“Kitty,” she said quietly, “remember you are among friends here—friends, who will not permit any person or thing to harm you.” She laid a reassuring2 hand on the girl’s shoulder.
The host also rose, signing to Colin and West to follow him from the room. But just then Kitty let her hands fall from her face. No longer was it pale, for the shock of fear was past, and her cheeks glowed with honest indignation.
“Mr. Risk, please don’t go away,” she said a little unsteadily. “I don’t wish any one to go away. I’m so sorry to upset everything like this—”
“Don’t worry about that,” Risk said gently. “As my sister has just remarked, we are your friends, and we are all ready and anxious to serve you. You really want us to remain?”
“Please.” She turned to Hilda. “I want you p. 175to read it aloud,” she said, pointing to the note.
Hilda picked up the paper, and she, too, flushed as her eyes took in the pencilled words.
“The beast!” she muttered under her breath. She took West’s seat which he had vacated for her.
“This note,” she announced, “has neither address nor signature. It has evidently been pencilled by a person under the influence of rage, illness, or—alcohol. It asks:—’Do your new friends know where you got the money that brought you to London?’ . . . That is all.”
Colin went ruddy, half rose, and subsided4 with mingled5 feelings—anger at the insult to Kitty, dread6 lest for her sake he should be forced to confess to sending her the hundred pounds, and a sudden recognition that not so long ago he had held a similar piece of paper bearing an anonymous7 message in pencil.
“And now,” said Kitty in a steadier voice, though she was pale again, “will you, please, tell them all you know about me, Hilda; all I have told you about myself.”
The host poured a little wine into a glass and set it before her, saying: “My dear Miss Carstairs, I want to know only one thing. Who is the unspeakable cad who wrote that?”
p. 176Kitty took a sip8 and smiled faintly. “If you can be bothered listening to my rather unpleasant little story, which I want Hilda to tell,” she said slowly, “I think you may guess the writer’s name. At least, I can think of only one person who would do such a thing—”
“Symington!” burst from Colin’s lips.
“The gentleman who, unfortunately, has never called here,” said Risk quietly.
“Of course, it can be no other,” cried Hilda, in unwonted excitement.
Colin was on his feet. “Mr. Risk, will you excuse—” he was beginning when Sharp entered.
“Mr. Symington,” the servant intimated, “wishes to speak with Miss Carstairs on the ’phone.”
There were blank looks until Hilda, with recovered coolness, said—
“Sharp, will you tell Mr. Symington that Miss Carstairs is afraid of contamination, even over the wire.”
“Very good, Hilda,” her brother remarked. “Have you got it clearly, Sharp?”
“Yes, sir,” the servant answered, and calmly repeated the words. Then he went out.
Risk turned to Colin, who was still standing9 p. 177and gave a nod, murmuring: “All right, Hayward, we’ll excuse you. Good luck!”
Colin bowed to the ladies, and with a curious set look on his face left the room.
Hilda glanced at her brother, but said nothing. Kitty was feeling a little hurt, and, perhaps, a little relieved also. Why should Colin have wanted to escape hearing her story? On the other hand, it would, perhaps, be less trying to hear it told without his presence.
“Let’s have coffee in the study, John,” said Hilda suddenly, “and I’ll try to do what Kitty asks. I do think you and Anthony ought to know how abominably10 she has been treated, especially as one of her wretched persecutors seems to be losing his head and getting to work again.”
“Personally,” said Risk, “I confess to acute curiosity. In two minutes we shall do as you suggest, Hilda. Meanwhile, Miss Carstairs, let us try to come to some agreement with West about the play.”
It was a tactful suggestion, for Kitty was requiring a change of thought rather badly just then.
Later, as they were passing to the study, Sharp got a word with his master in the hall.
p. 178“Mr. Hayward asked me to tell you, sir, that he was making a call at the Kingsway Grand Hotel, but that he did not expect to be long in returning.”
