The Girl from Alsace Part 7

ONE WAY TO ACQUIRE A WIFE

Stewart, standing petrified, collar in hand, thrilling with the warmth of that caress, was conscious that his free arm had dropped about the woman's waist, and that she was cuddling to him, patting him excitedly on the cheek and smiling up into his eyes. Then, over her shoulder, he caught a glimpse of the sardonic smile on the ugly face of the waiter as he withdrew and closed the door.

"But how glad I am!" the woman rattled on, at the top of her voice. "And what a journey! I am covered with dirt! I shall need gallons of water!"

She walked rapidly to the door, opened it, and looked out. Then she closed and locked it, and, to his amazement, caught up one of his handkerchiefs and hung it over the k.n.o.b so that it masked the keyhole.

"They will not suspect," she said, in a lower tone, noticing his look.

"They will suppose it is to conceal our marital endearments! Now we can talk. But we will keep to English, if you do not mind. Someone might pa.s.s. Is everything arranged? Is the pa.s.sport in order?"

Her eyes were s.h.i.+ning with excitement, her lips were trembling. As he still stood staring, she came close to him and shook his arm.

"Can it be that you do not know English?" she demanded. "But that would be too stupid! You understand English, do you not?"

"Yes, madam," stammered Stewart. "At least, I have always thought so."

"Then why do you not answer? Is anything wrong? You look as though you did not expect me."

"Madam," answered Stewart, gravely, "will you kindly pinch me on the arm--here in the tender part? I have been told that is a test."

She nipped him with a violence that made him jump.

"Do not tell me that you are drunk!" she hissed, viciously. "That would be too much! Drunk at such a moment!"

But Stewart had begun to pull himself together.

"No, madam, I am not drunk," he a.s.sured her; "and your pinch convinces me that I am not dreaming." He rubbed his arm thoughtfully. "There remains only one hypothesis--that I have suddenly gone mad. And yet I have never heard of any madness in my family, nor until this moment detected any symptoms in myself."

"Is this a time for fooling?" she snapped. "Tell me at once--"

"There is, of course, another hypothesis," went on Stewart, calmly, "and that is that it is you who are mad--"

"Were you not expecting me?" she repeated.

Stewart's eyes fell upon the satin slippers, and he smiled.

"Why, certainly I was expecting you," he answered. "I was just saying to myself that the only thing lacking in this fairy-tale was the beautiful Cinderella--and presto; there you were!"

She looked at him wildly, her eyes dark with fear. Suddenly she caught her lower lip between the thumb and little finger of her left hand, and stood a moment expectantly, holding it so and staring up at him. Then, as he stared back uncomprehendingly, she dropped into a chair and burst into a flood of tears.

Now a pretty woman in tears is, as everyone knows, a sight to melt a heart of stone, especially if that heart be masculine. This woman was extremely pretty, and Stewart's heart was very masculine, with nothing granitic about it.

"Oh, come," he protested, "it can't be so bad as that! Let us sit down and talk this thing out quietly. Evidently there is a mistake somewhere."

"Then you did not expect me?" she demanded, mopping her eyes.

"Expect you? No--except as the fulfillment of a fairy-tale."

"You do not know who I am?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"Nor why I am here?"

"No."

"_Ah, ciel!_" she breathed, "then I am lost!" and she turned so pale that Stewart thought she was going to faint.

"Lost!" he protested. "In what way lost? What do you mean?"

By a mighty effort she fought back the faintness and regained a little of her self-control.

"At this hotel," she explained, in a hoa.r.s.e voice, "I was to have met a man who was to accompany me across the frontier. He had a pa.s.sport for both of us--for himself and for his wife."

"You were to pa.s.s as his wife?"

"Yes."

"But you did not know the man?"

"Evidently--or I should not have--"

She stopped, her face crimson with embarra.s.sment.

"H-m!" said Stewart, reflecting that he, at least, had no reason to regret the mistake. "Perhaps this unknown is in some other room."

"No; you are the only person in the hotel."

"Evidently, then, he has not arrived."

"Evidently," she a.s.sented, and stared moodily at the floor, twisting her handkerchief in nervous, trembling hands.

Stewart rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he looked at her. She seemed not more than twenty, and she was almost startlingly beautiful, with that peculiar l.u.s.trous duskiness of skin more common among the Latin races than with us. Slightly built, she yet gave the impression of having in reserve unusual nervous energy, which would brace her to meet any crisis.

But what was she doing here? Why should she be driven to leave Germany as the wife of a man whom she had never seen? Or was it all a lie--was she merely an adventuress seeking a fresh victim?

Stewart looked at her again, then he put that thought away, definitely and forever. He had had enough experience of women, as surgeon in a public clinic, to tell innocence from vice; and he knew that it was innocence he was facing now.

"You say you can't leave Germany without a pa.s.sport?" he asked at last.

"No one can leave Germany without a pa.s.sport." She sat up suddenly and looked at him, a new light in her eyes. "Is it possible," she demanded, with trembling lips, "can it be possible that you possess a pa.s.sport?"

"Why, yes," said Stewart, "I have a pa.s.sport. Unfortunately, it is for myself alone. Never having had a wife----"

But she was standing before him, her hands outstretched, tremulous with eagerness.

"Let me see it!" she cried. "Oh, let me see it!"