the water the horses bolted, and as they +were completely unmanageable by the poor boy on the +box, took the carriage over the pier-end into the Clyde. +So far neither the carriage nor its contents have been +found, as there is a strong current in that part of the +frith. One of the drowned horses was washed ashore at +Pirn. Lord Stratharden, who was staying at Ardmore +Castle, is greatly shocked and distressed at the death of +his sister-in-law, of whom it will be remembered he was +a firm friend under difficult circumstances. The late +Lady Barnysdale had been living at Ardmore in great +seclusion and quite unknown in the neighborhood. The +tragic event of course returns the succession to its original +channel.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“Does it?” said Dolly. She dropped the paper furiously. +“I’ll show him whether I’m dead or not! I’ll——” +She stopped with the sentence unfinished.</p> + +<p>The rage went from her face as if it had been wiped +off. To be dead would be to be rid of Starr-Dalton. It +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span>was curious how an unimportant thing like getting rid +of a distasteful lover could weigh against decent punishment +of or retaliation against a man who had done +his best to murder her; but it did.</p> + +<p>More than all the real terrors that had surrounded +her at Ardmore Castle could do, that letter which she +had said was unimportant, that was assuredly affectionate—as +Mr. Starr-Dalton understood affection—had +shaken Dolly Barnysdale’s nerve and paralyzed her wits.</p> + +<p>Her brain seemed to clear in a flash. In spite of her +feverish cold, her aching bones, it was the old Dolly who +suddenly laughed where she sat huddled in the bedclothes. +She could be a match for them both now—for +Stratharden and his murderous plots, and Starr-Dalton +and his hateful love-letters.</p> + +<p>“I know now,” she said slowly, “what I’ll do. I suppose +you’re all ready for lawyers and detectives and exposure.”</p> + +<p>“What else?” said Magdalen. “It’s all plain enough. +James and Mrs. Keith were told that you were crazy, +and that man who turned us back was just an attendant +from an asylum. The screws were out of your door-locks, +so that you could be overlooked at night, and the +reason we never felt alone in the garden was that we +never were alone. That gamekeeper man was always +following us.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know for certain?”</p> + +<p>“Because I’m not a fool. I know. And the only man +who was in Stratharden’s confidence was Ah Lee. It +was he who drugged Ronald’s milk, for I saw him do it! +I was in one of those deep windows in the corridor outside +of our sitting-room door, just at tea-time that day—I +found out about the postboy. I was just standing +there thinking, and along came James with a tea-tray +and set it down on the hall table. I thought it was ours, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span>and I was hungry, so I went to see what was on it, but it +was only Ronald’s food.</p> + +<p>“I went back to the window again to get my hat, +which I’d left there, and I heard some one walking so +softly that I walked softly, too. I looked out in the +hall and there was Ah Lee with his back to me, putting +something out of a bottle into the milk-jug. He +heard James coming with the other tray before I did, +and he slipped off before I could pounce on him—not +toward the pantry, but up-stairs. By the time I got to +the table where the milk was James was behind me with +our tray. I should think these things were enough to +make some fuss about! And as for the carriage—I defy +them to make it out an accident. I saw Ah Lee as +plainly as I see you, and you know as well as I do that +it was no old pier you meant to drive to, and that Stratharden +lied to you about the boat. Why on earth shouldn’t +I be ready to help you show him up?”</p> + +<p>“Because,” said Dolly, and she laughed, “I don’t mean +to.”</p> + +<p>“Are you going to stay dead?” Magdalen contemptuously +asked, “because you’re afraid of a man?”</p> + +<p>Dolly’s face reddened angrily.</p> + +<p>“What man?” she cried. “I’m not afraid of any man.</p> + +<p>“Do you think, after all I did to be a countess, and have +money, and do Ronald justice, I’m going to sit by and +lose it all?”</p> + +<p>“You’d be a fool if you did,” observed Miss Clyde, +looking at Dolly with half-closed eyes that were very +black, and with uncombed hair and flushed face. “But +you hadn’t to do so much. Only put on a black gown +and pretend a little.”</p> + +<p>“Pretend!” Was it fancy that Dolly’s little figure +grew suddenly rigid under the bedclothes?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span></p> + +<p>She spoke out suddenly, just as she had done long +ago in the little pink drawing-room.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “If you +think it was easy to go and tell all these things about +myself it wasn’t. Do you mean you think I made them +up?”</p> + +<p>“No, for I know you couldn’t. Don’t go off at a +tangent, Dolly; say what you mean to do.”</p> + +<p>Dolly’s heart knocked against her ribs like a woman +who has seen a danger pass by.</p> + +<p>“I’m tired,” she said, and there were tears in her eyes. +“If it weren’t for Ronald I’d stay dead. I——You +don’t know how hard it’s all been!”</p> + +<p>Magdalen put a hand on the frail ones that had suddenly +covered Dolly’s eyes. For the first time she saw +what nervous hands Dolly had, what nervous, pointed +nails. No hands for a woman who must fight her own +battles. The girl looked at her own hand that was so +white and hard, and a sudden compassion swept over +her. It was true indeed that she must deal gently with +Dolly. Of late she had been impatient and scornful +enough with her. “Whatever you want I’ll do, Doll,” +she said softly. It was Dolly’s eyes and not hers that +were hard as she let her hands drop from under Magdalen’s.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” she said, “if I were not the only soul +on earth Ronald has to trust to I’d——” She pulled +herself up sharply. “I suppose you’re saying to yourself +that you’re not afraid of Stratharden?”</p> + +<p>“Why should I be? We’ve the whip-hand.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just the reason. We know too much. And +I don’t think,” Dolly continued slowly, “that we’d be +able to prove anything! I know that if Barnysdale had +done what Stratharden has”—groping in the past she so +seldom spoke of—“he would have done it too well to be +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span>found out. He’s cast one doubt on my sanity; I think +he’d only cast a great many more—and perhaps get appointed +as Ronald’s guardian. We’ve got to be cleverer +than that. We want to be alive and publish we’re alive; +I must be able to draw my money and educate Ronald; +and yet not let Stratharden know where we are—or anyone +else,” she added musingly. “I’ve no desire to have +any of my dear old friends hanging round me and cadging +for money.”</p> + +<p>“How can we do all that?”</p> + +<p>Magdalen, sitting on the bed, was curiously graceful, +and somehow every line of her was curiously hard. Dolly’s +words were true enough; why did her stepsister have +the old distrustful thought that she was not saying all +she meant?—there was a hidden mainspring to it all.</p> + +<p>“Easily,” said Dolly, yet she was trembling. “Only +I’ve got to do it now. Get me my clothes!”</p> + +<p>“You can’t get up!”</p> + +<p>“I can; and I would if it killed me! We’ve no time +to lose. I’ll get dressed, you pay the bill here, and we’ll +go into the station and take a cab as if we’d just come +from the train.”</p> + +<p>“A cab! Where to? Don’t be a fool, Doll; you might +get pneumonia.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll get brain fever if I lie here and think,” Dolly +sharply responded. “I’m going straight to Mr. Barrow. +It’s madness to be here under a made-up name.”</p> + +<p>“But you said——”</p> + +<p>“I know! I hadn’t got my wits back.”</p> + +<p>“You weren’t going to expose Stratharden,” Magdalen +finished as if Dolly had not spoken.</p> + +<p>“Neither I am,” said Dolly with a sudden laugh, and +if her hands were frail and nervous as she hurried into +her clothes they were also the insincere, unscrupulous +hands of a woman who could outwit most men. “I’m +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span>going to know nothing, think nothing, but that a stupid +stable-boy took us to the wrong pier and we got out of +the carriage just before something startled the horses +and they bolted. You and I were terrified; started of +course for Ardmore to get help; lost our way; found a +boat, and could not row back to the castle against the +stream. After which we drifted ashore and lost the train +to London, where we’ve just arrived and seen the +papers. Ronald was ailing and I have been so terrified +that I never even remembered till I saw the account +in the <i>Star</i> that Stratharden must be thinking us +drowned. Mr. Barrow will telegraph to my anxious +brother-in-law at once, and I—with my nerves horribly +shaken by the whole thing, and especially by seeing my +own death notice—leave to-night for Paris. It will be +too late to go to the bank, so Barrow will cash a good, +solid check for me—and there you are!”</p> + +<p>“Paris!” cried Magdalen blankly. “That we don’t +know at all, and Stratharden probably knows like a book. +If you want to keep out of his way——”</p> + +<p>Dolly’s laugh stopped her.</p> + +<p>“We won’t go there! Exactly. We’re going to stay +here in London. It’s big enough,” recklessly. “I was a +fool ever to leave it. Help me, Magdalen—I feel so +dizzy and queer.”</p> + +<p>But the girl made no motion toward handing her the +cloak she held.</p> + +<p>“Doll, don’t do it!” she gravely begged. “I don’t like +the look of it. Better tell the truth a hundred times; +there’s no sense in acting a silly lie about Paris, or in +pretending that you saw nothing queer at Ardmore. +Speak out.”</p> + +<p>Dolly dragged the cloak from her.</p> + +<p>“I won’t!” she said. “Never mind hunting for reasons. +I’m ill, for one, and I want to go to bed and be +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span>ill. I don’t want to have anything to do with lawyers +and prosecutions and Stratharden.” She fastened her +cloak and turned, with her rain-spoiled sailor hat in her +hand. “All I want,” she cried with a reckless passion +in her face, pointing with the crooked, warped hat to +Ronald, “is to keep him safe till he’s twenty-one; to +have enough to eat and drink and wear; and to rest. +I’m tired; I’ve borne all I can. I’m not fit to fight—openly! +You must let me manage my life in my own +way.” Tired and ill Dolly had announced her intentions. +The girl who looked at her saw she was more +than either. An hour ago she had looked driven, hunted, +desperate; now there was a triumph in her eyes as if +from a dark prison she saw daylight and liberty.</p> + +<p>There was reason enough for triumph; it is not everyone +who escapes scotfree from being murdered. But it +was not that which had lighted Dolly’s eyes and got her +out of her bed, regardless of the bad cold that at any +other time would have made her send for two doctors +and declare she was dying.</p> + +<p>“Don’t stand like a stuck pig, my good child,” she +cried, “unless you want Stratharden to get to London +before we’ve vanished. I know what you’re thinking; +but Ronald’s my child, and the whole show’s my business. +And I know,” she declared with confidence, “that +I’m doing the best thing I can. Who would listen to a +woman like me if I said that in a Christian country I’d +been shut up by my own brother-in-law, and only escaped +with my life through luck—and you?” with a moment’s +softening.</p> + +<p>Who, indeed?</p> + +<p>“After all,” Magdalen said to herself, “Dolly’s right. +It’s her business.”</p> + +<p>Yet it was with a heavy heart that she paid the bill +and followed Dolly into the station and the four-wheeler. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span>It was not by lies and hiding they would escape from +Stratharden, but——</p> + +<p>A cold suspicion gripped her and a senseless one that. +She looked at Dolly’s feverish little face and held her +tongue.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI"> + CHAPTER XVI. + <br> + “DARK MAGDALEN.” + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>Mr. Lovell sat earning his salary.</p> + +<p>In a black temper he plodded through his developing, +washed his hands, decided the afternoon was too gray +for photographic printing, and walking out incontinently +crossed Fleet Street and turned into a labyrinth of dingy +thoroughfares. If his brown face were a little paler +from spending his days over stuffy chemicals and his +eyesight somewhat strained on retouching ugly people’s +portraits, his long, light step was as usual. Half-a-dozen +women glanced at the man as he passed them, +with his look of being clean outside and in, of careless +strength, of immaculate smartness in old blue serge +clothes.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Lovell had no eye for women, being engaged +inwardly in cursing his nearest relative up in +heaps. Not that he had learned anything new about +him, nor heard anything tangibly annoying. But he had +a perfectly involuntary trick of putting two and two +together correctly; and the result to-day sickened him. +So much so that as he walked he deliberately assured +himself that he had imagined the whole thing—items +added up and the result; after which he instantly reduced +several fractions to a common denominator and +did the whole thing over again.</p> + +<p>“I wish to Heaven he’d marry again and migrate,” he +thought in exasperation, and turned impatiently into a +tobacconist’s and bought a handful of cigarettes. Good +tobacco was wicked on a pound a week, and Mr. Lovell, +to be accurate, was hungry. Also it was tea-time, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span>for a moment there came into his mind the carnal vision +of his late club, where there were comfortable chairs, +hot toast and men of his own class to speak to. His +mouth set hard on his extravagant cigarette.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go back when I’ve money to go,” he said to himself +grimly, “unless I find it necessary to return and +put the fear of God into a fool!” and his face was so forbidding +that a girl who was coming down the street +almost changed her mind. For it was all very well to +clear out of an unpleasant and dependent situation, but +when black suspicions followed you that you were playing +into some one’s hands by so doing it spelled of +cowardice.</p> + +<p>“I’m —— if it’s any business of mine!” thought Mr. +Lovell angrily. “Let him hang himself;” but in his soul +he knew it was not that which haunted him, but something +quite Quixotic and outside the sympathy of a man +who had fallen from high estate to retouching photographs.</p> + +<p>A woman’s black skirt brushed his boot and he drew +back civilly.</p> + +<p>The next second he threw a just-lighted cigarette into +the street and looked straight into a girl’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Lovell!” said Magdalen Clyde, her cheeks a pale flame, +her eyes a dark one.</p> + +<p>Lovell made no answer, good or bad, and she turned +white as she looked away.</p> + +<p>The lifting of his hat, the quick throwing away of his +cigarette, had been ordinary good manners; his eyes +were hard as steel, his face forbidding, and she had been +glad to see him, gladder than of anything else she had +ever known. There was no earthly reason that he should +be pleased at seeing a girl he had only met twice in his +life; but all the same her shamed disappointment made +her angry.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span></p> + +<p>“‘A hard man with a soft manner,’” she quoted to +herself involuntarily, her eyes still on a grocer’s window +opposite, so that she did not see the change on Dick +Lovell’s face as he looked down at her.</p> + +<p>“It was odd, my meeting you,” she said indifferently. +“I was startled. Good-by,” with a little nod that she did +not know was languid any more than that her averted +face was beautiful.</p> + +<p>“Odd?” said Mr. Lovell, taking a quick step to her +side as she would have walked on. “I don’t know—I +suppose so,” without a glimmer of just how odd it was. +“It’s a great pleasure at all events. I had no idea you +were even in town.”</p> + +<p>“I came back three weeks ago,” she said, still without +looking at him.</p> + +<p>In Scotland, in a bad place, it had seemed so sure that +this man was a friend; here and now she knew the +thought had been the thought of a fool. She and Dolly, +masquerading, could not dare to have friends picked up +at random. In the waning light she turned, her face repellant, +her eyes cold. She was worrying over unhatched +chickens; Mr. Lovell had made no sign of either +friendliness or pleasure at seeing her.</p> + +<p>The sudden, sweet light in the eyes she met sent the +blood to her face. She stood for one breathless instant +stock-still, three times more beautiful than he had even +dreamed, and all Dick Lovell’s uneasy thoughts were +gone at the lovely sight.</p> + +<p>“I feel as if you’d waked me from a bad dream,” he +said slowly. “Do you know for a moment I could +scarcely believe my eyes?”</p> + +<p>“I know you terrified me,” observed Miss Clyde, +marching on with a queer feeling that she must get away +from his eyes if she were wise. “I never in my life saw +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span>anyone look more bad-tempered than you did when I +spoke to you.”</p> + +<p>Lovell laughed, and looked ten years younger for it.</p> + +<p>“Was that why you wouldn’t look at me?” he said +boyishly. “I’ve been in a black rage all day; more fool +I! Are you going anywhere in particular?” with a sudden +knowledge that she meant to dismiss him, and as +sudden a determination that he would not submit to it.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to that French bakery,” pointing across +the street.</p> + +<p>“So am I,” he calmly remarked. “I was going to have +tea there. I wonder—if you——” he stammered. Lovell, +who had been the best-beloved and worst-spoiled man +in town, stammering at asking a girl to have tea!</p> + +<p>A hundred thoughts went through Magdalen’s head +before she answered. She was tired out, lonely; why +should she never be happy because of Dolly’s cares? She +threw the whole bundle of them aside and answered the +half-finished question demurely:</p> + +<p>“I would, if there were little hot cakes.”</p> + +<p>In Lovell’s pocket was the change those cigarettes had +left from ten shillings; his eyes smiled into hers with +the reckless consciousness of wealth.</p> + +<p>“There shall be,” he averred, and he also cast a black +care behind him as they entered the little shop where the +coffee was wonderful and the tea weird.</p> + +<p>Lovell, as he gave an order to the white-capped man +behind the counter, did not notice his companion pause +and look back into the dingy street. She made a little +self-contemptuous movement, as no one of the passers-by +so much as glanced at Dufour’s.</p> + +<p>It must have been fancy that ever since she stopped to +speak to Lovell some one had never let her get out of +sight.</p> + +<p>“I’m getting to be an awful fool,” the girl reflected +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span>swiftly. “This hole-and-corner business of Doll’s, and +her eternal cautions, are making me nervous. We’re all +right; we’ve sunk in London like stones till I met him +to-day. I don’t know why I’m so stupid; it was all so +much easier and quicker than I thought. It all went +swimmingly.”</p> + +<p>It certainly had. At three o’clock one day three weeks +ago “Mrs. Morton, child and maid” had departed from +the Euston Hotel; at five Lady Barnysdale—after nearly +frightening Mr. Barrow into a fit by her appearance, +when he had just wired diplomatic condolences on her +death to Lord Stratharden—had left the lawyer’s office +for Charing Cross and Paris, with a hundred pounds in +her pocket; at seven Mrs. Morton and party had reappeared +again at a modest hotel, the poorer by the price +of unused tickets to Paris, and Dolly had gone to bed +and stayed there for a week, after which she had +emerged quite recovered and gayer than the gay, had +boldly gone out, trusting in a thick crepe veil and a +plausible tongue, and taken the upper part of a house in +Hare Street.</p> + +<p>To the vacating tenant, a milliner, she gave an extra +ten pounds for leaving her plate on the door, which was +easily earned money to that lady, who was retiring in +disgust from a phantom business. It was, therefore, +from behind the neglected door-plate and the respectable +blinds of “Madame Aline, Robes and Modes,” that Miss +Magdalen Clyde had come out to-day in search of +French bread; come out with an eye at every corner and +a firm determination to take to her heels at the sight +of the most innocuous Chinaman in London, and ended +in Dufour’s shop, with a dismissal of all her nervous +tremblings and groundless fears because a man’s hawk +eyes were the eyes of a comrade as he came back to her +side.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span></p> + +<p>“I ordered coffee,” said Lovell, and perhaps he had no +idea what a pleasant voice he had, nor what a tower +of strength he looked in his worn blue serge. “Their +tea is horrible, but the little hot cakes!” and he laughed +as he stood back to let her pass into Mr. Dufour’s respectable +family tea-room.</p> + +<p>To his surprise “the girl whose name was Magdalen” +sat down at the little marble table with undisguised +fatigue. He wondered swiftly who and what she was. +His quick glance took in her smart black gown, her +chinchilla furs, the immaculate dressing of her lovely +rust-colored hair, her long, white hands as she took off +her gloves. The left one was no business of his, but a +senseless pleasure made him smile as he looked at it. +Whoever she was she was nobody’s wife; Mr. Lovell +had no leaning toward other people’s property.</p> + +<p>That she was a lady he did not even say to himself; +it was too evident. No one who put on make-up +every night could have that sort of skin; she was not an +actress. Yet, somehow, she did not look like a girl who +did nothing; he was pretty certain that care and responsibility +fell on those shoulders; for every line of her +was tired and lax in Mr. Dufour’s hard chair; and yet +she looked anything but poor.</p> + +<p>That a girl he had met in Krug’s half-caste restaurant +without benefit of introduction, had followed it up by +making no bones about coming to tea with him, never +entered the man’s head. The very look of her told him +there was never a girl in the world more unconscious +of her strange beauty than she.</p> + +<p>“This isn’t a very grand place to bring you to,” he +said with a sudden consciousness that, for all he knew, +she might be used to Prince’s Restaurant. “But it’s +quiet.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span></p> + +<p>Remembering Krug’s, he kept his tongue from “respectable.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said simply. She looked straight at him. +“I suppose I should not have come,” she observed calmly; +“but I wanted to. I was tired. We have just found new +quarters—my sister and I. And—did you ever move?” +she suddenly and tragically inquired.</p> + +<p>“I did. But as I had only myself and some clothes +it was not fatiguing,” rather grimly, remembering the +house from which he had departed in haste. “You look +as if your removal had been tiresome. Will you pour +out the coffee, or shall I?”</p> + +<p>“You,” with the smile that made her lovely. “I don’t +do those things well.”</p> + +<p>“Non-sense!” said Lovell with a drawling sweetness +that made the curt word civil.</p> + +<p>In complete happiness, such as neither had ever tasted +in their lives, the two sat at their little table. If for a +moment the ghosts of the many rebukes she had given +with some point to Dolly, on the subject of going to tea +with unknown men, arose before Magdalen Clyde, she +put them behind her with determination. Dolly’s men +and this man were not alike; and for once she would +let herself go, be young and gay and happy like other +girls, with no silly hiding to worry them. As for Lovell, +he was like a lost dog who has suddenly got home. No +one would ever have said he was grave and unhappy to-day.</p> + +<p>The economical soul of Mr. Dufour had not lighted +the gas in his tea-room, which was getting dusky. With +his hand on the matches, he glanced with pleased sympathy +at the two who took their coffee so gaily, and +were so appreciative of his hot cakes; glanced back at +his shop window, and drew a curtain noiselessly over the +tea-room door.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span></p> + +<p>M. Dufour, where a pretty woman was concerned, +was a man of impulse, to his own mind one of great insight; +and——</p> + +<p>He was putting cakes on a tray deliberately as a man +entered his shop. If M. Dufour had not liked his looks +from outside he liked them still less from in.</p> + +<p>“The fat and furious husband!” said he to himself, +with his best shop smile. He did not move from his +place by the tea-room door.</p> + +<p>“Monsieur wanted?” he asked blandly. “Bread, +cakes?—all of the best.”</p> + +<p>The man laughed. If his manner meant to be pleasant +it was not. M. Dufour observed that utter silence +reigned in his tea-room.</p> + +<p>“Good food for women,” the new visitor returned +patronizingly. “No; let me have a light, will you? By +the way, did a lady come in here half an hour ago?”</p> + +<p>“Several, monsieur.” M. Dufour’s box of matches +was obsequiously held out on a tray.</p> + +<p>“Oh, damn the several! A pale girl with reddish +hair?”</p> + +<p>M. Dufour was a judge of beauty and his gorge rose.</p> + +<p>“I did not observe,” he said with a shrug, “any red +hair. One tall lady arrived and has just departed +through that door,” with a slighting wave of his hand +to his back entrance.</p> + +<p>“You’ve a tea-room,” the visitor bluntly remarked +in spite of a thick-lipped smile. “I’ll have tea.”</p> + +<p>“I regret it is impossible,” said the Frenchman +smoothly. “My tea-room is to-day closed. My wife is +indisposed.”</p> + +<p>He was too clever to give the man any idea that he +was lying; he began, apologetically, to recommend his +little cakes. But it was to empty air.</p> + +<p>The unwelcome customer—who had not paid for his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span>box of matches—had left the shop by the little-used back +door.</p> + +<p>To the proprietor’s eyes rose the bland light of the +successful diplomatist. The denied tea was of course +a loss to business, but what M. Dufour had begun to +oblige his old customer, M. Lovell, he had finished for +personal dislike of a disagreeable man. He did not +grudge his sixpence thrown away.</p> + +<p>“Also, I can charge extra for the coffee!” he thought +with a pleasant consciousness of having done a kind and +tactful action.</p> + +<p>It was a pity he could not have seen the reason for +the sudden silence in the tea-room. Magdalen, sitting +very straight, had held up a warning hand and sat listening. +There was no mistaking Starr-Dalton’s voice; +it was odd that he had been in her thought all day.</p> + +<p>As the door closed behind him she rose with a little +laugh.</p> + +<p>“Did you hear?” she said. “That man was looking +for me. He used to come to see us, and we hated him. +We didn’t mean him to know we were in London.”</p> + +<p>There was careless scorn in her face, but there was +also the cold, intuitive hatred many a girl has for a bad +man.</p> + +<p>Lovell regarded her in silence. Whoever and whatever +she was, there was nothing milk-and-water about +her.</p> + +<p>“He shan’t know now if you don’t want him to,” he +said. “You’re not going because of him?” for she had +risen.</p> + +<p>“No,” truthfully enough. “It is quite time I was at +home, though.”</p> + +<p>Starr-Dalton was neither here nor there to her; it +was not he who could shatter the dream of peace that +had come to her; the time was gone by when she must +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span>be civil to him for the sake of borrowed money; she +could afford to be angry at his insolence in dogging her.</p> + +<p>“I won’t have it,” she thought. “He shan’t follow me +home and find Dolly. I’ll drive,” but even as she thought +her face fell; she had only sixpence; a hansom was impossible, +and to walk might mean running into Starr-Dalton +at the first corner.</p> + +<p>She looked up and met Lovell’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“Ready?” said he simply. “I’m going to take you +home in a hansom if I may.”</p> + +<p>At the modest door where Madame Aline’s door-plate +shone meagerly in the gaslight she turned to him.</p> + +<p>“You’ve been very kind,” she said a little uncomfortably, +“and you don’t even know my name”—for “Madame +Aline’s sister” had not thought of one, and did not +dare to make one up on the spur of the moment.</p> + +<p>“No.” Mr. Lovell perhaps helped her out with some +haste. “I know—that is—Madame Aline is quite enough +for me!” with a glance at the tarnished sign.</p> + +<p>But when she had gone in and the hansom had driven +off he put the two shillings that remained to him into his +pocket and laughed. Her name had been settled for him +long ago.</p> + +<p>“Good-night, Dark Magdalen,” said he to a shut +door, and lifted his hat as he turned away.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII"> + CHAPTER XVII. + <br> + FOR THE HOUSE OF BARNYSDALE. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>Up and down the empty corridors of an empty house +Mrs. Keith walked, gaunt and old. Never in all her seventy +years had it come home to her that Ardmore Castle +was an eery house when the rain rained every day and +the wind whined through the long nights, but she knew +it now.</p> + +<p>“Soft David” sat by the kitchen fire caring for nothing +but his meals; in the maid’s room Sophy and Grizel were +cheerful in a Scotch and sour way, but the housekeeper +could take no rest. Something that she had never spoken +of had shaken her nerve, for her old eyes grew fiercer +every day as she went on those needless errands through +the silent house.</p> + +<p>Stratharden and his men had gone, after being interrupted +in their useless search of Clyde waters by that +telegram from Mr. Barrow, which for a second time +snatched the bread from a needy man’s mouth.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he was too busy in keeping a decent pleasure +on his own face to notice other people’s; he did not see +the sudden twitch of the housekeeper’s hard old mouth +as she heard in silence that the usurpers of Ardmore +were better employed than in tossing drowned and stark +in the Clyde. It was queer that as the days ran on to +weeks a restlessness grew on the old woman.</p> + +<p>It took her day after day to watch for the post-boy, +who never came. Her restlessness led her everywhere in +the house but into the locked-up chapel, where no step +but hers had been these twenty years gone. Perhaps +she did not know herself what she expected, nor why +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span>she could not sleep at night for thinking of the dead, but +when one day the big bell of the front door rang in the +silence of twilight, the old blood leaped in her worn-out +veins.</p> + +<p>“Bide where ye are!” she cried fiercely to Sophy, and +ran past her, a gaunt, ungainly figure in her clean cotton +gown.</p> + +<p>Her hand shook on the door-handle as she turned the +key; but when the door stood wide it was steady as stone +and colder.</p> + +<p>It was Stratharden who waited on the step.</p> + +<p>“Were you all asleep?” said he with that smile which +was not smiling. “I’ve nearly rung the house down.” +He could not see her face as he stepped into the cold, +dark house, nor did he think of looking at it.</p> + +<p>“Ye were not expected, Stratharden,” and if the words +were apologetic the tone was not. “Yer bed’ll not be +aired.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, air it, then, and don’t talk!” said the man with a +sudden irritation not usual to him; but the next instant +his voice and manner were his own again and smooth as +silk. “My dear woman I’m tired and anxious, that’s why +I’m here. Get me some dinner like a good soul, and then +I’ll talk to you. I assure you I’m worn out.”</p> + +<p>“Ye’re looking well,” she dryly returned in the way he +had known since childhood.