“Very well. . . . Did he ask for anything before he left the house?”
Risk nodded, and looking serious, was about to follow his guests, when a thought seemed to strike him.
“Sharp, did Mr. Symington make any response to the message?”
“He did, sir.”
“What did he say?”
Sharp hesitated, “Well, sir,” he replied at last, solemnly, “I should say he contaminated the wire, sir!”
* * * * *
In common justice it should be stated here that Alexander Symington was not a faithful slave to alcohol. As a rule he kept the upper hand. A full record of his adult life, however, would show that at long intervals12 and at times of extreme excitement, he lost his grip, fell, and simply wallowed. His collapse13 on this occasion was probably the result of his converting a hundred Zeniths p. 179into nearly five hundred pounds sterling14. With pockets full of notes and gold, and with the sure prospect15 of being able to refill them as soon as emptied—refill them over and over again—it is small wonder that he became reckless in an abnormal degree. At all events, the money was not in his pockets for an hour when, with the assistance of a couple of fellows no finer-souled than himself, he entered upon a bout3 of dissipation as wild as it was varied16. Even Kitty was forgotten. . . .
And now he was in process of “coming to himself”—and a very unpleasing process it was. Physically, though weakened, he was less disorganized than might have been expected; mentally, however, his state was that of extreme annoyance17 with himself and savage18 resentment19 against the world in general, and two persons in particular. He could not remember all the idiotic20 acts he had committed in the course of those crazy days and nights, but he was clearly and disagreeably aware that besides squandering21 four hundred and seventy pounds, he had presented his two boon22 companions with a hundred Zeniths apiece for no reason or purpose that he could soberly name. He was further tormented23 by the bitter reflection that he had wasted ten p. 180valuable days. For all he knew, Kitty, in that period, might have put herself beyond his reach for good and all. Also he had lately received from Corrie a somewhat peremptory24 note requesting him to report progress, and breathing a novel and unpleasant spirit of independence.
It was in this harassed25 condition, and with a still clouded intelligence, that he had obeyed the two impulses in the direction of Kitty, of which we have seen the results—so far. And now, not so many minutes after the telephone episode, he was already cursing himself for a silly fool, and asking what madness was upon him that he should have as good as warned the girl against himself.
He had determined26 to spend this evening in the sitting-room27 of his suite28 reserved in the Kingsway Grand Hotel, a hostelry largely patronized by unattached gentlemen with money to burn. An hour ago he had dined very lightly and temperately29, but the reaction from the previous over-indulgence had soon afterwards demanded more stimulant30, and a pint31 bottle of champagne32 stood on a small table convenient to his easy chair. He was expecting his two friends, but hoping that something—a motor accident, fatal, for choice—might yet prevent them from turning up. It would be many a day before he forgave p. 181these two, for although he had freely presented them the Zeniths, he now regarded them about as kindly33 as if they had robbed him.
He lit a cigarette with an unsteady hand, took a mouthful of wine and lay back in his chair, sluggish34 of body, sullen35 of soul. When, a moment later, he heard the door open, he swore under his breath, but did not so much as turn his head. He anticipated a greeting as the door was shut—a bluff36 greeting of the “What ho” order; wherefore the words that came after a brief pause were something of a shock.
“You swine!”
He started up to see “young Hayward” standing over him, with a look in his eyes that boded37 anything but goodwill38.
“What the deuce do you want?” said Symington at last, and his hand stole behind him. His recent pleasure-hunt had included visits to one or two rather queer corners of London town, down by the docks.
“What you want is a thrashing,” answered Colin, “and I’m here to give it you.”
“What the —— do you mean by intruding42 p. 182here? If you don’t clear out—” His hand went up with a glitter. “Out of this, you young fool, or by—”
Swish! Like a flash the whangee cane smote43 his knuckles44. With a cry he let drop the weapon. Colin kicked it across the room.
