THE BEGINNING--OR THE END?
For one confused instant the girl stood statue-still, then, realizing
that she was free, without a thought for Mrs. Ellsworth she ran out of
the room. In the front corridor and in the dining room the electric light
was still on; and as she reached the stairs Annesley saw Ruthven Smith
standing near the top with a small pistol in his hand.
She feared that he would fire a second shot, and there was no time to
reach him. Somehow, he must be stopped with a word--but what word?
Everything depended on that. Sheer desperation inspired her.
"Stop! He's my lover!" she cried. "Don't shoot!"
Ruthven Smith--a tall, lanky figure in a long over-coat--kept his weapon
aimed at someone out of the girl's sight, but he jerked his head aside
for a glance down at her. It was a brief glance, for the man who dreaded
burglars would not be caught napping. He turned again instantly to face
a possible antagonist, eyes as well as weapon ready.
But the light from below had lit up his features for a second; and
Annesley realized that disgust and astonishment were the emotions her
"confession" had inspired.
The fact that he was inclined to believe her statement showed how low
was his opinion of women. Annesley knew that he did not think highly
of her sex, but he had liked her and she had liked him despite his
eccentricities. His look said: "So you are the same as the rest! But in
case you're lying, I sha'n't be thrown off guard."
The girl felt physically sick as she understood the irrevocability of
what she had just said, and the way in which her words were construed. If
she could have waited, "Nelson Smith" might have saved himself without
compromising her, for he was above all things resourceful. In announcing
that he was her "lover," she had committed him as well as herself. He
would have to make the best of a situation she had recklessly created.
This she realized, but had no time to wonder how he would do it before he
spoke.
"Mr. Ruthven Smith, what Miss Grayle says is the truth. We're engaged to
be married. All I want is a chance to explain why you find me where I am.
I'm not armed, so you can safely give me that chance."
"You know my name?" exclaimed Ruthven Smith, suspiciously. He still
covered the other with his pistol, as Annesley could see now, because
"Nelson Smith" had coolly advanced within a yard of the Browning's small
black muzzle, and, finding the electric switch, had flooded the upper
corridor with light.
"I've heard your name from Miss Grayle," said the younger man. "I know it
must be you, because no other person has a right to make himself at home
in this house as you are doing. I certainly haven't. But bringing her
home a few minutes ago, after dining out, we saw a light in what she said
was your room. She was afraid some thief had got in, and I proposed to
her that I should take a quiet look round while she went to see if Mrs.
Ellsworth was safe. No doubt she was all right, because I heard them
talking together while I examined your premises. The next thing I knew,
as I was coming down with the news that everything was quiet, you blazed
away. It was quite a surprise."
"I fired in the air, not at you," Ruthven Smith excused himself, more or
less convinced. Annesley clutched the banisters in the sudden weakness of
a great revulsion from panic to relief. She might have known that _he_
would somehow rescue her, even from her own blundering.
The shamed red which had stained Annesley's cheeks at Ruthven Smith's
contempt died away. Her "lover"--he was openly that now--had miraculously
made his presence in the other Smith's room, after eleven o'clock at
night in this early bed-going household, the most natural thing in the
world. At least, Ruthven Smith's almost apologetic tone in answering
proved that he had been persuaded to think it so.
With Mrs. Ellsworth, however, it would be different. There would lie the
stumbling-block; but with all danger from the Browning ended, the girl
was in no mood to borrow trouble for the future, even a future already
rushing into the arms of the present.
"I should always fire the first shot in the air," Ruthven Smith went on,
"unless directly threatened."
"Lucky for me," replied the other. "I don't want to die yet. And it would
have been hard lines, as I was trying to do you a good turn: rid you of a
thief if there were one. But I suppose you or some servant must have left
the light on in your room."
"I'm pretty sure I didn't," said Ruthven Smith, still speaking with the
nervousness of a suspicious man, yet at the same time slowly, half
reluctantly, pocketing his pistol. "We must find out how this happened.
Perhaps there _has_ been a thief----"
"No sign of anything being disturbed in your room," the younger man
assured him. "However, you'd best have a look round. If you like"--and he
laughed a frank-sounding laugh--"I'm quite willing to be searched before
I leave the house, so you can make sure I'm not going off with any
booty."
