Breathing convulsively, wide eyes a little wildly fixed upon his face
in the lamplight, the girl stumbled to her feet, and for a moment
remained cowering against the wall, terribly shaken, a hand gripping a
corner of the packing-box for support, the other pressed against the
bosom of her dress as if in attempt forcibly to quell the mad hammering
of her heart.
In her brain, a turmoil of affrighted thought, but one thing stood out
clearly: _now_ she need look for no mercy. The first time it had been
different; she had not been a woman had she been unable then to see
that the adventure intrigued Maitland with its spice of novelty, a new
sensation, fully as much as she, herself, the pretty woman out of
place, interested and attracted him. He had enjoyed playing the part,
had been amused to lead her to believe him an adventurer of mettle and
caliber little inferior to her own--as he understood her: unscrupulous,
impatient of the quibble of _meum-et-tuum_, but adroit and keen-witted,
and distinguished and set apart from the herd by grace of gentle
breeding and chivalric instincts.
How far he might or might not have let this enjoyment carry him, she
had no means of surmising. Not very far, not too far, she was inclined
to believe, strongly as she knew her personality to have influenced
him: not far enough to induce him to trust her out of sight with the
jewels. He had demonstrated that, to her humiliation.
The flush of excitement waning, manlike soon had he wearied of the
game--she thought: to her mind, in distorted retrospect, his attitude
when leaving her at dawn had been insincere, contemptuous, that of a
man relieved to be rid of her, relieved to be able to get away in
unquestioned possession of his treasure. True, the suggestion that they
lunch together at Eugene's had been his.... But he had forgotten the
engagement, if ever he had meant to keep it, if the notion had been
more than a whim of the moment with him. And O'Hagan had told her by
telephone that Maitland had left his rooms at one o'clock--in ample
time to meet her at the restaurant....
No, he had never intended to come; he had wearied; yet, patient with
her, true to the ethics of a gentleman, he had been content to let her
go, rather than to send a detective to take his place....
And this was something, by the way, to cause her to revise her theory
as to the manner in which Anisty had managed to steal the jewels. If
Maitland had gone abroad at one, and without intending to keep his
engagement at Eugene's, then he must have been despoiled before that
hour, and without his knowledge. Surely, if the jewels had been taken
from him with his cognizance, the hue and cry would have been out and
Anisty would not have dared to linger so long in the neighborhood!
To be just with herself, the girl had not gone to the restaurant with
much real hope of finding Maitland there. Curiosity had drawn
her,--just to see if.... But it was too preposterous to credit, that he
should have cared enough.... Quite too preposterous! It was her cup,
her bitter cup, to know that _she_ had learned to care enough--at
sight!... And she recalled (with what pangs of shame and misery begged
expression!) how her heart had been stirred when she had found him (as
she thought) true to his tryst: even as she recalled the agony and
distress of mind with which she had a moment later fathomed Anisty's
impersonation.
For, of course, she had known that Maitland was Maitland and none
other, from the instant when he told her to make good her escape and
leave him to brazen it out: a task to daunt even as bold and
resourceful a criminal as Anisty, and more especially if he were called
upon to don the mask at a minute's notice, as Maitland had pretended
to. Or, if she had not actually known, she had been led to suspect: and
it had hardly needed what she had heard him say to the servants, when
he thought her flying hotfoot over the lawn to safety, to harden
suspicion into certainty.
And now that he should find her here, a second time a trespasser,
doubly an ingrate,--that he should have caught her red-handed in this
abominably ungrateful treachery!... She could pretend, of course, that
she had returned merely to restore the jewels and the cigarette case;
and he would believe her, for he was generous.... She could, but--she
could not. Not now. Yesterday, the excitement had buoyed her; she had
gained a piquant enjoyment from befooling him, playing _her_ part of
the amateur crackswoman in this little comedy of the stolen jewels. But
therein lay the difference: yesterday it had been comedy, but
to-day--ah! to-day she could no longer laugh. For now she cared.
A little lie would clear her--yes. But it was not to be cleared that
she now so passionately desired; it was to have him believe in her,
even against the evidence of his senses, even in the face of the
world's condemnation; and so prove that he, too, cared--cared for her
as his attitude toward her had taught her to care....
Ever since leaving him in the dawn she had fed her starved heart with
the hope, faint hope though it were, that he would come to care a
little, that he would not utterly despise her, that he would understand
and forgive, when he learned why she had played out her part, nor
believe that she was the embodiment of all that was ignoble, coarse,
and crude; that he would show a little faith in her, a little faith
that like a flickering taper might light the way for ... Love.
