THE Van Roon, at that moment, was in the hand of Maw. And
although June was on fire to get it back, her natural faculties had the
authority to tell her that undue eagerness would be most unwise. She
must be content to await her chance, yet there was no saying when that
chance would come; for Maw was careful to hand personally the parcel to
Elbert.
Before June set out on her journey one of the girls pressed a cup of
tea from the family brew upon her. It was lukewarm and thrice-stewed,
but June was able to drink a little and to feel the better for it. She
was in a high state of tension, all the same, when Elbert opened the
street door, her treasure under his arm, and she followed close behind
him into the darkness.
Surely Keller must be out there in the fog, waiting to attack them. Her
heart beat wildly as she marched side by side with Elbert along the
street towards the Tube. Distrust of her cavalier was great. Should he
guess the value of the thing he bore, as likely as not he would play
her a trick. But for the moment, at any rate, this fear was merged in
the sharper one of what was concealed by the fantastic shadow shapes
of that dark thoroughfare. Less than a hundred yards away, however,
was the Tube Station. And to June’s unspeakable relief they gained
its light and publicity without misadventure. Here, moreover, was her
chance. While Elbert searched his pockets for fourpence to purchase
two tickets for Marble Arch, she insisted on relieving him of the
parcel. Once restored to her care, she clung to it so tenaciously that
the puzzled Elbert had reluctantly to give up the hope of getting it
back again.
Going down in the lift to the trains, with the surge of fellow
passengers guaranteeing a measure of safety, June allowed herself to
conclude that Elbert, after all, might be less of a ruffian than he
looked. If he had no graces of mind or mansion, he was yet not without
a sort of rude care for her welfare. By no wish of his own was he
seeing a distressed damsel to her home, yet the process of doing so,
once he grew involved in it, seemed to minister in some degree to a
latent sense of chivalry. At all events he had a scowl for anyone whose
elbows came too near his charge.
Arriving at Marble Arch in due course, the heroic Elbert piloted the
fugitive out of the station and across the road into Park Lane. Here,
under a street lamp, they paused a moment to examine the label on
the parcel for the number of the house they sought. Thirty-nine was
the number, and it proved to be not the least imposing home in that
plutocratic thoroughfare.
Elbert accompanied June as far as its doorstep. Before ringing the
bell she said good-bye to her escort with all the gratitude she could
muster, begging him to give her his name and address, so that she might
at least restore to him the price of her fare. Yet the squire of dames
saw no necessity for this. His scowl was softened a little by her
thanks, but his only answer was to press the electric button and then,
without a word, to slink abruptly away into the fog.