LITMIR.BIZ

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The electric fittings looked a little different, but that might have been fancy. It was the identical room. David had run his quarry to earth, and he began to feel his spirits rising. Doubtless he could scheme some way out of the difficulty and spare his phantom friends at the same time.

      “You wanted to see me, sir? Will you be so good as to state your business?”

      David turned with a start. He saw before him a slight, graceful figure, and a lovely, refined face in a frame of the most beautiful hair that he had ever seen. The grey eyes were demure, with just a suggestion of mirth in them; the lips were made for laughter. It was as if some dainty little actress were masquerading in Salvation garb, only the dress was all priceless lace that touched David’s artistic perception. He could imagine the girl as deeply in earnest as going through fire and water for her convictions. Also he could imagine her as Puck or Ariel—there was rippling laughter in every note of that voice of hers.

      “I—I, eh, yes,” Steel stammered. “You see, I—if I only knew whom I had the pleasure of addressing?”

      “I am Miss Ruth Gates, at your service. Still, you asked for me by name.”

      David made no reply for a moment. He was tripping over surprises again. What a fool he had been not to look out the name of the occupant of 219 in the directory. It was pretty evident that Gilead Gates had a house in Brighton as well as one in town. Not only had that telephone message emanated from the millionaire’s residence, but it had brought Steel to the philanthropist’s abode in Brighton. If Mr. Gates himself had strolled into the room singing a comic song David would have expressed no emotion.

      “Daughter of the famous Gilead Gates?” David asked, feebly.

      “No, niece, and housekeeper. This is not my uncle’s own house, he has merely taken this for a time. But, Mr. Steel—”

      “Mr. David, Steel—is my name familiar to you?”

      David asked the question somewhat eagerly. As yet he was only feeling his way and keenly on the lookout for anything in the way of a clue. He saw the face of the girl grow white as the table-cover, he saw the lurking laughter die in her eyes, and the purple black terror dilating the pupils.

      “I—I know you quite well by reputation,” the girl gasped. Her little hands were pressed to her left side as if to check some deadly pain there. “Indeed, I may say I have read most of your stories. I—I hope that there is nothing wrong.”

      Her self-possession and courage were coming back to her now. But the spasm of fear that had shaken her to the soul was not lost upon Steel.

      “I trust not,” he said, gravely. “Did you know that I was here two nights ago?”

      “Here!” the girl cried. “Impossible! In the house! The night before last! Why, we were all in bed long before midnight.”

      “I am not aware that I said anything about midnight,” David responded, coldly.

      An angry flush came sweeping over the face of the girl, annoyance at her own folly, David thought. She added quickly that she and her uncle had only been down in Brighton for three days.

      “Nevertheless, I was in this room two nights ago,” David replied. “If you know all about it, I pray you to give me certain information of vital importance to me; if not, I shall be compelled to keep my extraordinary story to myself, for otherwise you would never believe it. Do you or do you not know of my visit here?”

      The girl bent her head till Steel could see nothing but the glorious amber of her hair. He could see, too, the fine old lace round her throat was tossing like a cork on a stream.

      “I can tell you nothing,” she said. “Nothing, nothing, nothing.”

      It was the voice of one who would have spoken had she dared. With anybody else Steel would have been furiously angry. In the present case he could only admire the deep, almost pathetic, loyalty to somebody who stood behind.

      “Are you sure you were in this house?” the girl asked, at length.

      “Certain!” David exclaimed. “The walls, the pictures, the furniture—all the same. I could swear to the place anywhere. Miss Gates, if I cannot prove that I was here at the time I name, it is likely to go very hard with me.”

      “You mean that a certain inconvenience—”

      “Inconvenience! Do you call a charge of murder, or manslaughter at best, inconvenient? Have you not seen the local papers? Don’t you know that two nights ago, during my absence from home, a strange man was practically done to death in my conservatory? And during the time of the outrage, as sure as Heaven is above us, I was in this room.”

      “I am sorry, but I am sure that you were not.”

      “Ah, you are going to disappoint me? And yet you know something. You might have been the guiltiest of creatures yourself when I disclosed my identity. No prisoner detected in some shameful crime ever looked more guilty than you.”

      The girl stood there, saying nothing. Had she rang the bell and ordered the footman to put him out of the house, Steel would have had no cause for complaint. But she did nothing of the kind. She stood there torn by conflicting emotions.

      “I can give you no information,” she said, presently. “But I am as positive one way as you are another that you have never been in this house before. I may surmise things, but as I hope to be judged fairly I can give you no information. I am only a poor, unhappy girl, who is doing what she deems to be the best for all parties concerned. And I can tell you nothing, nothing. Oh, won’t you believe that I would do anything to serve you if I were only free?”

      She held out her hand with an imploring gesture, the red lips were quivering, and her eyes were full of tears. David’s warm heart went out to her; he forgot all his own troubles and dangers in his sympathy for the lovely creature in distress.

      “Pray say no more about it,” he cried. He caught the outstretched hand in his and carried it to his lips. “I don’t wish to hurry you; in fact, haste is dangerous. And there is ample time. Nor am I going to press you. Still, before long you may find some way to give me a clue without sacrificing a jot of your fine loyalty to—well, others. I would not distress you for the world, Miss Gates. Don’t you think that this has been the most extraordinary interview?”

      The tears trembled like diamonds on the girl’s long lashes and a smile flashed over her face. The sudden transformation was wonderfully fascinating.

      “What you might call an impossible interview,” she laughed. “And all the more impossible because it was quite impossible that you could ever have been here before.”

      “When I was in this room two nights ago,” David protested, “I saw—- ”

      “Did you see me, for instance? If not, you couldn’t have been here.”

      A small, misshapen figure, with the face of a Byron—Apollo on the bust of a Satyr—came in from behind the folding doors at the back of the dining-room carrying some letters in his hand. The stranger’s dark, piercing eyes were fixed inquiringly upon Steel.

      “Bell,” the latter cried; “Hatherly Bell! you have been listening!”

      The little man with the godlike head admitted the fact, coolly. He had been writing letters in the back room and escape had been impossible for him.

      “Funny enough, I was going to look you up to-day,” he said. “You did me a great service once, and I am longing to repay you. I came down here to give my friend Gates the benefit of my advice and assistance over a large philanthropic scheme he has just evolved. And, writing letters yonder on that subject, I heard your extraordinary conversation. Can I help you, Steel?”

      “My dear fellow,” David cried, “if you offered me every intellect in Europe I should not choose one of them so gladly as yours.”

      “Then let us shake hands on the bargain. And now I am going to stagger you; I heard you state positively that two nights ago you were in

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