But that hope was now dead within her, and cold. She had but to look at
him to see how groundless it had been, how utterly unmoved he was by
her distress. He waited patiently--that was all--seeming so very tall,
a pillar of righteous strength, distinguished and at ease in his
evening clothes: waiting, patient but cold, dispassionate and
disdainful.
"I am waiting, you see. Might I suggest that we have not all week for
our--our mutual differences?"
His tone was altogether changed; she would hardly have known it for his
voice. Its incisive, clipped accents were like a knife to her
sensitiveness.... She summoned the reserve of her strength, stood
erect, unsupported, and moved forward without a word. He stood aside,
holding the lamp high, and followed her, lighting the way down the hall
to the study.
Once there, she sank quivering into a chair, while he proceeded gravely
to the desk, put down the lamp,--superfluous now, the gas having been
lighted,--and after a moment's thought faced her, with a contemptuous
smile and lift of his shoulders, thrusting hands deep into his pockets.
"Well?" he demanded cuttingly.
She made a little motion of her hands, begging for time; and, assenting
with a short nod, he took a turn up and down the room, then
abstractedly reached up and turned out the gas.
"When you are quite composed I should enjoy hearing your statement."
"I ... have none to make."
"So!"--with his back to the lamp, towering over and oppressing her with
the sense of his strength and self-control. "That is very odd, isn't
it?"
"I have no--no explanation to give that would satisfy you, or myself,"
she said brokenly. "I--I don't care what you think," with a flicker of
defiance. "Believe the worst and--and do what you will--have me
arrested----"
He laughed sardonically. "Oh, we won't go so far as that, I guess;
harsh measures, such as arrest and imprisonment, are so unsatisfactory
to all concerned. But I am interested to know why you are here."
Her breathing seemed very loud in the pause; she kept her lips tight,
fearing to speak lest she lose her mastery of self. And hysteria
threatened: the fluttering in her bosom warned her. She must be very
careful, very restrained, if she were to avert that crowning misfortune.
"I don't think I quite understand you," he continued musingly; "surely
you must have anticipated interruption."
"I thought you safely out of the way----"
"One presumed that." He laughed again, unpleasantly. "But how about
Maitland? Didn't you have him in your calculations, or--"
He paused, unfeignedly surprised by her expression. And chuckled when
he comprehended.
"By the powers, I forgot for a moment! So you thought me Maitland, eh?
Well, I'm sorry I didn't understand that from the first. You're so
quick, as a rule, you know,--I confess you duped me neatly this
afternoon,--that I supposed you were wise and only afraid that I'd give
you what you deserve.... If they had sent any one but that stupid ass,
Hickey, to nab me, I'd be in the cooler now. As it was, you kindly
selected the very best kind of a house for my purpose; I went straight
up to the roofs and out through a building round the corner...."
But the shock of discovery, with its attendant revulsion of feeling,
had been too much for her. She collapsed suddenly in the chair, eyes
half closed, face pallid as a mask of death.
Anisty regarded her in silence for a meditative instant, then, taking
up the lamp, strode down the hall to the pantry, returning presently
with a glass brimming with an amber-tinted, effervescent liquid.
"Champagne," he announced, licking his lips. "Wish I had Maitland's
means to gratify my palate. He knows good wine.... Here, my dear, gulp
this down," placing the glass to the girl's lips and raising her head
that she might swallow without strangling.
As it was, she choked and gasped, but after a moment began to show some
signs of having benefited by the draught, a faint color dawning in her
cheeks.
"That's some better," commended the burglar, not unkindly. "Now, if you
please, we'll stop talking pretty and get down to brass tacks. Buck up,
now, and answer my questions. And don't be afraid; I'm holding no great
grudge for what you did this afternoon. I appreciate pluck and grit as
much as anybody, I guess, though I do think you ran it pretty close,
peaching on a pal after you'd lifted the jewels. By the way, why did
you do it?"
"Because.... But you wouldn't understand if I told you."
"I suppose not. I'm not much good splitting sentimental hairs. But
Maitland must have been pretty decent to you to make you go so far....
Speaking of which, where are they?"
"They?"
"Don't sidestep. We understand one another. I _know_ you've brought
back the jewels. Where have you stowed them?"
The wine had fulfilled its mission, endowed her with fresh strength and
renewed spirit. She was thinking quickly, every wit alert.
"I won't tell you."
"Won't, eh? That's an admission that they're here, you know. And you
may as well know I propose to have 'em. Fair means or foul, take your
pick. Where are they?"
"I have told you I wouldn't tell."
"I've known pluckier women than you to change their minds, under
pressure." He came nearer, bending over, face close to hers, eyes
savage, and gripped her wrists none too gently. "Tell me!"
"Let me go."
He proceeded calmly to imprison both small wrists in one strong, bony
hand. "Better tell."
"Let me go!" she panted, struggling to rise.