In a breath was self-satisfaction banished; simultaneously the
masquerader brought his gaze down from the ceiling, his thoughts to
earth, his vigilance to the surface, and himself to his feet, summoning
to his aid all that he possessed of resource and expedient.
Trapped!--the word blazed incandescent in his brain. So long had he
foreseen and planned against this very moment.
Yet panic swayed him for but a little instant; as swiftly as it had
overcome him it subsided, leaving him shocked, a shade more pale, but
rapidly reasserting control of his faculties. And with this shade of
emotion came complete reassurance.
His name had been uttered in no stern or menacing tone; rather its
syllables had been pitched in a low and guarded key, with an undernote
of raillery and cordiality. In brief, the moment that he recognized the
voice as a woman's, he was again master of himself, and, aware that the
result of his instinctive impulse to rise and defend himself, which had
brought him to a standing position, would be interpreted as only the
natural action of a gentleman addressed by a feminine acquaintance, he
was confident that he had not betrayed his primal consternation. He
bowed, smiled, and with eyes in which astonishment swiftly gave place
to gratification and complete comprehension, appraised her who had
addressed him.
She seemed to have fluttered to the table, beside which she now stood,
slightly swaying, her walking costume of grey shot silk falling about
her in soft, tremulous petals. Dainty, chic, well-poised, serene,
flawlessly pretty in her miniature fashion: Anisty recognized her in a
twinkling. His perceptions, trained to observations as instantaneous as
those of a snap-shot camera, and well-nigh as accurate, had
photographed her individuality indelibly upon the film of his memory,
even in the abbreviated encounter of the previous night.
By a similar play of educated reasoning faculties keyed to the highest
pitch of immediate action, he had difficulty as scant in accounting for
her presence there. What he did not quite comprehend was why Maitland
had used her so kindly; for it had been plain enough that that
gentleman had surprised her in the act of safe-breaking before
conniving at her escape. But, allowing that Maitland's actions had been
based upon motives vague to the burglar's understanding, it was quite
in the scheme of possibilities that he should have arranged to meet his
protégée at the restaurant that afternoon. She was come to keep an
appointment to which (now that Anisty came to remember) Maitland had
alluded in the beginning of their conversation.
Well and good: once before, within the past two hours, he had told
himself that he was Good-enough Maitland. He would be even better
now....
"But you did surprise me!" he declared gallantly, before she could
wonder at his slowness to respond. "You see, I was dreaming...."
He permitted her to surmise the object round which his dreams had been
woven.
"And I had expected you to be eagerly watching for me!" she parried
archly.
"I was ... mentally. But," he warned her seriously, "not that name.
Maitland is known here; they call me Maitland--the waiters. It seems I
made a bad choice. But with your assistance and discretion we can bluff
it out, all right."
"I forgot. Forgive me." By now she was in the chair opposite him,
tucking the lower ends of her gloves into their wrists.
"No matter--nobody heard."
"I very nearly called you Handsome Dan." She flashed a radiant smile at
him from beneath the rim of her picture hat.
A fire was kindled in Anisty's eyes; he was conscious of a quickened
drumming of his pulses.
"Dan is Maitland's front name, also," he remarked absently.
"I thought as much," she responded, quietly speculative.
The burglar hardly heard. It has been indicated that he was
quick-witted, because he had to be, in the very nature of his
avocation. Just now his brain was working rather more rapidly than
usual, even: which was one reason why the light had leaped into his
eyes.
It was very plain--to a deductive reasoner--from the girl's attitude
toward him that she had fallen into relations of uncommon friendliness
with this Maitland, young as Anisty believed their acquaintance to be.
There had plainly been a flirtation--wherein lay the explanation of
Maitland's forbearance: he had been fascinated by the woman, had not
hesitated to take Anisty's name (even as Anisty was then taking his) in
order to prolong their intimacy.
So much the better. Turn-about was still fair play. Maitland had sown
as Anisty; the real Anisty would reap the harvest. Pretty women
interested him deeply, though he saw little enough of them, partly
through motives of prudence, partly because of a refinement of taste:
women of the class of this conquest-by-proxy were out of reach of the
enemy of society. That is, under ordinary circumstances. This one, on
the contrary, was not: whatever she was or had been, however successful
a crackswoman she might be, her cultivation and breeding were as
apparent as her beauty; and quite as attractive.
