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Flaming June

<h3>Chapter Twenty.</h3> On returning to the hotel that evening, Mr Moffatt announced that he and his wife had business on hand next morning, which would necessitate an early breakfast, and that once again they would be obliged to leave Cornelia to her own resources. He suggested, however, that they should all meet at Paddington Station at two o’clock, whence they could take train to Maidenhead for an afternoon on the river. Cornelia hailed the prospect with delight, and mentally dedicated the morning to doing a picture-gallery, and to choosing a suitable present for her aunt and Elma Ramsden. Aunt Soph should have lace; something soft, and smooth, and womanly, to take the place of the prickly steel trimmings which seemed to constitute her one idea of adornment. Elma, dear thing, what should be chosen for her? Not clothes; it would not be good taste to offer another gift of the kind; a piece of jewellery would be best; something good and quiet, and unobtrusive, suitable for the wear of “a nice young girl.” Cornelia chuckled to herself in prospective enjoyment next morning, as she repaired to the private sitting-room of the suite, where breakfast was invariably served. Her host and hostess had already risen from the table and were dressed for walking. Mrs Moffatt stood before the window looking down into the street with a pale and worried expression. Her husband was scribbling at a side table, but jumped up at Cornelia’s entrance, as if he had been anxiously awaiting her appearance. “Ah, good-morning, Miss Briskett! We are just off, but I wanted to settle up with you first. Here’s the cheque, with many thanks! Perhaps you will kindly look over it, to see it is all right.” “Oh, Mr Moffatt, you should not have troubled when you were so hustled. It’s too good of you!” cried Cornelia, eagerly, her heart warming to the little man for a promptitude in money matters which reminded her of her own beloved Poppar. “Of course it’s all right!” She cast a casual glance over the cheque, and broke into a surprised laugh. “It isn’t, though! You’ve paid me too much! I guess I’m not a usurer, to want interest for a single night. It was only two hundred that I lent!” Mr Moffatt gave an exclamation of irritation. “And I have made it out for two hundred and fifty! How very annoying! I have advised it to the bank, too, and sent off the letter. I wanted to get through with as much business as possible this morning. The more hurry the less speed! Why on earth could you not give me the right figures, Gertrude?” He turned upon his wife with an expression of querulous anger, which she treated with her usual cool disdain. “I did tell you, Silas—but, for the land’s sake, don’t make a fuss! It’s simple enough, Cornelia can give me the change in notes, and it will do to pay up one or two odd accounts before we leave. You won’t mind, dear, I know; and, see here! I’m fairly rattled this morning, and I want you to help me through. I’ve written out a list of errands that ought to be done right away, as soon as you’ve gotten through breakfast. The particulars are down on this list, and I’d be for ever obliged. You ought to get through before one, if you start soon, so meet me at Buzzard’s and we’ll have lunch together. In case I should be late, don’t wait, but just order for yourself, and allow half an hour to get to Paddington. If I’m delayed, I’ll go straight there, and look out for you on our platform.” “That’ll be all right. I’ll stay till you come,” Cornelia assented. She had already opened the gold chain bag which hung by her side, and was smoothing-out a roll of notes. “Two fives, two tens; I guess that’s all I can do this morning! I’ll give you the rest to-night.” “Oh, my, yes; there’s no hurry. Thank you, dear; much obliged!” said Mrs Moffatt, lightly, but her expression altered as she spoke. Cornelia wondered if she were imagining a look of disappointment. It must be imagination, for of what importance were a trumpery hundred dollars to a woman who daily squandered many times the amount on her own adornment! After the Moffatts had departed, Cornelia ate her breakfast, and set out in a hansom to accomplish Mrs Moffatt’s commissions before proceeding to shop on her own account. She handed the driver the list of addresses which she was asked to visit in town, and wondered at his expression of astonishment; but she wondered no longer as they traversed mile after mile of dreary roadways, to find on arriving at the first destination that as great a distance still separated it from the second on the list. The commissions themselves were trivial and unimportant, at which Cornelia was not surprised after her personal experience of Mrs Moffatt’s shopping eccentricities, but when she had wasted a couple of hours driving to and fro for no tangible result, she waxed impatient, determined that she had done enough for the honour of friendship, and that Mrs Moffatt could herself finish the remaining transactions. She therefore directed the driver to take her to the jeweller’s shop in Bond Street where she had made her previous purchases, and anticipated a pleasant half hour choosing an ornament which would commend itself to Elma’s approval. The partner in the firm welcomed her with his usual empressement, mingled with a certain surprise for which she was at a loss to account. Although a keen tradesman, pearl brooches and bangles seemed this morning too trivial matters to engross his attention; he had the air of waiting momentarily to discuss a more important subject, and presently introduced it himself, unable to be longer silent. “I despatched a messenger to the hotel an hour ago with the emerald necklace! Mrs Moffatt informed him that you were not in at the moment, but would be able to see him at tea-time. She was probably unaware that you intended to call yourself.” “Yes, she was. It doesn’t matter a mite. So long as she was there, it’s all right,” Cornelia replied, turning over the tray of ornaments absently. It seemed odd that Mrs Moffatt should have returned to the hotel