YOU TALK IN RIDDLES.
[Illustration: Chapter X drop-cap M]
Madame did give a receipt in full, and soon afterwards left the house.
Before doing so, she had promised Keith that the hundred pounds in gold
and notes should be forwarded to him by special messenger within an
hour.
Keith had not intended to remain in to lunch, but he did not go out.
Neither, however, did he appear in the dining-room.
Kitty, restless, with fear now dogging her footsteps, came in. Mrs.
Keith was out, and was not expected to return for the day. She
inquired of the servant if Captain Keith were within.
"Yes, miss," replied the girl; "the captain is in his study."
"Will you tell him that lunch is ready?" said Kitty.
The maid withdrew to give the necessary information. She came back in
a moment or two to say that Captain Keith did not require lunch.
Kitty pouted. She sat down with but a sorry appetite. She ate very
little. When her slight meal was concluded, she ran across the passage
and tapped with her knuckles at the door of the study.
"It's me, Gavon," she called out. "May I come in?"
"Not now, Katherine," he replied, without opening the door. "I am
particularly engaged."
She pouted once more and walked across the hall. She went slowly, very
slowly, upstairs to her own room.
"Such an opportunity, and to miss it!" she thought. "I should have had
him all to myself; no troublesome Mollie to distract his thoughts, and
no Aunt Louisa to watch us both, as I have always seen her do lately.
Why did he not lunch with me, and why did he refuse me admittance to
his study? I suppose it is all too patent a fact that he does not care
for me. I am one of those miserable girls who give their heart
unsought, who give their love unasked for. I have read about such
girls, and oh, how I have scorned them, little thinking that I should
be one of them! The question now is this--Is the case hopeless? Will
the fancy ball at Goring open Gavon's eyes? Will he see then that I,
his cousin Kitty, possess a heart all on fire with love to him? If he
sees me as I shall look that night, will he still prefer the cold,
statuesque beauty of Mollie to my living, loving human heart? O Gavon,
you cannot do so! When a girl gives up everything for you, you cannot
reject her! O Gavon, if you do, my heart will break. I cannot live
without you, my darling."
Struggling with her emotion, thinking hardly at all of the grave sin
which she had committed, Kitty sat down by her open window.
"He is going away so soon," she thought. "He may never return. I
cannot live without him. If he goes I will go too. Yes, I must. I
will follow him somehow, in some fashion. How sorry I am now that I
did not take up the profession which makes it possible for Mollie to be
near him in his hour of danger!"
The large room which Kitty and Mollie occupied was situated in the
front of the house, and just then Kitty heard a slight noise below.
She ran to the window, opened it, and put out her head. She saw
Captain Keith run down the steps of the house and walk rapidly up the
street. There was purpose in his walk, and there was also a slight
droop of his head, as though something perplexed and troubled him.
Kitty, whose love made her able to read his every emotion, noticed this
look, and felt a fresh tightening of her heart.
"Something worries him," thought the girl; "something worries him. Oh,
can anything in all the world put wrong right now? If you only knew,
Gavon--if you only knew what I did for you to-day! I stole a purse of
gold and notes, and all for you. I stole it because I wanted a pretty
dress--something to make me look attractive in your eyes. You cannot
guess that your Kitty is a thief--you cannot guess that I have risked
the most hideous danger for you; for God only knows whether the purse
will be missed, and whether the owner will make a fuss, and whether the
officers of the law will not discover what I have done. Nevertheless I
do not fear. I fear nothing now but the possibility that I shall not
win that which I madly crave--your love and devotion."
Meanwhile Gavon Keith quickly reached the end of the long street,
turned to his left, and held up his umbrella to a hansom-driver. The
man pulled up at the pavement, and Gavon got in. He held a small
parcel in his hand. The parcel was tied and sealed. He gave a
direction in Bayswater. The man whipped up his horse, and in about
twenty minutes drew up at the door of the house where the Hunts lived.
It was nearly five in the afternoon, and the rays of the setting sun
were gilding some of the windows of the great house. Gavon rang the
bell, and a liveried and powdered footman attended to his summons.
"Is Miss Katherine Hunt within?" was his first inquiry.
"My mistress is at home, sir," replied the man, after a pause, "but I
am not sure whether she receives this afternoon."
Gavon was prepared for this reply. He scribbled a few words on his
visiting card, and asked the servant to take it to the young lady.
"I will not come in," he said; "I will wait here."
The man went upstairs. Katherine Hunt was lounging in an arm-chair,
idly turning the pages of a fashion magazine, thinking of the dress she
was to wear on Monday night, and yawning now and then with downright
_ennui_.
When the footman appeared, he presented the card on a salver. Miss
Hunt took it up and glanced at it.
"Captain Keith, North Essex Light Infantry." Then in a corner were
words scribbled in pencil: "I have called to see you on behalf of
Madame Dupuys."
"What can this mean?" thought the girl. She sat up, and her _ennui_
vanished. "Show Captain Keith up," she said to the servant; and a
moment later he entered the room. He came quickly towards her, and she
stood up as he advanced, and bowed in return to his greeting.
"Will you sit down?" she said. Then she added, speaking somewhat
conventionally, "What can I do for you?"
"I must apologize for forcing myself into your presence in this way,
Miss Hunt," replied Keith. "I have a very painful business to
transact, and I want to do it as quickly as possible. I want, to a
certain extent, also to throw myself on your mercy."
"I will do anything I can for you," said the girl.
She saw that Keith was agitated. His face was white, and although his
words were bold enough, she observed that his hand slightly trembled.
She pushed a chair towards him; but he did not take it, although he
laid his hand on the rail.
Miss Hunt sat down on a sofa which stood near. She looked up with
expectancy on her face. Keith thought for a brief moment, and then
plunged into the ugly task which he had set himself.
