Ladies Must Live Part 10

she answered.

"Everything connected with you is my business," he returned.

"Oh, Edward, what a dreary outlook for me!"

"Christine, answer me. Did or did not this man make advances to you?"

"Edward, he did."

"What happened?"

"He gave me a long, tiresome, moral lecture and, judging by you, my dear, that is proof of affection."

"You're simply amusing yourself with me!"

"I'm not amusing myself very much, Edward, if that's any comfort."

"You drive me mad," he said and stamped away from her so hard, that Ussher came up from the cellar.

"What's Edward doing?" he said.

"He says he's going mad," returned Christine, "but I thought he was was.h.i.+ng the dishes."

"There's no pleasing Edward," said Ussher. "He was in my room at six o'clock this morning trying to get me to start a rescuing party (and I needn't tell you, Christine, we none of us had much sleep last night), and now that he is here and finds you safe, he seems to be just as restless as ever." And Ussher returned to the cellar still grumbling.

"You know why I'm restless, Christine," Hickson said when they were again alone.

Christine seemed to wonder. "The artistic temperament is usually given as the explanation, but somehow, in your case, Edward--"

He came and stood directly in front of her.

"Christine, what did happen last night?"

Although not a muscle of Miss Fenimer's face moved, she knew very well that this was a turning-point. She had the choice between killing the scandal, or giving it such life and strength that nothing but her marriage with Riatt would ever allay it. She knew that a few sensible words would put Hickson straight, and Hickson would be a powerful ally.

On the other hand, if he came back plainly weighted with a terrible doubt, no one would ask any further evidence. The question was, how much would Riatt feel the responsibility of such a situation. It was a fighting chance. Themistocles when he burnt his s.h.i.+ps must have argued in very much the same way, but probably not so rapidly.

"There are some things, Edward," Christine said in a low shaken voice, "that I cannot discuss even with you."

Hickson turned away with a groan.

CHAPTER III

Christine had been right when she told Riatt that Nancy Almar would be resentful after a dull evening at the Usshers'.

The evening, as far as Nancy was concerned, had been very dull indeed. To be bored, in her creed, was a confession of complete failure; it indicated the most contemptible inefficiency, since she designed the whole fabric of her life with the unique object of keeping herself amused. Nothing bored her more than to have the general attention centered on some one else, as all that evening it had been focussed on the absent ones. Not only did she miss the excitement of her contest with Christine over the possession of Riatt, but she was positively wearied by the Usshers' anxiety, by her brother's agony of jealousy and fear, and by Wickham's continual effort to strike an original thought from the dramatic quality of the situation.

She was finally reduced to playing piquet with Wickham, and though she won a good deal of money from him--more, that is, than he could comfortably afford to lose--she still counted the evening a failure, bad in the present, and extremely menacing to the future. For with her habitual mental candor, she admitted that by this time Christine, if not actually frozen to death--which after all one could not exactly hope--had probably won the game. The chances were that Riatt was captured.

"What is the matter, Ned?" she said to her brother, as he fidgeted about the card-table, after a last futile expedition to the telephone. "Can't you decide whether you'd rather the lady of your love were dead or subjected for twenty-four hours to the fascinations of an irresistible young man?"

"What an interesting question that raises," observed Wickham, examining rather ruefully the three meager cards he had drawn. "A modern Lady-or-the-Tiger idea. I am not of a jealous temperament and should always prefer to see a woman happy with another man."

"And often do, I dare say," said Nancy. "I have a point of seven, and fourteen aces."

"I must own I can't see Riatt's irresistible quality," said Hickson irritably.

"Rich, nice-looking and has his wits about him," replied Mrs. Almar succinctly.

"About as good-looking as a fence-rail."

"And they say women are envious!" exclaimed his sister.

"Are you a feminist, Mrs. Almar?" inquired the irrepressible Wickham.

"No, just a female, Mr. Wickham."

"I never thought a big bony nose made a man a beauty," grumbled Hickson.

"Ah, how much wisdom there is in that reply of yours, Mrs. Almar," said Wickham. "Just a female. Your meaning is, if I interpret you rightly, that you are content with the duties and charms which Nature has bestowed upon your s.e.x--"

"Until I can get something better," replied Nancy briskly, drawing the score toward her and beginning to add it up. "My idea is to let the other women do the fighting; if they win, I shall profit; if they lose, I'm no worse off. I believe I've rubiconed you again, Mr. Wickham."

"Well, I don't understand women's taste, anyhow," said Hickson.

"You never spoke a truer word than that, my dear," said Nancy.

"Seventy-four fifty, I think that makes it, Mr. Wickham, subtracting the dollar and a half you made on the first game. Oh, yes, a check will do perfectly. I'm less likely to lose it."

"I never had a worse run of luck," observed Wickham with an attempt at indifference.

Mrs. Almar stood up yawning. "Doubtless you are on the brink of a great amorous triumph," she said languidly, and went off to bed.

Hickson did not attempt to sleep. He sat up for the remainder of the night, in the hope that some sudden call might come, and at six o'clock as Ussher had told Christine, he was ready for new efforts.

Rescued and rescuers reached the Usshers' house about half past ten the following morning. Nancy was not yet downstairs. Wickham had not been able to judge what was the correct note to strike in connection with the whole incident, and so did not dare to sound any. The arrival was comparatively simple. Mrs. Ussher received her beloved Christine with open arms; Riatt went noncommittally upstairs to take a bath; Hickson had decided, in spite of his depression of spirits, to try to make up a little of last night's lost sleep, when he received a summons from his sister. Her maid, a clever, sallow little Frenchwoman, came down with her hands in her ap.r.o.n pockets to say that Madame should like to speak to Monsieur at once.

He found Nancy still in bed; her little black head looking blacker than usual against the lace of the pillows and the coverlet and of her own bed-jacket. The only color about her was the yellow covered French novel she laid down as he entered, and the one enormous ruby on her fourth finger.

"And now, Ned, my dear," she said quite affectionately for her, "I hear you have brought the wanderers safely home. Tell me all about it."

Hickson, to whom this summons had not come as a surprise, had resolved that he would confide none of his anxieties to his sister but, alas, as well might a pane of gla.s.s resolve to be opaque to a ray of sunlight.

Within ten minutes, Nancy knew not only all that he knew, but such additional deductions as her sharper wits enabled her to draw.

"I see," she murmured, as he finished. "The only positive fact that we have is that he did not leave the house until after five. How very interesting!"

"Very terrible," said Hickson.