after representing that she was obliged to be absent all morning, but no doubt some engagement had fallen through which she had intended to keep. She had lifted a brooch in her hands and turned towards the window to examine the colour of the pearls, when the jeweller spoke again. “We were delighted to receive your agreement to take the necklace, for, as Mrs Moffatt had definitely decided that it was beyond her figure, we were on the point of sending it over to our Paris house. I am sure Mr Briskett will not regret this purchase when he sees the quality of the stones.” Cornelia stood stock-still, staring hard at the little pearl brooch, a hundred vague doubts and dreads which had previously been resolutely thrust aside, darting back into her mind with a new and terrible significance. She felt stunned and bewildered, but the predominant sensation was the necessity for caution. She must be certain of what had happened before she presumed to judge. She rallied all her self-possession, and was surprised at the natural sound of her own voice as she replied— “What makes you speak of my father, Mr Marchant? Did I mention to you at any time that he was fond of emeralds?” “I believe you did on one occasion, but it was your reference this morning to which I alluded.” Mr Marchant drew out his pocket-book and selected one letter from the contents. “This is it, I think. Yes! You say—‘I have just received a cable permission from my father, Mr Edward B Briskett, to purchase the emerald necklace.’ I was referring to this quotation, rather than any casual remark.” Cornelia leant over the counter and read the words with her own eyes; saw the signature of her own name written below in Mrs Moffatt’s handwriting. “Why, of course! I forgot. I never do remember what I write,” she said calmly. She was sure now; there was no longer any reason for doubt! The everlasting shopping expeditions; the purchase of a succession of worthless trifles; the exploiting of her own wealth, had all been designed to create a confidence which would prepare the way for such a coup as the present. And this morning she had been deliberately decoyed out of the way, while the last scene of the comedy was enacted. The messages were plainly a ruse, while the different rendezvous would have provided a further detention, allowing the conspirators plenty of time to decamp. Once opened, Cornelia’s eyes were wonderfully keen. She understood now why the goods which it was inconvenient to harbour in a hotel had been constantly despatched to the keeping of “a friend.” She realised that she had been cheated—doubly cheated—in first giving a cheque for two hundred pounds, and afterwards in counting out change for a worthless return. “I need never fancy myself again after this! I’m just the greenest peach on the wall!” she told herself furiously, but through all the anger and shock, the necessity for caution remained predominant in her mind. Mr Marchant must not suspect that anything was wrong. Even now, at the eleventh hour, the fraud might be prevented. She must get back to the hotel at once; see Mrs Moffatt and reason with her, argue with her, command her to hand over the jewels! The woman was not all bad, and life had gone hardly with her. She should have another chance! Cornelia waived aside all thought of responsibility toward the jeweller himself, by the easy decision to pay for the necklace if necessary, but a sudden feeling of helplessness weighed upon her at the prospect of the interview ahead. Suppose Mr Moffatt were at the hotel with his wife! Then there would be two to one, and once the outer veneer was broken through, there was no saying to what extremes of abuse, of threatening, even of violence itself, they might descend. Cornelia recalled the two faces; the woman’s hard, sullen, coarse; the man’s mean and crafty, and shuddered at the prospect. All at once the thought of Guest occurred, to bring with it a wave of relief. Guest had begged her to summon him if at any time he should be needed; now the need had arisen, and he should help her through. She hastily selected a pearl bangle and laid it on one side on the counter. “I will decide on that! Let your man bring it round at five o’clock, and ask to see me personally. He can bring a bill made out for all I owe, and I’ll settle at once. And, Mr Marchant, I want to use your telephone! Can you ring and have me switched on to the Army and Navy Club?” While the preliminary operations were going on at the telephone, Cornelia racked her brain to think of a suitable rendezvous, and failing a better suggestion, decided on a tea-shop exactly across the road. To her immense relief, Guest was found at his club, and announced that he would be with her in ten minutes’ time, so that there was nothing to do but to dismiss the hansom, and secure a table in a quiet corner. The time seemed long, but in reality it was less than ten minutes before Guest seated himself by her side. He looked grave and stern; preoccupied almost to the point of discourtesy, for the ordinary greetings were exchanged for a succession of short, eager questions. “Where have you been all the morning? Have you been back to the hotel? Did you get my message?” “I did not! I’ve been out since about half-past nine. What was the message about? Anything important?” “Tell me first what you wanted me for just now.” Cornelia paused for a moment and her lips trembled. She clasped her hands together and leant across the little table, staring earnestly into his eyes. “Captain Guest, I’m in trouble! I’ve a pretty good opinion of myself as a rule, but—I ken’t see it through alone! ... It’s going to be one of the meanest businesses you ever touched. ... Will you help me?” “I will!” said Guest, quietly. “Thank you for asking me. Is it—excuse my asking—anything in connection with Mr and Mrs Moffatt? Ah!” as the girl exclaimed in sharp surprise, “I fancied that last night’s meeting might bring things to a crisis. Now, I’ll tell you just what happened in that box, and then you must tell me your story.” For the next ten minutes they sat with heads bent close