The Profiteers Part 21

He stood for a moment by her side.

"Love?" he repeated. "Why, you haven't begun yet to realise what it means--what it will bring to you."

Once more she set her hands upon his shoulders. Her eyes, which a moment before had looked so longingly into his, drooped for a moment.

"Dear," she begged, "you won't ever be sorry, will you, and--does this sound selfish, I wonder?--you won't mind waiting?"

He smiled down at her.

"I shall never be sorry," he declared firmly. "I shall always bless this night and the impulse that brought you here. And as to waiting,"

he went on, "well, I have had four years of waiting without any particular hope, even of seeing you again. I think that with hope I can hold out a little longer."

He went over to the telephone and spoke for a few moments. Then he laid down the receiver and returned.

"A boy is bringing up the key of your room at once," he announced. "You will be in the south block, a long way off, but the rooms there are comfortable."

"Thank you, John dear," she said, smiling.

"Just one thing more," he continued. "I want you to remember that this miserable, tangled skein of unhappiness which you have called life is finished and done with. From to-night you belong to me. I must see you to-morrow--if possible at Dredlinton House--and we can work out some plans then. But you are to worry about nothing. Remember that I am here, and I love you.--Good night!"

Once more she rested for a moment in his arms. The seconds sped by.

Then he took a quick step backwards, and they both stared at the door.

It was closed now, but the slam of it a moment before had sounded like a pistol shot.

"Who was that?" she asked in a terrified whisper.

"That idiot of a boy with the key, I expect," he replied. "Wait, dear."

He hurried outside, through the little hall and into the corridor. There was no one in sight, not even the sound of footsteps to be heard. He listened for a moment and then returned.

"Who was it?" she repeated.

"n.o.body!"

"But some one must have looked in--have seen us!"

"It may have been the outside door," he suggested.

She shook her head.

"The door was closed. I closed it behind me."

"You mustn't worry, dear," he insisted. "In all probability some one did look into the room by mistake, but it is very doubtful whether they would know who we were. It may have been Sparks, my man, or the night valet, seeing a light here. Remember what I told you a few minutes ago--there is no trouble now which shall come near you."

She smiled, already rea.s.sured.

"Of course, I am rather absurd," she said, "but then look at me! It is past one o'clock, and here am I in your rooms, with that terrible dressing case on the table, and without a hat, and still looking, I am afraid," she concluded, with a final glance into the gla.s.s, "a little tumbled."

"You look," he told her fondly, "like a girl who has just realised for the first time in her life that she is loved."

"How strange," she laughed happily,--"because that is exactly how I feel!"

There was a knock at the door. A page entered, swinging a key in his hand.

"Key of 440 for the lady, sir," he announced.

"Quite right, my boy. Listen. Did you meet any one in the corridor?"

"No one, sir."

"You haven't been in here before without knocking, have you?"

"No, sir," was the prompt reply. "I came straight up in the lift."

Wingate turned to Josephine with a little shrug of the shoulders.

"The mystery, then, is insoluble," he declared cheerfully, "but remember this, sweetheart," he added, as the boy stepped discreetly outside, "in small things as well as large, the troubles of this world for you are ended."

"You don't know how wonderful it sounds to hear words like that," she sighed, as they stood hand in hand. "I shan't seem very selfish, John, shall I, if I ask for a little time to realise all this? I feel that everything I have and am ought to be yours at this moment, because you have made me so happy, because my heart is so full of grat.i.tude. But, alas, I have my weaknesses! I am a very proud woman. Sometimes I am afraid I have been a little censorious--as regards others!"

He stooped and kissed her fingers.

"If you knew what it felt like," he whispered, as he held open the door for her, "to have something to wait for! And whether you realise it or not, you are with me--from now on--always--my inspiration--my daily happiness."

CHAPTER XIII

Peter Phipps, sitting in his private office, might have served as the very prototype of a genial, shrewd and successful business man. The apartment was plainly and handsomely furnished. Although, only a few yards away, was a private exchange and an operator who controlled many private wires, a single telephone only stood upon his desk. The doc.u.ments which c.u.mbered it were arranged in methodical little heaps. His manager stood by his side, with a long slip of paper in his hand. The two men had been studying it together.

"A very excellently prepared doc.u.ment, Harrison," his employer declared graciously, as he leaned back in his chair with the tips of his fingers pressed together. "Capitally prepared and very lucid. A good many million bushels, that. We are creeping up, Harrison--creeping up."

Mr. Harrison bowed in recognition of his master's words of commendation. He was a worn-looking, negative person, with a waxlike complexion, a furtive manner, and a marvellous head for the figures with which he juggled.

"The totals are enormous, sir," he admitted, "and you may take it that they are absolutely correct. They represent our holdings as revised after the receipt of this morning's mail. I should like to point out, too, sir, that they have increased out of all proportion to outside s.h.i.+pments, during the last four days."

Phipps touched the _Times_ with his forefinger.

"Did you notice, Harrison," he asked, "that our shares touched a hundred and eighty last night on the street?"

"I was advised of it, sir," was the quiet reply.

"My fellow directors and I," Phipps continued, "are highly gratified with the services of our staff during this period of stress. You might let them know that in the counting house. We shall shortly take some opportunity of showing our appreciation."

"You are very kind indeed, sir," the manager acknowledged, without change of countenance. "I am sorry to have to report that Mr. Roberts wishes to leave us."