</p> + +<p>She walked before him and knelt with cracking joints +to light the fire that was already laid in the dining-room. +But the air of the deserted room struck chill to Lord +Stratharden’s bones.</p> + +<p>“I’ll come to your room till this is habitable,” he said +urbanely. “I’m sure you keep yourself warmer than +this.”</p> + +<p>“At your pleasure,” was all she said, but he was used +to her hard speech and had not expected better. Armed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span>neutrality had reigned between the two for twenty years, +except for that brief time when they had combined against +a common foe.</p> + +<p>“Hard old devil!” said Lord Stratharden to himself, +as he sat down in her comfortable sitting-room. “She’d +have let me freeze rather than offer it. But she is a very +faithful, well-meaning woman.” He smiled to himself +and said it over again as if it pleased him.</p> + +<p>When she had finished serving his dinner—and if Dolly +had been half-starved, Stratharden was scrupulously well +fed—he stopped her as she put the decanter in front of +him before leaving the room. The old woman was too +well used to him to notice that he would have been a +good-looking man, for all his forty-five years, if he could +have learned to keep his crooked eyebrows quiet in an +otherwise impassive face. One was lifted higher than +the other now as he turned round in his chair to her.</p> + +<p>“Have you heard from Lady Barnysdale?” he quietly +asked.</p> + +<p>“Not I.” She never moved a muscle. “Did ye expect +me to?”</p> + +<p>“No, I didn’t.” He looked at the port in his glass, +tasted it, put it down again. “In fact, I should have been +surprised if you had. But Lady Barnysdale—I may as +well tell you—is not in Paris, never has been there. I am +more troubled than I can say.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith sat down unbidden.</p> + +<p>“I’m to close the house, then?” said she stolidly.</p> + +<p>Stratharden looked round the half-warmed dining-room +with a shrug.</p> + +<p>“How do I know?” he responded. “You take your +orders from Lady Barnysdale, not me.”</p> + +<p>“A woman that ye said was crazy,” scornfully.</p> + +<p>It never occurred to Stratharden to look for the root +of the contemptuous fling.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span></p> + +<p>“I suppose it isn’t in nature that you should like it,” +he said kindly, “but till Lady Barnysdale does something +mad, before all the world, you can’t call anyone else +mistress here. No woman in her senses would have gone +off to London without so much as letting us know she was +safe, nor have seen fit to disappear ever since, by pretending +to go to Paris. I don’t know what to do. For all +I know it isn’t safe to leave the little boy in her care. +I ought, in all prudence, to know at least where she is.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith sat in open, unalloyed indifference. Lady +Barnysdale, with her furious rages, her flighty speech, +which the old Scotch woman thought indecent and unintelligible, +had borne out Stratharden’s warnings about her +well enough; her attempt to escape from Ardmore in her +best widow’s weeds on a wet day would have clinched +them, had it been needed. Mad or sane, she cared not a +jot about Lady Barnysdale, but for some reason she did +not say so.</p> + +<p>“Ye can find out,” said she coolly. He could not dream +her gnarled hands were clasped hard under her apron as +she waited for him to answer.</p> + +<p>“Unfortunately I cannot personally!” and she saw the +uncontrolled rage in his eyes. “I have to go away, out +of England, on business.”</p> + +<p>“I always said ye were a fool to traffic with the Jews,” +she dryly remarked.</p> + +<p>Her apt guess at the cold truth made him laugh, as +another man would have sworn. There was not a man in +England that night more embarrassed than Lord Stratharden.</p> + +<p>“Let that be,” said he softly. “Some one has to find +Lady Barnysdale, and I can’t do it.”</p> + +<p>“What ails yer heathen?”</p> + +<p>“Just that—he’s a heathen—and people look at him +when he walks in the street. Look here, Keith—in common +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span>humanity that woman must be found and looked +after. You remember how we had to watch her here.”</p> + +<p>“What may be ye’re meaning, Stratharden?” said the +old woman quietly.</p> + +<p>“Just what I’ve said. Lady Barnysdale, to my knowledge +and belief, is as irresponsible as a child. I have to +go away, but I ought to know at least where Barnysdale’s +son is—and I want you to go to London and find out.”</p> + +<p>“There’s detectives.” Her eyes were dull under their +thin lashes.</p> + +<p>“And policemen on the street corners. I want neither. +You’re faithful, if you do care more for the name +than for me; you know London——”</p> + +<p>A dull red burned to the woman’s cheek; she had reason +to know London, but it was not Stratharden who +should tell her so.</p> + +<p>“Would ye have me knock at every door in the place +and inquire if my Lady Barnysdale is within?” she +wrathfully cried.</p> + +<p>“Don’t, don’t treat me like a fool!” he answered smilingly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’d put that past ye!” she said politely, but his +eyebrows twitched.</p> + +<p>“I want you to take a lodging opposite the bank she +must go to for her money,” he said, with a sudden savage +earnestness. “I’m certain she’s in London, in spite of that +fool Barrow. And she’ll have to have money. If I know +her sort, a hundred pounds won’t last her long. And now +you can take it or leave it. I’ll pay your expenses and +wages, besides what you’re getting, and all you’ll do for +them will be to sit at your window in banking hours and +wait till she goes in. Then you can take a cab, follow +her home, and telegraph to me where she is. Then you +can take the first train for home. For the honor of +the name, that boy must be taken care of.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span></p> + +<p>“And supposing she does not go herself? How long +will I be in London then? She’d a sister that I never +laid eyes on but once,” she musingly remarked. “Maybe +she’d go in and out before my eyes and I not know her—but +that she’d dark hair.”</p> + +<p>“Dark? You’re dreaming! Dull-red, that doesn’t +grow on every bush. And tall—you’d know her.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, ay! Tall? And dark-eyed?”</p> + +<p>“I never saw her eyes.”</p> + +<p>“You peeked through the windows hard enough,” she +bluntly asserted.</p> + +<p>“She had her back to me. Why the devil do you harp +on her? If you won’t go, say so. I suppose Ah Lee can +look through a window as well as you.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith took one glance at him.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go,” she said. “He’ll perhaps not know London +‘as I do.’”</p> + +<p>Ah, he did not know how the words had made an old +and savage score against him leap to life.</p> + +<p>Lord Stratharden leaned back in his chair as if he were +suddenly tired. He had, in very truth, no one to send +on his philanthropic errand but this old woman. Without +James he could not hope to leave England, and leave +he must; and he had no desire that Ah Lee, suavely and +conspicuously exotic, should do what an elderly Scotch +woman could do unnoticed.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Keith,” he said. “Here is your money.” +And truly it was hard-earned and ill-spared.</p> + +<p>“You have never failed the house, have you?” his voice +light with relief.</p> + +<p>The housekeeper stood up with a curious pride.</p> + +<p>“I’ve never failed the house, my lord,” said she. “But +I’ll take no wages for doing your work. I’m well paid. +And where will I let ye know when I find the lady?”</p> + +<p>He wrote on a card and gave it to her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span></p> + +<p>“And Buff Ogilvie, too?” she said dryly, when she +read it.</p> + +<p>“No, not Buff! And if you see him, the thing is no +concern of his,” casually. “But you’d better take the +money.”</p> + +<p>“Ye’ll not be too throng of it there!” she returned, with +a cool glance at the card.</p> + +<p>Out in the hall she paused and spat upon the ground.</p> + +<p>“I’ll take no blood-money for the work I’ll do for the +house of Barnysdale,” she said, under her breath. “And +I’ll do my work well.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"> + CHAPTER XVIII. + <br> + EYES TO THE BLIND. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>Aunt Manette sat alone in her neat room at her eternal +knitting. If her blind eyes could not see the comfort +of her glowing coal fire and her shining lamp, perhaps she +felt it, for night after night she sat between them, as +women do who can see. There was a curious, dull depression +on her clear-cut old face to-night; even her +knitting-needles moved slowly. There was no sense in the +work; when it was done, she did not need the money; no +sense in her life that from her third-story room in Hare’s +Rents was one interminable, helpless search after the lost +things of this world.</p> + +<p>“I’m old,” she thought to herself, with a sudden sick +tremor. “Old; and I’ll die alone, with it all undone;” +for, in plain words, the man who had patiently done her +work for her had given it up to-day. She did not know +where to turn for another who could be trusted to be +eyes to the blind.</p> + +<p>“But I’ll find one,” she thought, with an ugly gentleness +that her fingers copied in their slowing knitting. “If +I’ve time,” and she laughed.</p> + +<p>There was time in plenty, if nothing else, for a woman +who sat her days out in blindness. A sound on the stairs +made her lift her head, lean forward to listen, as blind +people do. She put down her knitting with a curiously +dainty gesture for a woman who lived in Hare’s Rents, +and pulled the string that opened her door. The steps +came closer and paused in the flood of cheerful light from +the narrow doorway.</p> + +<p>“What!” cried a voice, and the low, rich note of it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span>struck pleasantly on the woman’s ears. “Sitting idle, Aunt +Manette? Upon my honor, you’re degenerating. You’ll +be getting quite human next.”</p> + +<p>Aunt Manette breathed through her nose; from the hall +came a scent that brought back a thousand things. She +crossed the room briskly and laid her small hand on the +man’s arm unerringly, without effort.</p> + +<p>“I was waiting for you!” she cried—though she had +never given him a thought. “Come in, my friend! I +had the spleen. I said to myself, ‘I will make a little +festival for my photographer and me.’”</p> + +<p>Dick Lovell looked down at the handsome old face +kindly.</p> + +<p>“That is just what you would not let me be!” said he +smiling. “But am I really to come in?” Compared to his +dreary bedroom up-stairs, this room, full of firelight, +of blossoming flowers, was like another world.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes! Have I not waited?” she composedly asked. +“Never mind the door; you cannot shut it.”</p> + +<p>She moved to her chair as lightly as a girl and undid +the stout cord twisted round a knob on the arm.</p> + +<p>“So that’s how you do it—and sit still!” said Lovell +laughingly. “It’s clever, Aunt Manette,” and he looked +at the cord that ran round the wall on two pulleys.</p> + +<p>“Not clever, but useful,” observed his hostess, rather +dryly. “Sit down, monsieur.”</p> + +<p>For a moment he could not rid himself of the idea that +she could see him, for she stood as if thinking, her bright +brown eyes full on his face. But she turned away with +that pathetic groping movement of the blind which she +so seldom allowed herself.</p> + +<p>“Let me,” he cried, jumping up, as she took a shining +white table-cloth from a chair.</p> + +<p>“You would confuse me,” she said laughing. “I have +not the eyes to oversee a clumsy young man.” With that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span>curious seeing glance at him that was but the remnants +of an old habit when the eyes of Manette Duplessis had +never missed their man.</p> + +<p>Without a mistake or hesitation she laid her table for +two, produced from a cupboard a bottle, of which the seal +made Lovell’s eyes open, and went to her brick hearth. +A pot stood there, and, as she lifted its cover, the odor +of it was more suited to a prince’s kitchen than a room in +Hare’s Rents.</p> + +<p>“A dish?” Lovell said, seeing her pause.</p> + +<p>“To ruin it! No, no; you help yourself from my pot—so!” +and she deftly twisted a napkin round the earthenware +jar. “A French dish,” she said; “and you are English. +But you will not wish it were roast beef.”</p> + +<p>A French dish! He saw with wonder as she helped him +that it was something even few French cooks make. +Pheasant, boned and filleted, cooked in Madeira with +mushrooms, truffles, numerous things that were not cheap. +As he took up his fork he saw it was silver, with a crest +on it; and because his hostess could not see him do it, did +not look at the device.</p> + +<p>“A poor feast, this,” said Aunt Manette, gaily as a girl. +“But the main dish I made myself.”</p> + +<p>“You!” He was surprised out of his manners.</p> + +<p>“The secret,” she went on gravely, “is to keep the +cover tight with a seal of paste. Oh, I can cook many +things, Mr. Lovell. To eat well is an art. It keeps the +blood young.”</p> + +<p>And young she looked as she sat opposite him, her face +smooth under her nunlike head-dress, her hands white +and fine. He wondered somehow that anyone so clever +as she looked could be so kind, and to an acquaintance +who had begun by unwittingly annoying her.</p> + +<p>It never struck him that her invitation had been pure +selfishness. Her thoughts had been heavy, hopeless; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span>though she would not think so. And he was a gentleman, +of a class she seldom came in contact with; was young; +he would distract her with his talk, cheer her with his +company, which was cheap at the price of some pheasant +and a bottle of wine. She was more interested, too, than +she had imagined possible. Her keen sense felt there +was a change to-night in the man. His step, that was +always light, had been gay as he ran up the stairs, when +she waylaid him. She held up her glass of red wine with +a gesture foreign enough to Hare’s Rents.</p> + +<p>“I drink,” said she, “to the good fortune that has come +to you to-day.”</p> + +<p>Lovell leaned forward and touched her glass with his, +but there was surprise in his face.</p> + +<p>“Are you a witch, Aunt Manette?” he said slowly. +“How did you know?”</p> + +<p>“You told me,” with a smile. “You come up-stairs +three steps at a time—from work that you dislike! You +stop to call me idle, who have before begged me to rest; +and—it was very extravagant tobacco, Mr. Lovell!” she +gravely declared.</p> + +<p>He laughed, throwing back his handsome head in a +way many women had loved who were not blind. His +whole face lit into sweetness as he looked at her. Perhaps +she felt it, for she wished for the first time that she could +see him.</p> + +<p>“The tobacco was before the luck,” he said, “so you’re +out in your sorcery. But it’s been all luck to-day. I +was going to dine on a baked potato when you asked me +to dine here. But I’d better go—since I reek of Turkish +tobacco!”</p> + +<p>“Egyptian,” she corrected. She got up and brought +over a brass coffee-pot from the brick hob. “On the contrary, +you will smoke more of it—here! And you will +prepare a cigarette for an old woman.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span></p> + +<p>If Mr. Lovell was surprised he did not show it. He +saw her go back to her big chair and draw slowly, daintily, +at the cigarette he lighted for her, and saw that the +scent of it made her face soft, as if it brought back her +youth. But he did not see that to smoke a cigarette like +this was to let herself remember that youth was dead—and +fruitless. She broke the silence suddenly.</p> + +<p>“Was it the tobacco or the good luck that reduced your +pocket to a naked potato?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“It is always the tobacco!” returning the glance he +eternally forgot was blind.</p> + +<p>“But tell me of her—your good luck; is she beautiful? +But, of course, since I shall see her only in your thoughts +of her,” not without sarcasm. “Fair and small and blond, +since you are brown-skinned and tall.”</p> + +<p>“She is none of the three, but——” he stopped himself.</p> + +<p>“How do I know how you look? Oh, you need not beg +my pardon! It is not a secret that I am blind. You have +a pleasant voice, you walk easily, with long legs—not +quick, quiet, like the short. That is simple enough. But +now about your good luck—who is not fair?”</p> + +<p>The man stared at the fire. Old, lonely and blind, there +was no reason he should not tell her all she cared to know. +That an old woman—with a history—who had come down—for +some reason that was not poverty—to Hare’s Rents—should +praise her beauty, could not hurt Dark Magdalen.</p> + +<p>“I can hardly tell you what she’s like,” he said slowly. +“It sounds so strange, so ugly, if you have not seen her. +She is tall, she has a graceful neck—long, round, with a +curve.”</p> + +<p>The old woman nodded. He was not a fool, then, since +he began with that neck.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” he said rather desperately. “I can’t tell you +very well. She’s tall and slim, and strong; but you don’t +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span>think of that, because she has an indescribable kind of +grace. And she’s black and white and red.”</p> + +<p>It is to be hoped he did not see his hearer shudder.</p> + +<p>“So exquisite, those English apple cheeks,” she returns, +too politely.</p> + +<p>“Apple cheeks!” he laughed out. “Good Heavens, +Aunt Manette, I didn’t mean she had red cheeks! She’s +white, dead-white, with the blackest eyes and eyebrows +I ever saw. All the red of her is in her hair; and that’s +not red, either, but dull—almost the color of rusty iron.”</p> + +<p>Aunt Manette said one word in French. It might have +been anything, but it was so low that Lovell never noticed +it. She turned her indifferent face away a fraction.</p> + +<p>“Hair <i>chatain foncé</i>?” she said.</p> + +<p>“No, not dark-chestnut at all. Duller, richer—you +could not know unless you saw her.”</p> + +<p>“I shall see on the judgment day, in the afternoon,” she +cried, with sudden, fierce profanity. “Bah! Go on. +Never mind my feelings; you have not hurt them. The +make of her face, her features?” Under her black gown +her foot tapped hard on the floor.</p> + +<p>“Curious,” he said, shutting his eyes to bring that face +up on a black swimming background. “Very delicate +and very strong, like a profile on a coin; cut in a little at +the sides of the chin; a mouth perfectly brave, perfectly +generous; a little too firm—for a woman.”</p> + +<p>Aunt Manette got up, almost feebly. The next minute +a cold breath rushed through the room from the window +she had flung up. Her voice came back a little uncertainly +as she leaned out.</p> + +<p>“A strong cigarette when one is unaccustomed to the +habit,” she said. “You will forgive me?” She closed the +window and came back to her seat; certainly she was +pale.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span></p> + +<p>“I’ve tired you,” Lovell said contritely. “Wouldn’t you +like me to go?”</p> + +<p>Go! She would have stuck a knife into him sooner than +let him go now. She laughed rather sharply.</p> + +<p>“No, no!” she said. “I forget that one should only do +foolish things when one is young. I like to hear you +talk. I——”—her face was strangely pathetic—“would +you, M. Lovell, tell a woman who is but a blind old wreck +and cannot leave her own four walls, the name of that girl +who is black and white and red?”</p> + +<p>Lovell moved uneasily on his chair.</p> + +<p>“The only name she has, to my knowledge,” he said +softly, “is Magdalen—Dark Magdalen.”</p> + +<p>The French woman’s face froze over.</p> + +<p>“You mean—she is——” There was anger in her +voice.</p> + +<p>“No,” he abruptly cut in. “She’s a lady; she makes +dresses, or hats, or something. Her name is Magdalen. +She has ‘Madame Aline’ on her door-plate, and that’s all +I know about her.”</p> + +<p>Aunt Manette nodded with a curious relief.</p> + +<p>“The name,” she said, “frightened me. And do you go +to see her, this lady who makes hats in Bond Street?”</p> + +<p>There was something so wistfully kind in her blind +face that Lovell said something he had not meant to.</p> + +<p>“She doesn’t live in Bond Street; she lives just round +the corner, in this very block of buildings. That’s part of +my luck.”</p> + +<p>“But,” the old woman was bewildered; “this building, +so poor, so—who would come here for hats?”</p> + +<p>“I forgot you couldn’t know,” he gently explained. “It +is like this, Aunt Manette. Our side of the buildings is +un-get-at-able, except through that dirty lane. No one +would take the rooms, they tell me, so they let them to +poor people cheaply. We live on the west side; you go +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span>out round the corner to the north side, which is better +than this; the east side, where she lives, has shops underneath +and offices and flats above. It is as if it were +twenty miles from our side.”</p> + +<p>“And what is between?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, a dark court.”</p> + +<p>The woman to whom all the world was dark closed her +eyes as if they hurt her.</p> + +<p>“She perhaps lives with her mother,” she suggested +indifferently.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know.” Lovell rose, for his hostess was leaning +back wearily. “Good night, Aunt Manette,” he said, +with that graceful manner she could not see.</p> + +<p>Her fine, small hand closed on his for an instant.</p> + +<p>“You will come again, of your good heart,” she said +gently. “It is a good deed to the blind.”</p> + +<p>When he was gone she sat for a long time without +moving, till suddenly she cried out in a kind of passion.</p> + +<p>“A lucky, lucky star, but not yours, my photographer! +And yet—why should I think it? It will go like the rest. +Oh!”—and uncertainty caught her brave old heart and +tore it—“Oh, this Dark Magdalen that I cannot see.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX"> + CHAPTER XIX. + <br> + “GOOD LORD, DELIVER US!” + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>For a woman come to London on Lord Stratharden’s +unselfish business, Mrs. Keith behaved peculiarly, and according +to no one’s lights but her own.</p> + +<p>She took a lodging opposite the Court Street branch of +the London and Provincial Bank, certainly, but she was +seldom in it, and never once looked out of the window. +There was plenty of time for that, though if Stratharden +had been in England she might not have thought so. But +his lordship was tightly and financially tied up at Ostend, +and likely to be so till kingdom come. Mrs. Keith did not +take him into her calculations at all.</p> + +<p>She went her way to Mr. Barrow’s office at a time +when he was certain not to be there—and interviewed +his head clerk, a Scotchman and an old friend. The two—who +were reticent enough to the outside world—unbent +in cheerful conversation; Mr. Fleming had not spent so +pleasant an hour for many a day. But when Mrs. Keith +left the office, a respectable, unnoticed old person in decent +black, her face changed.</p> + +<p>“The devil’s in playhouses,” said she, “but I doubt I’m +over old to be affected,” and she stopped an omnibus. +Two addresses had Mr. Fleming let fall in the joy of conversing +in broad Scotch; Mrs. Keith, who “knew London,” +proceeded to both of them by bus. It took some +time, but it was her own money she was spending; and +time was more plenty than it was.</p> + +<p>When she got home to her lodgings she was worn out. +She sat over her tea as if she could not rouse herself.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span></p> + +<p>It was queer; but she was only disappointed that it was +not queerer.</p> + +<p>“I’ve spent ninepence on gadding,” she said to herself, +bringing her hard fist down on the table, “and all I’ve +found out is that the daft, flighty body Barnysdale married +never had any sister. The manager man, with his +smirks, was sure about that. ‘Miss Dorothy Deane,’” +with a mincing imitation like anything on earth but her +model, “‘was quite alone in the world. He remembered +her perfectly, since she had never been employed anywhere +but at his theater. He had been delighted to hear +she had done so well for herself. Of course, when she +married no one had any idea that she had married an +earl. She was a pretty little thing, with her fair hair, +and was very popular at the theater. It had always been a +marvel to him that she did not return to the stage. That +was a lucky escape she had had, by the way, from that +terrible carriage accident.’”</p> + +<p>Sentence by sentence Mrs. Keith went over all the +information she had gained, and found it wanting.</p> + +<p>“It’s not Dorothy Deane,” and she sniffed contemptuously, +“that I’m wanting. It’s a woman named Duplessis. +You can’t climb a tree from the top. I’ll begin at the +weary old root again. Her name was Ninon Duplessis, +and she’s been dead fifteen years. I’ll write it down. +I’m not good at saying it the way he did.”</p> + +<p>She finished her tea deliberately, and got out ink and +paper. When she was done, it was a curious document +her knotted old fingers had written. She blotted the last +wet lines of it on clean white blotting paper, and put it +in her petticoat pocket.</p> + +<p>“That’ll make it clear to him,” said she contentedly, +“when it’s time to go to the prying man. But that’s not +yet. First, I’ll put my finger—and that’s not Stratharden’s—on +my Lady Barnysdale!” And at the look of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span>her Dolly might have shaken in her shoes. There was +no pity for her or Ronald in Mrs. Keith.</p> + +<p>During the next day or two she went about in queer +places, but she might as well have stayed at home. She +came on nothing, met the same old stumbling-blocks that +had tripped her fifteen years ago. When the week was +out it might have edified Lord Stratharden to see the +faithful Keith seated all day long at her second-floor window, +even if he were not pleased that her spectacles raked +the street in vain.</p> + +<p>“I’ll take the air,” she thought one fine morning, being +cramped to death from the inactive life. “I’ll be back +before the bank opens,” and it was odd that she had not +cared when first she came to London how many times +Lady Barnysdale might have got money without her +knowledge, while now she watched for her as if life and +death depended on it. But at a quarter to nine in the +morning the most zealous watch would be wasted. Mrs. +Keith put on her unornamental bonnet and went out.</p> + +<p>When, on the stroke of ten, she returned, she stood +aghast and indignant on her threshold. A man sat by +the table, perfectly at home, for his strong cigar made +even Keith cough.</p> + +<p>“Get out of my room, ye——” she began furiously, +when he turned his face to her. Strong old woman as +she was, she leaned against the door-post.</p> + +<p>“Stratharden!” she cried, and would sooner have seen +the devil. “How came ye here?”</p> + +<p>“To see how you’re getting on”—to her startled senses +his voice was ominously smooth—“and to help you. +Come in, my good soul, and shut the door! This isn’t +Ardmore Castle.”</p> + +<p>If she had been staggered she recovered herself finely.</p> + +<p>“Ye terrified me,” said she grimly. “Have ye no +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span>sense better than to come where they might jail ye for +debt?” and she shut the door before she said it.</p> + +<p>“Might have—not might,” corrected his lordship. “I’m +a free man, Keith; I needn’t trouble you any longer. +My debts are paid, at least enough to whitewash me.”</p> + +<p>“Then there’s fools in the world,” was the woman’s +calm comment.</p> + +<p>“Thank Heaven!”</p> + +<p>“It was not them that lent the money I was meaning,” +she responded significantly, but the next minute she +wished with late wisdom that she had held her tongue. +There was something she did not like in her visitor’s +manners; she looked at him angrily, and spoke to cover +her foolish fling at him, in a sudden, dreadful uneasiness +that he might know what it meant.</p> + +<p>“Think of it, Stratharden!” she cried. “Can ye not +see ye’ll be in bondage to her for that paying of yer +debts? And that money—I’d have seen ye in jail before +ye’d borrowed it!”</p> + +<p>“You’re a Presbyterian, my faithful Keith,” returned +the man lazily. “And now, having borrowed, and being +out of jail, I’ll let you go home, and I’ll find out my poor +little sister-in-law by myself. I’m afraid you’re a poor +detective; but you think it underhand work I dare say.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith’s hand was on her pocket; but the folded +paper was there. She executed a nimble flank movement +and established herself fair and square in the window.</p> + +<p>“If you mean I’ve been neglecting my orders,” she +said sturdily, “I haven’t. There’s been no Lady Barnysdale +at that bank yet. Would ye have me sit here at +five in the morning? I was out, but ye saw me come +back ere they opened their doors.”</p> + +<p>He could not see that she was looking up and down +the street in an agony of terror. Fool that she had been +to let things take their course, to trust to time. She +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span>should have ransacked all London, have had her finished +business in her hand to meet him with. Blood and +bone she knew Stratharden, and there was that in his soft +manner that told her that he had been too sharp for her. +What should she do, if this day, of all days, Lady +Barnysdale should come to the bank? She threw the +window up and leaned out.</p> + +<p>“You’re a zealous, faithful creature, Keith!” observed +his lordship kindly. “But I shan’t need you any more. +I dare say you’ll be glad to get back to Davie.”</p> + +<p>The paper in the old woman’s pocket crackled as she +leaned against the window-sill, and the sound of it did +her good. “He was always like that,” she reflected, “as if +he knew something you did not want known,” but there +was something he could not know while that paper was +safe in her pocket. If only Lady Barnysdale did not +come to the bank this morning! And for a woman who +had a contemptuous hatred for another, it was odd that +Mrs. Keith prayed, standing, that she might not so come; +odder, too, that, like a woman in agony, she only knew +she prayed, and not that all her prayer was one sentence +over and over, and that from no Presbyterian petition.</p> + +<p>“You’ll strain your eyes out, Keith,” observed the +kind Stratharden. “And my poor little sister-in-law, +who was terrified of you, could see you yards away. +Give me your place!”</p> + +<p>“Good Lord, deliver us! Good Lord, deliver us!” If +a mind can jabber, hers did it then. But she never +moved.</p> + +<p>There was a hired brougham coming down the street. +She knew, like a woman possessed, who was in it. And +Stratharden sat still behind her. If she faced him she +might keep him there, but never long enough, never.</p> + +<p>“Ye’re very anxious for one that’s no fool, Stratharden,” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span>said she acridly. “I’ll draw back from the window +when it’s time I should not be seen there.”</p> + +<p>Was he moving? She dared not look to see, so fast was +that brougham coming down the street.</p> + +<p>“Good Lord, deliver us!” she thought faster than ever. +Her stiff old arm was bent from the elbow close against +her breast; she dared not fling it out, dared not call. +But her hand Stratharden could not see. She motioned +with it from the wrist, frantically; her body between it +and Stratharden, her arm and shoulder still; caught a +look from black eyes in the brougham window, pointed +again with her gnarled fingers, and saw a hand fall from +the unpulled check-string.</p> + +<p>They were gone, the street was empty; she had won—for +to-day.</p> + +<p>Stratharden’s hand fell on her shoulder; she hardly +felt it, yet somehow it had thrust her aside like a reed.</p> + +<p>He had leaned past her, and had flung his cigar into +the street.</p> + +<p>There was fury and triumph in her eyes as she watched +his apparently unconscious, careless gesture, and the next +second a startling suspicion aroused her.