The Second Latchkey Part 9

Ruthven Smith, who had made a surprise visit at the Archdeacon's and dined there, had heard no mention of Annesley Grayle being expected. For an instant he was silenced, but the girl did not lack a defender.

"She will not need to beg for Archdeacon Smith's hospitality," said the young man. "And even if Mrs. Ellsworth implored her to stay, I couldn't allow it now. I will see that Miss Grayle is properly sheltered and cared for to-night by a lady whose kindness will make her forget what she has suffered. As soon as possible we shall be married by special licence. Go to your room, dearest, and put together a few things for to-night and to-morrow morning--just what will fit into a hand-bag. If there's anything else you value, it can be sent for later. Then I'll take you away."

The words were brave and comforting, and a wave of emotion swept Annesley's soul toward the mysterious, unknown soul of her knight. It was so strong, so compelling a wave that she had no fear in trusting, herself to him. He was her refuge, her protector.

For a moment of grat.i.tude she even forgot he was mysterious, forgot that a few hours ago she had been ignorant of his existence. When remembrance flooded her brain, her only fear was for him. What if the watchers should still be there when they went out of the house together?

She had turned to go to her room as he suggested when suddenly this question seemed to be shouted in her ear. Hesitating, she looked back, her eyes imploring, to meet a smile so confident that it defied fate.

Annesley saw that he understood what was in her mind, and this smile was the answer. For some reason he thought himself sure that the watchers were out of the way. The girl could not guess why, unless he had spied on the taxi from Ruthven Smith's window and saw it go. But she would soon learn.

Her room was a mere bandbox at the back of the "addition," behind Mrs.

Ellsworth's bedroom and bath; and das.h.i.+ng into it now, the new, vividly alive Annesley seemed to meet and pity the timid, hopeless girl whose one safe haven these mean quarters had been. She tried to gather the old self into her new self, that she might take it with her and comfort it, rescuing it from the tyrant.

The two trunks she had brought five years ago were stored in the bas.e.m.e.nt box-room; but under the camp bed was her dressing-bag, the only "lock-up"

receptacle she possessed. In it she kept a few letters and an abortive diary which in some moods had given her the comfort of a confidant.

The key of this bag was never absent from her purse, and opening it with quivering hands, the girl threw in a few toilet things for the night, a coat, skirt, and blouse for morning, and a small flat toque which would not crush. Afterward--in that wonderful, dim "afterward" which shone vaguely bright, like a sunlit landscape discerned through mist--she could send for more of her possessions. But she would have nothing which had been given her by Mrs. Ellsworth, and she would return the dress and cloak she was wearing to-night.

Three minutes were enough for the packing of the bag; then, luggage in hand, she turned at the door for a last look, such as a released convict might give to his cell.

"Good-bye!" she said, with a thought of compa.s.sion for her successor.

And pa.s.sing Mrs. Ellsworth's room she would have thrown a farewell glance at its familiar chairs and tables, each one of which she hated with a separate hatred; but with a shock of surprise, she found the door shut.

That must mean that the dragon had retreated from the combat and retired to her lair!

Not to be chased from the house by the sharp arrows of insult seemed almost too good to be true. But when Annesley arrived, bag in hand, in the front corridor, it was to see Ruthven Smith standing there alone, and the door open to the street.

"Mrs. Ellsworth has gone to her room," he explained, "and--er--your friend--your fiance--is looking for a taxi, not to keep you waiting. He didn't leave till Mrs. Ellsworth went. I don't think he would have trusted me to protect you without him, though I--er--I did my best with her. Good heavens, what a fury! I never saw that side of her before! I must say, I don't blame you for making your own plans, Miss Grayle. I--I don't blame you for anything, and I hope you'll feel the same toward me.

I'd be sorry to think that--er--after our pleasant acquaintance this was to be our last meeting. Won't you show that you forgive me for the mistake I made--I think it was natural--and tell me what your married name will be?"

Annesley looked anxiously at the half-open front door. If only the absent one would return and save her from this new dilemma! If she did not speak, Mr. Ruthven Smith would think her harsh and unforgiving, yet she could not answer unless she gave the name adopted temporarily for convenience. She hesitated, her eyes on the door; but the darkness and silence outside sent a doubt into her heart, cold and sickly as a bat flapping in from the night.

_What if he never came back?_ What if the watchers had been hiding out there, lying in wait and, two against one--both bigger men physically than he, and perhaps armed--they had overpowered him? What if she were never to see him again, and this hour which had seemed the beginning of hope were to be its end?

CHAPTER VII

THE COUNTESS DE SANTIAGO

"You don't wish to tell me the name?" Ruthven Smith was saying.

The repet.i.tion irritated the girl, whose nerves were strained to snapping point. She could not parry the man's questions. She could not bear his grieved or offended reproaches. If he persisted, through these moments of suspense, she would scream or burst out crying. Trembling, with tears in her voice, she heard herself answer. And yet it did not seem to be herself, but something within, stronger than she, that suddenly took control of her.

"Why should I not wish to tell you?" the Something was saying. "The name is the same as your own--Smith. Nelson Smith." And before the words had left her lips a taxi drew up at the door.

