"HER PROMISE TRUE"
Half an hour before this, in the little mezzanine chamber, Hester
Storm, with a sigh of relief, had sat down to the tray of food that
Betty had left for her. At any rate, the worst was over. She had
confessed her sin and had renounced all interest in the stolen money
except to give it back. Miss Thompson would intercede for her with
the bishop, and he, having the funds once more, would see that the
police investigation was dropped. So she need not worry about
Grimes. He would be taken off the case within twenty-four hours
and---- What was that?
Above the tumult of the storm she had heard distinctly the click of a
latch and, glancing up from her place, Hester fixed her eyes on the
green door at the other end of the room and, presently she saw this
open slowly and noiselessly, as she had seen it open once before. A
moment later Anton entered, his eyes cruel, his face set with wicked
determination.
The chauffeur closed the door behind him and locked it. Then,
without a word, he went to the other door that opened on the library
stairs and, putting this an inch or two ajar, he stood listening.
Hester listened also and could hear Bob Baxter speaking tenderly to
Betty.
"Spooning!" nodded the intruder. "Good business! He'll keep her for
a while, but----" he turned the key in the lock, "I'll make sure just
the same."
Hester started to her feet.
"Why do you lock that door?" Her bent shoulders and staring eyes
betrayed her sudden terror.
"You'll find out," he whispered hoarsely.
She cowered away as the man strode toward her.
"Worked your little game all right this morning, eh, kid?" he
sneered. "Got the cablegram out of my pocket?"
She half shut her eyes, watching him keenly.
"Yes, I got it."
"What'd'ye do with it?" he demanded.
She tossed her head with a flash of impudence.
"That's my business. See here, you keep your hands off me or----"
"Or what?"
With a scowl of anger he caught her in his powerful arms, and held
her helpless. "Little fool! I had you this morning--in the library
and I--let you go." His voice was thick with passion. "But if you
get away now---- Good Lord, hear that!"
He turned to the window as the shrieking tempest made the whole house
tremble.
Like a desperate hunted thing Hester drew back stealthily. It was in
her mind to make a dash for one of the doors and escape before Anton
could seize her again. He had left the keys in the locks and--the
room was almost dark, but----
The chauffeur turned as if anticipating her thoughts. "Come here,"
he ordered and slowly she obeyed. "Why should I keep my hands off
you?"
She stood white-faced before him, searching vainly; for some way of
escape.
"You're a crook--wanted by the police. There's a man in this house
from Scotland Yard. Did you know that?"
"Yes, I know it."
Anton caught her by the wrist and drew her to him roughly.
"You're hurting me," she cried.
"He'll hurt you more than that, if he gets you--he'll hurt you with
irons."
The chauffeur leaned closer, leering horribly and it seemed to Hester
that all the strength was going out of her body.
"Let me go!" she panted.
"Ha! Let you go!"
Again he caught her in his arms and pressed her fiercely against him.
She felt his hot breath. She saw the veins swelling in his red neck.
She struggled and turned her head from side to side, but he buried
his face in her neck, in her hair, with little snorts and cries like
an animal; then he kissed her furiously on the cheeks, on the
forehead and at last full and long on the mouth!
"Ha! Let you go!" he breathed with smothered violence. "I'll let
you go when--stop that!" he cried. "You will! You'll bite me?"
With a twinge of pain he drew back for a second, but instantly rushed
after her as she sprang away.
And now, in her extreme and imminent peril, Hester took the last
chance that remained. Before the madman could get his hands on her
again, she screamed with all the power of her lungs--then screamed
again.
Anton stood still, his eyes filled with sudden fear, his nostrils
dilated. That wild cry had stirred the coward within the beast.
And, while he waited, stunned and stupid, Hester's quick wits took
control of the situation.
"Listen! I hear a step," she warned him, but, in her sinking heart,
she knew that there was no step. No one had heard her. The
shrieking of the storm had covered everything. She was as helpless
as before.