</p> + +<p>Stratharden had turned and laughed softly in her face.</p> + +<p>“So you’ve a friend with black eyes,” he said. “You +seem exhausted, Keith; you don’t look well. Come with +me, and we’ll take your ticket for home. There’s a train +at twelve.”</p> + +<p>“And your bidding not done,” she remarked, careless +which way he took it.</p> + +<p>“There’s no hurry about it. Besides, I don’t think +you’ll be able to do it. Go and pack your clothes.”</p> + +<p>A terrible old woman Magdalen Clyde had thought +her. She gritted her teeth in weakness, and turned on +him, terrible once more. “I took none of your money, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span>Stratharden,” she said. “I’ll take none of your orders. +I’ll leave when I’m ready. And now ye can go.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, if that’s it, we won’t quarrel over it!” he said +easily. “I didn’t know it was a holiday jaunt. But if +you’re wise, you’ll go to Ardmore. You’re getting old, +my good soul, old and perhaps a little foolish. You can +forget all I said about finding Lady Barnysdale, for I +don’t know that I care especially where she is. I won’t +forget how you tried to help me, and that’s the great +thing. Good-by and, by the way, Keith, what you have +in your mind is a mare’s nest, and I think you’ll find +it so.” His laugh was so real that the housekeeper turned +away her head. When she looked around he was gone.</p> + +<p>She looked round the room wildly; then, lest each flying +second should mean something, she sat herself down +to think. He knew! And what she had written out +was in her pocket, unless she had been a fool and made +a mistake.</p> + +<p>But it was not that. What she had written was in +her hand, and she had asked no question anywhere that +could have come to his ears. He might have searched +the room while she was out, and found nothing.</p> + +<p>With a snarl of rage she saw something, and ran to it +with shaking knees. The blotting-book lay humped on the +table, as she had not left it; and the hump, as she flung +it open, was made of a tiny mirror such as some men +carry about with them. She saw, and did not know what +it meant; but as she jerked the mirror up against the +edge of the book, the reflection in it caught her eye—the +writing, left to right in the glass, plain.</p> + +<p>“And me that did not know,” said Mrs. Keith. “And +he’s found me out!” She dropped her face on her hands. +“Good Lord, deliver us!”</p> + +<p>For there would be no doing what she meant to do +now. The girl herself was the only key, and Stratharden +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span>had seen her and her black eyes, knew all that Keith +thought, prayed, hoped. She lifted her head, and her +face was gray.</p> + +<p>“He was oversoft,” she thought painfully, for the horror +that was on her had stunned her. “He saw that, and +he saw her, and, for all I know——” A thrill shook her +to her deadened soul. By her very door-steps had she not +seen a Chinaman pass by as she entered, and had not so +much as looked at his face! “I’ll never see her more,” +she moaned. “I’ll never know.” Without speech with the +girl, there was no detective in England who could help +her, and she knew it; knew, too, that Stratharden’s Chinaman +had followed Lady Barnysdale and her sister home, +at his bidding, when he threw his cigar into the street.</p> + +<p>“He shan’t do it!” she thought. “I’ll warn the police——” +She abruptly stopped.</p> + +<p>Warn them of what? A foolish surmise, a tissue of +imaginations? End her days in a madhouse for telling a +story without a leg to stand on. Her gray head dropped +on her hands.</p> + +<p>“Good Lord, deliver us, indeed!”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX"> + CHAPTER XX. + <br> + DOLLY TAKES FEAR BY THE THROAT. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>In the brougham Magdalen sat petrified with amazement. +It had been Mrs. Keith, and no other, at the window, +crooked bonneted, wild-eyed, motioning frantically +to her not to stop. Keith, whom Dolly had thought the +trusted ally of Stratharden. She could not understand it.</p> + +<p>Dolly caught her by the arm.</p> + +<p>“Did you see them?” she cried. “That old wretch, and +Stratharden behind her? They saw us; perhaps they’ll +follow us home. I won’t be found. I won’t!”</p> + +<p>She poked her head out of the carriage window.</p> + +<p>“Charing Cross Station!” she ordered. “And be +quick.” She thanked Heaven they had walked to a livery +stable and taken the man there. He knew no address, +if he were asked for one.</p> + +<p>She sat in feverish silence till they got out in the +crowded station, scarcely spoke till they were lost in the +busy throng, had emerged in a maze of back streets that +would take them home. Then she stamped her foot as +she walked, with Ronald running by her side.</p> + +<p>“How dare he watch for me? It’s no business of his +where I am,” she said. “And if he’s living opposite the +bank, with that wicked old devil Keith, I can’t get any +money; for I won’t have them following me home.”</p> + +<p>“You’re walking too fast for Ronald,” said Magdalen; +she picked him up in her strong young arms. “Dolly, I +can’t understand you. I don’t think I ever could. If +you don’t want to go to the bank, make a check payable +to Madame Aline, and I’ll go with it.”</p> + +<p>“And Providence will identify you, I suppose,” she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span>dryly remarked; “and old Keith won’t know your black-and-white +face and her head! She could follow you home +as well as me, couldn’t she? You know yourself they +tried their hardest to get him out of the way,” her keen +fixed eyes on Ronald. “If they find us they’ll do it again.”</p> + +<p>“Look here,” said Magdalen. “I can’t see any sense in +all this. Stratharden knows you’re here. Why don’t +you snap your fingers at him and go about openly? Anyone +would think you’d been going to steal from the +bank! It’s your own money. Why don’t you face +Stratharden, and speak out what we know? But hold +your tongue if you like, but stop this idiotic hiding.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid,” and thick fear was in her voice. “Afraid +for Ronald.”</p> + +<p>For an instant Magdalen paused. There was one thing +that made her think there was sense in this madness of +Dolly’s. Mrs. Keith had been afraid, too. It was that +desperate, earnest terror in the old woman’s face that +had made Magdalen drop the check-string unpulled. +With all her soul the housekeeper had warned them not +to stop. But in the safe, busy London streets common +sense spoke loud to her. Here there could be no hole-and-corner +poisoning, no keeping them prisoners here.</p> + +<p>“Be reasonable, Dolly!” she cried. “What could they +do if they found us, a hundred times? Or, if you’re really +afraid of them, tell the police. And if you won’t, I will. +Why should we hide like criminals?”</p> + +<p>“Do you want to kill me with your police? Isn’t it +enough that I’m frightened, that I’ve no money——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dolly,” her stepsister’s voice cut her short with +a kind of despair in it, “why won’t you trust me? You’ve +something behind all this. Tell me, let me help you.”</p> + +<p>“It’s nothing,” said Lady Barnysdale. “Noth——” +The words died on her lips.</p> + +<p>Face to face with them, a gardenia in his creased frock +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span>coat, an immaculate tie round a twice-worn collar, was +Starr-Dalton.</p> + +<p>He stopped, flushed dull-red with incredulous triumph, +and stood hat in hand, barring the way. It was no news +to him that Dolly was in London, but he had thought her +harder to find than this. His coarse smile was odious.</p> + +<p>“Dolly, oh, forgive me—Lady Barnysdale!” he cried, +his red-rimmed eyes on hers. “What a charming meeting! +But somehow I fancied you wouldn’t stay long +out of London.”</p> + +<p>Fancied! Magdalen’s blood boiled. When she knew +that he knew. Was she to be worried with Starr-Dalton, +when Dolly was already doing her best to give Stratharden +an excuse for calling her crazy? And Dolly, the +color of ashes, was stopping.</p> + +<p>“Come on!” said Magdalen sharply.</p> + +<p>Not a word had she said about Lovell, for fear of +Dolly’s laughter and worse; not a word about the dogging +of her steps by the man who stood smiling before her, +but it came back to her now with all its intolerable impertinence.</p> + +<p>She took no notice of Mr. Starr-Dalton by word or +look; she could have shaken Dolly in her fury that in the +middle of things that mattered she should care whether +a man like this met them or not. For she looked as if +she would faint in the street.</p> + +<p>“Come, Dolly!” she cried. “Here’s a hansom”—for it +was the only way to be rid of him; she knew of old how +he stuck.</p> + +<p>Dolly’s little, nervous hand caught her arm like a +claw.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to walk,” she said, and something in her +voice turned the girl’s heart cold. “Don’t you know +Mr. Starr-Dalton, Magdalen?”</p> + +<p>“Quite as well as I want to.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span></p> + +<p>Even Starr-Dalton, who did not admire her, saw the +stare she gave him was superb.</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk nonsense about walking, Dolly. Here’s +a cab.”</p> + +<p>“How have I offended Miss Magdalen?” Mr. Starr-Dalton +gazed fishily at the sky. “I apologize until I +hear. But if she says you are to drive home she is probably +right.”</p> + +<p>He held up a hand to summon a second hansom.</p> + +<p>Magdalen was livid with fury.</p> + +<p>“She’s got one,” she retorted, and for a minute thought +Dolly would back her. For Lady Barnysdale had waved +away the second hansom, had leaned for one breathless +instant on Magdalen’s arm.</p> + +<p>“There’s hardly room for three of us in one,” Dolly +said, and if her voice was not steady there was a sudden +courage in the look she gave Mr. Starr-Dalton; evil +courage, if Magdalen had known it. “I must hurry +home now, but perhaps you’ll come to tea this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>Miss Clyde, with Ronald in her arms, hung paralyzed, +half in and half out of her hansom. Dolly, with her old +smile, was giving their address, Madame Aline and all, to +the man.</p> + +<p>“For Heaven’s sake,” she said when she had tumbled +to her seat and Dolly was beside her, “what ails you? +He’s a hateful, disreputable beast and you know it. How +can you worry with a man like that when you ought to +be thinking.” She bit her lip. When Dolly looked at +her like that there was no sense in talking to her.</p> + +<p>“Because he’ll be useful,” said Lady Barnysdale. “He +loves the ground I walk on”—in which she was wrong; +he was only hugging to himself when she left him the +thought of a very different thing. “I must have some +one to help me and he’ll do it. Leave me in peace for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span>a week to manage my own affairs and we won’t need +your dear police.”</p> + +<p>“Help you! Like he helped us in Krug’s restaurant,” +she scornfully retorted.</p> + +<p>“Was that why you were so rude to him? You did +your best to”—she hesitated—“to make him detest us.”</p> + +<p>“In his conduct at Krug’s? No!” She poured out +what she had never meant Dolly to know about Lovell and +the bakery and Starr-Dalton.</p> + +<p>“What!” cried Dolly; her laugh cut like a knife. +“You! Having tea with a man you don’t know! For +you can’t know him; I never heard of any Lovell in my +life.” The mirth died out of her face. “What’s he +like? Is he a gentleman? Does he know who you are?”</p> + +<p>“You ought to know whether he is a gentleman or +not!” The laugh had touched her temper. “He put out +the lights in Krug’s restaurant.”</p> + +<p>Dolly sat dumb. From every quarter wherever she +looked something threatened her; things, people, the very +straws in the street menaced her, and only her own wits +to match against them all.</p> + +<p>She turned to the only soul in the world who cared +for her, except the child between them.</p> + +<p>“You go out like a chorus girl and meet a man!” she +cried, trembling with rage. “You, that were always +fussy as one of your nuns if I spoke to a man I knew. +You’re nothing but a hypocrite!” It was odd that she +looked just like a chorus girl herself in her temper. +“How do you know who the man is? He may have gone +straight away and told Stratharden!”</p> + +<p>“That’s absurd! For goodness’ sake, Doll, don’t let +us fight!” Something had caught the blood at her heart. +It was not that she had never seen Dolly in such a +temper, but that, after all, she might be right. She got +out of the hansom in silence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span></p> + +<p>There was more there than she knew. Dolly was afraid +of Starr-Dalton! Think as she would she could not +see why, but she knew it; and knew, too, that Dolly’s +reasons for hiding were trumped-up lies. Her old uneasiness +about Dolly’s turning into a countess swept back +on her.</p> + +<p>“If she only would not make so many mysteries!” she +thought. But the biggest mystery of all was that Dolly +should turn penniless away from an almost untouched +bank-account rather than face Stratharden.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI"> + CHAPTER XXI. + <br> + IN DISGUISE. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>“My dear Dolly!” said Mr. Starr-Dalton; he looked +round him with an air of lordly disgust. “You’ll forgive +my saying that this—this surrounding—is a very queer +freak for a little countess.”</p> + +<p>Dolly, a little pale, a little roused, regarded him +calmly. Before she told him things she must find out +what he knew. It was well that Miss Magdalen Clyde, +seated in dudgeon in the kitchen, could not see her stepsister’s +face.</p> + +<p>“It’s extremely dull being a countess,” said she. “The +Scotch house appalled me, the town one was worse—I’d +have seen Barnysdale’s ghost on the stairs!” For reasons +of her own her shudder was real. “Anyhow, I prefer +this to a suburban flat full of crying babies and women +who wonder whether you’re respectable. Now, here you +go in past the tailor’s shop, up one flight that no one +uses but us and you’re at our front door—with a most +respectable door-plate—if it were polished!”</p> + +<p>“You’ve the whole house, then?”</p> + +<p>“The two top stories,” she carelessly responded. “Down +here this sitting-room, my room, Ronald’s; upstairs Magdalen’s, +the dining-room and kitchen. It’s so convenient +and comfortable.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr-Dalton remembered the neglected passage, +the cold stairs; looked at the gray and hideous wallpaper, +the half-completed furnishings, and would have +thought if it had not been for his hostess’ toilet that +she was in lower water than ever since he had known +her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span></p> + +<p>“Convenient and comfortable!” He gave one of those +short, hateful laughs that always made Magdalen start. +“I think it is. Can I have a whisky-and-soda? You know +I don’t take tea.”</p> + +<p>“There’s none in the house,” she calmly replied.</p> + +<p>“Oh, send the housemaid for it. You’re getting very +starched, my lady.”</p> + +<p>“If you want it you’ll have to go for it,” returned +Dolly unmoved. “I’ve had no time to look for servants. +There’s no housemaid.”</p> + +<p>No time? To his certain knowledge that red-haired +sister had been in town for a week.</p> + +<p>For a moment the horrid conviction came over him that +some one had spoiled the show—that he was too late +to make any bargain. And the antique-furniture business +was worse than ever.</p> + +<p>“Do you remember my letters?” he said slowly.</p> + +<p>Dolly sat up and looked at him.</p> + +<p>“Letters? How many did you write? And how dared +you write to me at all?”</p> + +<p>“Dare! Oh, come now!” and his laugh was meant to +be soothing. “You and I are too old friends to say ‘dare’ +to each other.”</p> + +<p>“How many did you write?” she repeated, thinking of +the post-bag and Stratharden’s servants.</p> + +<p>“I only wrote one; I didn’t mean to say letters,” Starr-Dalton +said truthfully. “You got it?”</p> + +<p>He was surprised at the relief on her face.</p> + +<p>“I got it,” she carelessly observed, sinking back in +her chair again. “I didn’t understand it. Why?”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Dolly,” said the man not unkindly, “you +may as well make a clean breast of it. You treated me +d—— badly and you know it; paid me my money like a +tradesman and gave me the cold slip. But I’m fond of +you and I don’t bear malice, though I know well enough +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span>you’d never have sent for me if I hadn’t met you by +chance and you were afraid,” he added significantly.</p> + +<p>“Chance? You’ve been hanging round for days.”</p> + +<p>“Say! I tried to catch up with your sister in the +street and you’ll soon learn the truth.” For the first +time he spoke unpleasantly. “But that’s neither here +nor there. Are you here because you’ve been found out?” +with a disparaging glance at the uncomfortable room.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” She never moved, never looked +either angry or startled. They were getting to the point, +just as she had meant all along. “I’m here because it +suits me.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, rot!” ejaculated Mr. Starr-Dalton politely. “I +found you out long ago; don’t you know that, Dolly?”</p> + +<p>She knew it or she would not have been sitting behind +Madame Aline’s door-plate; but she only shook her head.</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to explain,” she deliberately returned. “I +can’t talk in the dark.”</p> + +<p>“Terms!” The word leaped in Mr. Starr-Dalton’s +head exultingly. But he steadied himself as he remembered +that it might be too late for a bargain with a +countess who had retired incognito to a milliner’s discarded +rooms.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ll explain!” He was carefully picking out each +blunt word. “I saw you at Krug’s that night when +Churchill made all the shouting at you. I found out +who he was; I saw him; I know all about you and him,” +oblivious that he had found out from anyone but the +man himself.</p> + +<p>“Churchill!” Dolly Barnysdale became white. She +had nearly said what could never have been recalled when +she realized that Starr-Dalton was again speaking.</p> + +<p>“Yes, just him! And do you mean to tell me that +if some of your fine relations hadn’t found out that you +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span>were married to him before you were to Barnysdale you’d +be here?”</p> + +<p>“Churchill! Married to him! Barnysdale!” The +thoughts rang like bells in her brain. Was this all he +knew—this?</p> + +<p>She put out her hand and touched Starr-Dalton; called +him for the first time by his Christian name.</p> + +<p>“Jack, you’re all wrong,” she said. “Not a soul of +them even dreams of anything like that. I’ll tell you +presently—and you can believe me or not, as you like—why +I’m here. Only first tell me what on earth you’ve +got hold of about Churchill.” Her voice was very earnest, +very natural.</p> + +<p>“Just what I said. It’s enough, Dolly. Don’t put on +frills. I saw your face when Churchill made all that +row and it set me thinking——”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t think about stopping him or helping me,” +she sharply remarked.</p> + +<p>“That pal of Magdalen’s was too quick for me, anyhow”—truthfully. +“I don’t know that I thought about +helping you. I was too—interested.”</p> + +<p>“What? Before you knew I was Lady Barnysdale?” +But she said it without malice.</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>“I thought you cleverer than to let any man have a +hold on you,” he said simply. “I don’t mind saying that +it didn’t occur to me to find out who Churchill was till +you paid me my money and told me to go. And then +I was angry. I went straight to Krug’s and a waiter +told me all I wanted to know. It struck me——” Here +he paused, neglecting to say, “there was money in it.”</p> + +<p>“About me? I don’t believe it.”</p> + +<p>“No! Who the man was and where he lived. I went +there.”</p> + +<p>“Where?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span></p> + +<p>“Just behind this very house. In the place off the +lane. But he’s not there now; so you needn’t be frightened. +He got hold of a little money and went away +to die on it—he looked like dying.”</p> + +<p>“And he told you he was married to me?” There +was a queer look on her pretty face, the look of a +woman who finds a live spark in the dead ashes of her +heart.</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr-Dalton considered a moment. Truth might +be stranger than fiction, but it was certainly safer.</p> + +<p>“He said he didn’t know any Dolly and didn’t want +to. But—he wasn’t alone when he said it!”</p> + +<p>Dolly nodded. The growing spark had gone out again.</p> + +<p>“Then who told you he married me?”</p> + +<p>“Maltby. I asked him—oh, not that!—but just about +Churchill in general. He told me he married a girl +named Dolly Deane and deserted her—told me the year. +But it was just casual gossip. He thought I knew +Churchill well.”</p> + +<p>Lady Barnysdale looked at him and saw he had told +all he knew or thought. It was all she could do not +to sit up like a creature transfigured, not to laugh or cry +out. She had been hiding in holes and corners for this, +that was not worth the snap of her finger—Churchill!</p> + +<p>She had never acted well on the stage, but now her +quick, blank face was perfect. Let him think he had +her secret or he might end by finding it out.</p> + +<p>“Are you going to tell?” she said with her eyes on +his face.</p> + +<p>“On a pal?” He was staring at her. “No.”</p> + +<p>She drew a long breath, as people do when fear passes +them by.</p> + +<p>“Then,” she said slowly, “I’ll tell you something. I +never was married to Churchill, but——Oh, yes! he +could rake up scandal.” For which she would not have +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span>cared one penny. “It was that that terrified me. I came +here partly because of your letter. I thought if I kept +out of the way you might forget me—and Churchill—and +partly——”</p> + +<p>“I’d never forget,” he put in hastily. He did not believe +one word she said, just as she had meant he should not. +He drew his chair close to hers.</p> + +<p>“Dolly, you mean it can’t be proved?”</p> + +<p>“Never!” And because her secret was safe she let +her triumph break out; she looked him in the face with +bright, steady eyes, her rouge showing like spots on her +excited face. “Never, never, never!” she cried in exultation. +“But, oh! Jack, I want a friend. I’m frightened +to death and I didn’t dare do anything because I knew +from your letter you were angry with me. I thought +you meant to show me up.”</p> + +<p>So she had, twenty minutes ago. Now she could +have laughed in his face, for whatever secret she had +Starr-Dalton had not touched the garment’s hem of it.</p> + +<p>“You did your best to make me hate you,” he said +slowly. “But—no, I never meant to give you away.”</p> + +<p>Nor had he. Churchill was dying at a gallop, might +be in his grave now; and “the Countess of Barnysdale and +Mr. Starr-Dalton” would make an imposing mouthful; +to say nothing of the money that would come through +a matrimonial connection of the two names.</p> + +<p>Dolly put her hand on his thick one, that Magdalen +would have died rather than have touched.</p> + +<p>“You’re a good friend, Jack,” she said simply, “and +if you’ll help me you won’t regret it. If you hadn’t +frightened me by your letter I’d have sent for you the +minute I got to London. Now listen to me and have +patience, for it’s a long story.”</p> + +<p>Word for word she told him about Ardmore and +Ronald—everything. If she all but left out the Chinaman +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span>it was because he seemed the least important part +of the whole thing. She had not gone in terror of him +night and day, like Magdalen.</p> + +<p>“So you see I was frightened and I hid. I dared not +do anything else while I thought you might tell all you +knew about me,” she finished. “As for this morning, +we gave them the slip. All they know is that I’m in +London.”</p> + +<p>Starr-Dalton sat stupefied. She had told her story +patchily—it did not hang together; but even so he could +see she meant every incredible word of it.</p> + +<p>“But if it’s true,” he said bluntly, “why don’t you +make a row?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t,” with a little significant gesture. “Suppose I +charged Stratharden with trying to murder Ronald and +me, do you think my whole history wouldn’t come out? +They might convict him, and much good it would do me +when I was stripped of my money and my name. Anyhow, +who’d believe me? The story is too monstrous! +Even you think I’m exaggerating.”</p> + +<p>“If it were any other man than Stratharden!” said +Starr-Dalton significantly. “But, on my soul, Dolly, +you’re right. To tell would get you put in a lunatic +asylum. I never heard a breath about the man except +that your getting the title has ruined him. He’s extravagant, +of course, but nothing else. He’s a great +traveler, a tremendous swell, who goes everywhere and—oh! +you might as well accuse the Prince of Wales of +murder.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I meant,” she said quietly. “Why +I’m here and why I never mean him to set eyes on me +or Ronald again. He’s so clever and so deep that no +one ever suspects his infamy.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr-Dalton only knew Lord Stratharden as a +perfectly dressed and well-mannered man, who collected +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span>curiosities and needed money. The last and that alone +made him put any faith in Dolly’s story. He was a +shrewd man in his way and he took in every line of her +face as he looked at her. There was no doubt she was +terrified.</p> + +<p>“The money is the least part of it,” he said. “You +draw the checks and I’ll get you all the money you +want.”</p> + +<p>It was what she meant him to do, and she flushed +with relief.</p> + +<p>“But you ought not to be living here as Madame Aline. +It’s wild!”</p> + +<p>“Who said I was Madame Aline? Not I. It’s Magdalen. +I’m only staying with her. There’s no harm in +that.”</p> + +<p>“Except it is not specially natural that she should work +when you’ve money. However——” He bent over her +suddenly. “Dolly, supposing I help you do all you say, +where do I come in?”</p> + +<p>“Money?” with the old, reckless smile.</p> + +<p>He shook his head. He was not smiling and his fat +face was dangerous.</p> + +<p>With the hate of hell in her heart, because but for what +she thought he knew she would not have been here, Lady +Barnysdale looked at him with sweet, amiable eyes. Now +he was useful; by and by, when she had done with him +and he was sent raging and impotent away, there would +be no need to tell him how she hated him. He would +know, as a snake knows whose back is broken.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what you want, then,” she said.</p> + +<p>“You do,” he roughly asserted.</p> + +<p>“If I do it’s enough for you to know that I do without +talking of it. Now, can’t you see it would make +too much talk and stir? If I’m not quite quiet I may +turn into Dolly Arden again, without a penny. You’ve +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span>got to help me, keep me safe from Stratharden and +Churchill. And you once lent me money; now I’ll lend +you all you want”—counting cleverly enough on the lowness +of his funds; for in spite of the gardenia the man +had a shifty, impecunious look.</p> + +<p>“Stratharden may drop in on you any day,” he said; +not that he believed it, for what might have been done +at Ardmore could not be done in London.</p> + +<p>Dolly’s eyes flashed.</p> + +<p>“Not with you to help me!” she cried. “Every time +I want money you’ll forward my check from Paris. I’ll +make it payable to you; you’ll endorse it. Stratharden +will find out from the bank and never come near me. If +he gets at you you’ll know what to say, you’re my man +of business. Go out, Jack, and get your whisky and +some soda. I can drink my tea now, for I’m safe—safe!”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean me to stay in Paris?”</p> + +<p>“No, no! But now it’s time for you to solace yourself +with your whisky.”</p> + +<p>“When you tell me in plain English what the end’s +going to be,” he said with the uncomfortable gleam still +in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Let things quiet down, let people forget me.” She +was certainly doing what he asked. “Churchill can’t +live forever; Maltby doesn’t know Lady Barnysdale is +me,” she ungrammatically declared; “no one does but +you and Churchill. And when he’s gone——” She +smiled at him and for the first time the passion he had +had for Dolly Arden awoke under Lady Barnysdale’s +eyes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Starr-Dalton departed to buy whisky and soda—for +which she omitted to give him the money—and as +the front door closed on him Dolly Barnysdale stood up +and danced in silent glee.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span></p> + +<p>“He doesn’t know—nobody knows!” she thought rapturously. +“I’ll get rid of him by sending him to Paris +and get Stratharden off the scent. He shall go to-morrow, +to-morrow.” She waltzed around the room and +broke into wild laughter. “Churchill,” she gasped, “and +I married to him! If we wait till he dies and can’t talk +we’ll wait a good while. He’s been a death’s-head ever +since I first saw him; that kind never die. Marry Starr-Dalton!” +The glee died from her face. “Oh, how I hate +him!” she thought passionately. “Except for the dinners +I got out of him when I used to be hungry. All I want +is to be left in peace with Ronald.”</p> + +<p>She stood thinking, as a scout might stand looking over +doubtful country. As a scout might lie hidden, seeking +more secure cover behind her fear of Stratharden.</p> + +<p>Starr-Dalton was no matter; Maltby had never seen +her; he was a hearsay man who lived a life she never +touched; Churchill was dying. Those were all, absolutely +all, who could talk. She assured herself they were +all and knew all the time that it was casual people, not +her enemies, who might spring a mine under her.</p> + +<p>She would never dare go to a theater nor take up her +abode in Barnysdale’s house; never dare live the life +her soul loved.</p> + +<p>“I knew that all along,” she said to herself coolly. “It’s +a small price to give for money and Ronald.”</p> + +<p>As if the child’s name brought back the terror of +Stratharden, she ran to the window and looked into +the dreary street. There was not a soul to be seen but +Starr-Dalton, approaching with his pockets unduly distended.</p> + +<p>When he knocked at the door she let him in with a +quiet heart; after half an hour she let him out again to +catch the night train for Paris.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span></p> + +<p>For the first time since that far-away dinner at Krug’s +she went to bed in peace.</p> + +<p>But Lord Stratharden sat up far into the night with +the information he had gleaned from Keith’s blotting-book +neatly written out before him. He had not been +idle while Dolly talked to her wolf who had turned out +to be a sheep. He had learned enough to ruin his sister-in-law +and her boy to-morrow. But to-morrow he would +get no good of it.</p> + +<p>Lord Stratharden rang his bell for Ah Lee.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII"> + CHAPTER XXII. + <br> + WHEN LOVE DAWNS. + </h2> +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“I leant my back against an oak;</div> + <div class="verse indent1">I thought it was a trusty tree.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + + +<p>“By George!” said Dick Lovell to himself, “I can’t go +to see her. I haven’t the nerve.”</p> + +<p>He stood in the sunny street at a time when a conscientious +photographer’s assistant should have been hard +at work, and was annoyed at his own discomfiture. Because +a girl was a milliner was no reason a man could +present himself at her house without being asked; yet +half an hour ago he had been fool enough to take French +leave from photography for just that purpose.