Hissing45 with wrath46 and pain, Symington sprang up and made a dash for the bell. No use! He was seized by the collar, shaken vigorously, then dragged to the table in the centre of the room, from which the dessert had not been removed. Mercilessly he was thrown across it, his face in a dish of raisins47, and in that undignified position, vainly struggling, he received a most painful chastisement48.
Often afterwards Colin, whose weight and muscle were nothing exceptional, would wonder how on earth he had managed to handle successfully a heavy man like Symington; but love and hate combined with honest rage gave him, for the time being, the strength of three, and moreover his victim was flabby after a long debauch49.
The noise of the caning50 coupled with the involuntary exclamations51 of the sufferer were, however, not long in attracting attention, and a knock on the door warned Colin that it was time to desist. Putting his whole heart into a final p. 183cut, which brought forth52 a yelp53 of anguish54, he loosed his grip, saying rather breathlessly—
“That is the reply to your anonymous notes, Mr. Symington, and if you want to call the police now, pray do so.”
Symington stood up, his expression devilish. He had a fruit knife in his hand—a frail56, pretty thing, yet pointed57. He lunged at his enemy’s face. Again the cane swished, and the knife fell to the floor.
“Well?” inquired Colin. “Is it to be the police?”
“Damn you! Get out of this! I’ll make you sorrier than any police judge could do.”
“Very well,” said Colin, turning to the door. “In the meantime,” he added, over his shoulder, “if I were you, I’d get the waiter to remove the raisins from your chin and left eyebrow59.” With that, perhaps the unkindest cut of all, he went out, leaving Symington almost beside himself with passion.
As for the waiter, the unfortunate creature was so tactless as to smile at the raisins, and two days later he was dismissed from the hotel service.
p. 184As soon as he reached the street, Colin realized that he was shaking all over. “What a rage I must have been in!” he said to himself, half gladly, half ruefully.
“Well, I guess he won’t trouble Kitty again, and I don’t see how he’s going to get at me.”
But Colin did not know Symington, or he would have, at least, qualified60 his confidence. As a matter of fact, by thrashing the man he had simply turned a cad into a blackguard. But he drove back to Aberdare Mansions61 feeling that he had been able to do something for his beloved after all, though she must never know of it, and he arrived there happier than he had been for months.
Risk met him in the hall with a quizzical smile.
“Found him out, I suppose, Hayward?”
“That’s for you to do, Mr. Risk,” was the blithe62 reply. “I found him in, and I fancy he’ll not move far to-night, at all events.”
“To the best of my ability.” Colin found his hand being shaken.
“It was splendid, Hayward,” Risk said gravely, “and we must hope it was also wise. Now we’ll forget about it for the present. Come along and have your coffee. We have heard Miss Carstairs’ p. 185story, and West and I are her willing servants, till she comes to her own. But, of course, she must not know we are working for her, and she must, if possible, be induced to forget those ugly little incidents of to-night—or, at any rate, be prevented from dwelling64 on them.”
A couple of hours later, the night being exquisite65, Colin walked home with Kitty, West escorting Hilda.
“Mr. Risk is giving you plenty to do, isn’t he?” Kitty remarked, making an effort to shake off the feeling of restraint that had come upon her on finding herself alone with Colin.
“Yes,” said Colin, who was hampered66 by a similar sensation. “But he’s worth working for. He has given me a chance that I might have sought in vain all my life. But never mind about me, Kitty,” he went on. “I wish very much to know what you—or rather Miss Risk—told the others while I was absent to-night.”
“I think I’d rather not talk about it,” she said, after a short pause. “Mr. West, or Mr. Risk, will tell you, if you really want to know.”
“Kitty, why do you say that, and in such a tone?”
“Why did you go away almost as soon as I asked Hilda to tell my story?”
p. 186“Why? Well, because—” he hesitated—“because it suddenly occurred to me that—that there was a thing I must attend to,” he concluded lamely67. “Good heavens, Kitty, you surely didn’t imagine that I was anything but keen to hear your story! Ever since I learned you were in London I’ve been wondering how the great change came about.”