"Certainly not! Nothing of the kind! I accept your explanation,"
protested Ruthven Smith. He laughed also, though stiffly and with an
effort. "I have no valuables in my luggage--I have brought none with me.
It's not worth my while to open the boxes in my room, as there's nothing
there to tempt a thief. Still, one gets a start coming to a quiet house,
at this time of night, finding a light in one's windows that ought to be
dark, and then seeing a man walk out of one's room. My nerves aren't
over-strong. I confess I have a horror of night alarms. I travel a good
deal, and have got in the habit of carrying a pistol. However, all's well
that ends well. I apologize to you, and to Miss Grayle. When I know you
better, I hope you'll allow me to make up by congratulating you both on
your engagement."
As he spoke, in his prim, old-fashioned way, he began to descend the
stairs, taking off his hat, as if to join the girl whom in thought he had
wronged for an instant. "Nelson Smith" followed, smiling at Annesley over
the elder man's high, narrow head sparsely covered with lank hair of
fading brown.
It was at this moment Mrs. Ellsworth chose to appear, habited once more
in a hurriedly donned dressing gown, a white silk scarf substituted in
haste for a discarded nightcap. Panting with anger, and fierce with
curiosity, she had forgotten her rheumatism and abandoned her martyred
hobble for a waddling run.
Thus she pounced out at the foot of the stairway, and was upon the girl
before the three absorbed actors in the scene had heard the shuffling
feet in woollen slippers.
"What does this mean?" she quavered, so close to Annesley's ear that the
girl wheeled with a start of renewed alarm. "Who's this strange man in my
house? What's this talk about 'engagements'?"
"A strange man!" echoed Ruthven Smith, prickling with suspicion again.
"Haven't you met him, Miss Grayle's fiancé?"
"Miss Grayle's fiddlesticks!" shrilled the old woman. "The girl's a
baggage, a worthless baggage! In my room just now she _struck_ me--beat
my poor rheumatic knuckles! For five years I've sheltered her, given her
the best of everything, even to the clothes she has on her back. This is
the way she repays me--with insults and cruelty, and smuggles strange men
secretly into my house at night, and pretends to be engaged to them!"
The dark young man in evening dress passed the lean figure in travelling
clothes without a word and, putting Annesley gently aside, stepped
between her and Mrs. Ellsworth.
"There is no question of 'pretending'," he said, sternly. "Miss Grayle
has promised to marry me. If our engagement has been kept a secret, it's
only because the right moment hadn't come for announcing it. I entered
your house for a few moments to-night, for the first time, on an errand
which seemed important, as Mr. Ruthven Smith will explain. I don't feel
called upon to apologize for my presence in the face of your attitude to
Miss Grayle. It was our intention that you should have plenty of notice
before she left you, time to find someone for her place; but after what
has happened, it's your own fault, madame, if we marry with a special
licence, and I take her out of this house to-morrow. I only wish it might
be now----"
"It _shall_ be now!" Mrs. Ellsworth screamed him down. "The girl doesn't
darken my doors another hour. I don't know who you are, and I don't want
to know. But with or without you, Annesley Grayle leaves my house
to-night."
"Mrs. Ellsworth, surely you haven't stopped to think what you're saying!"
protested Ruthven Smith. "You can't turn a girl into the street in the
middle of the night with a young man you don't know, even if she is
engaged to him."
"I won't have her here, after the way she's treated me--after the way
she's acted altogether," Mrs. Ellsworth insisted. "Let her go to your
cousins' if you think they'd approve of her conduct. As for me, I doubt
it. And I'm sure she lied when she said they'd asked her to dine with
them to-night. I don't believe she went near them."
Ruthven Smith, who had made a surprise visit at the Archdeacon's and
dined there, had heard no mention of Annesley Grayle being expected. For
an instant he was silenced, but the girl did not lack a defender.
