A Fatal Dose. Fred M. White
am going to use those letters to do you any harm? Why do you regard me as if. I were some offensive animal trying to push myself upon you? If you only knew everything—”
Cleave paused abruptly for a moment, then the strange thin smile that Lena had disliked so much came to his face again.
“Let us make a compact,” he said. “I can help you and you can help me. If I choose to go to Hardy and lay those letters before him, your happiness is gone for ever.”
Lena was silent. She could not deny the truth of this. She was passionately attached to Philip, and she knew that he cared equally for her, but his was not the love that forgave, not the pure and disinterested affection that overlook anything and everything. Very timidly Lena waited for her companion to speak.
“I have those letters ” he said. “They are not in my pocket at the present moment, but they can be within an hour. It is for you to say whether I shall get them or not and return them to you.”
Lena’s heart gave a great leap; it seemed to rise up in her throat and suffocate her. It was difficult for her to collect her scattered thoughts amidst all the chatter and laughter that was going on around her. The strains of a distant band seemed to muddle and confuse her senses. Philip Hardy was close by, still in deep conversation with the great political personage. He had his back resolutely turned to Lena, and something in his attitude seemed to suggest that he was both annoyed and suspicious. And yet the whole thing could be smoothed away in a few moments. Still Lena hesitated; it was her bounden duty to defy Cleave, to turn from him scornfully and bid him do his worst. It was plainly her duty also to tell her whole story to Philip Hardy and ask him to protect her against the insidious advances of this adventurer.
“Very well,” she said at length. “I know I am doing wrong. Still, if you will be so good as to give me those letters I shall be obliged to you.”
“Good for evil,” Cleave laughed. “You shall have your letters, but not here. There are too many people about. It is ten now, and supper will be at twelve. Meet me at half-past eleven in the little alcove leading to the rose garden and I will place those papers in your hands.”
Once more Lena hesitated. She was trembling from head to foot with an emotion that she was powerless to resist; she seemed to detect some scheme here, and yet what could this man gain?
“Very well,” she said breathlessly. “It shall be as you say. I will meet you at half-past eleven.”
IX. — THE SYREN SPEAKS
NOT without a certain feeling of shame and self-reproach, Cleave turned away from his companion and mingled with the other guests. He had crossed the Rubicon now; for better or worse the decision was made. And he was smarting, too, under the cold contempt of Lena’s manner. He would have liked to argue it out with himself that a little more kindness and feeling on her part would have produced a different result, but inwardly he knew that he was bound to act as he had done. As he passed in the direction of the refreshment room, he saw that Eleanor Marsh had contrived to get hold of Hardy, with whom she was in earnest conversation. No woman could be more attractive when she chose, and Hardy was evidently enjoying her society. Cleave did not disdain to stand behind a palm and listen.
But of course you will,” the woman was saying. Everybody does. I used to laugh at that kind of thing myself till I had my first interview with Fiona Dear. Really, she is most marvellous. I heard it on excellent authority the other day that the Pan-Anglican Alliance was the direct outcome of an interview between a prominent statesman and the wonderful woman who has this gift of looking into the future. Positively, Mr. Hardy, you ought not to miss a chance like this. I know that you would not dream of calling at her place in Regent Street. Seeing that she is down here, you might look in on her to-night without the slightest loss of dignity.”
“Upon my word, I think I will,” Hardy laughed. “Of course it is the most utter nonsense, and if I had my way I’d have all these people prosecuted. Still, it is good to be frivolous at times, so I will consult this Oracle of yours.”
Cleave stopped to hear no more, though he smiled to himself as he saw how completely this clever man was playing into the hands of the beautiful adventuress. He passed on to the refreshment room, telling himself that his nerves needed something in the way of a stimulant to fortify him for the difficult and dangerous task that lay before him. When he emerged a little later, it was to find that the house was literally crowded with guests, who had come from far and near to take part in the great function. Cleave pushed his way unconcernedly through the glittering throng, many of whom he had known intimately enough in the days of his prosperity. It mattered little or nothing to him whether he was recognised or not; his duty lay plainly before him, and he meant to carry it out to the last.
It was somewhat difficult to find Eleanor Marsh, but he came upon her presently in the grounds, where most of the guests had drifted. It was a perfect August night—soft and subdued and full of stars. Here and there picturesque groups were picked out by the points of electric flame, with which most of the forest trees were outlined. In the centre of a laughing throng stood Eleanor Marsh. She gave Cleave a quick signal as he passed, and he fell back in the shadow of a group of azaleas. A moment later the woman joined him; all her gaiety and abandon had disappeared; she was quick, sharp, and eager.
“Well?” she said breathlessly; “You have been successful? I saw you talking to Miss Grey just now. By the way in which she carried herself, I judged that the meeting did not rouse her enthusiasm.”
“Of course, she is very much altered,” Cleave said sourly. “Contact with the world has changed her from an innocent child to a self-possessed woman. By some fine instinct, she divined the fact that my feelings were not exactly friendly—indeed, I had to speak to the point.”
“Which means you alluded to the letters, I suppose?”
“Oh, yes—the letters were a great card. They brought her ladyship to her knees at once. You are a wonderful judge of your own sex. As far as I am concerned, I should have expected the girl to burst into tears and summon Hardy to her side and tell him everything, after which he would be expected to kick me promptly off the premises. Mind you, that was her impulse right enough. But in reality she did nothing of the kind. She hesitated, and was lost. The upshot of the whole thing was, that she agreed to my terms, and is going to meet me at the appointed time to receive those precious documents. I hope you are satisfied.”
“Splendid,” Eleanor cried. “Could not have been better. And as I told you, the girl has acted exactly as I said she would. You were very particular as to the time, I suppose?”
“Oh, very. And I don’t think you need worry about that. Women are not noted for punctuality as a rule, but this is a case where the lady will turn up to the moment.”
Eleanor nodded. Cleave could see that her eyes were shining like stars.
“You are positively excited,” he said. “I have never seen you so moved before. Anyone would suppose that the danger was near.”
“The danger is very close,” the woman whispered. “You have no notion how close it is. I have the whole world in my grasp. I may wake up to-morrow and find myself in the position to gratify my dearest ambitions. And, on the other hand, I may wake up to-morrow and find myself within prison walls. It is all on the knees of the gods. If you will come this way I will show you what I mean. Only walk softly and leave that cigarette behind you, for the point of flame may attract attention.”
With a thrill of curiosity Cleave followed on the long path which terminated presently in a public roadway across the park. There, in the middle of the road, stood two men, obviously of the lower class, who seemed to be waiting and watching for something. It was only for a moment that Eleanor stood there; then she drew her companion back into the seclusion of the grounds again.
“What does the mystery mean?” Cleave asked.
“Those men are after