IN THE SQUARE.
Jack said no more for the present. He closed the front door quietly,
not forgetting, however, to glance at the great clock, and stopping to
calculate that a good half-hour must elapse before Anstruther
returned. It would have been a great misfortune indeed if the latter
had come home at that moment. In a mechanical kind of way Serena
turned into the dining-room, where she proceeded to pull down the
blinds and switch on the lights. At a sign from Jack, Lady Barmouth
remained where she was for the moment, and Masefield, together with
Claire, entered the dining-room.
"I am bound to ask you a few questions," he said, turning to Serena.
"For instance, I have yet to learn why the walking image of that
poster should have frightened you so terribly."
"It was Adolpho returned from the grave," Serena murmured. Apparently
she was talking to herself. "Beyond all question poor Adolpho----"
She paused in some confusion, and looked guiltily from Claire to Jack.
The latter was not slow to take up the point.
"So you have actually seen the man before?" he demanded. "Well, we
will not discuss that at present. A little later on perhaps I shall
ask you to speak more freely. Meanwhile, I may as well tell you that I
came here to-night with a lady desirous of seeing you."
Serena was alert and eager in a moment. Jack could see that the
fighting look had returned to her face; her eyes dilated strangely.
She seemed to guess by some subtle instinct exactly what was going to
happen.
"My sister." she whispered. Her voice was very strained and low.
"Something tells me that my sister is here. I pray you go away and get
rid of her at once. Tell her any lie, invent any falsehood. If you
have the slightest feeling for the most miserable woman in the world
you will do this thing for me."
"But it is too late," Jack protested. "Lady Barmouth is with me; she
is waiting in the hall at the present moment, and she has already seen
your face."
"But I do not understand," Serena cried, stretching out her hands
hopelessly. "I have but one sister whom I believe to be living, and
her name is Grace. Lady Barmouth cannot possibly be anything to me."
"Lady Barmouth is your sister all the same," Jack explained. "She
married Lord Barmouth after you left home; she has told me your sad
story, and you must believe that she has been looking for you
everywhere. Surely you would not punish yourself for that which was
after all merely an act of girlish folly?"
Serena covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. Her head
fell forward on the table. Presently an arm stole about her neck. When
she looked up again it was to meet the tender and softened gaze of
Lady Barmouth.
"And so we meet again like this after all these years," Lady Barmouth
said gently. "Oh, my dear Serena, how could you go off like that; how
could you leave us all without a word or a sign? Our father was a
harsh man; his pride was his besetting sin, but he would have forgiven
you and taken you to his heart again if only you had returned to the
old home. Didn't you suppose that I cared? And after all said and
done, what is your crime? You trusted a man who was not worthy of your
affection, and he deserted you because you lacked the money for which
he married you. If that is a crime, then there are many thousands of
poor women in the world in the same sad plight."
Meanwhile Jack and Claire had crept quietly from the room. It would
have been indelicate to remain there in the circumstances. Jack,
looking at Claire, noted that the tears were also in her eyes.
"What a strangely pathetic thing," Claire murmured. "How did it come
about, Jack?"
Jack explained the story of the photograph, but Claire was hardly
listening. It seemed such a strange, sad story to her, this pathetic
meeting between the two sisters.
"But you don't suppose that Mr. Anstruther knows?" Claire asked. "You
do not imagine for a moment that he is aware of the fact that Serena
is Lady Barmouth's sister?"
"I hope to goodness no," Jack exclaimed. "But I don't see how the
thing could be possible. To begin with, the sisters are not in the
least alike, and in addition to this Serena had not the least idea
that Lady Barmouth had married. What I am most afraid of now is that
Anstruther should come back and discover those two women together."
"Claire nodded gravely, with one eye on the clock. It was only a
matter of minutes now when Anstruther would return. He was dining at
his club to-night, Claire explained, with Mr. Carrington, at eight
o'clock, and as it was now a quarter past seven, there was not much
time for him to dress and get back to St. James's Street again.
"In that case I must intrude myself upon those two ladies," Jack said
firmly. "I will put Lady Barmouth in a cab and send her home. It will
be quite easy for the sisters to arrange a meeting at Lady Barmouth's
house. Keep Anstruther out of the dining-room if he comes in."
Jack strode resolutely across the hall, and placed the matter tersely
and vigorously before the sisters. "It would never do," he explained,
"for Anstruther to find you here at this moment."
Serena's eyes were swollen with weeping. There were the deep marks of
tears upon her cheeks. Lady Barmouth's worldly training had stood her
in better stead, but she also carried traces of emotion which could
not be wiped out in a moment.
"I am going to put you in a cab at once," Jack said. "Anstruther may
be here any instant, and you can imagine how necessary it is to keep
him in the dark. Besides, you can easily arrange a meeting in a safer
atmosphere than this."