"She will not need to beg for Archdeacon Smith's hospitality," said the
young man. "And even if Mrs. Ellsworth implored her to stay, I couldn't
allow it now. I will see that Miss Grayle is properly sheltered and cared
for to-night by a lady whose kindness will make her forget what she has
suffered. As soon as possible we shall be married by special licence. Go
to your room, dearest, and put together a few things for to-night and
to-morrow morning--just what will fit into a hand-bag. If there's
anything else you value, it can be sent for later. Then I'll take you
away."
The words were brave and comforting, and a wave of emotion swept
Annesley's soul toward the mysterious, unknown soul of her knight. It
was so strong, so compelling a wave that she had no fear in trusting,
herself to him. He was her refuge, her protector.
For a moment of gratitude she even forgot he was mysterious, forgot that
a few hours ago she had been ignorant of his existence. When remembrance
flooded her brain, her only fear was for him. What if the watchers should
still be there when they went out of the house together?
She had turned to go to her room as he suggested when suddenly this
question seemed to be shouted in her ear. Hesitating, she looked back,
her eyes imploring, to meet a smile so confident that it defied fate.
Annesley saw that he understood what was in her mind, and this smile was
the answer. For some reason he thought himself sure that the watchers
were out of the way. The girl could not guess why, unless he had spied on
the taxi from Ruthven Smith's window and saw it go. But she would soon
learn.
Her room was a mere bandbox at the back of the "addition," behind Mrs.
Ellsworth's bedroom and bath; and dashing into it now, the new, vividly
alive Annesley seemed to meet and pity the timid, hopeless girl whose one
safe haven these mean quarters had been. She tried to gather the old self
into her new self, that she might take it with her and comfort it,
rescuing it from the tyrant.
The two trunks she had brought five years ago were stored in the basement
box-room; but under the camp bed was her dressing-bag, the only "lock-up"
receptacle she possessed. In it she kept a few letters and an abortive
diary which in some moods had given her the comfort of a confidant.
The key of this bag was never absent from her purse, and opening it with
quivering hands, the girl threw in a few toilet things for the night, a
coat, skirt, and blouse for morning, and a small flat toque which would
not crush. Afterward--in that wonderful, dim "afterward" which shone
vaguely bright, like a sunlit landscape discerned through mist--she could
send for more of her possessions. But she would have nothing which had
been given her by Mrs. Ellsworth, and she would return the dress and
cloak she was wearing to-night.
Three minutes were enough for the packing of the bag; then, luggage in
hand, she turned at the door for a last look, such as a released convict
might give to his cell.
"Good-bye!" she said, with a thought of compassion for her successor.
And passing Mrs. Ellsworth's room she would have thrown a farewell glance
at its familiar chairs and tables, each one of which she hated with a
separate hatred; but with a shock of surprise, she found the door shut.
That must mean that the dragon had retreated from the combat and retired
to her lair!
Not to be chased from the house by the sharp arrows of insult seemed
almost too good to be true. But when Annesley arrived, bag in hand, in
the front corridor, it was to see Ruthven Smith standing there alone, and
the door open to the street.
"Mrs. Ellsworth has gone to her room," he explained, "and--er--your
friend--your fiancé--is looking for a taxi, not to keep you waiting. He
didn't leave till Mrs. Ellsworth went. I don't think he would have
trusted me to protect you without him, though I--er--I did my best with
her. Good heavens, what a fury! I never saw that side of her before! I
must say, I don't blame you for making your own plans, Miss Grayle. I--I
don't blame you for anything, and I hope you'll feel the same toward me.
I'd be sorry to think that--er--after our pleasant acquaintance this was
to be our last meeting. Won't you show that you forgive me for the
mistake I made--I think it was natural--and tell me what your married
name will be?"
Annesley looked anxiously at the half-open front door. If only the absent
one would return and save her from this new dilemma! If she did not
speak, Mr. Ruthven Smith would think her harsh and unforgiving, yet she
could not answer unless she gave the name adopted temporarily for
convenience. She hesitated, her eyes on the door; but the darkness and
silence outside sent a doubt into her heart, cold and sickly as a bat
flapping in from the night.
_What if he never came back?_ What if the watchers had been hiding out
there, lying in wait and, two against one--both bigger men physically
than he, and perhaps armed--they had overpowered him? What if she were
never to see him again, and this hour which had seemed the beginning of
hope were to be its end?