A criminal is necessarily first a gambler, a votary of Chance; and the
blind goddess had always been very kind to Mr. Anisty. He felt that
here again she was favoring him. Maitland he had eliminated from this
girl's life; Maitland had failed to keep his engagement, and so would
never again be called upon to play the part of burglar with her
interest for incentive and guerdon. Anisty himself could take up where
Maitland had left off. Easily enough. The difficulties were
insignificant: he had only to play up to Maitland's standard for a
while, to be Maitland with all that gentleman's advantages, educational
and social, then gradually drop back to his own level and be himself,
Dan Anisty, "Handsome Dan," the professional, the fit mate for the
girl....
What was she saying?
"But you have lunched already!" with an appealing pout.
"Indeed, no!" he protested earnestly. "I was early--conceive my
eagerness!--and by ill chance a friend of mine insisted upon lunching
with me. I had only a cup of coffee and a roll." He motioned to the
waiter, calling him "Waiter!" rather than "_Garçon!_"----intuitively
understanding that Maitland would never have aired his French in a
public place, and that he could not afford the least slip before a
woman as keen as this.
"Lay a clean cloth and bring the bill of fare," he demanded, tempering
his lordly instincts and adding the "please" that men of Maitland's
stamp use to inferiors.
"A friend!" tardily echoed the girl when the servant was gone.
He laughed lightly, determined to be frank. "A detective, in point of
fact," said he. And enjoyed her surprise.
"You have many such?"
"For convenience one tries to have one in each city."
"And this----?"
"Oh, I have him fixed, all right. He confided to me all the latest
developments and official intentions with regard to the Maitland
arrest."
Her eyes danced. "Tell me!" she demanded, imperious: the emphasis of
intimacy irresistible as she bent forward, forearms on the cloth, slim
white hands clasped with tense impatience, eyes seeking his.
"Why ... of course Maitland escaped."
"No!"
"Fact. Scared the butler into ungagging him; then, in a fit of
pardonable rage, knocked that fool down and dashed out of the
window--presumably in pursuit of us. Up to a late hour he hadn't
returned, and police opinion is divided as to whether Maitland arrested
Anisty, and Anisty got away, or _vice versa_."
"Excellent!" She clasped her hands noiselessly, a gay little gesture.
"So, whatever the outcome, one thing is certain: Higgins will presently
be seeking another berth."
She lifted her brows prettily. "Higgins?"--with the rising inflection.
"The butler. Didn't you hear----?"
Eyes wondering, she moved her head slowly from side to side. "Hear
what?"
"I fancied that you had waited a moment on the veranda," he finessed.
"Oh, I was quite too frightened...."
He took this for a complete denial. Better and better! He had actually
feared that she had eaves-dropped, however warrantably; and Maitland's
authoritative way with the servants had been too convincingly natural
to have deceived a woman of her keen wits.
There followed a lull while Anisty was ordering the luncheon: something
he did elaborately and with success, telling himself humorously: "Hang
the expense! Maitland pays." Of which fact the weight in his pocket was
assurance.
Maitland.... Anisty's thoughts verged off upon an interesting tangent.
What was Maitland's motive in arranging this meeting? It was
self-evident that the twain were of one world--the girl and the man of
fashion. But, whatever her right of heritage, she had renounced it,
declassing herself by yielding to thievish instincts, voluntarily
placing herself on the level of Anisty. Where she must remain, for ever.
There was comfort in that reflection. He glanced up to find her eyes
bent in gravity upon him. She, too, it appeared, had fallen a prey to
reverie. Upon what subject? An absorbing one, doubtless, since it held
her abstracted despite her companion's direct, unequivocally admiring
stare.
The odd light was flickering again in the cracks-man's glance. She was
then more beautiful than aught that ever he had dreamed of. Such hair
as was hers, woven seemingly of dull flames, lambent, witching! And
eyes!--beautiful always, but never more so than at this moment, when
filled with sweetly pensive contemplation.... Was she reviewing the
last twenty-four hours, dreaming of what had passed between her and
that silly fool, Maitland? If only Anisty could surmise what they had
said to each other, how long they had been acquainted; if only she
would give him a hint, a leading word!...