There was one instant of agony during which the previous suspense seemed nothing--an instant when the girl forgot what she had said, her soul pressing to the windows of her eyes. Was it he who had come, or----

It was he. Before she had time to finish the thought, he walked in, confident and smiling as when she had left him a few minutes--or a few years--ago; and in the wave of relief which overwhelmed her, Annesley forgot Ruthven Smith's question and her answer. She remembered again, only with the shock of hearing him address the newcomer by the name she had given.

"I hear from Miss Grayle that we are namesakes," Mr. Ruthven Smith said, as "Nelson Smith" sprang in and took the girl's bag from her ice-cold hand.

"I--he asked me ... I told him," Annesley stammered, her eyes appealing, seeking to explain, and begging pardon. "But if----"

"Quite right. Why _not_ tell?" he answered instantly, his first glance of surprise turning to cheerful rea.s.surance. "Now Mrs. Ellsworth is eliminated, I'm no longer a secret. And I expect you'll like to meet Mr.

Ruthven Smith again when you have a house to entertain him in."

So speaking, he offered his hand with a smile to his "namesake"; and Annesley realized from the outsider's point of view the peculiar attraction of the man. Ruthven Smith felt it, as she had felt it, though differently and in a lesser degree. Not only did he shake hands, but actually came out to the taxi with them, asking Annesley if he should tell his cousins of her engagement, or if she preferred to give the news herself?

It flashed into the girl's mind that it would be perfect if she could be married to her knight by Archdeacon Smith; but she had been imprudent too often already. She dared not make such a suggestion without consulting the other person most concerned, so she answered that she would write Mrs. Smith or see her.

"To say that you, too, are going to be Mrs. Smith!" chuckled the Archdeacon's cousin in his dry way, which made him seem even older than he was. "Well, you can trust me with Mrs. Ellsworth. If she goes on as she began to-night, I'm afraid I shall have to follow your example: 'fold my tent like an Arab, and silently steal away.' Ha, ha! By the by, I dare say she's owing you salary. I'll remind her of it if you like--tell her you asked me. It may help with the trousseau."

"Thank you, but my wife won't need to remind Mrs. Ellsworth of her debt,"

the answer came before Annesley could speak. "And she _will_ be my wife in a day or two at latest. Good-night! Glad to have met you, even if it was an unpromising introduction."

Then they were off, they two alone together; and Annesley guessed that the chauffeur must have had his instructions where to drive, as she heard none given. Perhaps it was best that their destination should not be published aloud, for there are walls which have ears. It occurred to the girl that precautions might still have to be taken. But in another moment she was undeceived.

"I thought old Ruthven Smith would be shocked if he knew the 'safe refuge' I have for you is no more convent-like than the Savoy Hotel," her companion laughed. "By Jove, neither you nor I dreamed when we got out of the last taxi that we should soon be in another, going back to the place we started from!"

"The Savoy!" exclaimed Annesley. "Oh, but we mustn't go there, of all places! Those men----"

"I a.s.sure you it's safer now than anywhere in London!" the man cut her short. "I can't explain why--that is, I _could_ explain if I cared to rig up a story. But there's something about you makes me feel as if I'd like to tell you the truth whenever I can: and the truth is, that for reasons you may understand some day--though I hope to Heaven you'll never have to!--my a.s.sociation with those men is one of the things I long to turn the key upon. I know that that sounds like Bluebeard to Fatima, but it isn't as bad as _that_. To me, it doesn't seem bad at all. And I swear that whatever mystery--if you call it 'mystery'--there is about me, it sha'n't hurt you. Will you believe this--and trust me for the rest?"

"I've told you I would!" the girl reminded him.

"I know. But things were different then--not so serious. They hadn't gone so far. I didn't suppose that Fate would give you to me so soon. I didn't dare hope it. I----"

"Are you _sure_ you want me?" Annesley faltered.

"Surer than I've ever been of anything in my life before. It's only of you I'm thinking. I wanted to arrange my--business matters so as to be fair to you. But you'll make the best of things."

"You are being n.o.ble to me," said the girl, "and I've been very foolish.

I've complicated everything. First, by what I told Mr. Ruthven Smith about--about _us_. And then--saying your name was Nelson Smith."

"You weren't foolis.h.!.+" he contradicted. "You were only--playing into Fate's hands. You couldn't help yourself. Destiny! And all's for the best. You were an angel to sacrifice yourself to save me, and your doing it the way you did has made me a happy man at one stroke. As for the name--what's in a name? We might as well be in reality what we played at being to-night--'Mr. and Mrs. Nelson Smith.' There are even reasons why I'm pleased that you've made me a present of the name. I thank you for it--and for all the rest."

"Oh, but if it isn't _really_ your name, we sha'n't be legally married, shall we?" Annesley protested.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "I hadn't thought of that. It's a difficulty.

But we'll obviate it--somehow. Don't worry! Only I'm afraid we can't ask your friend the Archdeacon to marry us, as I meant to suggest, because I was sure you'd like it."

"I should. But it doesn't matter," said the girl. "Besides, I feel that to-morrow I shall find I've dreamed--all this."

"Then I've dreamed you, at the same time, and I'm not going to let you slip out of my dream, now I've got you in it. I intend to go on dreaming you for the rest of my life. And I shall take care _you_ don't wake up!"