The Moving Finger Part 47

"I don't know," she answered. "It is just a feeling, perhaps. I want to get away, a long way off, very soon. I can't explain. Don't ask me to explain, any of you. You are sure those are all the letters?"

"Certain," Rochester answered. "And, Lois," he added, looking up, "remember this. You speak and look this morning like one who has fears. I repeat it, you have absolutely nothing to fear. I am your guardian still, although you are of age, and I promise you that nothing harmful, nothing threatening, shall come near you."

She drew a little sigh. She did not make him any answer at all, and yet in a sense it was clear that his words had brought her some comfort.

"Don't expect us back till dinner-time," she declared. "I am going to sit behind with Maurice and be bored to death, but I am going to be out of doors till it is dark. I wish you did not bore me so, Maurice,"

she added, smiling up at him.

"I won't to-day, anyhow," he answered, "because if I talk at all I am going to talk about yourself."

As the day wore on, Lois seemed to lose the depression which had come over her during the early morning. By luncheon she was laughing and chattering, talking over her presents. Soon, when they were speeding on the road again, she felt her hand suddenly held.

"Lois," her companion said, "this is your birthday, and you are a free woman, free to give yourself to whom you will. It should be the happiest day of your life. Won't you make it the happiest day of mine?"

"Oh, if only I could!" she answered, with a sudden return of her old nervousness. "Maurice, if only I dared!"

He laughed scornfully.

"Dear Lois," he said, "you are impressionable, and you have let yourself become the victim of some very foolish fancies. You are a free agent. I tell you this now, and I tell you the truth. You are a free agent, free to give your love where you will, free to give yourself to whom you choose. And I come to you first on your birthday, Lois. You know that I love you. Give yourself to me, little girl, and never anything harmful shall come near you. I swear it, on my honor, Lois."

She drew a little sigh of content, and her arm stole shyly up to his shoulder. In a moment she was in his arms.

"Don't be angry with me, Maurice," she sobbed, "if I am a little strange just at first. I am afraid--I can't tell you what of--but I am afraid."

He talked to her rea.s.suringly, holding her hands--most of the time, in fact, for the country was a spa.r.s.ely populated one, with his arm around her waist. And then suddenly she seemed to lose her new-found content. Her cheeks were suddenly white. She looked everywhere restlessly about.

"What is the matter, dear?" he asked anxiously.

"I thought that I heard something!" she exclaimed. "What is the time?"

"Four o'clock," he answered, looking at his watch.

"Please tell the man to go back, straight back home," she said. "I am tired. I must get back. Please, Maurice!"

He gave the chauffeur instructions through the speaking-tube. The car swung round, and they sped on their way through the quiet lanes.

"Dear Lois," he said, "something has come over you. Your hands are cold, and you have drawn yourself away. Now please be honest and tell me all about it. If you have fears, all I can say is that you may dismiss them. You are safe now that you have given yourself to me, as safe as anyone in the world could be."

"Oh! If I could believe it!" she whispered, but she did not turn her head. Her eyes sought his no longer. They were fixed steadfastly on the road in front.

"You must believe it," he declared, laughing. "I can a.s.sure you that I am strong enough to hold you, now that I have the right. If any troubles or worries come, they are mine to deal with! See, we will not mince words. If that little reptile dares to crawl near you, I'll set my foot upon his neck. By G.o.d, I will!"

She took no notice of his speech, except to slowly shake her head. It seemed as though she had not heard him. By and bye he left off talking.

There was nothing he could say to bring back the color to her cheeks, or the light to her eyes, or the confidence to her tone. Something had happened--he could not tell what--but for the moment she was gone from him. The little hands which his still clasped were as cold as ice. It seemed to him that they were unwilling prisoners. Once, when he would have pa.s.sed his arm around her waist, she even shuddered and drew away.

The car rushed on its way, turned into the great avenue, and drew up in front of Beauleys. Lois stepped out quickly, and went on ahead. In the hall several people were standing, and amongst them Bertrand Saton!

Vandermere's face was dark as a thundercloud when his eyes fell upon the young man--carefully, almost foppishly dressed, standing upon the hearthrug in front of the open fire. Rochester was there with Pauline, and Lady Mary was seated behind the tea-tray. There was a little chorus as the two entered. Lois went straight to Saton, who held out his hands.

"Dear Lois," he said softly, "I could not keep away to-day. I have been waiting for you, waiting for nearly an hour."

"I know," she answered. "I came as soon as I knew."