And while Anton listened in alarm, not yet realizing his advantage,
the Storm girl's mind leaped forward to study the next move in the
desperate game she was playing. In a moment he would see that there
was no danger--no one was coming, no one would come. And then, in
gloating reaction, he would come back to his infernal purpose
and--God! she must turn him from that before the beast was roused
again.
"Anton," she said with swift decision, "I--I did take the money out
of the purse."
He stared at her doubtfully.
"You did?"
"Yes--I--I hid it."
"Where?"
"In the conservatory. Don't look at me like that. I'm not lying.
You've played me to a standstill and--I quit."
"You mean you'll give me my share of the money?"
"Yes."
"Five thousand pounds? I get half of it?"
"Yes."
Anton moistened his red lips with the tip of his tongue. He ran his
fingers back through his thick hair. This was a new problem.
"You little devil!" he said almost admiringly. Then with suspicion,
"You say you hid this money in the conservatory. Where in the
conservatory? Where? And no more funny business---- I won't stand
for it," he threatened, as he saw her hesitate.
"If I tell you where it is will you let me get it?" she asked.
"Let you get it? And then get away with it? I should say not. I'll
get it myself."
She shook her head stubbornly.
"No. We'll get it together. You can stand over me, you can watch
every move I make, but----I take the bills out and divide 'em. Don't
make any mistake about that."
He frowned at this ultimatum, but she saw the spirit of greed shining
in his eyes. Thank God, the other danger was past.
"You can divide the bills. Come on."
Anton went to the green door and turned the key.
"You go first. And remember, kid, if you try any crafty work, I'm
right at your back and--if I don't get that money, the police get
you."
She nodded indifferently and led the way along a dark passage, then
down a narrow servants' staircase that ended in a door opening into
the conservatory. As they moved on cautiously Anton kept his hand
firmly on the girl's shoulder and, somehow, Hester was glad of this,
for the half-darkness and the violence of the storm frightened her.
She had no thought any longer of escaping. She had done her best and
failed. She had played her last card and lost.
This man had forced her to choose between being a thief and a wanton
and--well, she had been a thief before. To save her body from prison
and--a worse fate, she was ready to give Anton half of this stolen
money, she must give it to him, she had no choice, and the other
half, her half, she would return this to the bishop. That was all
she could do.
Hester opened the door at the foot of the stairs and stepped forward
into the fragrant atmosphere of the plants and blooms. Anton was
close behind her. She could feel his clutching hand. It was very
dark within the conservatory and outside the storm was raging
fearfully.
Suddenly the organ in the library began to play softly. Hester Storm
stood still, listening at first in fear, and then, as the music wove
its spell about her, with a kind of strange pleasure. Who could be
playing so beautifully and tenderly there in the dark while she was
here in such trouble?
A menacing pressure from the hand on her shoulder urged the girl to
action. Stepping forward, Hester came to the rose bush in its gilded
basket. A quick movement with one hand lifted the cylinder from its
pot, then a search with the other brought her fingers in contact with
the banknotes. There! She had them! Fifty hundred-pound notes!
She had only to count off twenty-five and give them to Anton. That
would silence him, but--would he take her word, in the darkness, that
the count was straight?
She turned toward the chauffeur and, at this moment, became conscious
that there was no longer any pressure on her shoulder. Anton had
taken away his hand. She peered through the shadows, but could
discern nothing save the vague outlines of a giant palm. She
stretched forth her hand, but could feel nothing. The man had gone.
At the moment of grasping a fortune he had gone. Why? What had
happened?
In her concentration on the rose bush Hester had not seen the dull
glow of a cigar burning in sinister watchfulness, there, in the far
corner of the conservatory; but Anton had seen it and had drawn back
stealthily, his heart pounding. It was Grimes lurking in the
darkness, Grimes waiting for his prey.
