Evie brought the news at a run. She had been shopping with
Teddy--the store had given her a holiday, and there was some talk of
subscribing for a wedding present.
"I said to Teddy, 'let's stop and see who it is'--we knew it was
somebody swagger by the two cars and the cab outside the door. And
then I thought that I knew one of the cars. I said, 'Teddy, I'll bet
it is Beryl Merville'--and it was!"
Christina was pale.
"She wasn't to be married until tomorrow," she insisted.
"Well, she's married. My dear, she looked awful. Teddy says--"
"Oh, damn Teddy!" snapped Christina and was sorry. "I don't mean
that, but I'm so used to damning your young men that I can't get out
of the habit. Did they go away together--Steppe and she?"
"No--she's gone back to the house with her father. Steppe--is he a
man with black whiskers--well, he went alone."
Christina kicked off her slippers determinedly.
"I'm going to see her," she said.
"What do you think you can do?" asked the scornful Evie. "Take my
advice, Christina, never interfere between man and wife. Teddy
says--"
"I repeat anything I have already said about Teddy," remarked
Christina. "Chuck over my shoes, Evie."
She could not tell Beryl. She could tell nobody. Ronnie Morelle
must be interpreted by those who saw.
She strode out thanking God for life, and Ambrose Sault for the
tingle of her soles upon the pavement. Spring was in the air, the
park trees were studded with emerald buttons; some impatient bushes
had even come fully into leaf before the season had begun. The sky
was blue and carried white and majestic clouds; the birds were
chattering noisily above her as she came through the park and the
earth smelled good, as it only smells in spring when the awakening of
life within its bosom releases a million peculiar odors that combine
in one fragrant nidor.
To Beryl's eyes the girl, with her peaked face and her flaming hair,
was a vision of radiance.
"So good of you--" Beryl was on the verge of a breakdown as
Christina Colebrook put her arms about her shoulders. "So lovely of
you, Christina--I wanted to see you. I hadn't the energy to move--or
the heart."
"Why today?"
"Steppe knows everything. He insisted upon today. As well today as
tomorrow. I am troubled about father. I feel that something
dreadful is going to happen. He is so restless and he has asked John
Maxton to come; John was a great friend of my mother's. In a way I'm
almost glad that there is this other trouble hanging over us--that
sounds cruel to poor daddy, but it does distract me from--thoughts."
"What is this other trouble?"
But Beryl shook her head.
"I don't know. There has been some unpleasantness about a company
father floated. Jan Steppe did it really, father is only a
figurehead. He has had people to see him, people from the Public
Prosecutor's office. He doesn't talk much about it to me, but I have
a premonition that all is not well. But, Christina, I'm just whining
and whining at you, poor girl!"
"Whine," said Christina. "Go on whining. _I_ should scream! Beryl,
my love, you have to do something for me, something to relieve my
heart of a great unhappiness. I intended seeing you today--you had
my letter?--well, I'm too late to stop you marrying. I thought I
would be in time; but not too late to save your immortal soul."
"What--?"
"Wait. I want you to promise me, by the man we hold mutually sacred,
that you will do as I ask. No matter at what inconvenience or
danger."
"I will do anything you ask," said Beryl quietly.
"What time do you meet this Steppe?"
"I call for him at eight o'clock. The boat train leaves at
nine-thirty."
"At eight o'clock you will go to Ronnie Morelle."
"No, no! I can't do that--"
"You promised. You will see him: go to his flat and see him. Tell
him you are married. Tell him the truth, that you are going away
with a man you hate. Tell him that Steppe knows."
"I can't! You don't know what you're asking, Christina, I've--begged
Ronnie before--begged him to run away with me. I can't do that
again. It is impossible."
"You need beg nothing--nothing. Just tell him."
She caught the girl to her.
"Beryl, you're going to do what I ask you, dear?"
"Yes--you wouldn't ask me--"
"Out of caprice," finished Christina, "or cussedness, or a wish to
try experiments. No. But you must go, Beryl. I--I think I should
kill myself if you didn't."
"Christina! What do you mean?"
"I mean it is life to go and death not to go!" said Christina, with a
sort of ferocity that staggered her companion. "That is what I
mean." In a quieter tone: "Have you seen Ronald lately?"
Beryl shook her head.
"No. I saw him that night--the night they killed Ambrose--oh--"
"Don't gulp," warned Christina.
"I'm not gulping. I'm yearning. I saw him yearning once, the dear,
I am trying to find some of his strength now. It is a little
difficult."
On the way home Christina dropped into a telephone booth and paid
three precious pennies.
"Ronnie! Christina speaking. Beryl is coming to see you tonight.
At eight. Wait for her--don't dare to be out."
She cut off before he could ask questions.