With a brief remark to the effect that she would communicate with
Serena again, Lady Barmouth left the room, and permitted Jack to
escort her to a cab. The latter breathed more freely as the clatter of
the horses' hoofs died away. He ran back quickly to the house again to
give a few last words of instruction to Claire.
"You look all right now," he said, "but Serena's case is entirely
different. Take my advice, and send her up to her room. If you are not
going to dine in the proper sense of the word, there is no reason why
Serena should appear again till Anstruther has gone to his club. And I
will go, too; I don't want our worthy host to know that I have been
here this evening."
Jack went off thoughtfully in the direction of the square. It was a
particularly good-class neighborhood, and generally very quiet at this
time of the evening. The half-hour past seven had just struck from a
neighboring clock. In most of the dining-rooms on the north side of
the square brilliant lights demonstrated the fact that folk were at
dinner. With the exception of a solitary policeman nobody was in
sight. As is usual with the majority of London squares, the place was
none too well lighted, and there were just sufficient lamps to throw
the shadows of the garden in deeper relief. It had often occurred to
Jack how easy crime and violence would be in circumstances like these.
Jack's imagination was working freely now; indeed, it would have been
odd if his brain had not been screwed to a high pitch by the events of
the day. Coming towards him now, swinging along at a good pace, was a
tall, slim figure, which seemed familiar to Masefield. As the figure
paused under a lamp to look at his watch, Jack could see the figure
was that of Anstruther. He congratulated himself upon the fact that he
had got away from Panton Square before Anstruther returned. He crossed
the road in a casual sort of way, and passed along under the shadow of
the houses so that Anstruther had no idea how he was being watched.
The latter paused again, just by the entrance to the square gardens,
the gates of which had not yet been locked, though it was considerably
past the hour when the gardens were closed to the public. Anstruther
stood there as if debating something in his mind, then suddenly
another figure came like a lightning flash from inside the garden
gates, and fell upon Anstruther with terrible swiftness.
So sudden and unexpected was it that Jack could hardly believe the
evidence of his own eyes. Anstruther gave one gurgling cry, his hands
went up as if imploring assistance, then he settled down to a fray
which could only end in one fashion. It was impossible where Jack
stood for him to make out anything more than the mere outline of the
man who had so unexpectedly fallen upon Anstruther. But there was no
mistaking the grimness of his intention: there was sinister design in
every movement of the body This was no common square thief, intent
upon a paltry meed of plunder, but a man who had deliberately picked
out his prey with the intention of mauling it to the death.
All this passed as it were in the twinkling of an eye. Jack knew now
that he would have to pull himself together and advance to the rescue.
As he flew across the road he heard in a mechanical sort of fashion
the heavy footstep of a policeman clanging on the quiet pavement some
little way off. Here, at any rate, was aid fairly close at hand. But
Jack was not the kind of man to wait in an emergency like this. Before
he could cross the road he saw that Anstruther was prostrate on the
pavement, with his assailant kneeling cat-like upon his chest. The man
was evidently fumbling for something, probably a weapon of the
noiseless kind, for Jack could see his right hand working in a hip
pocket. With a headlong leap Jack fell upon the would-be assassin, and
clutched him by the throat. At the same time a police whistle
shrilled.
But the man kneeling on Anstruther's chest was not taken aback for an
instant. With a quick upward motion of his body he pitched Jack clean
over his head, and, rolling off Anstruther's chest, darted like a
snake into the gardens. By this time three policemen were upon the
scene. "No, I don't think he is hurt much," Jack explained, as
Anstruther scrambled to his feet, and gazed wildly around him. "No
damage done, eh?"
Anstruther explained that he was none the worse for his adventure. He
seemed to be under the impression that he had been the victim of some
loafer's cupidity. He could give no description of his assailant;
indeed, he said that he had no idea now but to get away and keep an
important appointment. He tossed his card over to the police, and went
coolly down the road.
"We can get that fellow all the same," Jack said. "He is in the
gardens somewhere. Suppose you three men stand round the square while
I go inside and drive him out. One of you lend me a lantern."
The quest was by no means a long one. At the fourth cast of the
lantern Jack descried his man crouching down under a belt of laurels.
He reached forward and dragged the fellow up by the neck.
"I am a bigger man than you are," Jack said. "Do you come quietly, or
are you going to take it fighting?"
By way of reply the man raised his hat; his face was exposed.
"I am not going to take it at all," he said. "You will be good enough
to put the police off my scent and have a cab handy so that I can get
away without being seen. We have met before, sir."
It was a fitting crown to a day of surprises. For the man who stood
before Jack was the same Nostalgo he had conveyed in the guise of a
dead body to Shannon Street police station.