And now, as Hester wondered at this strange disappearance of her
persecutor, the organ stopped and a beautiful voice sounded from the
library in a song that none can resist.
Gave me her promise true,
Which ne'er forgot shall he,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie,
I'd lay down and dee.
"Her promise true!" These words went straight to the soul of this
poor transgressor. It was like a voice speaking to her, a voice
singing to her, a wonderful voice through the shadows of fear
carrying its message of steadfastness and hope.
"Her promise true!" What had she promised? To be honest, to be
kind. That meant giving back the money--and letting Anton hand her
over to Grimes. Anton would do it, too, the cur. Then Grimes would
send her up and--she'd never see Rosalie again and--she'd never be
able to do anything for Rosalie.
Strange how this thought of Rosalie gave Hester strength to do the
thing that would surely separate her from Rosalie, to do the thing
that was right, whatever the cost! As she listened, breathless and
motionless, reveling in that enthralling melody, it seemed as if she
saw her sister's loving eyes, gazing at her tenderly.
It was Rosalie, the pure soul of Rosalie, speaking to her, pleading
with her in golden song, bidding her be brave and--keep her promise
and--give the money back--not half of it, but all of it.
Inspired with this simple faith, the girl moved swiftly toward the
wide glass door that led into the library. In her hand she held the
banknotes. She was going to give them back. Anton and Grimes might
do what they pleased. If punishment and shame must come, then let
them come. She was going to return the money she had stolen and--do
what her dear sister Rosalie would wish and--keep "her promise true."
With her hand on the door Hester paused. She remembered that Miss
Thompson's desk stood at this side of the room, not more than ten
feet distant. It was possible that, under cover of darkness and the
music, she could reach this desk without attracting attention. If
she could, then--then she might slip the money into one of the
drawers and--and make her getaway through the park before Anton could
be sure that she had thrown him down. He wouldn't tell Grimes until
he was absolutely sure. She might have time to stop at the lodge for
her things and--she could square old Mrs. Pottle somehow. There was
just a chance, in this storm, that she could be off on a train to
London before Anton would even tumble that she had started. He was a
good deal of a fool, Anton, and a coward besides.
Well, she would take the chance. It meant liberty, everything
and--this was playing fair. She had promised to give the money back,
but--that didn't mean walking meekly into jail. To be honest, to be
kind--there was nothing else to it. She had a perfect right to keep
out of jail, if she could.
Lightly and swiftly Hester entered the library and glided across the
room toward Miss Thompson's desk. Betty was still singing, but the
Storm girl listened no longer. All her faculties were centered on
the last desperate adventure. If she could only get away with this!
If the kind God--Merle's God--Rosalie's God--would only let her get
away with this!
Groping before her in the obscurity of the room, her hand touched the
desk and, running her fingers over it, she came upon a partly open
drawer. There was something white in it. A handkerchief! It was
the top drawer on the left-hand side. She would remember that and
wire Betty to-night--no, write her. The top drawer on the left-hand
side, under the handkerchief. There! She crowded the banknotes back
into the drawer with a farewell tap and cautiously pressed the drawer
shut. The spring-lock clicked. She had kept her promise. She had
returned the Bishop of Bunchester's five thousand pounds, while the
bishop himself, all unconscious of this, sat, lost in pleasant
reverie, not three yards away.
Swiftly and silently, as before, Hester left the room. Thus far
fortune and the darkness and the music had favored her. It only
remained to cross the conservatory, to open the outside door and then
venture forth into the storm. Where was Anton? Where was Grimes?
With a supreme effort the girl conquered her fears and crossed the
few feet that separated her from the tumult inside. And, close
behind her in a dull red line, came the watchful cigar--and Grimes.
The Storm girl grasped the latch of the outside door and, at the same
moment, a heavy hand descended on her shoulder.
"Anton!" she started.
"Guess again, little one," answered a voice that made her knees sink
under her. "We've got you with the goods this time. Eh, Jenny
Regan?"