His earnestness overcame her doubts.
“I’m a horrid68 thing, Colin,” she declared self-reproachfully, “but I wanted to make sure that you did not despise me—”
“Despise you!”
“—for running away from Dunford, and for accepting the kindness of strangers as I have done.”
“What an absurd idea, Kitty! I won’t tell you how glad I was to hear you were in London and in the care of such friends. Show that you trust me a little better by telling me how it all came about. By the way, have you heard from Dunford since you left?”
She shook her head. “I sent my aunt my address, and told her I was all right, but she has not answered. Well, I’m not so surprised at that as at not hearing from Sam, the postman. It was he who helped me to get away—”
p. 187“Won’t you begin at the beginning?”
“Very well—only you must promise not to discuss it afterwards. It’s not a pretty story, Colin, and only in self-protection did I ask Hilda to tell it to-night. Well, here it is.”
She told it simply and in few words, and he heard her to the end without a single interruption. Now and then, indeed, when her voice wavered, he would have given all his future to have taken her for one moment into his arms. The incident of the ￡100 brought a flush to his face, while he blessed the thought that had caused him to send her the means for escape; but the tale of her uncle’s hideous69 treachery turned him ghastly with wrath and pity.
“And so,” she finished, “the journey that started so miserably70 ended most wonderfully, and here I am with all my dreams come true”—she gave a small rueful laugh—“except one. For I used to dream of being brave and independent and even adventurous71; and now—”
“Oh, Kitty, thank God you didn’t arrive in London alone!” he exclaimed.
“I do,” she returned softly. “I was a little fool to imagine I could ever have stood alone and made my own way. I’m self-supporting now with my typing, but that’s all thanks to Hilda. p. 188Colin, did you ever hear of anything so wonderful as the way things have turned out for me? Do you know, once or twice I’ve thought it might all have been planned out by Mr. Risk—that he, for my father’s sake, might have been secretly watching over me. . . . Some day, when I know him better, I’ll ask him straight about the ￡100. Don’t you think I might do that?”
“Yes, I am!” she answered, with just a trace of defiance73. She was not going to admit that there was something lacking, and perhaps she was not quite sure what the “something” was. And, of course, it was nothing to her that Colin, earlier in the evening, had appeared to be greatly taken with Hilda—and Hilda’s lovely eyes!
Later, he mentioned that West and he desired to take her and Hilda to a theatre on the coming Friday. Kitty had already been to several theatres, yet, somehow, the prospect thrilled her more than it had done prior to previous visits, though her acceptance of the invitation, given subject to Hilda’s approval, was little more than polite.
They were nearly home when Colin said rather diffidently—
p. 189“I’ve promised not to discuss Dunford or the people there, but, Kitty, I’d just like to hear that you are no longer afraid of that wretched worm, Symington.”
After a moment she replied: “No, Colin. For that moment, at dinner, I was afraid, horribly afraid, I admit. But I’ve got over it. For what can the man do?”
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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dread
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anonymous
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sip
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standing
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abominably
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cane
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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collapse
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sterling
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prospect
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varied
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annoyance
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savage
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resentment
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idiotic
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squandering
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boon
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tormented
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peremptory
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harassed
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determined
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sitting-room
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suite
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temperately
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stimulant
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pint
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champagne
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kindly
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sluggish
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sullen
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bluff
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boded
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goodwill
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frigid
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complexion
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scarlet
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intruding
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smote
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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hissing
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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raisins
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chastisement
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debauch
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caning
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exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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forth
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yelp
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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eyebrow
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qualified
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mansions
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blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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63
whacked
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| a.精疲力尽的 | |
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64
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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65
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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66
hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lamely
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| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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69
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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70
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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71
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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