A STRANGE BETROTHAL
Southward, through the country lanes whose hedges were still wreathed
with late honeysuckle, on to the great mainroad, Deane's car was driven
through the night,--always southward, till the lights of the great city
flared before them up into the sky. Deane himself, for hour after hour,
had sat back in his corner, buried in thought. His companion was even
more invisible, but as the end of the journey drew near he roused
himself with an effort, turned on the electric light which hung down
from the roof of the car, lit a cigarette, and, bending forward, looked
into the half-hidden face of the girl who was reclining by his side.
"My dear fiancee," he said, "we are nearing London. Won't you rouse
yourself and give me your further orders?"
She sat up, with a little yawn. "Let down the windows, please," she
said. "We will have some fresh air in for a few minutes."
He obeyed her at once. The sweet midnight air through which they were
rushing was like a douche of cold water upon her face.
"How far are we from London?" she asked.
"Less than twenty miles. Unless we are stopped, we shall certainly be
there in half-an-hour."
"Why did you disturb me?" she asked.
"To know your wishes."
"You had better leave me at one of the small hotels in the west end,"
she said. "I daresay you can think of one at which you are known. In the
morning, please come and see me and bring some money. I shall want to
engage a companion and a maid, and to buy some clothes."
Deane looked at her curiously. Her manner was perfectly natural.
"Anything else?" he asked calmly.
"I don't think so," she answered.
"You mentioned the fact, I believe," he continued, "that you were--that
you had done me the honor--that you were, in fact, my fiancee."
"Well?" she murmured.
"Under those circumstances," he continued, "don't you think--"
His hand rested for a moment upon hers. She drew it at once away. "No, I
think not!" she answered.
"I have not had much experience," he went on, "in being engaged, but it
seemed to me that there were certain privileges which belonged to that
state."
"You are perfectly well aware," she answered, "that ours is not an
engagement of that sort. You know something about the world in which the
men marry for position and the women for money, don't you? You can look
upon our engagement as being of that order. I marry you because it is
the only way I can make you pay your debt. I have given you notice from
the first. I mean to gain everything I can, and to give nothing."
"Nothing?" he repeated.
"As little as possible," she answered. "As a matter of fact, you are
singularly indifferent to me. You simply represent the things I desire,
the things which are owing to me, the things which were owing to--to
him. I marry you to acquire them. You marry me because you must."
"Well," he said, "ours promises to be a novel matrimonial experience."
"Not at all," she answered.
"You have been reading too many novels," he declared. "People really
don't marry in this sort of way at all. There is always a pretence of
sentiment about it. If not, for very shame's sake, they try to cultivate
it."
"Then we," she answered, "will remain exceptions."
"Do you dislike me?" he asked.
"Personally I have not thought about you," she answered. "Apart from
that, I hate you. You represent the victor, and all that I have loved
upon this earth have been the vanquished. Willingly I would not give you
so much as the touch of my fingers. If I thought that my presence was a
pleasure to you, I would shrink back into myself. If I thought that any
happiness could come to you from our association, even now I would throw
myself from the car and end it."
"Our prospects of matrimonial bliss," he remarked, "appear to me to be
distinctly above the average."
"I do not expect," she answered, "to find any pleasure that may come to
me in later life, at your hands."
"I shall certainly not allow you to flirt."
"I know the law," she answered. "I know what I may do and what I may not
do. I shall not transgress it. I want your money, I want your position,
I want your power. These things I will share with you. For the rest, you
cannot keep too far away to please me."
He leaned towards her, heedless of the fact that she was shrinking away.
There was something a little pitiful in the blue-gray eyes which tried
so hard to hold him at a distance. "Well," said he, "it will be an
interesting experiment, at any rate. Personally, I think that you are a
brave woman. I wonder that you did not take the money without me."
"What good would that have been to me?" she answered. "I have no name,
no friends. Can't you imagine the sort of people who would have come
hanging on to my skirts, if I had made my debut on the scene as a widow
or a spinster with a large fortune, unattached, looking for companions?
No! I need your name, Mr. Stirling Deane."
"I am not at all sure," he answered grimly, "that you will find that
much of an asset."
"You must see to it that I do find it an asset, and a valuable one," she
answered. "You are relieved now from any fear of that deed being
produced. There is no shadow of evidence to connect you with the man
Sinclair, or with my brother's transaction with him. If your lawyers are
clever and you are brave, you must win your case with honor, and
Hefferom will be sent to prison. He deserves it, in any case."
Deane nodded. "I shall win my case all right," he said. "For me there
never was any danger except in the production of that document,
concerning which you have been so mysterious."
"It was mine," she answered. "I ran all the risk to get it. I ran risks
the memory of which will haunt me all my days. I have lost Basil. All
that I can do is to exact the utmost price that you can pay for that
little paper."
"It isn't worth it, you know," said Deane. "I believe, even now, that I
should win my case, anyhow."
She smiled--a curious little contraction of the corners of her lips. Her
eyes mocked him. "Perhaps," she said, "but it is a different thing since
Sinclair's murder. Its production to-day would ruin you inevitably,
whether it were held a legal document or not."
"We all make mistakes," he said, looking out of the window.
"But too often others pay for them!" she murmured, turning away.
Presently he gave some instructions to the chauffeur. The pace of the
car slackened as they reached the outskirts of London and turned
westward.
"Well," he remarked, "the world is full of surprises for us. I little
thought, when I came down to Rakney, that it was to find a bride!"
She shivered a little at his words, but made no reply.
"Forgive me," he said, "if I do not seem very coherent about it all. As
a matter of fact, you see, I was not expecting to take up obligations of
this sort again so quickly."
"If you do not mind," she said coldly, "we will not discuss it."
"I may at least be permitted to ask," he continued, "when it is your
intention to--marry me?"
"In about two months' time," she answered.
"You would like our engagement announced?" he asked.
She hesitated for a few seconds. "In a fortnight's time," she declared.
"In the meantime," he inquired, "I shall have the pleasure of being
received by you?"
"Certainly," she answered. "I shall expect to lunch and dine with you
occasionally, to be taken to the theatres, and for short expeditions
into the country--Ranelagh and Hurlingham, for instance."
"Delightful!"
The car stopped at one of the smallest and most famous of semi-private
hotels, in the neighborhood of Bond Street. Deane assisted his companion
to alight.
"If you will come in for a moment," he said, "I will arrange things for
you here. They know me very well."
She followed him into the hotel and waited while he interviewed the
manager. Then he took his leave of her, bowing over her reluctantly
offered hand, and smiling into her face as though honestly anxious to
penetrate behind its absolute imperturbability.
"I hope you will find the little suite comfortable," he said. "You must
go to bed soon, and try and rest. They will do everything that is
possible for you, I am sure, until you have your own maid and things.
Good-night!"
She raised her eyes for a moment to his, but there was more indignation
than gratitude in the glance she threw upon him. "I am very much obliged
to you. Good-night!"
Deane drove back to his rooms. As yet he could scarcely realize the
situation. Had anyone ever been confronted with a position so unique?
The mystery of the girl's impenetrability was solved at last!