</p> + +<p>“Glad I stopped myself before I hung around her door +like a cad!” he thought. He looked up from the curbstone +he was considering and saw Dark Magdalen herself, +almost at his elbow. She was walking west with +slow steps and eyes as somber as her black gown.</p> + +<p>At the sound of his quick greeting she stopped and +saw him standing with his hat off, a white carnation +in his blue serge coat, his brown, lean face bent down +to her with a laugh of pleasure in eyes and mouth.</p> + +<p>“How do you do?” she said a little breathlessly as she +shook hands with him and wondered why Dolly’s male +friends could not take off and put on their hats with this +man’s manner.</p> + +<p>He was looking at her through lowered lashes with +that trick he had; there was a kind of sweet keenness in +his gray eyes.</p> + +<p>“Very well, now,” he returned; “a minute ago I wasn’t +so sure. To tell the truth, I was wishing I dared go and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span>call on you—and I didn’t dare.” The words were boyish, +the sense of them graver.</p> + +<p>“Call?” said Magdalen stupidly. “On me?” She began +to laugh. “No one ever comes to see me,” she observed +frankly. “I couldn’t have let you in.”</p> + +<p>She thanked Heaven he had not dared, for Dolly would +have worried her life out with silly cautions, let alone +jeering laughters. And—she glanced once more at his +face. If, as Dolly said, she knew nothing about him, +she knew at least that a man with a mouth and eyes like +Lovell’s was not apt to be other than he seemed.</p> + +<p>“That’s a lucky escape for me,” he was saying gravely. +“I’m glad you came out. Do you know you’re not looking +well?”</p> + +<p>It was no earthly business of his and it was not polite; +which may have been what brought a faint flame to her +cheeks.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been indoors too much,” she returned with some +haste and perfect truth. “I came out now for a walk.”</p> + +<p>“So did I,” calmly; but the next minute they were +smiling in each other’s face like two children.</p> + +<p>“I may accompany you?” he said with a little deferential +manner, foreign enough to a girl who was accustomed +to men like Starr-Dalton. She nodded half shyly. Dolly +would have gasped incredulously at the look on her stepsister’s +face.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know where to go,” she said, looking around +her. She had turned Bedford Square, away from Hare’s +Buildings, simply because she would not let herself go +toward Fleet Street, on the chance of meeting Dick +Lovell; just as he had strolled in the same direction while +his courage about going to see her was oozing out of +him.</p> + +<p>“No!” said Lovell reflectively, little knowing they were +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span>both gloating on the instant reward of their individual +virtue.</p> + +<p>The afternoon was sunny, almost hot; enervating, as +such winter days are. The park would be fit to sit in, +but—he had no desire to be seen westward, either alone +or otherwise. Especially otherwise, he decided hastily; +it would not be fair.</p> + +<p>“Regent’s Park,” he announced at last, for not a soul +who knew him and could gossip would be there.</p> + +<p>“Too far.” There was little spring to her step as she +walked and he saw it.</p> + +<p>“Hansom,” he answered as laconically. “We can sit +down all the way there and back. You learn the joy of +sitting down when you’re a photographer.”</p> + +<p>He put her into the hansom as he had once in his life +helped a princess into her carriage. As he did it she +noticed the spotless cleanliness of his cuff, the fine white +skin inside his wrist; something made her head swim a +little as he got in beside her.</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” said Lovell slowly, “I always have a +queer feeling when I’m with you? That I’ve known you +for a long time—for always, really—that everything you +do or say is just what I know you will do or say.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve known some one like me,” she answered, and +she was not looking at him.</p> + +<p>“I never knew anyone—like you!” he said coolly. He +had something to say to her, but not here in a hansom, +where she could not get away from him. He sat beside +her quite silent; so content that it would have been +rapture if a doubt had not been there, too.</p> + +<p>And Magdalen, with the sun and the wind in her +face, forgot Dolly and Mrs. Keith, and Stratharden; +forgot even to forget that she was driving openly +through the London streets, for all the world to see her +red hair and black eyes. She turned to him with her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span>lovely laugh as they left the hansom and strolled along +a sun-dried path to a sunny bench backed by evergreens.</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” she said, “that whenever I meet you +you always want your own way? First you hustle me +out of a restaurant by the shoulders; next you march +me to tea with you and home in a hansom. To-day——”</p> + +<p>“To-day I want my own way again,” with a curious +quietness. The laughter was gone from his eyes that +were eager, full of sweetness.</p> + +<p>“I want—Magdalen, will you marry me?”</p> + +<p>The slow, direct words should have startled her, but +there was no surprise in her face. A hot color leaped +there and died away.</p> + +<p>“You see,” the low note of his voice made her quiver, +“I’ve loved you ever since that night at Krug’s; I don’t +know that you care, I can’t expect you to, but——”</p> + +<p>“You don’t know anything about me,” she whispered. +“You don’t even know that I mayn’t be married already.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I do!” said Dick Lovell. “That’s nonsense, you +know,” with soft slowness. “Look at me, Magdalen.”</p> + +<p>She could not lift her eyes to his strong, brown face; +she looked instead at his blue serge sleeve. There was +a tiny rip in it and she would have liked to mend it.</p> + +<p>“Are you angry? Do you hate me?” the man asked +as simply as he had asked, “Will you marry me?”</p> + +<p>Her eyes got as high as his collar and rested on the +bit of his throat between it and his ear. She had a mad +desire to answer him with her lips there, to——She +turned to him with a sudden pride, found—Heaven knew +where.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad,” she said. “No, don’t answer me. I want +to tell you something. I’m not Madame Aline; my sister +and I just live in her house and we left her door-plate. +And——”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Lovell rather stupidly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span></p> + +<p>“That’s all now,” for the rest was Dolly’s business. +“Except that my name’s Magdalen Clyde and I haven’t +a penny on earth.”</p> + +<p>“Did you think,” he softly asked, “that I was in love +with the millinery business? As for names”—he had +reddened a little—“do you think they matter much? +Could you marry a Lovell—a plain one—as easily as if +he had another name and a handle to it?”</p> + +<p>She gave a little quick shiver. She had had enough +of people with titles.</p> + +<p>“Better,” she said. “I’m not anybody.”</p> + +<p>“You’re Dark Magdalen! Why do you laugh? Didn’t +you know that’s what I call you?”</p> + +<p>She was not laughing; she was prouder of the way he +said it than if he could have made her Queen of England. +Yet she looked him in the face with a remembrance +of Dolly and what Dolly would say.</p> + +<p>“And you care a little?” His voice held a hundred +tendernesses in it. “Enough to marry a man with just +enough to keep you?”</p> + +<p>“I care,” her voice was not steady. “But I——Oh, +you must wait till I talk to my sister! There are +things——I can’t leave her.”</p> + +<p>She was stammering and she knew it, but Lovell did +not seem to notice.</p> + +<p>“There are things about me, too,” he said quickly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t mean dark secrets, any more than yours are, +but you ought to know them. I wasn’t born a photographer, +Magdalen. But I’m getting on at it.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t suppose you were,” glancing at his dark, +spare face, his threadbare serge that had never come off +a “ready-made” counter. “Mr. Lovell, let it all go +for to-day; don’t let us think who we are or what our +relatives will say.”</p> + +<p>The last thing did not cause him any solicitude; and, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span>after all, there was time enough for explaining. He +looked at her slim, gloved hands and wondered if those +rings of his mother’s would fit her.</p> + +<p>“Say Dick,” he coolly remarked, “and I’ll do anything +you like. I don’t call you Miss Clyde, do I?”</p> + +<p>“You ought to.” She looked at him with a sweet insolence +that made him want to kiss the hem of her +gown.</p> + +<p>It struck him suddenly that while he was threadbare +she was freshly and perfectly dressed, from her hat to +her shoes. His brow darkened as he looked at her.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been a brute,” he said, “a selfish brute! Look +here, my darling; I’m poor. Do you mind? I mean +really poor. I couldn’t give you many shoes like you’re +wearing.”</p> + +<p>“I have three pairs like them,” said Magdalen. “Perhaps +they won’t be worn out by the time I marry you. +Oh, Dick”—her eyes laughed as she looked at him—“how +silly you are! My sister gave me these; she has money +now; but we used often to be so poor that we were +hungry. That night at Krug’s I’d only had dry bread +all day.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you better than that,” with a certain grim +doggedness. “Magdalen, you’ll let me come and see you +now, won’t you?”</p> + +<p>Dolly’s rage at the hint of such a thing flashed over +her. And Starr-Dalton—for nothing on earth would she +run the chance of letting Lovell see a man like Starr-Dalton +in her house.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want you to,” she said simply. “You see, +Dolly will be so angry about it she’ll say we’d no right +to speak to each other. And she’s in some trouble just +now; she’s worried. I think you’d better wait.”</p> + +<p>That meant trusting to luck to see her. He was not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span>going to have her make secret appointments with any +man, even him.</p> + +<p>“You know best,” he said not too willingly. “It—it’s +rather rough, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Do you suppose I don’t want you to come?” she asked +almost fiercely. “I can’t invite you, that’s all. It’s not +my house—it’s Dolly’s, I——”</p> + +<p>She stopped and stared in front of her, the dark fire +quenched in her eyes.</p> + +<p>There, going past—and why was it that she knew without +seeing her—was Mrs. Keith, a grim old figure in a +dusty gown. And if she had seen her all she would +have to do would be to follow Magdalen Clyde home.</p> + +<p>Unconsciously the girl slipped close to Lovell’s side +and looked at him as she had looked at him for the first +time in her life, at Krug’s restaurant.</p> + +<p>In front of all London—though it consisted just now +of an old woman he had not noticed and two sparrows—he +put his arm round her.</p> + +<p>“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I won’t worry +you any more. I’ll swear, if you like, never to speak to +you again till you send for me. Magdalen, can’t you +see I love you? There is nothing on God’s earth for me +but you.”</p> + +<p>The arm she leaned against was iron, the shoulder +against hers iron, too; in the strength and safety of them +the color came to her face.</p> + +<p>“Dick,” she said. “Oh, Dick!”</p> + +<p>The man stooped and kissed her, since even the sparrows +were gone; and the soul of Magdalen Clyde went +into his keeping and his to her.</p> + +<p>Without a word, since neither could speak, they moved +away—in the paradise God lets some men and women +stay in.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later a breathless old woman ran frantically +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span>after a hansom that drove away and, when there +was no other to be had, cursed roundly in broad Scotch.</p> + +<p>“I’ve bided my time too long, too long!” thought Mrs. +Keith, and the fear in her stopped her senseless rage. +“’Twas her, and—I’d thought you with her was a better +man, a better man!”</p> + +<p>She cursed again at the weariness of her feet as she +went hurriedly on. It was a fool’s errand from the beginning; +it was a beaten fool’s now, if that man were +against her, with his hard eyes.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"> + CHAPTER XXIII. + <br> + THE NAKED FOOTSTEP. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>“You fool!” Dolly had said. “You selfish, selfish +fool!”</p> + +<p>It was not much of a congratulation on her sister’s engagement +and she had gone out without another word. +The little sitting-room in Hare’s Buildings seemed very +dull and cheerless to Magdalen, left alone there; but, even +so, that was no reason that she should come out of her +sullen thoughts with a jump and find herself leaning +forward—listening till her heart seemed to stop in her.</p> + +<p>She had been alone there often enough, since Dolly +was always out; she must be getting nervous. She said +a scornful word to herself and tried to think of Lovell. +But it was no use.</p> + +<p>The sound—that could be no sound but the moving of +her own blood—had her by the throat. It was not a +rustle, more like a certain subtle jarring; a pad, pad, as +of bare feet stepping very softly.</p> + +<p>“Some one on the stairs,” she thought determinedly, +but her eyes were very black in her pale face. She +marched to the hall door and opened it.</p> + +<p>There was the empty landing, the vacant staircase that +went down to the entrance, where the fanlight in the +tailor’s side door glowed cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“It was imagination,” she thought, for not a sound +came now from anywhere.</p> + +<p>She locked the door and went back to her seat, something +making her move softly; an absurd thing to +do in an empty house. More absurd still, she sat down +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span>by the fire, facing the door of the little room, her back +hard against the wall, as if the place were haunted.</p> + +<p>She looked round her with a kind of contempt for herself. +The room was not big enough to swing a cat in +or to hide one. Opposite her was a sofa and the open +door; at her right hand a window and a writing-table; at +her left a high bookcase in the middle of a blank wall. +The whole place was not more than four yards square. +It was a fine thing to be nervous here, when in all the +eery gloom of Ardmore Castle she had been steady +enough.</p> + +<p>Her face grew hard and dark. If Dolly would only +listen to her! But not a word she said went through that +armor of Dolly’s that was made of obstinacy and—even +to herself she would not say deceit.</p> + +<p>All the same, there was absolutely no cause for the +uneasiness that was gripping the girl’s soul.</p> + +<p>A week had gone by since that vision of Keith and +Stratharden at the window; a week in which there had +been no sign of either; no stranger at the door; not so +much as a glance cast after either Dolly or Magdalen in +the street. Starr-Dalton had never appeared again after +that one day; and whatever had troubled Dolly was over. +Except that she never let Ronald out of her sight or the +front door off the latch, she seemed to have forgotten that +she had ever feared Stratharden or anyone else. But +somehow that very thought set the girl’s face in what +Dolly called “Magdalen’s scowl.”</p> + +<p>“She’s been at her old tricks,” she reflected angrily. +“He must have lent her that money.” Which was true +enough; even Mr. Starr-Dalton could rake up five pounds +to lend to a lady who allowed him fifteen per cent. on +every check he cashed for her.</p> + +<p>“She’s out a great deal; she never seems to think it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span>mayn’t be safe to take Ronald,” she mused. “But they +wouldn’t dare kidnap him. I fancy Lord Stratharden has +done his best and shot his bolt. Any more would make a +noise and we know too much for it to be safe to meddle +with us. I wish Dolly would come home. It’s getting +dark.”</p> + +<p>It was; dark and foggy. The room looked thick with +the fog that crept in through the badly fitting windows. +The fire had died down to a dull-red glow, ugly, cheerless; +she was cold. Miss Clyde stretched out a long, +graceful arm to the grate—and sat with a pounding heart.</p> + +<p>“Pad, pad!” there it was again. More the feeling of a +sound than a sound itself, yet her young flesh crawled on +her bones.</p> + +<p>The thing, whatever it was, was in the house, not on +the stairs. She sat rigid on the rug, one hand still +stretched out to the forgotten fire. The soft, slow sound +was over her head, upstairs; almost inaudible in the hush +of her listening, through which came the cheerful passing +of cabs in the street. If it was tangible enough to be +like anything human it was like a bare foot on a bare +floor. Only nerves strung up and sharpened could have +known there was a sound at all.</p> + +<p>“Fool!” exclaimed the girl through shut, vicious teeth. +A great tide of hot blood seemed to flash through her +veins that had run so slow.</p> + +<p>She got up and went out in the hall and up-stairs. All +the fear had gone out of her; she moved like a man does, +confidently. If there were a thief in the house, or any +one else, he might have done well to run from a girl +whose eyes looked like Magdalen Clyde’s.</p> + +<p>The dim staircase was empty. The dining-room that +was in the back of the house, over the sitting-room, empty, +desolate; for as Dolly would have no servants they never +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span>used it. In the kitchen there was no one, the slim ranks +of dishes on the dresser were as usual; the table, set for +dinner, was untouched.</p> + +<p>In Magdalen’s own bedroom there was nothing more +ghostly than her gowns hanging on the wall, very black +and straight.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lovell’s “good luck” stood in the middle of the +room and looked a fool. It had all been imagination. +The windows were three stories above the street and +no one but a cat could have entered them. One of them +was open six inches or so, leaving plenty of room for +just that cat.</p> + +<p>“I am an idiot, with my footsteps!” thought Miss Clyde +wrathfully. She shut down the window and lighted all +the gas, up-stairs and down, before she sat down again.</p> + +<p>She had been listening for Dolly and that began the +mischief. No one can listen long in an empty house and +not hear something. Certainly there was no sound now, +nor the dream of one.</p> + +<p>“Still, I may as well finish, or I’ll be thinking of it in +the night,” she thought. It was half-past six; the tailor’s +shop would be shut, the hands gone home; the back +premises down-stairs open to the explorer.</p> + +<p>Candle in hand, latch-key and matches in pocket, she +emerged on the landing and shut her own front door behind +her. The tailor’s shop was dark; the street door +ajar at the foot of the staircase. A streak of light came +through it and the cheerful yell of a newsboy. Standing +with her back to the door, she saw the bare, narrow +passage, half-way down it her own stairs; past them, at +the end of it, a green baize door. As she looked at it +it swung forward a little, as with some draft, then +swung back. It must have been that soft closing and +opening she had magnified into a quiet foot over her +head.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p> + +<p>“Still,” she thought sensibly, “they oughtn’t to go away +and leave a ground-floor window open if it is in a dark +area. Goodness knows who may live in those horrid +houses behind us.”</p> + +<p>She gave the green door a push and went in as it gave +to her hand, and saw nothing but the dark hole where +the tailor hands ate their dinner on a table littered with +crumbs and greasy papers. The barred and grated window +was shut, yet the air in the room was oddly fresh.</p> + +<p>“A ventilator, of course!” she thought vexedly, having +let her nerves run riot for nothing.</p> + +<p>At the foot of her own stairs she turned and saw the +baize door move again stealthily and swing back; if she +had not known about that draft, would have been +certain some one stood behind it. But as it was she went +up-stairs with a contemptuous dismissal of the feeling +that there was somebody behind her. It was time to +get ready for Dolly—to cook.</p> + +<p>“Why on earth couldn’t we have an all-night restaurant +below us instead of a tailor’s shop? It mightn’t be so +respectable, but it would be a hundred times more convenient,” +she thought; yet it was not the cooking that +was on her mind, but the loneliness of the place at night, +that she had never cared two pins about till now. And +the next second she forgot it, for Dolly’s key clicked in +the latch.</p> + +<p>Hand in hand with Ronald she swept in, a different +Dolly from the angry one who had gone out.</p> + +<p>“We’re awfully late; I’m starving,” she cried gaily. +“Oh, it’s so horrid out of doors! What a wretched fire, +Magdalen.”</p> + +<p>“I forgot it,” she replied guiltily. “Where’ve you +been?” There was a quick, incredulous hope in her +that Dolly had repented about Lovell.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span></p> + +<p>“Oh, shopping”—putting down heterogeneous parcels.</p> + +<p>“Don’t sit on that, Ronald! It’s a chicken. I felt it +would be my death if I didn’t have chicken.”</p> + +<p>She pulled something from the front of her dress and +rustled it in Magdalen’s face.</p> + +<p>“What about old Stratharden now?” she exclaimed +triumphantly. “He can watch at the bank till he’s black +in the face. Look there!” her packet of clean five-pound +notes flourished over her head.</p> + +<p>“How did you manage?”</p> + +<p>“Starr-Dalton cashed it,” Dolly observed, half careless, +half defiant. “I told you he’d be useful.”</p> + +<p>There was a senseless lump in Magdalen’s throat.</p> + +<p>“It’s all so unnecessary,” she said heavily. “There’s +no sense in it. Why can’t we behave like ordinary +people?” Perhaps the knowledge that she herself had +not been behaving like an ordinary person during Dolly’s +absence sharpened her tongue. “What excuse would +Stratharden have for hunting us? And if he wanted to, +putting that out of the question, there’s no possible hope +that he couldn’t lay his finger on us this very minute.” +Somehow that creeping noise that she had but just now +thoroughly explained to herself came back to her unreasonably.</p> + +<p>Dolly looked at her, a sudden breeze of good sense +blowing through her shut-up little mind. But Dolly never +believed in impulses.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with you?” she asked reasonably +enough. “It’s got nothing to do with you. I’m sick +of it,” and truly she looked it as her small head went +back distastefully.</p> + +<p>“Put yourself in my place, Dolly. You don’t really +put enough trust in me to be open with me. I have +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span>to live shut up in this hole—oh, I don’t mind the cooking +and cleaning; it isn’t that. It’s because you know +all about Stratharden and yet you won’t protect yourself +against him. I’m tired of it. I want to have some life +of my own.”</p> + +<p>The devil in the Countess of Barnysdale woke up.</p> + +<p>“Which means Mr. Lovell!” she said with a polite gaze +at the opposite wall.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it did. Magdalen did not care.</p> + +<p>“It’s plain sense,” she retorted. “You’ve money; +Stratharden has nothing against you but that silly invention +of madness that wouldn’t work anywhere but in an +out-of-the-world place like Ardmore. Why can’t we go +and live openly somewhere and let Starr-Dalton be ‘useful’ +to other people? Then, if Stratharden did anything, +you’d have a good case and the law at your back. While +here——” She shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>The law at her back! When, for what she had done +to Magdalen alone she could be put in prison to-morrow, +let alone anything else. The rouge on Dolly’s cheeks +stood out like fire.</p> + +<p>“Here he can’t send in servants to meddle with Ronald,” +she said irrelevantly. “That’s why I won’t have one. +How do I know who she might be? As for a good case +and the police”—for one instant she shut her eyes—“I’m +not going to have all my past life dragged up by the +police because you’re bored—so now you know.”</p> + +<p>“Then there’s something——” It was a stupid speech +from Magdalen Clyde, who was not surprised at all, but +only contemptuous.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing.” There was nothing in the voice to +tell whether Dolly was ghastly from fright or fury. “How +dare you say there is?” With the old, senseless fierceness +she snatched Ronald to her. “I tell you he’s Barnysdale’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span>son and I’ll fight for him in my own way. You +can interfere, if you want to kill me.”</p> + +<p>For a girl who had all along been sure there was a lie +somewhere, Magdalen felt oddly sick.</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk about it, will you?” It was an order, not +a question. “I only told you to—to make you understand. +I suppose you haven’t told your Lovell about me +yet.”</p> + +<p>“Doll,” said the girl impulsively, “give up being a +countess!” If there was meaning in her words Dolly +did not mark it. “This place is paid for. I’ll work for +you.”</p> + +<p>“How?” scornfully. “Take in washing? Don’t be a +fool.”</p> + +<p>“No, make hats,” practically.</p> + +<p>“Who’ll buy them? Nonsense! Half of this is for +you.” She held out the roll of notes. “I owe it to +you.”</p> + +<p>For once in her life Magdalen turned scarlet.</p> + +<p>“How could you owe me anything?” she cried and +turned away; no power on earth would have made her +touch that money Dolly had been afraid to go and get. +“I’ll begin that hat business to-morrow. I’ve been sending +away Madame Aline’s old customers all the week.”</p> + +<p>To work at anything would be better than to sit thinking +her nerves into fiddlestrings as she had to-day. The +prospect of it cheered her as she woke in the middle of +the night. The next minute she sat bolt upright in her +bed. That sound had been no fancy this afternoon. She +heard it now through the black dark.</p> + +<p>With a curious impulse—and surely her guardian angel +must have been at her elbow—Magdalen Clyde got up +and locked her thick wooden shutters and her window.</p> + +<p>Still she heard the sound.</p> + +<p>Alone in the night, with her body dull and her spirit +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span>quick, she thrilled superstitiously, so like was that soft, +clinging pad to the feet of death dogging her. What +madness was it put into her head that it was just like +that, soft and slow, with long steps, that Lovell would +move on bare feet?</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"> + CHAPTER XXIV. + <br> + AT AUNT MANETTE’S. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>All thought and desire for the hat-making business had +deserted Magdalen’s mind when she came, late and heavy-eyed, +to breakfast. Which was probably the reason that +on the sound of the electric bell she ran down and found, +not the baker’s boy, but a customer.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said the imitation Madame Aline +rather doubtfully. She looked at the pretty old lady +before her and did not open the door. Inside did not +look much like a milliner’s establishment. “I,” with a +brilliant inspiration, “never make bonnets—only hats.”</p> + +<p>The strange old lady looked very pale in the gray +light of the landing. To the blind a voice is a very +telltale thing; Madame Aline’s had perhaps sounded +as though she had no desire for a new customer.</p> + +<p>“I am easily pleased.” The girl saw suddenly that +her visitor’s silk gown and mantle were old-fashioned. +“I am not very rich and I am blind.”</p> + +<p>“Blind!” The little cry was involuntary.</p> + +<p>“Stone blind, madam. Look!” She turned her face +instinctively to the scant light and Magdalen saw that +the bright, brown eyes were sightless. “But perhaps, for +those reasons, you will not care——”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” with quick compassion, “but I will. I will make +you anything you like. Only—I—that is—I have +nothing ready.”</p> + +<p>“I did not want anything ready. I have—but I do +not like to ask you. You are busy.”</p> + +<p>“No,” with a wasted shake of her head.</p> + +<p>“Then, as you are so kind, I have already a dozen—more—of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span>bonnets. But it is that I am blind and live +alone. Sometimes I select one and the children laugh at +me in the street. If you would look at them and remodel +me one from them.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I will.” She looked to see a hat-box, but +the new customer was empty-handed. “When will you +bring them?” For a blind woman could not see that the +milliner’s shop had neither hats, bonnets nor looking-glasses.</p> + +<p>“I go out seldom,” said the woman slowly. “I thought +if madame were not too occupied she might perhaps come +to me. I am called Madame Duplessis and I live behind +you, in Hare’s Rents.”</p> + +<p>A half thought, a misgiving, struck her hearer; but +the next minute she saw its absurdity. There was no +reason to think Lord Stratharden was troubling his head +about them; and if he were it was not likely he would +send an emissary from Hare’s Rents who did not even +ask to come in or for anyone but Madame Aline.</p> + +<p>The blind woman had felt the hesitation in her manner.</p> + +<p>“It was M. Lovell who told me of you, madame,” +she said, and no one would ever have known the words +were as purely gambling as drawing a card at poker. +“I asked him if there were a milliner near here and he +told me, ‘Madame Aline.’ He will tell you that I pay +my debts,” with a little smiling dignity. “But Hare’s +Rents is a poor place, madame, and perhaps I am a customer +who will not show off your wares.” There was +not a hint in her voice of the terrible excitement that was +in her old heart.</p> + +<p>Lovell! That warning fling of Dolly’s about not +knowing who he was came back to the girl, but she did not +care. It was only nonsense, anyhow. He loved her; +he—the very thought of his hard, keen strength did her +good after the silly terrors of yesterday.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span></p> + +<p>“I hardly know Mr. Lovell,” she answered mechanically, +“but it was kind of him to recommend me. I will +do your work with pleasure.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you could not come now?” she unexpectedly +asked. “You could not leave?”</p> + +<p>Why not? She was sick of the house, had meant to +go out anyhow and had her hat and coat on.</p> + +<p>“I think I can leave,” she cried with a laugh at the +non-existent business that could keep her. “I’m going +out,” she called to Dolly, who, being only half dressed, +could not come to investigate if she had even thought of +it.</p> + +<p>The blind woman felt her way down-stairs, and a +wonder crept over the girl how she had ever found her +way from Hare’s Rents.</p> + +<p>“You do not see how I got here,” said Aunt Manette +shrewdly, as they reached the street.</p> + +<p>“It is quite simple, when one has been blind for twenty +years and alone. I knew there was no street to cross. +I kept my feet on the curbing and that told me when +the corner came. Presently I asked a man to take me to +your door.”</p> + +<p>It might be simple, but it was dreadful to the girl who +could see the feathers on a flying sparrow.</p> + +<p>“And your own door?” she said.</p> + +<p>“Twenty-four steps from turning into this dirty lane. +It is here, I think. An open door—very dirty?”</p> + +<p>“Sixteen?” glancing up.</p> + +<p>Madame Duplessis, whom her world knew as Aunt +Manette, nodded. The girl behind her marveled as she +followed her up the filthy stairs why an old woman, who +wore a brocade mantle, should live in such a place. They +did not meet a soul as they climbed to the third story; +perhaps the blind woman had known they would not at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span>this time of day. Half of Hare’s Rents got up early and +went to work; the other half stayed in bed till dark.