together, exchanging confidences of grave import. Cornelia kept nothing back, and as he listened, Guest’s face grew momentarily sterner. The hastily ordered meal lay neglected on the table while they faced the desperate situation with which they had to deal. Guest took a man’s cut-and-dried view of the case, and was strongly in favour of apprising Mr Marchant of what had happened and returning to the hotel, supported not only by him, but by a police officer into the bargain, but Cornelia would not be induced to agree. “She’s done wrong, and she forged my name for her own purposes—there’s no getting away from that, but there may be some explanation which will make it look a little less black. Anyway, I’m going to hear it before I judge, and if she’ll make things good I’ll give her another chance. You don’t know what’s come before this!” “I should have little difficulty in guessing, however,” Guest said drily. He thought of the hotel in Marienbad; of the changed name; the dyed hair; and mentally conjured up the dreary life of plotting and scheming, of constant danger, and miserable success, which constitutes the life of the professional adventurer, but Cornelia saw only the haggard face which had looked at her in the sitting-room of the hotel, the face of the woman whose childhood had known no home, whom love had passed by. She heard again the hopeless intonation of the voice which had reminded her—“You’d have to tread the same road yourself, before you could judge me, Cornelia!” Her chin squared with the look of stubborn determination which her aunt already knew so well, and she said firmly— “Well, anyway, I’ve got to see her first! If you don’t approve, I’ll go alone, but I’d like best to have you there.” “Of course I’ll come. There’s no question about that. We had better get off at once, then, and not waste any more time, but first you must have something to eat! You’ve been driving about all morning, and there’s trouble ahead. I’ll ring for something hot and tempting. What would you like best?” “I couldn’t swallow a bite if you paid me for it. It would stick in my throat.” “Have a glass of wine, then! I’m not going to stir till you have something. You look tired out.” “I never touch wine. I think perhaps I could drink some cor-fee!” Cornelia said doubtfully, and Guest’s stern face suddenly lightened into a smile. “Coffee! The worst thing possible for your nerves. You funny little girl! You have not the smallest glimmering of an idea how to take care of yourself.” To his surprise and alarm, two big tears brimmed up suddenly in Cornelia’s eyes, and her lips quivered. “Don’t be good to me!” she whispered sharply. “Don’t! For two straws I’ll howl! I’m all worked up. Take me out, out into the street, quick, before I make a scene!” Guest needed no second bidding. In an incredibly short time the untasted meal was paid for, a hansom summoned, and he was driving once more through the streets by Cornelia’s side, while she mopped her eyes with a minute pocket-handkerchief. “You haven’t lived with her for days at a time. ... You haven’t thought of her as a friend. ... You haven’t had her nurse you, when you were sick!...” “Thank heaven for that!” ejaculated Guest, devoutly. It was ridiculous to indulge in sentiment in connection with a thief and a forger; the woman deserved no mercy, and would receive none, if he had his way; none the less was he charmed by Cornelia’s emotion, by her pity, her amazing inconsistency. Gone were her airs of complacency and independence; at the first threatening of danger the pretty pretence was broken up; weak, trembling, tearful, she summoned her natural protector to her side! Guest’s heart swelled with a passion of tenderness. In his immaculate frock-coat, freshly-creased trousers, and irreproachable silk hat, he was as truly a knight-errant at that moment as any mailed warrior of old, going forth to fight a tourney for his lady’s favour. “Don’t cry!” he cried eagerly. “Look here, you know, if you want me to let her down lightly, you must pull yourself together. I can’t stand this. If you cry any more—I’ll—kill her!” Cornelia swallowed dismally, blinking the tears from her eyelids. “I don’t know as it wouldn’t be the best way out, as far as she’s concerned, but I’d just as lief you didn’t all turn criminals on my hands! I’ll pull myself up once we are there, but I’m all of a flutter thinking it over in advance.” “We’ll be there soon now,” Guest told her reassuringly. They drove in silence down the length of Bond Street, and out into the whirl of Piccadilly. Soon, almost too soon for Cornelia’s jangled nerves, they had drawn up before the great door of the hotel. Here nothing of a sensational nature had occurred. The porter touched his cap to Cornelia with his usual stolid air, the clerk bowed with unruffled complacence—no hint of trouble had come to their ears. The lift was full of a laughing, chattering crowd. It seemed to Cornelia almost incredible that these women were repairing to their rooms to deck themselves for fresh pleasures, while she was about to bring a prisoner to the bar. She turned towards Guest, as he stood by her side, and felt a fresh sense of comfort in his nearness, his bigness, his air of quiet strength. On the second floor the lift discharged half its occupants—a merry flock for the most part, hurrying along the corridor, laughing and jesting as they went, while two followed gravely behind, looking to right and left with anxious eyes. The door of Mrs Moffatt’s bedroom was closed. Was it already deserted—its drawers and wardrobes despoiled of their treasures; a bundle of worthless trifles left behind?—Cornelia’s heart beat in sickening throbs; she knew a coward wish that she might be too late. To pay up and go quietly home seemed an easy way out of the difficulty into which she had walked so blindly! She drew a quick, frightened breath, and felt Guest’s hand press protectingly on her arm. The sitting-room door opened, and side by side they entered the room. <hr></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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