"It's important. But first of all, I expect you had a bad time when
Lawrence didn't come back from the mountain."
"I shall not forget it," Lucy said with a shudder. "While I waited and
wondered why he didn't come I thought the anxiety intolerable, but it
was worse after we met Walters and the drunken guide. He wanted to
join us, but I knew he was somehow to blame."
"Afterwards you had to wait alone upon the glacier. That wouldn't make
you think any better of him."
"It did not," Lucy agreed, with a hard, fixed look. "I--you see,
Lawrence was my lover--I spent two or three hours in agonizing
suspense. I knew what I should feel when I stopped, but couldn't go on
with the others, because I might have kept them back. It was freezing
hard and now and then a little snow fell, but I scarcely noticed this;
I was listening, as I hope I shall never listen again. Sometimes the
ice cracked and a snow-bridge fell into the crevasse, but that was all,
and afterwards the silence was awful. It seemed as if the men would
never come. I couldn't go to meet them because of the crevasse; I
dream about the horrible black opening yet. Lawrence was on the other
side, out of my reach; he might be slowly freezing on the _couloir_,
and I couldn't help. But I knew he was suffering for Walters'
negligence or perhaps his treachery."
Foster made a sign of sympathetic comprehension. "You hate him for
this?"
"Yes," said Lucy frankly; "but not altogether because I'm vindictive.
The man who could make people suffer as Lawrence and I did ought to be
punished."
"He ought. Well, I'm going to warn Lawrence, and no doubt the proper
thing would be to be satisfied with this, but somehow I'm not. You
see, Walters probably doesn't know we suspect him."
The girl's eyes narrowed and Foster knew she was afraid, but did not
think fear was her strongest emotion.
"You mean he may try again?"
"That is what I mean. If he comes back, you must watch him, but keep
him here until I arrive. If it's impossible for me to come, send for
the police."
"Yes," said Lucy quietly, "I'll try."
"There's another risk," said Foster. "He may send an accomplice;
they're a well-organized gang. In this matter, I'd sooner trust you
than Lawrence." He stopped for a moment and gave her an apologetic
glance. "Perhaps I've done wrong to alarm and put this heavy load on
you."
"No," she said resolutely. "I have promised to marry Lawrence and must
help him."
Then she rose and gave Foster her hand. "I must thank you for your
confidence. If the need comes, I don't think I'll fail you."
Foster felt satisfied when she left him. Lucy was clever and had
pluck. He had given her a hard part, but she would not shrink. One
could trust a woman who was fighting for her lover.
After breakfast next morning, Mrs. Stephen showed Foster some
photographs of the mountains, in one or two of which Lucy and Lawrence
had a place, and he asked: "Have you a portrait of Walters?"
"No; the man who took these was staying here, and one day asked Walters
to join the group he was posing, but he refused."
"How did he get out of it?"
Lawrence, who had come in with Lucy, laughed. "Rather neatly. Said he
was a modest sentimentalist and would sooner leave his memory printed
on our hearts!"
"One must admit that he did something of the kind," Lucy remarked.
"Will you or Mrs. Stephen describe his looks?" Foster asked.