</p> + +<p>“We arrive,” she cried gaily, unlocking her own door +unerringly from long practise in the dark.</p> + +<p>For a moment Magdalen stood dazzled on the threshold.</p> + +<p>The morning sun poured into the place through fresh +white curtains and rows of blossoming flowers. There +was a good fire, a clean brick hearth, a high-backed chintz +chair beside it. The whole room was as scrupulously +clean and fresh as a French inn, and the most homelike +place, as well, that the girl had ever seen.</p> + +<p>Aunt Manette let the door close behind her.</p> + +<p>“You see, I am ready for you,” she said, and Magdalen +saw an array of bonnet-boxes. Every one of them +had “Worth” or “Pingat” on the cover; but as she took +out the bonnets one by one she repressed a laugh. No +wonder the children said things in the streets. Every +bonnet had been the acme of extravagant fashion twenty +years ago, and now——She glanced round the spotless +room. To have come to this from Worth and Pingat had +taken some time.</p> + +<p>“Did you want a black bonnet?” she said with a smile +that was very kindly, looking at the grass-green, staring-blue +and magenta monsters surrounding her.</p> + +<p>At the voice Aunt Manette started.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said hastily. “I wear black. You mean——” +Her hands were clasped hard in front of her; she did +not care a straw what the milliner meant.</p> + +<p>“These are colored,” Magdalen gently responded.</p> + +<p>The old woman moved to her side.</p> + +<p>“I had forgotten.” She felt one. “This?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Pale-fawn, trimmed with—with leather!” Magdalen +could not imagine anyone with such a thing on her head.</p> + +<p>“Oh! And this one?”</p> + +<p>“Green.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p> + +<p>“With plumes?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>The old woman’s face changed.</p> + +<p>“It was hers—my daughter’s. She was so young that +day,” she said as if to herself. “Would you—would you +put it on, Madame Aline?”</p> + +<p>Magdalen unpinned her hat. She did not even smile +to herself as in the glass she beheld the green atrocity on +her head; for the eyes that could not see her were full +of tears.</p> + +<p>“It goes so,” explained the old woman gently. She +pushed it back a little on the dull, thick hair—and Magdalen +noticed the delicate cleanliness of the old white +hand. “Madame has beautiful hair.”</p> + +<p>“Madame” winced.</p> + +<p>“It’s red,” she said. It was lucky no one could see +her in the bright-green hat.</p> + +<p>“Minon’s was brown,” the old woman said dully. “You +will permit me, madame? They are my eyes.”</p> + +<p>Magdalen stood still as the cool, smooth finger-tips +went over her face. The blind woman’s face she did not +look at, which was well. But the next minute it was +the Aunt Manette whom Lovell knew that spoke to her, +and the girl, curiously enough, felt a sudden liking for +the very hardness of the voice.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean to get out of life?” she asked. +“You were not born a milliner. Diamonds, marriage, +position?”</p> + +<p>“Position? No!” Magdalen sharply replied.</p> + +<p>“Yet you hate your life. There are two black bonnets +in that round box. You can amuse yourself with them.”</p> + +<p>“Why do you say that?”</p> + +<p>“Your eyes were hot, your mouth drooped. You have +not a contented face. But you should be handsome.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span></p> + +<p>“I’m ugly,” the girl hastily remarked. “All white +and black and red, like a poster. But I forgot——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I have heard of them,” the old woman dryly replied. +She was aching to pour out a flood of questions, +but she was too old and wise. She only sat as if she +watched the girl make a new bonnet out of two old ones, +deftly enough. She had an artistic touch, picked up +goodness knows where.</p> + +<p>“These bonnets are made of beautiful things, Madame +Duplessis,” she said.</p> + +<p>“They call me Aunt Manette in this house,” said the +old lady. “I do not know why. I cannot come to you +again, madame; but will you come to me? I am always +here—and lonely.” Since she had felt the lines of the +strong, delicate face her own had grown very hard. If +she were right Mr. Lovell should come here no more, +hear nothing from her about the Dark Magdalen he was +intoxicated over; this girl was for no penniless photographer, +gentleman or not.</p> + +<p>The fresh, homelike room had done Magdalen good; +she had a queer liking for Aunt Manette—a curiosity, +too, about her. She put the finished bonnet in her hand.</p> + +<p>“Is it right?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“The little boys will tell me that when I wear it,” Aunt +Manette composedly replied. “I pay you with pleasure, +though—for it and your society.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no!” said the amateur milliner hastily. “It wasn’t +ten minutes’ work. I couldn’t take any money.”</p> + +<p>“And I cannot run in debt.” She went away and came +back with something in her hand. “You shall take this,” +she said carelessly, a longing that was passion shaking +her to see this girl’s face as she held out a little pin. “It +is old-fashioned, of no value, but a pleasure to me to +give away.”</p> + +<p>It was an old lace-pin, set with discolored turquoises, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span>making an “N” on a dull-gold filigree heart. It was +worth almost nothing at all, but Magdalen Clyde gave a +cry of surprise. The thing was absolutely familiar to +her.</p> + +<p>“You will not take it? It is perhaps too broken?” +Aunt Manette said coldly.</p> + +<p>“No, no! I would love it. But I’ve seen one—one +just like it,” she wonderingly exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“They were the fashion when my daughter was young,” +almost callously. “This one is broken, as you see. They +were worn in pairs, linked with a little chain.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” rather dazed. It was very queer, but probably +the blind woman was right and the things had once +been common. She stood over Aunt Manette and smiled, +a splendid sight of flesh and blood wasted on blind eyes.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you why it surprised me when I come again,” +she said. “I must go now.” She did not thank the old +woman, for she knew by instinct that she was not meant +to. It was payment—not a present. “I’ll come again +some afternoon. I’d like to,” she honestly declared.</p> + +<p>For a moment their hands touched and the blind +woman’s were burning. It had been cool till she felt +the girl’s face.</p> + +<p>“Do not come after dark,” she cautioned. “Remember, +it is not a fit staircase for you after dark.”</p> + +<p>Magdalen laughed. It was not the perils of Hare’s +Rents that could worry her.</p> + +<p>“I won’t,” she returned. “Good-by.”</p> + +<p>She hurried through the dirty lane outside and, when +she reached her own street, stepped into a shop close +to her own house—a dark little shop for second-hand +jewelry.</p> + +<p>Dull hair, black-and-white face, she flashed into the +shop like something glorious.</p> + +<p>“That,” she said to the man behind the counter, holding +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span>out her turquoise pin, “worn linked to another with a +chain—will you tell me if they were to be bought in +every jeweler’s shop twenty years ago?”</p> + +<p>He looked at it with a queer smile. He was rather a +famous person in his way, an authority on his trade, and +strictly honest, to the great gain of his dingy shop.</p> + +<p>“They were not to be bought at any shop,” he said, +putting down his magnifying-glass. “They were little +badges worn by a certain set of ladies, among whom was +the Empress Eugenie. That ‘N’ stands for Napoleon. +If you cared to part with this,” he professionally suggested, +“I could give you a very high price.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Magdalen, dumfounded; in her own box +at home was the mate to this very pin, with a chain +hanging to it, and the thing had been her mother’s.</p> + +<p>How did Madame Duplessis come by the other half?</p> + +<p>She flew home to make certain she was right, but +in the little sitting-room she stopped short.</p> + +<p>“Dolly!” she shrieked and pointed to a door where no +door had been. “What have——” She could not utter +another word.</p> + +<p>“Four customers came,” said Dolly gaily; “so I told +them to come back this afternoon and I made my bedroom +into a showroom for you. Isn’t it too beautiful? +I just moved the bookcase on this side and my wardrobe +on mine. Now”—complacently—“that big glass is some +use,” pointing to it standing exactly opposite the new +door.</p> + +<p>Magdalen forgot her mysterious pin, forgot everything. +She stood speechless in the little room she had dreamed +of at Ardmore Castle.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV"> + CHAPTER XXV. + <br> + “BUFF OGILVIE!” + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>“What’s the matter? Don’t you like it?” said Dolly +crossly. “I nearly broke my back moving the things.”</p> + +<p>Somehow Magdalen pulled herself together. Fool +that she had been to have let Dolly take this place without +seeing it; more fool still never to have found out that +the bookcase hid a door.</p> + +<p>“I can’t make hats, Doll,” she said slowly, untruthfully. +“I tried this morning and I can’t. I’m sorry you +bothered.”</p> + +<p>“We can put them back. I only thought—we haven’t +been getting on too well lately, Magda”—the little name +came softly; there were real tears in Dolly’s eyes—“and +it’s been my fault. I’ve been hateful. I—I wanted to +do something that would please you.”</p> + +<p>They were not sisters who kissed each other; Magdalen’s +hand only fell softly on Dolly’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been priggish and hateful myself,” she said +soberly. “Don’t fuss about what you’ve been. I want +to tell you something—about this room, I mean. I’ve +seen it before, only till you moved the furniture I didn’t +recognize it. I dreamed about it, looking just like this, +and the Chinaman was in it, trying to kill you.”</p> + +<p>Even Dolly gave a start.</p> + +<p>“You had him on your mind,” she said practically.</p> + +<p>“How could I? I dreamed about this place at Ardmore +before I ever saw it or Ah Lee either. It’s—oh, it’s +uncanny and horrible! Besides, I honestly think it’s a +warning.”</p> + +<p>“It’s horrid enough, but”—there was no superstition in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span>Dolly—“we can’t really ever believe in dreams. You’re +sure you didn’t dream it after you saw Ah Lee?” privately +thinking that people who saw ghosts and supernatural +things often forgot details that did not suit them.</p> + +<p>“Certain,” nodding her lovely, strange head. “I saw +Ah Lee and this room as plainly as I see you now, and +he was trying to kill you and I couldn’t save you. I felt +his hands on my throat as I fought with him. Oh, Doll, +do let us leave it! I’ll never have a happy minute here.”</p> + +<p>“We have to give three months’ notice and we’ve paid +our rent in advance.” But there was indecision in Dolly’s +voice.</p> + +<p>When a man has once tried to murder you it is not +pleasant to have people dream he has tried to do it +again, even though you have no faith in such things.</p> + +<p>“Give notice, then, and let’s go. We’ll only lose that +much rent. Don’t laugh, but ever since that Chinese +butler came to Ardmore, bang on top of my dream, I’ve +been frightened. I’ve felt as though I had a sort of +second sight.”</p> + +<p>Dolly gave her a queer look.</p> + +<p>“You might be Scotch,” she said slowly, “by the way +you talk!”</p> + +<p>It was not the word, but the look that made Magdalen +stare at her.</p> + +<p>“How could I be Scotch?” she cried. “Mother wasn’t, +and you remember my father if I don’t. Mother always +said there was nothing Scotch about him but his name.” +She half closed her eyes, as if she saw again the face +of the dead woman who had been Dolly’s mother and hers +and was so like Dolly, so unlike herself. For a moment +she wished she had seen her own father, who had left +her mother a widow for the second time when she was +a year old. She did not notice how sharply Dolly had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span>turned away, nor that when she answered her it was +with her face to the window.</p> + +<p>“Neither there was,” said Dolly with an unsteady +giggle. She was horribly afraid as she stared out of +the blessed panes that let her keep her back turned without +seeming to. “Oh, don’t let’s talk about mother; +she’s dead. Of course, I didn’t mean you could really +be Scotch; it was just rubbish, because you talked about +second sight. If you really feel nervous here we won’t +stay.” She could turn now and she did. “I’ll do anything +you like,” she finished feverishly; “anything! What +do you want to do?”</p> + +<p>“Go to the country. I can get a little house at Marlow +by the week for very little. Let me get something +to eat and go there now. I can get the next train.”</p> + +<p>There were reasons why this proposition suited Dolly +and that absurd dream was not the strongest of them. +London was far from desirable when you dared not go +anywhere. For once she helped to get lunch ready. She +even saw Magdalen down to the street door; but at the +foot of the stairs she paused and drew back into the hallway +by the swinging baize door.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be long,” she said as if for once she did not +want to be left alone. “Send me a wire from Marlow if +you can get a place and I’ll make arrangements about +going away from here at once.”</p> + +<p>Magdalen nodded, got into a bus at the corner of the +street, looked up at a clock as they rumbled along and +saw she must miss the half-past-two train, or take a +hansom.</p> + +<p>As she got down from the bus to hail one she did +not notice another cab pass her with the glass down +and the side curtains drawn; nor as she ran to her just-caught +train at Paddington did it occur to her to glance +at the first-class carriages.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span></p> + +<p>To get out of Hare’s Buildings was her first thought; +to see Lovell and tell him why, the second. She was +certain, somehow, that he could help her.</p> + +<p>But four hours later she stood once more in Paddington +Station and realized that she had nothing to tell him +but that she, Dark Magdalen, was afraid. For all she +had got by her journey was a stuffy coming and going +in a third-class carriage and the knowledge that in all +Marlow there was not a house to be got. They were not +out of Hare’s Buildings yet; and all the way up in the +train her unreasoning terror of the place had been growing +on her.</p> + +<p>“I wish I’d gone to the Marlow Inn and wired for +Dolly,” she thought faintly. “Anything would be better +than another night at home. I——”</p> + +<p>She put her hand in her pocket for her purse and the +purse was gone.</p> + +<p>Her plan of going in search of Lovell was useless. +From Paddington to Hare’s Buildings was a walk enough +in the dusk without that trudge to Fleet Street that her +pride recoiled from and only that senseless, gripping terror +at her heart made possible. With a cab she could have +done it; she dared not take the time to walk, with Dolly +alone in that hateful house. She almost ran as she left +the station. Suppose her dream had come true while +she was out, without her part in it of fighting for Dolly!</p> + +<p>Street after street, square after square, she hurried +through; each hundred yards a mile; a relentless swallowing +of the time—and something told her that she had +not a minute to spare in this cold twilight. When she +came to quiet streets she ran; at the corner of her own +street she leaped forward with a little cry of joy.</p> + +<p>There was no need to go to Fleet Street—never had +been. There, standing under the sickly, flaring gaslight, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span>not ten yards before her, was Lovell—Lovell, who had +helped her twice and would help her again.</p> + +<p>It was not a dream or a Chinaman who could frighten +her with Lovell at her back; her lips parted to call him.</p> + +<p>She paused, flinched, nearly fell, and melted like a +darker shadow into the darkness of an open doorway.</p> + +<p>A man had come across the street with a slow, languid +step—a gentleman of finer mold than was often seen in +that border of the slums. And his face, under his immaculate +silk hat, was the face of Lord Stratharden. +There before her in the flesh were those pale eyes, those +crooked, restless eyebrows, that smile that was not smiling; +and as Stratharden laid his hand on Lovell’s shoulder +the man she had meant to trust neither moved nor started.</p> + +<p>For one swimming moment all the blood in Magdalen +Clyde’s body was in her heart. Lovell and Stratharden!</p> + +<p>Dolly—oh! Dolly had been right! She was sick and +cold with the shock of it as she leaned against the wall +of her sheltering passage; she could not move to save +her soul, though only ten yards away Lovell was talking +to Stratharden.</p> + +<p>A voice she knew, a voice that ten minutes ago she +would have followed to Hades and back again, steadied +her like an electric shock. They were moving, coming +closer, stopping to talk not a yard from her black doorway. +Magdalen was motionless against the dirt-stained +wall.</p> + +<p>Yet all that Lovell was saying was:</p> + +<p>“Keith? No, I’ve not seen her.” Only there was a +devilish coldness in his voice that she had never heard.</p> + +<p>“Well,” Stratharden spoke silkily, “it isn’t of any importance, +my dear boy. At least, I think not. Keith +says it is and I’ve no doubt she thinks so; but the good +creature had always a bee in her bonnet.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span></p> + +<p>There was no answer. Some one knocked his heel impatiently +on the pavement and she knew it was Lovell.</p> + +<p>“Did you come down here and keep me waiting half +an hour to talk of Keith?” he coolly inquired.</p> + +<p>“Not at all. I came down here because you wouldn’t +see me at your photographer’s,” he answered airily. +“Good God, Buff! you don’t tell me you live anywhere in +this vile slum?”</p> + +<p>“Buff!” In all her life she had heard of but one man +thus nicknamed. Like a flash she heard Keith’s grim old +voice in her ears: “Buff Ogilvie, Stratharden’s son? Oh, +ay! he’s a good lad enough.” She hardly heard Lovell +answering—and lying, though neither of his listeners +knew it.</p> + +<p>“I don’t live here. It seemed a retired locality, that’s +all. You requested, if I remember, that it might be retired.”</p> + +<p>Stratharden laughed.</p> + +<p>“You’re very young,” he said; “younger than I was +at your age! I came to tell you something. The whole +thing will be settled inside of a month, but in the meantime +I may as well tell you that at this present moment +you are Stratharden. It is quite time, Buff, to—to throw +over the trade of photographing.”</p> + +<p>“What have you done?”</p> + +<p>To the girl in the dark there was no knowing that +the slow words would have been fierce but for the dread +behind them. Father or no father, if there were truth +in that dread——But the man’s mouth closed firmly. “I +know how you’ve tried and failed,” he said after a long +pause.</p> + +<p>“I was mistaken,” Stratharden returned smoothly; if +he were a trifle startled he did not show it. “My lady is +as sane as you or I, and—damnably clever to a certain +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span>point. Her limitation is that she never was my lady at +all. Did you ever hear of a Mr. Starr-Dalton?”</p> + +<p>Lovell shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Starr-Dalton!” the mouth of the girl in the doorway +was set harder than the man’s outside it. She listened +like a caged fury, for this tallied too well with her own +long thoughts.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, you’ll hear now to the infinite good of your +pocket. Mr. Starr-Dalton is the back-bone of a sham +antique furniture business—too much sham and too little +antique. Also, he has been cashing my lady’s checks for +her, which led to his discovery just when he was required +on various charges of fraud. He babbled a good deal +and finally—well, he can put his finger on Lady Barnysdale’s +live husband. Live!”</p> + +<p>“Lady Barnysdale’s live husband!” As if she were a +child learning a language, Magdalen found herself painfully +translating. What he meant was that Dolly—Dolly +had a husband alive! She never heard Lovell’s answer—would +not have cared if she had. Oh, poor Dolly! who +had been starving, had been brave enough to play a game +a well-fed woman’s blood might have failed her in! And +Starr-Dalton had betrayed her!</p> + +<p>Outside Lovell said something that carried no meaning +to the girl, who was only thinking of Dolly. Afterward +it came back to her terribly enough.</p> + +<p>“I’m playing my own game now,” he said coolly. “I +dare say it may tally with yours, if I know you. But it’s +not yours any more than I’m Buff Ogilvie, till I choose.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"> + CHAPTER XXVI. + <br> + A CURTAIN AND A SHADOW. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>The whole thing had perhaps taken ten minutes; ten +years without it would have taken less strength from +Magdalen Clyde. The world had fallen down about her +ears; Lovell, her lover, the core of her heart, was no +better than Starr-Dalton, whom she had hated. Dolly——</p> + +<p>“I must get home quickly to Dolly,” she thought, when +voices and steps had gone, and she could dare the few +steps that lay between.</p> + +<p>It was a quiet street at night. She met not one soul—and +remembered it afterward in another place. There +was not a light in the house, nor a sound, as she fitted +her latch-key in Madame Aline’s door. As it clicked behind +her she called out chokingly:</p> + +<p>“Dolly! Dolly! bring down a light. Where are you?” +She was sobbing without tears. It was she who must +tell Dolly she was found out, must help her to get away +to-night, anywhere; Dolly, who was between the devil +and the deep sea, and must face prosecution for bigamy, +or worse. “Dolly!” she called again, and the sound of her +voice came back to her.</p> + +<p>In the dark senseless terror smote her. She felt her +way to the stair foot; ran up half-a-dozen steps, fell; ran +again, with her skirt torn and her breath out of her; +called in the dark landing outside the kitchen door.</p> + +<p>“She’s out!” she said to herself. It seemed impossible +that anyone with a secret like Dolly’s should dare to +go out. If it were true, there must be people who knew +it; and Dolly—she might meet any one of them in the +street.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span></p> + +<p>Her fingers closed on the kitchen match-box, and the +match she lighted went out, just as the electric light had +that night at Krug’s, where one man at least had known +Dolly; and Dolly had been afraid.</p> + +<p>She lighted another match, and the gas flashed up. +Magdalen stood staring.</p> + +<p>There was an unearthly neatness in the kitchen, a smell +of yellow soap and charwoman; a look of—she flew from +room to room, lighting the gas in each till it flared. Every +single thing in the house was packed up—gone. Even her +own clothes had vanished. Dolly was out, indeed; forever +and a day.</p> + +<p>For a moment Magdalen shook where she stood among +Madame Aline’s fixtures, with the awful fear that perhaps +Dolly had sent her to Marlow just to be able to +do this in peace.</p> + +<p>She sat down and put both hands to her head.</p> + +<p>“That’s nonsense!” she said to herself feverishly. +“Something must have frightened her. I was a fool to +leave her here alone after telling her about that dream.”</p> + +<p>Then something flashed over her.</p> + +<p>What had Stratharden been doing in front, almost, of +Dolly’s door? What had Buff Ogilvie been doing as Dick +Lovell in Hare’s Rents? For all she knew there had +been enough to frighten Dolly. With her fingers over +her eyes she tried to think collectedly and could not. +Thought after thought broke and raveled in her brain. +In despair she spoke aloud in the desolate kitchen.</p> + +<p>“Dolly’s gone! Stratharden’s found her out! Lovell’s +Buff Ogilvie, Stratharden’s son.”</p> + +<p>Her voice broke in a high, dreadful whisper. “And he +kissed me! Oh, my God! He kissed me.”</p> + +<p>She forgot she was hungry, tired to death. Under the +unshaded gas-jet she sat like a dead woman who grows +cold. There were lines on her face that no girl’s should +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span>have—the awful marks it leaves to find out the man she +has loved.</p> + +<p>After a long time she began to mutter to herself.</p> + +<p>“He kissed me, and he spied on me. For what was +that old French woman but a spy? I hate him. I +could——”</p> + +<p>With senseless fury she struck at the arm of her chair +just as she could have struck at Lovell’s face or at his +heart with a knife, for that matter.</p> + +<p>Black murder was in her blood where she sat alone, +for that blood was wilder than she knew. The horror of +her passion passed and left her cold again.</p> + +<p>“Lovell’s my business,” she said to the dirty gray wallpaper, +“and I’ll have time to settle it. It’s Dolly who +matters now. I’ve got to find her, and the best way is to +sit here. She’ll find out how to let me know. If she even +went to Marlow after me she’ll wire here when she finds +I didn’t stay there.”</p> + +<p>But it was only a sop to Cerberus; she had no real +thought that Dolly had gone to Marlow.</p> + +<p>“I could send a ‘collect’ wire if I knew where,” she +thought with an ugly, mirthless laugh. “But I’d be a +fool to go out even to the telegraph office. For all I +know Dolly may only be round the corner; she might +come back for me any minute. I daren’t be out.”</p> + +<p>A clock Dolly had forgotten struck in the silence. +Seven; it was only seven, and she had thought it the middle +of the night. The homely, comfortable sound brought +her awful loneliness home to Magdalen Clyde. In all +London there was not one soul she could turn to; in spite +of common sense, she sat listening breathlessly for Dolly; +Dolly, who was miles away. Once she caught herself +longing madly for Lovell to come that she might tell him +what she knew, with the dreadful cleverness a cold anger +that can neither forget nor forgive lends a woman’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span>tongue. But there was small danger of his coming. Had +she not made him swear to stay away when she thought +he loved her? He would not come now when he had gone +off with Stratharden to help hunt out Dolly’s shame.</p> + +<p>Somehow she had no contempt for Dolly now; no one +but a brave woman would have dared to act Dolly’s lie.</p> + +<p>In the flaring kitchen her eyes fell on the black oblong +of the uncurtained window; the dark of it held her gaze +as a shining ball hypnotizes. A sound, the ghost of a +sound, would have made her get up and lock it, fasten the +shutters close; but there was no sound.</p> + +<p>A curious smell, half sweet, half nauseous, like decaying +lilac flowers, reached her by little puffs and eddies. +There must be old flowers in the rubbish-filled coal-box; +she could not take the trouble to look. There was a +blank weariness on her, the stupidity that comes after +dreadful anger. Down-stairs, in that room she had +dreamed of, she would have had every sense awake; up +here she gave way to the numbness that was creeping +over her; if Dolly rang the bell now she would hardly +care to answer the summons. The smell of those stale +flowers was very strong.</p> + +<p>Her head felt heavy; she leaned back in the stiff kitchen +chair and rested it against the wall. The gaslight turned +her strange hair into a glorious burnished halo, but under +it the pale face was like a mask, with half-closed, unwinking +eyelids. The queer odor thickened, lost its nauseousness, +was sweet. To her tired brain it seemed to float +in tangible drifts like thin smoke; it soothed her. She +must be very tired to fancy such things about some dead +flowers in the coal-box.</p> + +<p>Of course, since she had overheard Stratharden, she +had no fears for Dolly’s safety or Ronald’s. That danger +was gone when lawful means would dispose of them; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span>for herself she had never had any fears; no one had anything +against her. Everything seemed a long way off, +very unimportant; there was comfort in the bare little +kitchen that smelt so sweet; it was making her sleepy. +The gas ceased to flare in her eyes, a gray curtain seemed +to fall between her and the black square of window.</p> + +<p>A—gray—curtain. It was like shutting her eyes; only +nicer, much nicer; but, of course, they were shut since +she was so nearly asleep.</p> + +<p>If anyone had looked through that bare window—and +it might not have been so hard, for beneath the window +was a stone coping a foot wide and higher than a man’s +knee—he might have seen an ugly sight. For the room +was dim, indeed, with a mist that was thick, as it killed +the air; and in the middle of it a girl sat asleep with her +eyes open. It was too late for a sound to rouse her now +if that was a sound behind her.</p> + +<p>In her empty bedroom the light went out. A black, +wavering thing slipped along the floor and down the +stairs noiselessly. In the hall was the hat and coat Magdalen +had thrown down when she came in; when the +shadow had passed them they were gone. The lights +were gone, too, all but a feeble glimmer that did not come +from gas.</p> + +<p>The little clock struck nine and the shadow moved +faster.</p> + +<p>It was up-stairs again now, black in the gray kitchen. +It held a candle close to those open, unseeing eyes that +never winked. The window opened softly and presently +stood wide.</p> + +<p>But hours of air would not wake this pale girl any more +than lifting her, dragging her head away from the rough +wooden chair where a splinter had caught in the thick +mass of her hair.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span></p> + +<p>The kitchen light was out now and the sound of feet +was audible, if there had been anyone to hear it. Not +even a black shadow can go down-stairs quite noiselessly +if it is real enough to carry a dead weight in its arms.</p> + +<p>The fresh night wind blew in and out of the kitchen, +in and out of Magdalen’s bedroom, and scattered some +fine ashes through the dark. The clock struck ten, tremulously, +as if it were afraid in an empty house, and over +it came the shrill whirr of an electric bell.</p> + +<p>A woman ran up the entrance stairs with a child in her +arms and stamped her foot as she lighted the gas at her +own door and saw a telegraph boy there.</p> + +<p>“What good are telegrams?” she cried. “Here, give +it to me! You’ve been hours.”</p> + +<p>She went in as Magdalen had done, but in her face +there was no surprise when she saw the house was empty. +She had known it would be this two hours. She took a +telegram from her pocket and stared at it.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Madame Aline</span>, Hare’s Buildings, London: I am +not coming back. You had better come here. Bring my +things.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>The date was Marlow. And to Marlow had Dolly gone +in haste and come back frantic. There was no Magdalen +who had sent that wire. “A foreign-looking woman,” the +man said at the telegraph office, “pale, with queer eyes.” +And that must have been Magdalen.</p> + +<p>With a self-control that came from blank anguish Dolly +made a bed for Ronald and put him in it. Magdalen had +thrown her over; she had said she wanted to live her +own life, and now she was doing it.</p> + +<p>“Lovell,” said Dolly to herself. “It’s Lovell.”</p> + +<p>She had not known it could hurt her so to find Magdalen +no better than herself. For it must be that. She +remembered the day Magdalen had come home transfigured +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span>with that in her eyes no woman can either hide +or counterfeit. She was too sick to be angry.</p> + +<p>The bell rang violently; rang again as if it would never +stop.</p> + +<p>“She’s back! she’s no key!” Dolly flew to the door +dizzy with joy. And on the threshold was Mrs. Keith.