The Keeper of the Door. Ethel M. Dell
Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,
The desert were a paradise,
If thou wert there, if thou wert there.
Or were I monarch o' the globe,
Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign,
The brightest jewel in my crown
Wad be my queen, wad be my queen."
As the song died out into the August night, Nick rose. "That girl's a siren," he said. "Come along! We're wasting our time in here."
Max stooped laconically to knock the ashes from his pipe. His face as he stood up again was quite expressionless. "You lead the way," he said. "Are you going to leave your cigar behind? I suppose cigarettes are allowed?"
"I should think so, as the lady smokes them herself." Nick opened the door with the words, but paused a moment looking back at his companion quizzically. "Good luck to you, old chap!" he said.
Max's hand came out of his pocket with a jerk. He still had it bandaged, but he managed to grip hard with it nevertheless. But he did not utter a word.
They passed into the drawing-room with the lazy, tolerant air of men expecting to be amused; and Olga, with all her keenness, was very far from suspecting aught of what had just passed between them.
She and Violet were both near the open window, the latter with her instrument lying on her knee, its crimson ribbons streaming to the floor. She herself was very simply attired in white. The vivid beauty of her outlined against the darkness of the open French window was such as to be almost startling. She smiled a sparkling welcome.
"Dr. Wyndham, I've decided to call you Max; not because I like it—I think it's hideous—but because it's less trouble. I thought it as well to explain at the outset, so that there should be no misunderstanding."
"That is very gracious of you," said Max.
"You may regard it exactly as you please," she said majestically, "so long as you come when you're called. Allegretto, why do you move? I like you sitting there."
"I promised to go and say good-night to the boys," said Olga, who had sprung up somewhat precipitately at Max's approach. "Sit on the sofa, Nick, and keep a corner for me! I'm coming back."
She was gone with the words, a vanishing grey vision, the quick closing of the door shutting her from sight.
Violet leaned back in her chair, and dared the full scrutiny of Max's eyes.
"What a disturber of the peace you are!" she said. "What did you want to come here for before you had finished your smoke?"
"That was your doing," said Nick. "You literally dragged us hither. I'm inclined to think it was you who disturbed the peace."
"I?" She turned upon him. "Captain Ratcliffe—"
"Pray call me Nick!" he interposed. "It will save such a vast amount of trouble as well as keep you in the fashion."
She laughed. "You're much funnier than Max because you don't try to be. What do you mean by saying that I dragged you here? Was it that silly old song?"
"In part," said Nick cautiously.
"And the other part?"
"I won't put that into words. It would sound fulsome."
"Oh, please don't!" she said lightly. "And you, Max, what did you come for?"
He seated himself in the chair which Olga had vacated. "I thought it was time someone came to look after you," he said.
"How inane! You don't pretend to be musical, I hope?"
He leaned back, directly facing her. "No," he said. "I don't pretend."
"Never?" she said.
He smiled in his own enigmatical fashion. "That is the sort of question
I never answer."
She nodded gaily. "I knew you wouldn't. Why do you look at me like that? I feel as if I were being dissected. I don't wonder that Olga runs away when she sees you coming. I shall myself in a minute."
He laughed. "Surely you are accustomed to being looked at!"
"With reverence," she supplemented, "not criticism! You have the eye of a calculating apothecary. I believe you regard everybody you meet in the light of a possible patient."
"Naturally," said Max. "I suppose even you are mortal."
"Oh, yes, I shall die some day like the rest of you," she answered flippantly. "But I shan't have you by my death-bed. I shouldn't think you had ever seen anybody die, have you?"
"Why not?" said Max.
"Nobody could with you standing by. You're too vital, too electric. I picture you with your back against the door and your arms spread out, hounding the poor wretch back into the prison-house."
Max got up abruptly and moved to the window. "You have a vivid imagination," he said.
She laughed, drawing her fingers idly across the strings of her mandolin.
"Quite nightmarishly so sometimes. It's rather a drawback for some things. How are you enjoying that book of mine? Do you appreciate the Arabian Nights' flavour in modern literature?"
"It's a bit rank, isn't it?" said Max.
She laughed up at him. "I should have thought you would have been virile enough to like rank things. To judge by the tobacco you smoke, you do."
"Poisonous, isn't it?" said Nick. "I suppose it soothes his nerves, but it sets everyone else's on edge."
Violet stretched out her hand to a box of cigarettes that stood on a table within reach. "You would probably feel insulted if I offered you one of these," she said, "but I practically live on them."
"Very bad for you," said Max.
She snapped her fingers at him. "Then I shall certainly continue the pernicious habit. Do you know Major Hunt-Goring? It was he who gave them to me. He thinks he is going to marry me—but he isn't!"
"Great Lucifer!" said Nick.
She turned towards him. "What an appropriate name! I wish I'd thought of it. Do you know him?"
"Know him!" Nick's grimace was expressive. "Yes, I know him."
"Well?"
"Rather better than he thinks."
She laughed again, lightly, inconsequently, irresistibly. "He's a fascinating creature. It is his proud boast that he has kissed every girl in the neighbourhood except me."
"What an infernal liar!" said Nick.
"How do you know?" Gaily she challenged him. "It's quite probably true. He is exceedingly popular with the feminine portion of the community. I notice that friend Max maintains a shocked silence."
"Not at all," said Max. "I was only wondering why he had made an exception of you."
She tossed her head. "Can't you guess?"
"No, I can't," he returned daringly. "I should have thought you would have been the first on the list."
"How charming of you to say so!" said Violet. "Perhaps you are not aware of the fact that the sweetest fruit is generally out of reach."
"You might have let me say that," said Nick. "But the man is a liar in any case, and I hope he will give me the opportunity to tell him so."
Violet regarded him with interest. "I had no idea you were so pugnacious. Do you always tell people exactly what you think of them? Is it safe?"
"Quite safe for him," said Max.
"Why?" Violet turned back to him, her fingers carelessly plucking at the instrument on her knee.
Max made prompt and unflattering reply. "Because he's