[Illustration: "_She looked up with expectancy on her face._"]
"You took a drive this morning," he said, "in a hansom, number 22,461."
"I did," said the girl, in some astonishment.
"You left your purse in the hansom, and that purse contained one
hundred pounds in gold and notes."
"It did. It also contained five shillings. Have you heard anything
about it? I shall be so thankful to get it back. I went to Scotland
Yard, but could get no information. I was just regarding the whole
affair as hopeless, although, of course, the police will do what they
can. I was wondering how I could break the news to my father.
Although he is rich, he hates what he calls wilful waste. Won't you
sit down, Captain Keith? I wish you would."
Keith did now drop into the nearest chair.
"My father will naturally accuse me of carelessness for leaving my
purse in a hansom," continued the young lady.
"I wish to goodness you had not done so, Miss Hunt!"
"How strangely you speak! Is it possible you know something about it?"
"I do; and because I don't wish the hansom-driver to get into trouble,
and because it is right that you should have your money back, I have
brought you--this." As the captain spoke he took a small packet and
laid it on the table near Miss Hunt.
"Does this contain my purse?"
"It contains the hundred pounds which were in your purse."
"But not my pretty purse itself?"
"No."
Miss Hunt eagerly broke the seals, untied the string, and opened the
parcel. The gold was wrapped in tissue paper; the notes were in a neat
roll.
"Count the money, please," said Keith.
She did so, and in a very business-like way.
"The sum is quite correct," she said. And now she raised her bright,
dark eyes, and looked full at the young man. "What is the meaning of
all this?" she inquired. "Why should you give me back my hundred
pounds?"
"You are at liberty to draw any conclusions which occur to you," said
Keith. He spoke deliberately, and with pauses between his words. "I
trust to what I am sure is your kindly nature not to make things
too--difficult."
It was with an effort that he could bring out the words; they stung him
as they passed his lips.
"I cannot give you back your purse, I regret to say," he continued,
"but the money at least is yours again. Will you kindly let the
superintendent at Scotland Yard know, in order that the driver may not
get into trouble?"
"I will do so; and thank you very much. Then you can really give me no
particulars about my purse?"
"I regret I cannot."
"This is strange!"
"It must appear so to you." Keith looked full at her. "Do you intend
to make this story public?" he asked.
She laughed, and her laugh was almost harsh.
"It would make a good story," she said then; "and we do pine for that
sort of thing in society, girl--a rich girl--loses her purse. An
officer in one of Her Majesty's regiments brings her back the money,
not the purse."
"You can make your story exceedingly funny," said Keith, but as he
spoke he did not smile.
"I will never make it funny," she replied, and she rose and drew
herself up. "I am not ungenerous, and if I fail to read between the
lines, or to see what you mean me to see, or to understand whether you
are acting with chivalry and the desire to screen another, or because
yours is merely a tardy repentance for something you yourself have
done, you cannot blame me. I shall never know which motive actuates
you. I shall be satisfied to go without knowing. The money is
returned to me, and the affair goes no further."
"Thank you," replied Keith. Then he added, and the words came out with
a visible effort, "Put the chivalrous theory quite out of your head. I
thank you most sincerely. Good-afternoon."
He left her, and never was a girl more astonished than she as she
stood, her hand resting on the table, with the gold and notes close to
her. She was interrupted in her meditations by the entrance of a
stout, very red-faced man.
"Hallo, Kate!" he said. "I am glad you are home. I have just
requested Jameson to bring up tea. Why, what a lot of money you have
lying loose about the place!"
"Only a hundred pounds, dad. I got it from the bank this morning."
"A very careless way to keep it," said Mr. Hunt--"very careless indeed!
Money is hard to win and easy to lose. You are never aware of that
fact. I wish you were not quite so careless."
"I have been made painfully aware of that fact to-day," thought
Katherine, but she did not speak her thoughts aloud. She sat down and
gazed straight before her. "The money is right enough; don't fret,
dad." Then she added, after a pause: "What is the news from the
Transvaal?"
"Have you not heard? We are sending out troops, doubtless as a
precautionary measure, immediately."
"Do you happen to know who are going?"
Hunt mentioned two or three regiments.
"Is the North Essex Light Infantry going?" asked the girl suddenly.
"The North Essex Light Infantry!" repeated Hunt, in a tone of surprise.
"Why, yes; a contingent of that regiment is ordered south. But why?
Do you know any one belonging to it?"
"One man. I shall be sorry if he gets killed," she said, with apparent
carelessness.
"You always were a very droll girl, Katherine. How long have you known
this man?"
"I only met him to-day. I have taken a fancy to him."
"Why so, child?"
"Because he is one of those rare products of modern times, a man who
puts a woman's honour before his own."
"Now you talk in riddles."
"Doubtless, father; and you are not to hear anything more. Only I
respect him."
"Take up your money, and don't leave it lying about any longer,
Katherine."
She took her money. She put the gold back into the tissue paper and
rolled up the notes, and went slowly out of the room up to her own.
She had a little cabinet built into the wall, where she kept her most
valuable diamonds and trinkets. She unlocked the little cabinet,
pressed a spring revealing a secret drawer, and put the notes and gold
into it.
"As a souvenir of quite a wonderful adventure," she said to herself.
And then she locked the cabinet and went back into the room where Hunt
the millionaire was enjoying his tea.
"I have been making a new pile this morning," he said, turning to his
daughter. "An investment turned up trumps. Do you want some more
money put to your private account, little girl?"
"You might let me have a hundred pounds," she answered.
"What an extravagant piece it is! But I can let you have more than
that."
"A hundred will do, father." And Hunt drew her a cheque on the spot.
[Illustration: Chapter XI headpiece]