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

THE CHARLATAN UNMASKED

There seemed for the next few minutes to be a somewhat singular abstention from any desire to interfere with the two people who stood in the centre of the little group, hand-in-hand. Saton, after his first speech, and after Lois had given him her hands, had turned a little defiantly toward Rochester, who remained, however, unmoved, his elbow resting upon the broad mantelpiece, his face almost expressionless. Vandermere, too, stood on one side and held his peace, though the effort with which he did so was a visible one. Lady Mary looked anxiously towards them. Pauline had shrunk back, as though something in the situation terrified her.

Even Saton himself felt that it was the silence before the storm. The courage which he had summoned up to meet a storm of disapproval, began to ebb slowly away in the face of this unnatural silence. It was clear that the onus of further speech was to rest with him.

Still retaining Lois' hand, he turned toward Rochester.

"You have forbidden me to enter your house, or to hold any communication with your ward until she was of age, Mr. Rochester," he said. "One of your conditions I have obeyed. With regard to the other, I have done as I thought fit. However, to-day she is her own mistress. She has consented to be my wife. I do not need to ask for your consent or approval. If you are not willing that she should be married from your roof, I can take her at once to the Comtesse, who is prepared to receive her."

"A very pleasant little arrangement," Rochester said, speaking for the first time. "I am afraid, however, that you will have to alter your plans."

"I do not admit your right to interfere in them," Saton answered. "If you continue your opposition to my marriage with your ward, I shall take her away with me this afternoon."

Rochester shook his head.

"I think not," he answered.

"Then we shall see," Saton declared. "Lois, come with me. It does not matter about your hat. Your things can be sent on afterwards. Come!"

She would have followed him towards the door, but Rochester, leaning over, touched the bell, and almost at once two men stepped into the hall. One, Saton remembered in an instant. It was the man whom he had found with Violet--the man who was there to have his fortune told. The other was a stranger, but there was something in his demeanor, in the very cut of his clothes, which seemed to denote his profession.

Saton was suddenly pale. He realized in a moment that it was not intended that he should leave the room. He looked toward Rochester as though for an explanation.

"My young friend," Rochester said, "when you leave this place, you will leave it, unless I change my mind, in the company of those friends of mine whom you see there. I don't want to terrify you unnecessarily. These gentlemen are detectives, but they are in my employ. They have nothing to do with Scotland Yard. I can a.s.sure you, however, that there need not be ten minutes' delay in the issuing of a warrant for your arrest."

"My arrest?" Saton gasped. "What do you mean?"

Rochester sighed.

"Ah!" he said. "Why should you force me for explanations? Ask yourself. Once before you have stood in the dock, on the charge of being connected with certain enterprises designed to wheedle their pocket-money from over-credulous ladies. You got off by a fluke, but you did not learn your lesson. This time, getting off will not be quite so easy, for you seem to have added to your former profession one which an English jury seldom lets pa.s.s unpunished. I am in a position to prove, Bertrand Saton, that the offices in Charing Cross Road, conducted under the name of Jacobson & Company, and which are nothing more nor less than the headquarters of an iniquitous blackmailing system, are inspired and conducted by you, and that the profits are the means by which you live. A more despicable profession the world has never known. There are a sheaf of cases against you. I will remind you of one. My wife--Lady Mary here--left a private letter in the rooms of a Madame Helga. The letter was pa.s.sed on at once to the blackmailing branch of your extremely interesting business, and the sum of, I think, five hundred pounds, was paid for its recovery.

You yourself were personally responsible for this little arrangement.

And there are many others. If all the poor women whom you have robbed," Rochester continued, "had had the common sense of my wife, and brought the matter to their husbands, you would probably have been a guest of His Majesty some time ago."

Such fear as had at first drawn the color from Saton's cheeks, and filled his eyes with terror, pa.s.sed quickly away. He stood upright, his head thrown back, a faint smile upon his lips. He had some appearance, even, of manhood.

"Mr. Rochester," he said, "I deny your charges. I have no connection with the fortune-telling establishments to which you have alluded. I know nothing of the blackmailing transactions you speak of. You have been my enemy, my hopeless and unforgiving enemy. I am not afraid of you. If this is your great blow, strike. Let me be arrested. I will answer everything. Afterwards, you and I will have our reckoning.

Lois," he added, turning to her, "you do not believe--say that you do not believe these things."

"I--do--not--believe--them--Bertrand," she answered slowly.