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"> + CHAPTER XXVII. + <br> + “WHY SHOULD I TRUST YOU?” + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>Mrs. Keith; gaunt, dusty, so shabby—and with such +a look on her face—that but for her voice Dolly would +hardly have known her.</p> + +<p>“Ye’re here. I’ve found ye!” she cried the instant +the door opened. “Bring her here that I may speak with +her. No!” and she pushed away like a leaf the door Dolly +would have shut in her face. “I’ll have none of that; +the time and the need’s over. Call her here, I say, if ye’ve +sense in yer head.”</p> + +<p>She had come in and closed the door behind her before +she said anything but that “No!” She never even +glanced at the bare disorder of the place as she sat down +on one of the three chairs left.</p> + +<p>Dolly stared at her, speechless with fright and anger. +This was not the Mrs. Keith she had fought with, this old +woman whose face was working, who wiped her hard +eyes.</p> + +<p>“Thanks be to Gude I’m in time!” the housekeeper +cried suddenly. “It was just foreordained I should see +ye getting in here.”</p> + +<p>Dolly at last found her voice.</p> + +<p>“What do you want of me? How dare you come here?—follow +me?” she demanded. Her thoughts flew to +Ronald on the sofa; if this strong old woman had come +to take him she would claw her eyes out.</p> + +<p>“I want nothing of ye,” said Mrs. Keith; with her old +distasteful grimness she took in Dolly from head to toe. +“Ye may die in the gutter for all I care. I want the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span>girl ye call yer sister. Have ye no wits, woman, that +ye stand staring? Cry on her to come down.”</p> + +<p>“That ye call your sister.” Dolly clutched at the +smooth wall she stood by.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” she cried.</p> + +<p>“I mean I know she’s not yer sister and never was. +Call her down, ye daft woman. There’s no time to +waste.”</p> + +<p>“Who is she if she isn’t my sister?” If the words were +defiant the voice shook. The unexpected attack had +caught Dolly Barnysdale unprepared.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I’ve come to see. And to save her life +this night, for her look of one that’s dead, and the +chance——Let her down, ye shaking atom; or will ye +never understand!”</p> + +<p>Dolly shook indeed. For once she saw things as they +were and that this was no trick to steal Ronald. Mrs. +Keith—and God knew why—had come here for Magdalen.</p> + +<p>“Get her?” she almost shrieked it. “I can’t get her. +She’s gone! What do you mean about her? What have +you to do with her and her life?”</p> + +<p>“Gone? I’ll not believe it.” The thankfulness disappeared +from the gnarled old face. “Gone?”</p> + +<p>“Go and look,” said Dolly. She went, from meaningless +caution, to Ronald, and stood by him; but she knew +all the while that, for some reason she could not comprehend, +she and Ronald were no more to Stratharden’s +housekeeper than dead leaves on a tree. She had not +thought any old woman could run so frantically from +room to room, could be back at her side with such quickness; +nor that human flesh could wear so livid a fear on +its face.</p> + +<p>“What have ye done with her?” demanded Mrs. Keith +and laid an iron clutch on her shoulder. “Did ye not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span>know from the day he saw her from my window that it +was she, not you, that was in peril of her life?”</p> + +<p>Dolly was shrewd enough. She knew like a flash that +the woman was honest. Mad as she sounded, there +might be—a bare might be, from a dim past—reason in +her wild words. From where she sat beside Ronald she +told Mrs. Keith all she knew about this day’s work and +never thought of the irony of it. If this were Stratharden’s +work, and the woman on his side, she would +know it in any case; if not—all who were not against +Dolly might be with her.</p> + +<p>“And so,” she wound up, “after she said she wouldn’t +stay here because of her dream, I went to Marlow after +her, where I got her telegram from there. And she +wasn’t there. But she had been, for it was she who sent +the telegram. They said so in the office. ‘A woman +with queer eyes.’”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith’s eyes flashed green; but when she spoke +it was as slow as dripping water.</p> + +<p>“She sent you no telegram,” declared Mrs. Keith and +tightened the hand she had never taken from Dolly’s +shoulder. “Why would she, since she was here not an +hour ago? Come yer ways with me.”</p> + +<p>Dolly caught up Ronald and followed her, and in the +kitchen Mrs. Keith turned on her.</p> + +<p>“Smell!” she said. “Smell! or have ye no nose? And +look here! Does a girl drag the hairs out of her own +head?”</p> + +<p>Dolly looked at the hard wooden chair, and long, fine +strands of hair hung from its splintered back like a flame, +sniffed hard at the air—and stood like a stone. When +she left on that wild-goose chase to Marlow there had +been nothing on that clean-scrubbed chair. Magdalen had +come back and gone again. The queer scent in the room +must have been something she had bought to make herself +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span>fair for the man to whom she had gone. For, in spite of +Mrs. Keith, Lovell, and only Lovell, was to Dolly Barnysdale +the meaning of this day’s work.</p> + +<p>“I suppose she caught her hair somehow,” she said +bitterly. “As for the smell, it’s nothing but scent you +buy in a shop.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a scent ye’ll get in no shop,” the woman cut +her short. “It’s——But why am I talking to ye? Answer +me this before I go. Are ye on Stratharden’s side—ye +that he told me was crazy?”</p> + +<p>“Stratharden’s side?” she stupidly reiterated; then +with sudden fury: “His side, when I was in fear of my +life from him, and you know it.”</p> + +<p>“I did not—at the time,” she slowly asserted. “Yer +life’s safe from him now; he’s after other game.” Her +face contracted with a sharp pang. “It’s her he wants,” +she cried, “her! Speak out as if she were in her coffin and +I may be able to save her yet.”</p> + +<p>“Magdalen! From Stratharden?”</p> + +<p>“Just from him. Does she know she’s no half-sister of +yours?”</p> + +<p>“How do you know it?” Dolly asked.</p> + +<p>“I found it out. Ye’d no sister; your mother, that was +Mrs. Deane, took in a woman and a child. The woman’s +name was Clyde and she’d a little money. Your +mother——”</p> + +<p>“What has that to do with Stratharden?” Dolly fiercely +demanded.</p> + +<p>“Maybe nothing. I know it all, that’s all. Now tell +me the woman’s real name, for the fear of God.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t,” replied Dolly. “Mother never knew it. Only +Clyde. And Magdalen never heard of her.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith flung out her hands.</p> + +<p>“There must be some one who knows,” she said chokingly. +“And in the meantime she’ll die for her black +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span>eyes and her red hair. You’ll never see her again—and +I’ll go down to my grave with my work undone.”</p> + +<p>“Stop!” said Dolly furiously. “You’re talking riddles. +Who would hurt Magdalen if her name was not Clyde +ten times over?”</p> + +<p>“Stratharden’s heathen, that she dreamed of. That +scent ye smell is his devil’s incense. Oh, my grief! and +I stand talking here and know no way to turn to look for +her!”</p> + +<p>“But he’d have no reason. It’s I that am in Stratharden’s +way.”</p> + +<p>“Ye’ll be out of it to-morrow. Do ye not guess that +it’s she Stratharden fears? Have ye no love for her +that ye stand making talk? Was there nowhere she +might have gone? But I’m no better! She could go +nowhere with that scent of hell in the house.”</p> + +<p>“Lovell,” said Dolly sharply. Mrs. Keith’s wild talk +and her knowledge of Dolly herself had frightened her +till she almost prayed she was speaking the truth. “I +think she’s gone to Mr. Lovell; and I don’t know where +he lives.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s Lovell?”</p> + +<p>“A man. He——”</p> + +<p>“Would I think he was a spirit?” she questioned harshly.</p> + +<p>“Why would she go to him?”</p> + +<p>Dolly’s misery broke out in bitterness.</p> + +<p>“Because he’s a man!” she cried. “Because he had +a dark skin and a hard mouth, and eyes that looked you +through and through, and a way of moving like a tiger-cat, +soft and quick.”</p> + +<p>“Lovell, ye call him.” Mrs. Keith stood motionless. +“A man that would throw back his head and look at you? +That spoke soft and clean?”</p> + +<p>Dolly nodded sullenly.</p> + +<p>“Then may the Lord have mercy on her,” exclaimed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span>Mrs. Keith. “Woman, that’s no Lovell, but Buff Ogilvie, +Stratharden’s son, for I saw them together. They’ve +trapped her, and ’twas me did it. Me!” Her voice rang +harsh, anguished; she turned to run from the house.</p> + +<p>Dolly, slim, soft Dolly, sprang at her like a cat. When +Magdalen had hated that tigerish love of Dolly’s for +Ronald, she had not guessed it would wake like this for +her.</p> + +<p>“You’ll not go till I know what you’re driving at.” She +shook like a reed the woman she had feared. “Why +would they trap her? Why do you talk nonsense about +Ah Lee having been in a locked-up house like this? What +has she to do with Stratharden?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith looked at her and was her old stony self.</p> + +<p>“I’ll not tell you,” said she, “till I find her. Why +would I trust you any more than him, a light woman and +a liar?” She shook Dolly’s hands off like water, and the +heavy sound of her old feet came back as she ran, with +trembling knees, down the stairs.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"> + CHAPTER XXVIII. + <br> + ONLY A BIT OF GOLD FILIGREE. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>Lord Stratharden sat in his own bedroom in the little +maisonette that opportune whitewashing of his had +allowed him to return to as if he had never fled from +it, and pursued a peculiar employment with interest.</p> + +<p>On the floor beside him, and even in his preoccupation +he was careful not to let cigarette ashes fall in them, +were two open boxes, the entire wardrobe of a woman +who, if she had little, had it dainty. Nothing was marked +and everything was almost new.</p> + +<p>Stratharden turned up the last layer in the last box +with the patience of a man who is thorough, even though +he expects nothing.</p> + +<p>At last he found something that flushed his sallow +cheek.</p> + +<p>“My God!” he said softly, because in his youth he had +believed in one. “This thing—and me!”</p> + +<p>For he knew what he had in his hand as a man knows +a trinket with which he has tried—and failed—to buy a +woman. Only a bit of gold filigree with a turquoise N +on it—a cheap offer for a woman’s soul and body if it had +only possessed the value it looked and not a thousand thousand +times more.</p> + +<p>“So she kept it. She was a clever devil!” he thought, +but the look of the pin made a devil in him as he held +it. His world would have been loud in incredulous laughter +if they had known what was in his mind. Never in +all his variegated life had Stratharden’s soul or mind, +or flesh even, turned with a real emotion to any woman +but this one, who had only cared for another man. He +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span>thought of the women who had given him all she denied +him; was sick again as he had been in their arms, because +there was no pleasure in any woman’s kisses but hers; +cursed aloud because for all his pains he had been “faithful +to her in his fashion” in many a gray dawn and midnight +madness. Oh, he owed her a debt—a debt! Never +in all his life had any woman quickened his pulses in him; +never, try as he might, had he been able to care. It was +a good debt—and he would pay it. Pay it so that Ninon’s +rotting flesh should feel it in her grave.</p> + +<p>“Her daughter!” exclaimed Lord Stratharden, and +did not know his mouth was gray. “And I did it for the +chance. I never, as God’s my witness, believed in it.”</p> + +<p>But he believed now. He sat, an old man, racked with +accusing thoughts. And Ninon had died young, out of +her torture—and what his reflections were is not good +to write.</p> + +<p>A noise, that in another house would have been called +brawling, brought him out of his thoughts in a flash. +Quick as he was he had but time to get those open boxes +into a safe place before the winning side in that loud +fight was on him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Keith, her hand tingling from the crack that had +blinded James, stood beside him. And the man who +meant to put back the clock one way or another lifted his +eyebrows at her in cool inquiry.</p> + +<p>“Is David dead—or Ardmore burned?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Ye’ve done it,” she said, and it was not an answer; +nor did she trouble to close the door. “Ye spied on me +till ye found her out, and now ye’ve spirited her away. +Ye and yer heathen, and Buff Ogilvie, that I thought his +mother’s blood had leavened till yer own was out of +him.”</p> + +<p>Lord Stratharden shut the door and handed to her a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span>glass of neat whisky; and as he spoke the wonder on his +face was real.</p> + +<p>“Drink that and sit down. You’re exhausted. And +then tell me what you’re talking about.”</p> + +<p>“Ye well know!” She was breathing heavily and she +needed the whisky, if it was her enemy’s. When she put +down the glass her hand was steady. “Oh, ye well know, +Stratharden! Ye can cease yer play-acting and yer eyebrow +rounding. That girl that ye wanted—his daughter—brings +me here.”</p> + +<p>He stopped her as a man stops a ball.</p> + +<p>“Are you at that old story?” he asked slowly. “Poor +Keith, it isn’t true. There’s no hope of it. That girl lives +only in your faithful head. Do you think that I, hopelessly +ousted myself, would not be glad to believe in it +and give Barnysdale’s wife and brat the go-by, as you’d +say? I would, indeed. But that red-haired, black-eyed +Clyde girl is nothing but what she seems—Lady Barnysdale’s +half-sister. Do you want me to see her? For I +will with pleasure.” And he looked so guileless and +truthful that she feared him as she had never feared him +before.</p> + +<p>“Bring her out then, if ye’d see her,” said she. “For +a man who sent Buff Ogilvie to her and then took her +by ye’re heathen, ye’re not overclever.” She had warmed +to her work, perhaps aided by the whisky, and she forgot +caution. She raved at him and told all she knew, and +he sat like a stone till she was done. Then he touched her +shoulders forgivingly.</p> + +<p>“You’re quite foolish,” he said gravely. “As for the +girl, she is only an impostor, and all you’ve told me is +guesswork. What would I do with her? And as for +Ah Lee, he left my service a month ago. I know no +more of him than the dead. If she’s disappeared it’s——What +did you mean about Buff?” he asked with a sudden +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span>flash that seemed natural, though it had required a +supreme effort to defer the question. He could not for +his life see how Buff could be mixed up in it, and yet +some words came back to him queerly.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell him!” She fairly spat the words at him. “I +believe no single word ye’ve said. I——”</p> + +<p>The room went round, turned dark; if some one fell +Mrs. Keith did not hear the crash of it.</p> + +<p>“Very like a fit,” said Stratharden musingly, five minutes +after. “Queer stuff, whisky.”</p> + +<p>He rang the bell and gave a kindly order. The old +woman was such a faithful servant and apparently so ill; +and he really could not have Buff told things by anyone +but himself.</p> + +<p>It was nothing to him that through that long night +a girl was calling for Buff by a name his father had never +heard, but it was important that Buff was the only person +to be feared in the whole business.</p> + +<p>“And that good Keith has forewarned me of him,” said +Lord Stratharden, and went peacefully to his bed.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"> + CHAPTER XXIX. + <br> + THE GREEN BAIZE DOOR. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>There is a drug in the hellish pharmacopœia of China, +to prevent the further manufacture of which tender-hearted +people should go on their knees and pray the allied +powers may some day wipe the Chinese off the face of the +earth.</p> + +<p>The taking of it means death, very slow death. The +burning of it—for it is primarily a gum and, made into +pastilles with sawdust, has a smell that is half pleasant—is +not a good thing for the person who sits in the smoke +of it. After half an hour of that vapor it is impossible +to move either hand or foot, to wink though a candle +singes the eyelashes. But there is no insensibility in that +paralysis, which is where the wickedness of the stuff comes +in. Hearing, seeing, feeling the tortures of the damned +into the bargain, the person stupefied can neither move +nor cry out; even tears are stopped in them. The only +trouble with the stuff, from a Chinese point of view, is +that to use it twice in twenty-four hours spells death to +the victim. And it is not always safe to have a dead +body on your hands.</p> + +<p>Thus every step of the way down-stairs was clear to +Magdalen Clyde as her head hung down lifeless over Ah +Lee’s arm. For she knew it was Ah Lee, though he was +dressed in a woman’s black gown; she felt the hateful +nails of his long fingers as he clutched her. What was +the matter with her that she could not scream? Her heart +felt as if it would burst in the dreadful effort; a cold pain +shot, lightning-swift, through her limbs; and her thoughts—if +she could think, how was it she could do no more?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span></p> + +<p>It was all so simple. Ah Lee was taking her away. +They were going down-stairs, turning not to the street, +but to the green baize door.</p> + +<p>What for? There was no way out there. The tailor +would find her there in the morning; the man who carried +her was a fool. It seemed hardly to matter that she +could not, for some dreadful constriction somewhere, +either move or scream. The cold air of the little dark +room struck fresh on her face.</p> + +<p>Ah Lee—she saw his face as he lighted a match, and +could have shrieked with horror at something that surmounted +his fishy eyes and smooth forehead—laid her +down on the table like a parcel.</p> + +<p>“He’s going to leave me here!” she thought. “What +for?”</p> + +<p>She felt as if she wrenched her bones out of their +sockets as she tried to see what he was doing behind her; +yet all the while she knew she had not so much as moved +her little finger. That cold torture swept through her +again, and she could not even grind her teeth on it. For +a moment that alone, and it was quite enough, took all her +attention. When it passed she knew that whatever Ah +Lee was he was not the fool she thought.</p> + +<p>“The ventilator!” She saw the beautiful case of it all +like a flash, just as she saw before her the source of +that draft she had been too stupid to find. In one +corner of the room was a square iron patch, cut out +into patterns; a bit of filigree, not a grating. As Ah Lee +lighted a match over it the rush of air from it put out +the flickering thing.</p> + +<p>“The table was over it when I was here,” she thought +with deadly recollection. “That was why I didn’t find it,” +and the sweat of fear was damp on her hands. The Chinaman +was going to put her in the cellar, and——</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span></p> + +<p>“That horrible smell up-stairs!” She could put it together +now with dreadful clearness. “It made me like +this. I can’t speak or move; I’ll be dead in the cellar—no +one ever goes there.”</p> + +<p>From where he had laid her on her side she saw, with +the eyes she could not shut, Ah Lee rise softly from his +knees; business-like and impassive, as if he had been handling +the potatoes at Ardmore Castle.</p> + +<p>He picked her up—living, breathing Magdalen Clyde, +who could neither move nor cry—and carried her to the +corner of the floor where there was no fancy iron cover +now but only a square opening. In the black darkness +she felt the edges of it as he——</p> + +<p>God! God in heaven! Her feet were down that hole +to her knees; his hands were round her waist; were under +her arms! She was sliding like a log down to the unknown +horror below. The filth of an unused cellar, +the——She heard the scurrying of the horde of London +rats as her head got below the level of the floor, +while her feet still touched on nothing. Why did he not +let her drop and be done?</p> + +<p>For his grip was in her armpits still, and as she hung +she felt his feet in their woman’s skirt pass her face. He +was leaning down with her half in and half out of the +opening.</p> + +<p>Her feet touched something, stone cold, solid.</p> + +<p>Ah Lee, still clutching her with one hand—she had not +thought a piece of smug yellow flesh could be so strong—was +lowering himself with the other.</p> + +<p>As she thought it the man made the quick drop of +a gymnast, and with a trick of the arm eased her softly +to the floor where he stood beside her.</p> + +<p>Exactly as a bird watches a snake she watched him; +she even wondered, through the cold fear that was on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span>her, how he had come to get her instead of Dolly. It was +Dolly he had meant to leave to the rats in this place—able +neither to scream nor move.</p> + +<p>There must have been good stuff in Magdalen Clyde; +she thanked God that Ah Lee had not got Dolly, even as +she saw him put up his arms and lift himself half out +of the open hole.</p> + +<p>She would have shut her eyes if she could, not to see +him go in the light of the match he held in his teeth. +But she could only watch him till the match light died. +He reached out for something, and then the dark hid him.</p> + +<p>“He’s going,” she thought slowly. “And the rats will +come.” She had always had a deadly, foolish terror of +rats. She prayed God she might not die that death, but +some other.</p> + +<p>Something dropped lightly beside her; over her head +was a sound of iron settling into its socket. In the deadly +silence of the place a hand felt for her, very soft and +slow.</p> + +<p>He had not gone. He had put the grating of the manhole +into its place.</p> + +<p>“He’s going to kill me!” thought the girl; and was +glad, because of those scurrying rats.</p> + +<p>Well, but for Dolly left alone, what was death? Yesterday +there had been Lovell, to-day there was only some +burned-out ashes and a lie. It was not for Buff Ogilvie +and his Judas kisses that she would fain stay in the world, +though perhaps the thought of them added another pang +to the going out of it. The awful terror of death that +catches the heart and turns it over came on her. She was +brave as women go, but a man might have winced at the +slow touch of those fingers that had murder in them. +They crept like loathsome worms from her wrist to her +throat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span></p> + +<p>For a moment the Chinaman felt the stagnant pulse +there. He grunted to himself, and as Magdalen Clyde +waited for the blow that would end her—and perhaps it +may be not written against her as cowardice that she +prayed he might not bungle at the job—he stood erect +and turned away. She heard him stepping across the +cellar, and she knew now whose step that was which had +waked her on a night now centuries past.</p> + +<p>A little creak of wood sounded loud, but before she +could wonder at it the man was at her side again. He +threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and +as he did it she saw where the cold draft came from that +aired the tailor’s room. Just a common wooden hatchway, +wide open, the starlit oblong of it bright as day in +the black cellar.</p> + +<p>Ah Lee grunted again as he shoved his corpselike burden +up and through; climbed out himself with beautiful +lightness and with business-like attention to details, lowered +the lid of the cellar hatch to the proper angle and +fitted in the iron bars that no one had looked at for months.</p> + +<p>“We’re in the court between our house and Madame +Duplessis’,” Magdalen thought swiftly, for that was where +the cellar hatch must open. Flat on her back, on cold, +greasy stones, she could not be sure, since all she could +see was a star in a straight line over her. She could not +move her eyeballs any more than if she and they had been +cut out of white marble. But she could think and touch +hell by it. Lovell, the blind French woman, and Stratharden’s +Chinaman made a dreadful sum in her head. If +Ah Lee took her to Lovell, who was Ogilvie, the horror +of it would kill her.</p> + +<p>For a long five minutes it seemed as if he could not +make up his mind what to do. He stared about him +with lack-luster eyes, and was at last sure the court was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span>empty. The only way out of it was through the passages +of Hare’s Rents, and at this hour they would be deserted.</p> + +<p>Ah Lee chose one of them, haphazard; pulled down +a veil from his lady-like hat, and did not look so unlike +the broken-down women with a pretense of decency who +crawl along the pavements of the slums.</p> + +<p>He picked up his burden very differently this time and +was careful to stagger under it, as a woman might do who +makes shift to carry another who is drunk or ill. Anywhere +else some one would have stared curiously at the +queer sight; Hare’s Rents was callous; also, it was out +or in bed. But even Ah Lee hid against his arm the dreadful +face and staring eyes of the girl he carried as he +neared the open doorway that led through the Rents to +the lane. Some child might shriek at the look of those +eyes.</p> + +<p>The horrible sweetness of the drug he carried hung +about his woman’s mantle and half stifled Magdalen Clyde. +She felt him come to a sudden pause and did not know +that one word—that she could not speak—would have +saved her.</p> + +<p>For they were in the passage where an ugly gas-jet +burned dim; and there, between Ah Lee and the street, +sprung from Heaven knew where, stood a woman. She +was oddly dressed, almost like a nun; and as she stood +she stared.</p> + +<p>The Chinaman opened his lips to speak, and with a +quick change in his face shut them again. Those bright-brown +eyes that glared so widely were blind!</p> + +<p>Noiseless as a drift of wind he passed and was gone +into the street beyond. Aunt Manette breathed softly +through her nose, moistened her lips with a delicate, tasting +movement.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span></p> + +<p>“What an abominable odor!” said she to herself curiously. +“But of course——”</p> + +<p>Magdalen’s head, of its own weight, fell back from the +Chinaman’s arm; her desperate, immovable eyes saw the +French woman Lovell had sent to her turn away smiling.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXX"> + CHAPTER XXX. + <br> + LORD STRATHARDEN BEGINS. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>Lord Stratharden rose with unusual alacrity the next +morning. He had thought out all he meant to do and he +had best do it. In the gray dawn he had had a sudden +uncomfortable idea that he would have done better to fall +in with Mrs. Keith’s theory that the red-haired girl was +what the turquoise-studded heart—and other things—made +likely. The sham Lady Barnysdale could have been +made accountable, then, for her pseudo half-sister’s disappearance; +she would have had good reason to be rid +of her.</p> + +<p>“I could not have exposed her, though,” he reflected +and was comforted.</p> + +<p>His line was right after all. Yesterday had been a +hard day; the hardest thing in it to have those two boxes +cleverly abstracted from the pile Dolly had left in charge +of a porter. Lord Stratharden’s nerve had served him +well while he held the man in conversation, and knew +that behind his back those two boxes were going into a +cab.</p> + +<p>Dolly Barnysdale, in her desperate hurry to get home, +never noticed that her luggage receipt was for three boxes +and not five. But Lord Stratharden knew.</p> + +<p>He was an utterly desperate man this morning as he +tied his immaculate necktie. No one knew better than he +what the woman whose money he had borrowed would +do if he did not give her the return he had promised for +it. But a desperate man is bad to fight and Stratharden +knew it. He looked in silent consultation at his own face +in the glass.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span></p> + +<p>“The girl is—not likely to turn up!” thought he serenely. +“My supposed sister-in-law will suspect no—no +under currents—when she learns that a lady claimed those +boxes. She will think of some man I feel assured. I +will go first, then, to my lady; and put any thoughts beyond +her own welfare out of her head. As for Buff——” +He paused with a certain uneasiness. What Buff had +had to do with that dark-eyed girl he could not get at +unless it was the—usual thing.</p> + +<p>“For Buff, the less he knows of the affair the better,” +he concluded. “Thanks to neat whisky on top of exhaustion, +our good Keith has had something very like a fit. I +must send the doctor to see the old woman and explain +to him about her harmless hallucinations. But I don’t +know! She’s canny; she won’t be apt to talk. I’ll merely +suggest that he suggests rest and nursing. So that our +old and faithful servant won’t find it so easy to get out +of my house and scour London to confide in Buff. There’s +no one else to tell him. Gad, for all I know, he may be +in love with the girl. Or else he’s more like me than I +thought;” but this smile was less like smiling than ever.</p> + +<p>He left the house so quietly on his important day’s +work that James was too late to open the door for him.</p> + +<p>That excellent servant was nonplused for a moment +when he found his master gone, but his face cleared as he +decided that what he had meant to tell him was probably +of no importance.</p> + +<p>“Anyhow, I couldn’t help it,” thought he, and turned +back to his morning paper.</p> + +<p>And Lord Stratharden, with a mind at ease, mounted +Dolly Barnysdale’s stairs. He was more annoyed than +polite when his fourth ring at the bell brought no answer. +The fifth was more successful, since it nearly +brought the house down.</p> + +<p>Dolly, white as death, opened the door.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span></p> + +<p>Stratharden eyed her up and down in silence.</p> + +<p>“What do you want?” she demanded, and he realized he +had never heard the real Dolly speak before. “What have +you done with Magdalen?”</p> + +<p>If Keith’s raging had not forewarned him he could +never have let the second question pass as if unheard.</p> + +<p>“I want to say unpleasant things,” said he softly. “My +dear, foolish little woman, I—well, believe me, I feel for +you!”</p> + +<p>“How?” asked Dolly. She never moved an inch. “You +did it. Keith said so. Tell me what you’ve done with +Magdalen or I’ll tell,” and her tongue was venomous, “the +whole town about Ardmore and what you tried to do to +me—and Ronald.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t,” said he slowly, “know what you mean. Who +is Magdalen? And what has Keith to do with this matter? +My good girl you’re dreaming! Poor Keith is in +bed at my house, suffering from the fits to which she is +subject. She came there last night quite irresponsible. +Do you mean she had been here?”</p> + +<p>“You know she was here.” Dolly spoke up bravely, +but in spite of herself she was the least bit shaken. He +looked so absolutely, politely puzzled. “And you know +Magdalen is my stepsister and that you took her away.”</p> + +<p>Lord Stratharden had in that one second of her recoil +from him came into the little hall without either haste or +pushing. He glanced about him before he answered perfunctorily.</p> + +<p>“I never to my knowledge saw your stepsister in my +life, except once from the window of Keith’s lodgings. If +Keith, with an epileptic fit coming on her, told you any +such nonsense as that I should wish to carry off your +sister—though, of course, I don’t doubt she’s charming”—with +a bow—“you must see for yourself that it is untenable. +I should have no reason.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span></p> + +<p>“Keith said you had.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! What was it?”</p> + +<p>“She wouldn’t—I won’t tell you.”