If he could have read her mind, have seen behind the film of thought
that clouded her eyes, one fears Mr. Anisty might have lost appetite
for an excellent luncheon. For she was studying his hands, her memory
harking back to the moment when she had stood beside the safe, holding
the bull's-eye....
In the blackness of that hour a disk of light shone out luridly against
the tapestry of memory. Within its radius appeared two hands, long,
supple, strong, immaculately white, graceful and dexterous, as delicate
of contour as a woman's, yet lacking nothing of masculine vigor and
modeling; hands that wavered against the blackness, fumbling with the
shining nickeled disk of a combination-lock.... The impression had been
and remained one extraordinarily vivid. Could her eyes have deceived
her so?...
"Thoughtful?"
She nodded alertly, instantaneously mistress of self; and let her gaze,
serious yet half smiling, linger upon his the exact fractional shade of
an instant longer than had been, perhaps, discreet. Then lashes drooped
long upon her cheeks, and her color deepened all but imperceptibly.
The man's breath halted, then came a trace more rapidly than before. He
bent forward impulsively.
... The girl sighed, ever so gently.
"I was thoughtful.... It's all so strange, you know."
His attitude was an eager question.
"I mean our meeting--that way, last night." She held his gaze again,
momentarily, and----
"Damn the waiter!" quoth savagely Mr. Anisty to his inner man, sitting
back to facilitate the service of their meal.
The girl placated him with an insignificant remark which led both into
a maze of meaningless but infinitely diverting inconsequences;
diverting, at least, to Anisty, who held up his head, giving her back
look for look, jest for jest, platitude for platitude (when the waiter
was within hearing distance): altogether, he felt, acquitting himself
very creditably....
As for the girl, in the course of the next half or three-quarters of an
hour she demonstrated herself conclusively a person of amazing
resource, developing with admirable ingenuity a campaign planned on the
spur of a chance observation. The gentle mannered and self-sufficient
crook was taken captive before he realized it, however willing he may
have been. Enmeshed in a hundred uncomprehended subtleties, he basked,
purring, the while she insinuated herself beneath his guard and
stripped him of his entire armament of cunning, vigilance, invention,
suspicion, and distrust.
He relinquished them without a sigh, barely conscious of the
spoliation. After all, she was of his trade, herself mired with guilt;
she would never dare betray him, the consequences to herself would be
so dire.
Besides, patently,--almost too much so,--she admired him. He was her
hero. Had she not more than hinted that such was the case, that his
example, his exploits, had fired her to emulation--however weakly
feminine?... He saw her before him, dainty, alluring, yielding, yet
leading him on: altogether desirable. And so long had he, Anisty,
starved for affection!...
"I am sure you must be dying for a smoke."
"Beg pardon!" He awoke abruptly, to find himself twirling the
sharp-ribbed stem of his empty glass. Abstractedly he stared into this,
as though seeking there a clue to what they had been talking about.
Hazily he understood that they had been drifting close upon the
perilous shoals of intimate personalities. What had he told her? What
had he not?
No matter. It was clearly to be seen that her regard for him had waxed
rather than waned as a result of their conversation. One had but to
look into her eyes to be reassured as to that. One did look, breathing
heavily.... What an ingenuous child it was, to show him her heart so
freely! He wondered that this should be so, feeling it none the less a
just and graceful tribute to his fascinations.
She repeated her arch query. She was sure he wanted to smoke.
Indeed he did--if she would permit? And forthwith Maitland's cigarette
case was produced, with a flourish.
"What a beautiful case!"
In an instant it was in her hands. "Beautiful!" she iterated,
inspecting the delicate tracery of the monogram engraver's art--head
bended forward, face shaded by the broad-brimmed hat.
"You like it? You would care to own it?" Anisty demanded unsteadily.
"I?" The inflection of doubtful surprise was a delight to the ear.
"Oh!... I couldn't think of accepting.... Besides, I have no use for
it."
"Of course you ain't--_are_ not that sort." An hour back he could have
kicked himself for the grammatical blunder; now he was wholly illuded;
besides, she didn't seem to notice. "But as a little token--between
us----"