As she remained in a state of semi-stupefaction, mistily wondering
what sort of nightmare Christmas this was going to be for her--for
whom all the world had been full of the promise of good things only an
hour or two ago!--the train rumbled into Liverpool Street. As she sat
endeavouring to collect her thoughts, so as to decide upon some course
of action, the carriage door was opened, and a woman looked in.
"From Chelmsford?"
Perceiving that the question was addressed to her, Mrs Bankes, still
half-dazed, looked up, and answered,--
"No, from Colchester."
"That's right! Be quick, the train's late,--I've been waiting for
you."
"For me?"
"Yes, for you. I've had instructions to meet you by this train."
Edith rose from her seat, instantly conscious that a sense of relief
was being born within her.
"You've had--instructions? When?"
"Not half an hour ago. It wasn't certain that you were coming by this
train, but in case you did I was to meet you and see you safe."
The sensation of relief was almost more than she could bear. How good
he was! Frank had accurately gauged the extent of her folly, and had
taken instant steps to guard her from the consequences of her own
misconduct. How little was she deserving of such a husband? With a
blinding mist before her eyes she got out on to the platform.
"Come," said the woman. "I've a cab waiting."
"A cab--shall we want a cab?"
"Of course we shall,--trust me for knowing what we want. You had
better move yourself, there may be someone else here to meet you, and
someone may see you whose recognition you had rather be without."
What did the woman mean? There was something in her tone which was not
altogether agreeable. Could tidings of her escapade have already
leaked out, and did she go in fear of the condemnatory glances of
censorious friends? In a state of nervous doubt she pressed after the
woman through the crowd. They reached a four-wheeler. Opening the door
her companion let her enter first. When they had started she put a
question on the subject which was preying on her mind, a little
stammeringly.
"Does--anyone know of what I've done?"
Her companion's tone, as she replied, was dry--even grim.
"Just one or two. More than you perhaps imagine, or would quite care
for if you knew. If you don't keep your eyes wide open this'll be the
worst Christmas ever you spent in all your life."
Edith began to suspect that this might turn out to be only too true.
Her heart sank lower. Amidst the noise made by the cab her voice was
scarcely audible.
"Is he--so very--angry?'
"That's a pretty question to ask! You've made a mess of it--about as
bad a mess as you could make, and then you wonder if folks are angry.
I don't know much about it, I'm not told everything, and I don't want
to be told, sometimes the less I know the better I'm pleased; but from
what I have heard, I should say anger wasn't the word for it; and that
you're in for about as bad a time as ever you had in all your days!"
Edith did not like her companion's manner,--she liked it less and
less. Her voice was not that of an educated woman; her bearing, from
one in her station, was unpleasantly familiar--at times, almost
threatening. Mrs Bankes wondered why her husband had chosen such an
agent, and how he had chanced on her.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked.
"Never mind where I'm taking you. Do as I do, and don't want to know
more than you can help. As I've said, sometimes the less you know the
more comfortable you feel."
"But I insist on knowing where you are taking me. I don't want to go
too far away from the station; I wish to go back by the nine o'clock
train."
"The devil you do!" The woman actually swore. Edith shuddered. What a
dreadful creature she seemed. How could Frank have selected such a
being to be her companion even for a fleeting hour. "Then you can take
my word for it that you'll go back by no nine o'clock train--not
much."
"Then by what train shall I return?"
"How should I know? Return! I shouldn't have thought that you'd have
been anxious to return after what you've done. I should have thought
that it would have been a little bit too warm for you down there."
What was the woman insinuating? Why did she use such exaggerated
language? It could hardly have been warranted by any instructions
which she had received from Frank.
"I think that you hardly understand the situation?"
The stranger cut her short.
"You're right there--I don't, and I don't want to. If you take my
advice, so far as I'm concerned, you'll keep your mouth shut tight.
Say what you've got to say to someone else, you'll soon have plenty to
say it to, who'll want to hear all, and perhaps a bit besides. All
I've to do is to see you safe; after I've done that, I don't want to
see no more of you."
Edith was silent. She was beginning to be conscious of a feeling of
vague distrust; to wonder if, in entering a cab with this woman, she
had not made the biggest of all her mistakes. As she began to think,
she perceived the improbability, to say the least, of Frank's having
communicated with anyone in town. Proposing to take a holiday till
after Christmas, he had intended remaining at the office that evening
unusually late. It was extremely unlikely that he would have returned
home until after seven; before then she had reached her journey's end.
In any case he would hardly have had time to telegraph instructions
for her to be met, even if he had suspected her destination. In any
case, who was this woman? What were the instructions which she claimed
to have received, that she should refuse to vouchsafe any information
as to where she was taking her?
The more Mrs Bankes thought it over the more she was convinced that
she had been the victim of some extraordinary misunderstanding, and
the more desirous she became of opening the cab door, and jumping
straightway out into the street. With some hazy idea of resorting to
such an extremely desperate measure she leaned over towards the
window. Immediately her companion gripped her by the shoulder.
"Stop that! What are you up to?"
"I think there's been some mistake."
Mrs Bankes spoke faintly. Her companion's voice was anything but faint
as she replied.
"Don't you try any of your tricks with me. I shouldn't be surprised if
there has been a mistake, and it's just to give you a chance of
explaining how it came about that you're going where you are. My
instructions are to see you safe, and I'm going to see you safe. I
carry out my instructions whatever other folks may do; I've got
something to see you safe with, and if you make any fuss you shall
have a taste of what's inside--see?"
To Mrs Bankes' petrifaction, a revolver gleamed in the speaker's hand,
the muzzle of which was pointed towards her head. It was a form of
argument with which, at the moment, she felt wholly powerless to cope.
Before she again found courage enough to enable her to speak, the cab
drove up before a house. Her companion favoured her with a further
hint or two.
"Here we are; and don't you make a sound or try to speak a word to
anyone before we get inside, or--"
The sentence was not concluded; but the speaker moved the weapon,
which she still held in her hand, in a fashion which, so far as Mrs
Bankes was concerned, rounded it off with more than sufficient point.