</p> + +<p>“She wouldn’t say? Precisely. Her poor brain could +not invent a reason. What, in common sense, should I +want with your sister? I came, my good girl, on far +other business.” The insolence in his voice was unmistakable.</p> + +<p>“How dare you call me that?” Dolly cried. “No, hold +your tongue! I don’t care what you call me. All I care +for is that Magdalen’s gone—and I know she never left +me of her own accord. She went to Marlow, and when I +followed she wasn’t there.”</p> + +<p>“So you think she’s with me. I confess I hardly see +the connection.”</p> + +<p>“You, or your son, who lied to her and called himself +Lovell,” she hotly replied. “It’s all one. Keith said you’d +both a hand in it.”</p> + +<p>Stratharden’s eyebrows came down. He would have +a score to settle with Keith.</p> + +<p>“My son,” he said, and it had been a knock-down blow +to him to find Buff in the thing so heavily, “has five +names. It’s immaterial to me which one he uses. I confess +I should have liked to have changed my own name +when I found how much mud had been thrown at it. +But I don’t think you’ll find your sister with my son,” +and he said it confidently.</p> + +<p>“But she’s with some one,” Dolly flashed out. “Her +boxes are gone from the station where I left them.”</p> + +<p>Stratharden smiled.</p> + +<p>“Did her sister never go off with anyone in haste and +without leave?” he asked calmly. “That sort of thing +usually runs in families.”</p> + +<p>Dolly looked at him.</p> + +<p>“It’s better than murder,” she said with her cat’s teeth +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span>showing, “and that runs in families, too. I don’t believe a +word you say to me. Come here.”</p> + +<p>She cast a hasty glance at the locked door of the dining-room +as she passed it and prayed Ronald would not find +out he was shut in.</p> + +<p>Stratharden followed her with a shrug. He was keen +enough to see all there was.</p> + +<p>“Look there,” said Dolly, in the kitchen, where that +strand of hair was darkly red on the rough chair. “And +there”—in Magdalen’s bedroom, where a tiny pile of +gray ashes was on the floor. “That was something your +Chinaman brought—Keith said so. I don’t know why +you sent him nor what Magdalen was to you, but she was +taken out of this house by you. And I’ll tell that, and all +I know, to the police. Do you think I didn’t know you +tried to kill us at Ardmore?”</p> + +<p>Stratharden drew a long breath, held it, and looked her +in the eyes. It is a useful trick if you lower your head +at the same time.</p> + +<p>“I think,” said he, “that you are playing a very foolish +game. It is nothing to me that you choose to invent lies +about your stay at Ardmore—the whole countryside will +know you for a liar in a day or two. But it is something +to me that you should put your sister’s bolting with some +man, on my, or my son’s, shoulders. I know nothing +about the girl; she may be anywhere in London for all +I know”—which was absolutely true—“and as for my +Chinaman, as you call him, he left my service a month +ago. For that,” he flicked contemptuously at the heap of +ashes, “it is the remnant of a pastille, neither more nor +less. You buy them at the chemist’s.”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t try so hard to scatter it,” said Dolly, +watching his stick moving in the gray ashes. “I’ve more. +And I’m going to tell. No one, I don’t care who they are, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span>shall play tricks with Magdalen.” She shook with rage, +but her eyes were fearless.</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course not!” Stratharden assented with evil +slowness. “Personally I should not, in your case, talk of +tricks, since——I confess, if your sister knows all that +I do, I can’t wonder she left you in some haste! Did you +never, Lady Barnysdale,” with a stress on the name, “hear +of a man called Churchill?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Dolly. But her face was gray.</p> + +<p>“Then I think we will let him recall himself to your +memory,” he quietly remarked, “in court. It was a clever +plan, my good girl, but not workable. If I were you I +should say very little indeed about your sister having left +you; and as for your wild accusations—how much credence +do you suppose a jury will put in a woman who +never was Lady Barnysdale at all? Your son——”</p> + +<p>Dolly was swaying like a fainting woman, but she leaped +toward him at that word.</p> + +<p>“Is Barnysdale’s son!” she cried. “His own son.”</p> + +<p>“You and Churchill can prove it,” said Stratharden. +And Dolly Barnysdale winced from the blow. Churchill +could prove it, indeed. And Magdalen—if Magdalen +knew, no wonder she left a woman who was found out.</p> + +<p>When Dolly lifted her beaten head Stratharden was +smiling at her; just as if he knew that the one thing that +would tell in her favor before a jury was something that—knowing +him—she would have died rather than use.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"> + CHAPTER XXXI. + <br> + THE BLIND GUIDE. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>“A fit,” Lord Stratharden had said.</p> + +<p>There was very little look of such a seizure on Mrs. +Keith’s face as she let herself softly out of his house at +five o’clock in the morning. She stood and shook her fist +at the closed windows.</p> + +<p>“A common drunken woman,” said she grimly. “That’s +what ye made of me last night and ye’ll pay dear for it. +It’s not me that will need a dram this night!”</p> + +<p>She was off down the deserted street with amazing +speed for an old woman who had been drunk overnight +and had eaten nothing for eighteen hours.</p> + +<p>She had no money and no idea where to go to find +Buff Ogilvie; no hope either of getting much out of +him if she did find him, since he was his father’s son.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go first to that queer woman who’s lost her sister,” +she thought with a hope she knew to be a lie that the +missing girl might have got home again. But it was +nearly nine o’clock before her weary old feet took her +to Dolly’s door; she stood looking up and down the street +with hungry eyes for Magdalen Clyde, and saw no one +but a man crossing the end of the square. Her eldritch +yell brought the tailor to his window, but he saw no one +either. Keith—and Heaven knows how she got there—was +round the corner and clawing the arm of a tall +man in blue serge clothes.</p> + +<p>“Ogilvie,” she panted. “How come ye here? I’ve—but +it’s no matter! For the sake of the mother that bore +ye, and ye know what her life was as I do, what have +ye done with my dead master’s child?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span></p> + +<p>“Keith!” The man stared in bewilderment. Haggard-eyed, +trembling with exhaustion, he hardly knew the stern +old woman. It was no wonder that he thought her distraught. +“You in London!”</p> + +<p>“I’ve been here weeks; but let that go!” There were +tears in her eyes that he had never seen soften. “It’s a +black business, Ogilvie——”</p> + +<p>“I don’t go by that name,” he cut her off with a half +laugh. “I’m done with the breed, Keith. My mother’s +name was Lovell, and so is mine.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not concerned with what they call ye. Ye take a +queer way to be done with yer blood when ye mix in +this business. What have ye done with that girl I saw +ye with—her they call Magdalen Clyde? She’s gone, and +Ogilvie, or Lovell, or Stratharden, I’ll get even with ye +if I scream hell down.”</p> + +<p>“Gone?” exclaimed Lovell. “What do you mean?” +He made a step to go back to Magdalen’s home, which +he had never entered, and the old woman caught his coat.</p> + +<p>“Are ye in it? By the mother that bore ye?” Her +eyes seemed to bore into his.</p> + +<p>“In it? In her going? I! By God”—and she had +never known him to swear before a woman—“I don’t +know what you mean!”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell ye, then,” she answered chokingly. “No, not +here—and not at her house. Stratharden, if I know him, +is there now. Have ye nowhere ye can take me? for I +fear me I’ll drop before my work’s done.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he briefly replied. He put his arm through +hers and guided her. “But what are you saying about my +father? What has he to do with her?”</p> + +<p>But she could not answer, and at his door in Hare’s +Rents he picked her up like a child and carried her to his +room. If the blind woman’s door was open as he passed, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span>he did not notice it, nor realize that the sound of his +feet told that he carried a burden.</p> + +<p>“Now,” he said, as he sat her down and shut the door, +“begin! Where is Magdalen Clyde gone and what do +you know about her? How did you know to come to me? +or that I’m——”</p> + +<p>“Then ye know it! Ye false-swearing——”</p> + +<p>“That I’m going to marry her?” with an angry laugh. +“Go on.”</p> + +<p>“That——” The woman looked at him and the hard +strength, the loyalty of him came home to her soul. +“Ogilvie, Ogilvie,” she sobbed. “She’s ye’re cousin; she’s +Ian’s, my Ian’s daughter. She’s Countess of Barnysdale.”</p> + +<p>The Ogilvie who had forsworn his name stood dumb.</p> + +<p>Out in the hall some one prayed in the breathing silence +for hearing, with blind, fierce eyes.</p> + +<p>“Ian’s daughter,” the man said stupidly. “He never +had one.”</p> + +<p>“Ye were told so,” said Mrs. Keith. “I should know, +since I was at her bearing. And Stratharden, who stole +from me what I’d found out about her, knows, too. Think +ye, when I find her gone and the hair of her head torn +from her, that I would not guess at Stratharden? It’s +she that Ardmore belongs to, and once she’s gone, ye’ll +see that, by hook or crook, Stratharden will oust that +feckless body, her sister—show she was, maybe, never +Lady Barnysdale at all.”</p> + +<p>Lady Barnysdale—that sister of Dark Magdalen’s, to +whom he had scarcely given a thought! And Stratharden—he +knew what Keith only guessed at about that ousting +of Dolly. Father of his or not, if Stratharden had dared +to meddle with Dark Magdalen he should pay for it.</p> + +<p>“Tell me all you know,” he said, and his face was not +good to see. “About her going away, I mean. I don’t +care who she is—till I get her back again.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span></p> + +<p>He walked up and down as she poured out her broken-backed, +disconnected story; a thing of shreds and patches +picked up here and there.</p> + +<p>“You that know her,” she cried, “did ye not see that +she was Ian over again? Did ye not mind the likeness +in the chapel? I stood her beneath it, and I marked her +line by line.”</p> + +<p>“I never was in the chapel. Was it likely I would +hear much of my uncle Ian?” His look was absent as +if this part of the story was nothing to him. “It’s yesterday +I want to know about. What made you think of Ah +Lee?”</p> + +<p>“Do ye no mind the heathen scent of him? In his +clothes when ye passed him? It was there in the room +where her bonny hair had caught in the chair he’d taken +her from. Did ye ever smell the like of it but with him?”</p> + +<p>She jumped up and caught him by the arm.</p> + +<p>“Where are ye going?” She was afraid of the look +on his face.</p> + +<p>“To my father. Let me go, Keith. If what you’ve told +me is true the sooner I’m with him the better.”</p> + +<p>“To have him lie to ye as he lied to me—soft and +quick. No, no! Go to her sister, Lady Barnysdale, +and——Oh, man! do ye not see that all I’ve told ye’s +but guesswork? We’ve got to get the girl in our hands +and find out it’s true before ye face Stratharden down. +And”—quickly, for he was not listening to her—“here +is one who knows—a woman named Duplessis, that +was——Heavens! who is that?”</p> + +<p>He turned at the cry. Aunt Manette stood in the doorway, +and there was nothing human in the look of her +face.</p> + +<p>“I—that woman!” she cried. “I—oh, yes, I listened, +M. Lovell. It is my business more than yours. This +woman here is right. I, who know it all, can tell you; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span>though, till I heard to-day, I could not put it all together.”</p> + +<p>“You!” Keith cried. “Madame Duplessis, that +died——”</p> + +<p>“That was blinded,” Aunt Manette corrected her, very +softly.</p> + +<p>Lovell looked from one to the other. They were speaking +of things that were Greek to him.</p> + +<p>“What have you to do with it?” he said to the French +woman.</p> + +<p>“I am her grandmother,” said Aunt Manette simply. +“She is my Ninon’s child. And your servant here is +right; where she is gone she was carried. I was last +night in the passage, and there went past me, slowly and +slowly, a man who carried a burden. And the scent +from his clothes was one of the East, like sweet corruption. +I, that am blind, stood there while he passed me by. +Fool that I was never to know it was the Chinaman!”</p> + +<p>The Chinaman! Why did she speak as if she knew the +man? To Aunt Manette, in Hare’s Rents, “a Chinaman” +should have come more naturally. Lovell looked from +one old woman to the other, angry at their mysteries that +he did not know.</p> + +<p>The French woman ran to him with her unerring instinct.</p> + +<p>“You are reasonable,” she cried; “we waste time. But +tell me where it is that you are going.”</p> + +<p>“Police.” There was enough of his father in him to +make him careless whether he walked over his own flesh +and blood, so that he had his dark love back again. +That any woman should be at a Chinaman’s mercy sickened +him; but that it was Magdalen sent him mad.</p> + +<p>“Police,” said the blind woman with her hard daintiness, +“will take time! We have no time. You and I, +Mr. Lovell, will do better. If——You are Stratharden’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span>son! Swear to me that you love her; swear quickly—that +I may trust you still!”</p> + +<p>Lovell, who cared for no man’s will, obeyed her like +a child. The man was sick to the core, and perhaps did it +mechanically.</p> + +<p>“As she loves me,” he ended very low. But Aunt Manette +believed him. She pointed a white finger at Keith.</p> + +<p>“Go to her sister,” said she; “stay with her. The sister +who is a stranger and may not be true. Keep her +under your hand—till we come.”</p> + +<p>Keith nodded. Nunlike coif, strange name and all, she +knew Madame Duplessis now, the woman that had overturned +a throne.</p> + +<p>And it was that woman, not humble Aunt Manette, that +turned again to Lovell.</p> + +<p>“I hate your father,” she said. “I hated his Chinaman. +For years it has been my affair to know where +they were that I might turn my hand against them; for +between them they broke my Ninon’s heart. I that am +blind will take you that are strong to that Chinese den +where the police dare not go.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll go alone. You can’t,” he roughly answered.</p> + +<p>“And at midnight not have found it! Sainte Vierge! +must I tell you that I, whom you think half bedridden, +am a blessed saint to those slums you never see? Where +you could not go I can take you. Night after night have +I smoothed their dying in those dens for nothing? Shall +I not go where I please in broad day?”</p> + +<p>It would be fighting for two women instead of one, but +he did not say so. He was mad to be off, and if she could +guide him it would save time.</p> + +<p>At her door she bade him wait; and came out again +with a decent shawl over her head; an old blue shawl +that would bring half-a-dozen ruffians to her back at the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span>sight of it. She had not lied when she said she was a +blessed angel in those slums.</p> + +<p>“Take that,” she said, and put in his hand something +that had an ugly glitter; “but do not use it unless you +must. Trust your hands the good God made strong—for +this day.”</p> + +<p>He marveled, as Magdalen had done, at the way she +threaded the streets with hardly a question; one hand +on his arm, the other against the filthy houses they passed. +And thus he forgot everything but Magdalen, for he who +lived in Hare’s Rents and would have said he knew each +inch of their neighborhood was lost after five hundred +yards. Through filthy yards and unspeakable alleys the +blind woman led him; by twists and turns, in sunlight +and darkness—for twice they went in one door of a house +and came out another—she hurried him on. He saw +she counted her steps interminably, felt every greasy wall +and doorway they went through, and when at last she +stopped he stared.</p> + +<p>They stood in a court, respectable after the reeking alleys +they had threaded, an empty court with whole windows +instead of broken ones; and a silence like death +hung over their heads.</p> + +<p>“Do not speak,” she muttered as she drew him swiftly +into a doorway. “The place, each window, would be +alive!”</p> + +<p>She pushed the door, and it swung back on noiseless +hinges. With her fingers on her lips she tapped on the +blank wall at her side: five times—nine times—five times +again.</p> + +<p>No one answered, there was not a soul to be seen, but +a door before them swung forward heavily. It had reason, +for it was clamped with bronze outside and in.</p> + +<p>There was still no sound, but there was something +else. A burning, acrid smell that clutched the throat, a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span>distressing heaviness. Lovell looked at her and she +nodded. He saw that she scarcely breathed for caution, +and she motioned in front of her.</p> + +<p>Down a long narrow passage—and that Chinese smell +that is like nothing else in heaven or earth came up it—was +spotless matting; ranged down it were clean straw +slippers in orderly rows; opposite them boots that might +have touched his heart at another time. Thick and thin, +worn to holes, the boots of men who starve and freeze +half naked, that the “black smoke” may lift their souls +to peace. There were decent shoes, too, of Chinamen +who earned an honest livelihood, but most were the +shoes of men who “move on” eternally.</p> + +<p>At the look in the blind eyes he understood, and left +his own shoes in the orderly rank; he shook his head +at the slippers; he would shuffle in them.</p> + +<p>Aunt Manette felt the negative. She stooped and hid +a pair of slippers in her dress, lest the keepers of the +house should count them. He saw that she did not mean +to take off her own foot covering; it was one person who +came in, not two.</p> + +<p>Never in his life had Lovell felt anything so strong +as that silent bidding to silence in the blind woman’s +touch. For himself he would have stormed through the +house, wrecked doors, fought—but he knew the woman +in the blue shawl was a better guide than he.</p> + +<p>One door they passed, and then another; a third they +crept by inch by inch; for inside it men spoke in a strange +tongue.</p> + +<p>The passage sloped down, grew dark. The woman who +was always in the dark moved surely; sometimes he felt +her stoop and place his feet where they should go. Down +and down they went, by stairs that were ladders, round +corners; till in the black labyrinth he knew, as a brave +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span>man knows, that without Aunt Manette he would have +come here in vain.</p> + +<p>In the dark she stopped and listened. Very far off some +one laughed—a wicked sound in that place. She drew +him on a step or two, and held his hand while she felt +above her on the wall.</p> + +<p>“There,” she breathed in his ear. “Press up; in!” +and as he did it some one laughed again.</p> + +<p>“Quick!” directed the woman, and caught him that he +might not fall forward, for the wall in front of him had +slipped away like a card slides into a pack.</p> + +<p>There was a dull light in front of them, a room horrible +with hangings unspeakable; a man sitting half +erect on a heap of mats.</p> + +<p>“You!” said Lovell; and knew the laugh that answered +him, though it was close instead of seeming miles away.</p> + +<p>“So you’ve come,” said the bleached thing in the gaudy +dressing-gown, without surprise.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Churchill,” said Aunt Manette, who had half-closed +the door behind her—and stood by it, a living +wedge in the opening. “There is one—inside?”</p> + +<p>He looked at her.</p> + +<p>“Ask Ah Lee,” he said listlessly. “As for me, I’m +dying. But I couldn’t die with those moans in my ears. +It was part of the bargain that I should die in peace.”</p> + +<p>Lovell cursed him; and some rag of manhood came +back to Bertie Churchill, who had mortgaged his last +copper to Ah Lee for a place to die in.</p> + +<p>“Be civil, Ogilvie,” he said; “it won’t hurt you. You +were my pal once, you know. It’s queer how things come +back to you.”</p> + +<p>“Look within,” said Aunt Manette from the door. +“The middle panel, behind that embroidered devil.” It +was a god, but her fingers found it the other thing.</p> + +<p>From instinct Lovell pushed as he had been taught outside, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span>but there was no light behind that curtain. In the +dark he struck a match, and his heart shook in him. If +this was where Magdalen Clyde should be——</p> + +<p>“Is there nowhere else?” said he, and his voice was +thick.</p> + +<p>Manette Duplessis became white.</p> + +<p>“Speak,” she said, low and fierce to Churchill.</p> + +<p>“Did he bring a girl there last night? Or——”</p> + +<p>She could not go on. She knew other places, but not as +she knew this.</p> + +<p>“I can’t smoke opium, you know,” said Churchill softly, +“because of my lungs. But I let Ah Lee think I do. He +thought I was dead with it last night, I suppose, for he +came and stood over me. I hate the sight of him; so I +kept my eyes shut, and he went in there.” It was like a +corpse sitting up and talking. “After a long time some one +moaned. I—you fool, Ogilvie——” and there was in +his face some remembrance of a day long dead that kept +the others still. “I was a gentleman once! I couldn’t +stand that moaning. I went in there; a white girl with +red hair moaned at me for Dolly, and I knew a Dolly long +ago. I knew, also, that Ah Lee had no business with a +white girl that cried. I gave her brandy, for I can drink +if I can’t smoke, and——”</p> + +<p>“You took her out?” Aunt Manette was heedless who +heard her. “You took her out?”</p> + +<p>As if it were Lovell’s voice alone that could galvanize +him into coherency he stared at her.</p> + +<p>“I took her out,” he repeated vacantly; “but they caught +her at the door.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"> + CHAPTER XXXII. + <br> + IN THE HOUSE OF AH LEE. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>“Twenty-four hours it will last,” said Ah Lee to himself. +“And he will drink himself blind when he wakes. +It will do.”</p> + +<p>He glanced angrily at Churchill, who was too long in +dying, and drew a coverlet over his face. Asleep or not +asleep, he need have no chance of seeing what Ah Lee +went out and brought in; what he flung down in the +wine room as if it were lifeless.</p> + +<p>He had no orders from Stratharden, and he feared +him as he had never feared God nor devil. He was in +his own clothes now, and he stumped off for orders. +When he came back he yawned with a huge indifference. +If she could not help dying, she would die. To make her +live, as Stratharden ordered, was impossible. There was +nothing that would make that drug pass off before its +allotted span.</p> + +<p>“Twenty-four hours I told him,” said he, “and he will +not come before. I will smoke and sleep.”</p> + +<p>But he had forgotten something. The girl Stratharden +wanted out of the way was made of good stuff. Clean +blood ran in her; there was no weak spot, no flaw in her +for the drug to catch in. And, above all, she was brave. +In the dark room where he had left her she was lying +like a log. She made no more of those efforts to speak +or move that she knew resulted in unavailing anguish. +Torture ran and crawled through every limb, as it was, +but something made her know that it was people who +struggled under Ah Lee’s drug who died. It might be +better to die, but she would not help it on. Instead, she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span>prayed the whole night through, with Dolly—only Dolly—in +her thoughts.</p> + +<p>She must live for Dolly, help Dolly; pay Lovell—who +was Stratharden’s son—for each pain that rent her slim +body. And at five in the morning a cry she did not know +was her own voice come back to her, and sent the cold +drops out on her forehead.</p> + +<p>“Dolly!” she heard again, and knew she could speak. +She said the word over and over, like a nun in a litany, +not in despair, but to keep herself brave. “Dolly! +Dolly!” and then sat upright with a pain that turned her +cold. She must die here after all.</p> + +<p>For there was a light in her eyes—a dreadful stooping +figure in a gaudy draping, coming toward her; the dazzle +of it made her spring up to face Ah Lee.</p> + +<p>But it was not he.</p> + +<p>“Don’t moan,” some one drawled, “I hate moaning.”</p> + +<p>“You’re English,” she muttered, and found it difficult +to make her tongue obey her.</p> + +<p>“Did you come here to smoke?” said the man listlessly. +“You’re too young.”</p> + +<p>“Take me out! Take me away!” She caught at him +with her hands that she could not guide. “They brought +me here. Dolly!—Oh! get me back to Dolly!”</p> + +<p>He touched her hand, her gown.</p> + +<p>“You’re a lady,” said Bertie Churchill. “A lady—here!” +He turned away, and because she thought he was +going to leave her she staggered after him, clutching at +him with wild words.</p> + +<p>“Hush!” said the man with one of those queer revivings +of a dead self. “I’ll take care of you. Drink this.” +To her mouth he held the brandy that he courted death +with, and made her swallow it drop by drop, till there +was heat, not ice, in her stagnant veins.</p> + +<p>“Now tell me why you came,” he said watching her. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span>It was a long time since a lady had drunk from Bertie +Churchill’s glass.</p> + +<p>She told him in slow whispers; but she was getting +supple now; her fingers could hold the glass that at first +they had let fall. But it seemed to her that he gathered +no meaning from what she said.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you see,” she cried desperately, “that he means +to kill me? Can’t you help me to get back to Dolly? +She will be—they’ll ruin Dolly! I heard them say so.”</p> + +<p>“Ruin Dolly,” he repeated. He started as if he had +been stung. “Dolly Deane,” he said as if to himself. +“I saw her before I came here. I wonder why I—but +that’s a long time ago.”</p> + +<p>“What do you know about Dolly Deane?” she exclaimed. +She looked at him, and for the first time recognized +his face.</p> + +<p>“You’re the man!” she said recoiling, “that called her—that +made the noise at Krug’s restaurant! What was +Dolly to you?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” was the old instinct to lie coolly for a +woman. “I was drunk. I don’t remember anything +about it.”</p> + +<p>A quick thought took her—and if Ah Lee’s drug had +any good in it, it was that it sharpened the wits.</p> + +<p>“Are you Churchill?” she cried.</p> + +<p>The bow he gave her was grotesque in his red dressing-gown; +but she was only looking at his face.</p> + +<p>“I was,” he said. “I’m dying now you know.”</p> + +<p>“Did you marry Dolly?” she demanded. “They say you +married Dolly. They’re going to prosecute her for +bigamy.”</p> + +<p>The man flinched. She had struck him to the bone.</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” he said very low and, when she told +him, covered his face.</p> + +<p>“She’s young still,” he said; “I saw her at Krug’s and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span>it made me mad, for I’m old and dying. But bigamy—she +knows I never married her! I spent her money and +left her like a cur. I used to wake up in the night and +think of her—little Dolly, who was a fool and pretty, and +loved me, till I left her to die in the gutter. And then I +saw her at Krug’s, well dressed and young. Tell +her——”</p> + +<p>“Come away. Take me out and come to Dolly!” she +broke in. “Say you never married her!”</p> + +<p>“I never married her,” but the flash of life in him was +gone. “I can’t come,” he said courteously. “I belong +here, you know. It seemed warm and no one worries +me. But you must go. No white girl should be here.”</p> + +<p>He moved to the side of the room and touched it gently. +Nothing gave and an ugly light came in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Locked in,” said he; “which was not in my bargain. +But Ah Lee forgets.”</p> + +<p>He fumbled in the folds of his wrapping and brought +out a thin, strong wire. With a dexterity that spoke +volumes for the life he had led he did something to the +door.</p> + +<p>“My patent, that Ah Lee forgets he bought from me,” +said he. “Allow me,” and he took her hand.</p> + +<p>At the top of the long labyrinth of stairs and passages +he stopped; he pointed to the rows of boots at a door.</p> + +<p>“Past those and two others,” he said. “I will stand +between them and you. When you get to the door in +front of you knock on the right wall. Five taps—nine—then +five again. They’ll let you out.”</p> + +<p>“Come,” she whispered, white lipped. “Come away +from this dreadful place. Save yourself as well as me. +For God’s sake, come!”</p> + +<p>He laid his gentleman’s hand on her mouth.</p> + +<p>“I belong here,” he said softly. “Will you say good-by +to me and go?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span></p> + +<p>There was something dignified in his ravaged face; +something, too, that agonized her with pity. He, half +dead himself, had saved her; would stay here and bear the +brunt of it.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Churchill!” she begged, but he hushed her; he +held out a hand to her and drew it back.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t fit—I’m not fit,” he muttered.</p> + +<p>Magdalen Clyde—and to the day of her death she +will be glad she did it—stooped and kissed that shadowy +hand—bade God bless him to eternity and knocked at +the bronze-bound door.</p> + +<p>It swung back as he had said it would do. She went +through and was in another passage with another shut +door before her. She looked back for guidance to +Churchill, but the door between them was fast. She +knocked again with shaking fingers, lost count and hesitated.</p> + +<p>The door before her opened, then began to close with +dreadful swiftness. She leaped to it, shrieked, was +caught and tore her gown away.</p> + +<p>Behind her rose a quick sound of opening doors, of +flying feet. All round the court faces, and such faces +as nightmare knows, filled the windows; a man rose as +if by magic in her path and she flew by him.</p> + +<p>The morning daylight dazzled her and saved her, too, +for once out of that court—and she never knew that she +struck savagely at men and women who sprang out of +doorways—the streets were empty.</p> + +<p>She caught her skirts to her knee and ran.</p> + +<p>Blundered into alleys and out again; ran on and on, +she cared not where, but away from Ah Lee; and dropped +at last as a driven dog does that cowardly people say is +mad.</p> + +<p>Like a dog she lay and panted, the blood beating in +her as though her veins must break. It was not seven +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span>o’clock yet, and the stones she lay on had the chill of +the night. Where she was, she neither knew nor cared, +so that she was out of Ah Lee’s house. No one passed +in the empty street and at last her sickening pulse-beats +ceased to shake her.</p> + +<p>From somewhere there came a footstep, coming nearer, +stepping flatly without heels. She raised her head, looked +one way and the other and could not get to her feet. A +Chinaman turned into the street, looked at her impassively +and took to his heels.</p> + +<p>“He’s one of them! He’s gone to tell Ah Lee.” She +would be caught in who knew how little time. “I——” +She wrenched herself till she stood up and stared round +her. She did not know where she was; she dared not +run one way or another; could not have run had she +dared.</p> + +<p>Hatless, her hair loose and matted, her black gown +torn, she stood still. To knock at these decent doors +would result in her being turned away for a drunken +outcast; there would be no pity in these snug houses; +Ah Lee might be on her before she roused the inmates +from their beds. Were there no police in London? Was +all the world asleep but she and Chinamen?</p> + +<p>She looked down at her bedraggled clothes, and knew +a policeman would arrest her and consider her story a +drunken lie. There would be hours lost before she got +back to Dolly.</p> + +<p>“Milk—milk!” The cry came like a voice from heaven.</p> + +<p>Magdalen turned and saw a milkman coming toward +her with his cans in his hands. He was a big man with +a kind face; he whistled as he poured out and left his +milk. With a quick hand she straightened her hair and +caught up her dress to hide the rents. The milkman +looked at her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span></p> + +<p>“Milk?” he said bruskly.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. He would think her mad if she +asked to drink it from the can.</p> + +<p>“I’ve lost my way,” she said. “I want to get to +Featherston Street and Hare’s Buildings.”</p> + +<p>“You’re miles off,” with a bewildered look at her. +“Been out all night?”</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you’re used to it,” half kindly; she must +have been a pretty woman when she was sober. “I’m +about finished here. If I show you out to the Northend +Road can you find your way?”</p> + +<p>“Northend Road!” she gasped. “How did I get so +far?”</p> + +<p>“You know best, I s’pose. Ain’t you got no hat?”</p> + +<p>“I lost it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, step on,” he said with a laugh. “I guess my +character’ll stand it. There ain’t no one up, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>She shook as she followed him; and if she had told +him why he would not have believed her. But he was +better than his word.</p> + +<p>“This isn’t the Northend Road,” she said as they came +out on a thoroughfare and she saw the safe and blessed +omnibuses going to and fro.</p> + +<p>“Wasn’t no use in going there if you’re in a hurry to +get to Featherston Street,” he gruffly answered.</p> + +<p>“This is nigher. You get into a red bus and you’ll +go straight to Charing Cross. Oh, it’s only a step out +of my way—you needn’t thank me.”</p> + +<p>There was nothing but a penny in her pocket and she +must keep that. She asked him his name and he laughed.</p> + +<p>“No matter. I don’t want you round my way,” said +he. “You take my advice and stay home of nights. +Here’s your bus.”</p> + +<p>There are few people to whom the inside of a stuffy +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span>bus seems heaven; but it did to Magdalen Clyde. Her +penny would take her only to Hyde Park corner, but after +that she would be safe. No one would dare to lay hands +on her from there to Hare’s Buildings.</p> + +<p>How she walked it she never knew. People turned +their heads, but no one stopped her; her feet kept on +mechanically, that was all. “Hare’s Buildings!—Dolly!” +she said to herself over and over. It was not till she +stood in front of them at ten o’clock in the day that she +remembered. Dolly was not there.</p> + +<p>She turned her head like a hunted beast and knew +that lonely house was her only refuge, felt her latch-key +in her pocket and ran up-stairs.</p> + +<p>The green baize door swayed under a yellow hand. Ah +Lee with his fish eyes alive at last had followed her. He +had his own debt to pay now, not his master’s; and he +had nothing to lose by doing it. Churchill had been right, +after all. Magdalen Clyde would be “caught at the +door.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"> + CHAPTER XXXIII. + <br> + IN THE HOUSE OF HER DREAM. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>Lord Stratharden took one long, comfortable glance +at Dolly Barnysdale before he turned to go. He had half +a mind to tell her that Starr-Dalton had betrayed her +into his hand; but there would be time enough for that +in court.</p> + +<p>He sighed with pure content as he left the room and +Dolly never lifted her head to look at him. Ardmore +was a bare place, but he need never live in it, and it would +be good to be Barnysdale with money instead of Stratharden +driven to death. He was even careless of the price +he had promised to pay for that loan that was tiding him +over. To Ian’s daughter he gave no thought. Ah Lee +would keep her safe till he was ready to dispose of her.</p> + +<p>He went serenely down-stairs and paused for one +startled second.</p> + +<p>Keith—Keith, that he left in his own house—stood +before him.</p> + +<p>As he opened the door to go out her hand was on the +bell; as he caught his breath with astonishment she was +inside. She swept the door from his hand, banged it and +put her back against it.</p> + +<p>“Ye may well glower,” said she. “It’s me and it seems +I’m just in time. No; where ye are ye’ll bide,” for he +put out his hand to wave her aside. “I owe ye no obedience.”</p> + +<p>It was really in pure astonishment that he stared at +her and then his wits came to him.</p> + +<p>What the housekeeper was thinking of would come +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span>to nothing. There was no earthly chance that that girl’s +disappearance could be brought home to his door, even if +they caught Ah Lee. This was as good a place to be in +as any, since it was natural enough that he should come +and confront the woman who had swindled him out of +his inheritance.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know this was an international affair,” he said +with his familiar sneer. “Pray don’t excite yourself. I’m +perfectly willing to stay. But disabuse yourself of the +thought that I can be bullied by a servant. I stay because +I choose.”</p> + +<p>He had reflected hastily that while Keith was here she +could not be hunting the town for Buff. He had no desire +for Buff’s comments on a story that was absurd on the +face of it. It was abominable luck that had mixed Buff +up with the girl. It amused him to see that Keith never +took her back from the door.</p> + +<p>The sound of a strange voice had roused Dolly from +her dazed terror up-stairs. She ran down, only stopping +for Ronald.</p> + +<p>“Magdalen!” she cried. “Have you found Magdalen?”</p> + +<p>Keith looked at Stratharden.</p> + +<p>“No,” she said slowly, and it was all he could do to +keep down a grimace of contempt. “But sit ye down. +I’ve a story to bring to the memory of my Lord Stratharden, +and ye that were never the countess had best hear +it, too.”</p> + +<p>“So you own that much,” said Stratharden. It was +perfectly immaterial to him what she told, since the +only proof of it—and that a trifling one—was in his +house at home. He looked round the bare little entry +with its one chair. “Is it necessary to sit all of us on +that? I fear it will be a long story.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span></p> + +<p>“Go, can’t you?” said Dolly fiercely. “What are you +staying here for?”</p> + +<p>“For news of your sister,” and she winced as she was +meant to. He walked coolly into the dismantled sitting-room, +with its door open into the ill-omened showroom +Magdalen had never used. He had no desire to stop +Keith; it was as well to make sure how much she suspected, +for of course she could know nothing.</p> + +<p>Keith followed him like a cat a mouse, fearful that +he would get away. Dolly, with one look of hatred, +turned away from them both. Did they think that with +Magdalen gone and herself found out she would listen +to any old stories politely, as in a drawing-room? She +clutched Ronald to her and walked into the desolate showroom, +where no furniture but the pier-glass remained. +What she had done she had done for herself; it was only +to use a dead woman’s confidence, and yet be not so unworthy +of it, either. But she could never right the wrong +now; the only thing left to her was——</p> + +<p>“I’m glad I lied,” said Dolly to herself; “glad! If I +hadn’t I couldn’t save Ronald now. If Magdalen would +only come back I’d be happy—yes, happy!” She stamped +her foot with sudden rage at herself. Why was she standing +here doing nothing?</p> + +<p>“I won’t believe she meant to leave me!” she thought. +“She wouldn’t do it. What do I care for Stratharden—for +anything? I’ll go to the police.”</p> + +<p>“Will ye no come here and listen?” Keith’s voice broke +in on her. “It’s worth yer while.”</p> + +<p>Dolly turned on her like a fury.</p> + +<p>“What do I care for your stories?” she cried. “You +said you came here for Magdalen—that you loved her. +Why don’t you do something instead of standing like a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span>log in my house. I’ve enough of you and your mysteries. +I’m going to the police.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, mistress, but have patience,” said Keith softly; +and iron-nerved as he was Stratharden started.</p> + +<p>None of the three heard a dragging step on the stair, +the soft sound of a turning key.</p> + +<p>On the threshold Magdalen stood speechless, her pale +face sodden, her eyes like dark coals. There, with her +back to her, was Dolly! * * * Dolly! Had it all +been a hideous dream that last night she had found this +house deserted? Why was Dolly so still? What made +the house so silent? If there had been anyone behind +Magdalen Clyde, creeping to her foot by foot, they might +have thought she stood alone.</p> + +<p>“Dolly,” said Magdalen simply, like a child, “Dolly, I’ve +come home.”</p> + +<p>In the little room Keith stood before Stratharden, her +back toward the door that gave on the entry where Magdalen +stood, her ungainly body between it and him. But +under her arm, through the showroom door, he saw +Dolly’s face as she wheeled.</p> + +<p>“Sit ye down!” shouted Keith. She sprang on the +man who had been her master. “Ye’ll not move from +this place!”</p> + +<p>Dolly’s scream rang wild.</p> + +<p>“Magdalen, move! move!” She flung Ronald on a +chair and ran to that ghost-eyed girl at the door. But +she was too late.</p> + +<p>Magdalen had turned, had met Ah Lee’s spring that +he meant for her back, and was on the floor. Tooth and +nail, in the house of her dream, that dream came true. +Over and over, up and down, she was fighting with the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span>Chinaman, his yellow fingers writhing every instant a little +nearer to her throat.</p> + +<p>Dolly’s shriek broke off in her ears as if it had stopped +in the middle. There was a darkness in her eyes—then +utter silence. The struggle was over and she lay still.</p> + +<p>Stratharden, in the inside room, sat like a stone.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"> + CHAPTER XXXIV. + <br> + ONE THAT WAS LOST. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>Lovell, and it was the last day he would ever call himself +so, stood speechless in Ah Lee’s opium shop. Beside +him was a sergeant and half-a-dozen policemen; in +front of him some rags of humanity with their smoke +still in them. There had been such a raiding as never +was known in their memory, but for all that there was +despair on Lovell’s face.</p> + +<p>Whoever they had, it was not Magdalen nor Ah Lee. +Churchill had told the truth; she had been taken elsewhere. +What had become of the French woman he +neither knew nor cared, except that neither he nor the +police knew where to go.</p> + +<p>Some one touched him on the arm.</p> + +<p>“He’s conscious,” said the doctor some one had brought. +“He wants to say something. Is your name Ogilvie?”</p> + +<p>It was, to his shame. To his shame, too, he had forgotten +the man who lay down-stairs, dying for Magdalen +Clyde. He ran down quickly enough, with a policeman’s +lantern to make the way plain.</p> + +<p>Bertie Churchill, in his scarlet dressing-gown, lay on +the mats that were redder still. The salt, acrid smell +of blood rose over the reek of brandy, but the little that +stayed in the dying man had been England’s best.</p> + +<p>“I’ll only keep you two minutes,” he whispered. “I +was wrong about her; she got away. That’s why I’m +here.”</p> + +<p>“Ah Lee?”</p> + +<p>Churchill assented with his eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span></p> + +<p>“I thought when you were here they’d got her at the +door. She knocked instead of going straight through; +it’s never locked. But they didn’t, and they couldn’t +wake Ah Lee from his opium to tell him she was gone. +After you’d gone he came here—he—in the middle of it,” +with a glance at his side and the blood on the floor. “His +son came in. I was pretty far gone and they spoke +their lingo, but they used names of streets. She must +have got as far as the Northend Road; they jabbered of +it. The boy was saying something else. ‘Buildings—Hare’s +Buildings.’ Know about it? I could open my +eyes then and I saw Ah Lee’s face. He cut at me to +finish me before he went—there, I suppose! You’d +know,” he concluded very wearily.</p> + +<p>“She lives there,” said Lovell sharply. He caught +Churchill’s hand with the dew of death on it. “What +is it?” he said. “Is there anything you want before I +go?”</p> + +<p>“She said ‘God bless you’—to me!” It was as if he +were very far off. “Don’t go.”</p> + +<p>The doctor caught Lovell’s eye and nodded.</p> + +<p>“Dolly,” said Churchill very loud, “I’ve paid. You +said I’d pay and I’m paying. I’ve been damned alive +ever since that day I said I never meant to marry you.”</p> + +<p>Lovell started. He had never thought of this Churchill +and Magdalen’s sister, who was Lady Barnysdale. He +remembered the restaurant and Churchill’s face as he +called.</p> + +<p>“Did you marry her?” he asked, and saw the doctor’s +face.</p> + +<p>Churchill sat up in his bed of mats.</p> + +<p>There was a childish disappointment in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Krug’s putting—out—the lights!” said he, and fell +back again.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span></p> + +<p>The lights were out indeed for Bertie Churchill; his +days for good and evil were over, and for the evil, as +he said, he had paid.</p> + +<p>Lovell stumbled as he went up-stairs. For this thing +and many others his father was responsible, and, for +all he knew, for a blacker thing yet. He turned his +back on that dreadful house and ran, as he had never +run in his life, for Hare’s Buildings.</p> + +<p>He had no hope she would be there. It was perhaps +to find nothing had been true in the things Churchill +had said that he was going. But he went—a splendid +sight to see, deep-ribbed and lean-flanked, he ran like a +buck in spring. But his dark, hard face was not so +good to see.</p> + +<p>He was there, past the tailor shop, half-way up the +stairs, when some one screamed.</p> + +<p>Shriek after shriek rang through the open door; but, +mad as he was, he knew the shrieks were not Magdalen’s. +He was in the room before he saw her; saw Dolly on her +knees over Ah Lee, clawing for his eyes.</p> + +<p>His hand pushed her away like a straw. Silent as +death, and as terrible, it struck Ah Lee once, and twice. +The man’s convulsed face straightened as if the fury +had been wiped on it, his rigid hands fell lax as his body +swayed backward. But Stratharden’s son never looked +at his father’s servant.</p> + +<p>Without a word he lifted Magdalen like a child; laid +her down, anywhere, but away from that filthy, yellow +carrion on the floor, and put his hand on the swollen +throat that had been so fair.</p> + +<p>“Water, quick!” he exclaimed. There was a trampling +on the stair, but he paid no heed to it; it was Dolly who +banged the door as she ran past.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span></p> + +<p>But it was not Dolly who ran to him with a dripping +towel.</p> + +<p>“My God, Keith!” he ejaculated. “Why didn’t you +help her?” He felt the quiet pulse, and his stern eyes +might have made any woman cower. But not Keith.</p> + +<p>“May be I fought, too,” she said bitterly. “She’s but +fainted; he had not a clean grip of her.”</p> + +<p>Faint or no faint, he would have her out of it. There +was no tenderness in his face as he worked over her, +only stark, raging determination. And it was on that +look of Dick Lovell’s that Magdalen opened her eyes.</p> + +<p>As her senses came to her she recoiled from him and +would have sprung away but for the deadly coldness +that kept her still.</p> + +<p>“You!” she muttered, and there was horror of him on +her face. “Take away your hand! I know your name!”</p> + +<p>Buff Ogilvie looked behind him and saw his father +standing in the doorway.</p> + +<p>“You!” he exclaimed. He looked from the girl who +had turned from him to hide her face on Dolly’s breast +to the man who had made her do it. Ronald, forgotten +and bewildered, crept to his mother’s side. No one else +stirred.</p> + +<p>Stratharden nodded slowly. He was very white about +the nose and his eyes were narrow.</p> + +<p>“I did not come in time,” he was breathing very slowly. +“I——Is that Ah Lee?”</p> + +<p>Keith got up off her knees.</p> + +<p>“Well you know it is,” she said. “Ye need not hush, +Mr. Ogilvie. I’ve served him well these many years, +but I serve him no longer. I’ll say my say now that +my mistress there may hear it.”</p> + +<p>Her mistress. Did she mean Dolly? Magdalen raised +her head and saw Ah Lee lying as he had fallen.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span></p> + +<p>“Is he—did I kill him?” she cried.</p> + +<p>“Let him be,” said Keith. “He’ll no die. ’Twas +Ogilvie here that stunned him,” but at that name Magdalen +only turned away her head. “She’ll not look at +ye,” said Keith. “My lamb, ye must hear me! Ye mind +the picture I showed ye? That ye were the spit and image +of?”</p> + +<p>Magdalen lay dull eyed. What had a picture to do +with her and Lovell, who was Stratharden’s son?</p> + +<p>Keith’s bony chest heaved.</p> + +<p>“’Twas Ian’s picture,” she said. “Yer uncle, Ian Ogilvie. +Oh, ye’ll not know, as I know, how he that was +the son of the house fared at the hands of Stratharden +and his mother! He was the first-born; his mother died; +but ye’re grandfather married again. Stratharden here +was but three years younger than Ian; Barnysdale, that +was married to her”—with a look at Dolly—“but one +year. And had it not been for me little would Ian have +had in his father’s house.</p> + +<p>“He always laughed it off when I said the things that +were on my tongue, but hell was his boyhood, thanks to +the stepmother set over him—and hell his manhood, by +Stratharden. They gave him—his father and stepmother—neither +schooling nor money. A room in the +house, a bite with old Keith in the kitchen, was all he +had. And one day he left those. He was a grand man +to see when he was come to his growth; darker than +her, but her living image. I mind I prayed for him by +night and day when he left me and went to sea.</p> + +<p>“Your Barnysdale, that was Stratharden then,” she +motioned to Dolly, “went off, too, to college and to worse; +we heard no more of him. Stratharden here bided at +home by his mother’s apron-string, and, as she bade him, +he married. And when Ogilvie here was two years old +a letter comes from Ian. And he was married, too.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span></p> + +<p>“We went to him, David and I, and a bonny thing his +wife was. Ninon, he called her. I mind how her mother +looked at her child the day it was born. ‘Black and white +and red,’ she said laughing, and black and white and +red she is still. But I had not cast my eyes on Ian before +I saw that he was dying. Poor they were and very poor; +for the mother, that was Madame Duplessis, had lost +her money in the French war—they say she lent it to +overset Napoleon—I cannot tell. And while I was trying +to keep the life in Ian, that was worked to the bone +keeping his wife, in walks my lord here. Ay, well ye +know it!” she turned and towered over him.</p> + +<p>“Ye sowed distrust between them, or ye tried. Ye +gave her a jewel that was a secret sign of the friends +of Louis Napoleon; she wore it, and her mother’s people, +that were Orleanists, would do no more for her. Ye cut +one thing after another away from the feet of Ian’s wife, +that she might turn to ye. But she did not turn. He +died in her arms, with her head on his breast, and oh! I +mind that ye gnashed yer teeth to see it. Even then +ye had yer heathen with ye; though I never knew where +ye found him, for it was not till after that ye traveled the +wide world round. And it was fear, black fear of ye +and him, that sent my Ian’s wife away in the night in +secret with his child in her arms. Well I might have +guessed what ye had in yer heart, for I knew ye; but +she was too clever for ye at the last end. She ran away +from the mother that bore her for fear ye would damn +her, soul and body, and cast disrepute on Ian’s child.</p> + +<p>“What was it blinded the mother of her that night we +found she’d gone? Blinded her in the street as she would +have sought the police? Who was it came to me with +soft words and a written secret from a hospital, to say +Madame Duplessis had died there? Ay, ye know! And, +dead or alive, neither mother nor daughter nor grandchild +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span>ever came back again. We were poor, David and +I; but we wore our feet to the bone seeking them. It +was not till ye’re father was dead and ye’re brother set +in his shoes that we went back to Ardmore, and then only +that we were starving and hopeless of finding Ian’s child.</p> + +<p>“For sixteen years I heard no word of her, till Barnysdale +died, too, and ye told me that his wife was mad +and ye would bring her home to Ardmore. I was to +keep a guard on her, and I kept it; for the honor of the +house of Barnysdale, not for ye. Ye little knew that +she was bringing with her the daughter of Ian that I +loved”—pointing at the girl in Dolly’s arms. “Nor did +I. But when ye sent ye’re heathen to the house—and +I saw the living flesh and blood of Ian under my eyes—and +ye did yer best to drive her and Barnysdale’s wife +into the Clyde—I knew. Oh, I knew! And ye sent me +to London to track them; I tracked them well. I found +from the manager man that Dorothy Deane that danced +and married Barnysdale had no sister. I found elsewhere +that another Dorothy Deane had acted in that +same theater—and she had a stepsister, they said, at a +convent. And in the convent they told me what none +knew but them. To Mrs. Deane’s house had come a +woman and a child; the woman died there, Mrs. Deane +kept the child, Clyde, and said it was hers. It was said +she was married again, but none ever saw the man named +Clyde. But Clyde was the name Ian’s wife had banked +her money in, and a Mrs. Clyde drew it. And when she +was dead Dorothy Deane spent the rest of it. And that +I did not hear in the convent. Is it true?” Dolly drew +a long breath.</p> + +<p>“It’s true,” she said. She waited for Magdalen to +turn away from her as she had from Ogilvie; but Magdalen +clutched her fast.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span></p> + +<p>“She did her best,” she cried sharply. “She was a +good mother to me—she was kind and I loved her.”</p> + +<p>“All this,” said Stratharden quietly, “has nothing to +do with the fact that Lady Barnysdale here is a liar and +a swindler, who never was Barnysdale’s wife. I may +tell you—Mrs. Churchill—that your husband is alive. +Your friend, Mr. Starr-Dalton, knows it.”</p> + +<p>“Churchill!” cried Dolly, livid. “You threatened me +because of Churchill. He never married me; he——” +She stood breathless, and if ever any woman wrestled +with temptation it was she. Magdalen was Lady Barnysdale, +there was still money and comfort for Dolly, and +respect if she held her tongue, unless Churchill——</p> + +<p>That “unless” settled it. She spoke out with a wrench +that shook her.</p> + +<p>“I never was married in my life,” she said. “No, don’t +stop me,” as Lovell would have spoken. “I never was +married, either to Barnysdale or to anyone else. There +were two Dolly Deanes; one was a success—I was the +failure. I was only a chorus girl. My name was never +in the bills. I was dismissed; Churchill threw me over. +I went to Hastings to die there—and the other Dolly +Deane found me. I was at my last penny, and when +she married Barnysdale—she, not I—she took me with +her as her maid. I was with her when he left her—with +her when she died. I promised her to see Ronald righted—her +son, not mine. Those papers I had were hers, just +as he was. I was afraid of Churchill; I was afraid to +go to a theater, for fear some one would know me. But +I’m not afraid now. Send for the man and ask him, +for he knows. I can tell now, because Ronald will not +fall into your hands.”</p> + +<p>Stratharden shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Other people shall know, too,” he said. “That, and +this mad story of Keith’s that I will prove a lie.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span></p> + +<p>He stepped to the door.</p> + +<p>But he was too late. A group of men were in the +doorway; in front of them Aunt Manette, with a cold +and weary face.</p> + +<p>“Who is here?” she said. But no one answered.</p> + +<p>The sergeant of police said something in Stratharden’s +ear that he answered aloud:</p> + +<p>“It has nothing to do with me,” he said. “As for the +girl, she is here.”</p> + +<p>The French woman spoke at the sound.</p> + +<p>“Nothing to do with you! And they find in your +house her boxes that you took from the station—her +pin that I gave her the mate of not a week ago. And +they find also that paper in your handwriting in Ah Lee’s +house. Everything down in white and black, lest he +should forget.”</p> + +<p>“Aunt Manette,” said Lovell sharply. “Let it be. She’s +here; she knows.”</p> + +<p>“And Ninon is in her grave,” she answered slowly. +“Can I forgive that? And I sightless, till I must pass +her child in the street. I will tell all! all!”</p> + +<p>Stratharden looked at her. He knew her well; knew +Keith, knew Dolly; and not one of them would hold +their hand.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think,” he said softly, “that you can bring +anything so far-fetched home to me. But you can try.”</p> + +<p>He moved to Ah Lee, who had stirred.</p> + +<p>As Keith said, he was a heathen, but he was the only +soul on earth who loved Stratharden.</p> + +<p>The man knelt by him, dull eyed. He slipped his hand +inside the Chinaman’s coat and felt his heart.</p> + +<p>“He would have been wiser to die,” he said, stepping +back. He brushed his hand across his mouth and swallowed.</p> + +<p>Buff Ogilvie, who would be Lovell no more, looked +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span>round him. Magdalen did not believe that his father’s +work was not his, and she was not his Dark Magdalen +any longer, but Countess of Barnysdale. He could ask +no favors of a girl who shrank from him, who must +presently be a witness against his father in the dock. He +turned, and he was dizzy, to go and hide his head he +knew not where. And a dull crash stopped him.</p> + +<p>Charles Ogilvie, Viscount Stratharden, had fallen forward +on his face. Ah Lee had served him well, even +to carrying that in his pocket that brought death very +quickly. But his own son shrank from the look on +Stratharden’s dead face.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Late that night Buff Ogilvie sat in his bare room in +Hare’s Rents. There was nowhere else to go, and there +would be an inquest, a routing out of old things that he, +his father’s son, must hear in silence. He thought of +Churchill, whose eyes he had not stayed to close—of +things that had been heaven yesterday and to-day were a +fire that is not quenched. “The sins of the father” was +an old story, read in the Bible; on living shoulders it was +a different thing. An old rhyme of his house came to +his mind, as such things do, and he writhed in his chair. +Yet it was simple enough; it was carved in the wall +over the door of that chapel he had never been let enter; +he had wondered over it all his boyhood, but he cursed +himself that it came home to him now.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“I built a chapel in Barnysdale,</div> + <div class="verse indent3">That seemly was to see;</div> + <div class="verse indent1">It was for Mary Magdalen,</div> + <div class="verse indent3">And thereto would I be.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>That was it. He had made his soul a chapel to Magdalen, +and Stratharden had razed it to the ground. His +head dropped on his folded arms. For very shame he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span>could never so much as see her again—after his father’s +sins lay between them.</p> + +<p>Some one pushed the door ajar and stood there; saw +the desolate poverty of the room, the broken man in the +chair.</p> + +<p>“Dick,” said Magdalen Clyde—and Aunt Manette +slipped away in the darkness of the hall—“Dick, they’ve +told me!”</p> + +<p>The man’s hard face quivered, but he never lifted it. +He shivered to the bone as she put her hand on his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“I heard you that day in the street,” she said simply. +“I thought you knew. I thought Ah Lee——Dick, +speak to me!”</p> + +<p>“I’m his son—Stratharden’s son,” he said slowly. “And +you’re——”</p> + +<p>She had slipped to her knees beside him, her hands +were round his neck, her lips at his ear.</p> + +<p>“Your Dark Magdalen,” she whispered. “Will you +send me away?”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Long after a couple, a man and a woman, looked at +them as they went through a room together.</p> + +<p>“Wasn’t there some story?” the woman asked. The +man she spoke to answered carelessly:</p> + +<p>“Something about a Chinaman. She offended him and +he tried to kill her. He died in prison, I think.”</p> + +<p>For Ah Lee, heathen and murderer, had been faithful +to the dead. The boxes, the pin, the whole story, he +took on his shoulders; and Stratharden’s son would have +been glad to have believed him.</p> + + +<p class="p2 center">THE END.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<table class="autotable" style="min-width: 50%;"> + <tr> + <td style="width: 25%"><b class="large tdl">EAGLE SERIES</b></td> + <td style="width: 50%" class="small tdc"> + A weekly publication devoted to good literature.<br> + Dec. 26, 1905. + </td> + <td style="width: 25%" class="large tdr"><b>NO. 448</b></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<h2>S. & S. Novels</h2> + +<p class="center medium">“<i>THE RIGHT BOOKS AT THE RIGHT PRICE</i>”</p> + +<hr> + +<p>¶ Have you ever stopped to consider what +a wealth of good reading is contained in our +S. & S. lines? We were pioneers of the +paper book industry. Being first in the field +and having unlimited capital, we were enabled +to secure the works of the very best +authors and offer them to the reading public +in the most attractive form.</p> + +<p>¶ We have the exclusive right to publish +all of the late copyrighted works of Charles +Garvice, Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth, +Bertha M. Clay and Horatio Alger, Jr. +We control exclusively the works of Mrs. +Georgie Sheldon, Nicholas Carter, Burt L. +Standish, Effie Adelaide Rowlands, Gertrude +Warden and dozens of other authors +of established reputations.</p> + +<p>¶ When you purchase an S. & S. Novel, +you may rest assured that you are getting +the full value for your money and a little +more. There are none better. Send to us +for our complete catalogue, containing over +two thousand different titles, which will be +mailed to any address upon receipt of a +two-cent stamp.</p> + +<hr> + +<p class="center"> + <span class="large">STREET & SMITH, <i>General Publishers</i></span><br> + <span class="medium">79 to 89 SEVENTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY</span> +</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="transnote"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes"> + Transcriber’s Notes: + </h2> +</div> + + +<p>This novel was previously serialized in <i>Street & Smith’s New York +Weekly</i> from August 18 to December 1, 1900. This book version has +only 34 chapters, though the original serialization had 37. This is +because some chapters from the earlier version have been combined or +omitted. The thought break in chapter VIII was originally the start of +a separate chapter. The original chapters X-XI (the entire installment +from September 8, 1900) are omitted from this version.</p> + +<p>Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.</p> + +<p>Inconsistent hyphenation has been retained from the original.</p> + +<p>Table of contents has been added and placed into the public domain by +the transcriber.</p> +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78149 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |