CHAPTER XXV
JIM SHEPHERD'S SCARE
It was, in its way, a pathetic sight upon which Laverick gazed whenhe stole into that shabby little sitting-room. Zoe had fallenasleep in a small, uncomfortable easy-chair with its back to thewindow. Her supper of bread and milk was half finished, her hatlay upon the table. A book was upon her lap as though she hadstarted to read only to find it slip through her fingers. He stoodwith his elbow upon the mantelpiece, looking down at her. Hereyelashes, long and silky, were more beautiful than ever now thather eyes were closed. Her complexion, pale though she was, seemedmore the creamy pallor of some southern race than the whiteness ofill-health. The bodice of her dress was open a few inches at theneck, showing the faint white smoothness of her flawless skin.Not even her shabby shoes could conceal the perfect shape of herfeet and ankles. Once more he remembered his first simile, hisfirst thought of her. She seemed, indeed, like some daintystatuette, uncouthly clad, who had strayed from a world of herown upon rough days and found herself ill-equipped indeed for thestruggle. His heart grew hot with anger against Morrison as hestood and watched her. Supposing she had been different! Itwould have been his fault, leaving her alone to battle her waythrough the most difficult of all lives. Brute!
He had muttered the word half aloud and she suddenly opened hereyes. At first she seemed bewildered. Then she smiled and sat up.
"I have been asleep!" she exclaimed.
"A most unnecessary statement," he answered, smiling. "I havebeen standing looking at you for five minutes at least."
"How fortunate that I gave you the key!" she declared. "I don'tsuppose I should ever have heard you. Now please stand there inthe light and let me look at you."
"Why?"
"I want to look at a man who has had supper with MademoiselleIdiale."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Am I supposed to be a wanderer out of Paradise, then?"
She looked at him doubtfully.
"They tell strange stories about her," she said; "but oh, she is sobeautiful! If I were a man, I should fall in love with her if sheeven looked my way."
"Then I am glad," he answered, "that I am less impressionable."
"And you are not in love with her?" she asked eagerly.
"Why should I be?" he laughed. "She is like a wonderful picture, amarvelous statue, if you will. Everything about her is faultless.But one looks at these things calmly enough, you know. It is lifewhich stirs life."
"Do you think that there is no life in her veins, then?" Zoe asked.
"If there is," he answered, "I do not think that I am the man to stirit."
She drew a little sigh of content.
"You see," she said, "you are my first admirer, and I haven't theleast desire to let you go."
"Incredible!" he declared.
"But it is true," she answered earnestly. "You would not have metalk to these boys who come and hang on at the stage-door. The mento whom I have been introduced by the other girls have been veryfew, and they have not been very nice, and they have not cared forme and I have not cared for them. I think," she said, disconsolately,"I am too small. Every one to-day seems to like big women. CoraSinclair, who is just behind me in the chorus, gets bouquets everynight, and simply chooses with whom she should go out to supper."
Laverick looked grave.
"You are not envying her?" he asked.
"Not in the least, as long as I too am taken out sometimes."
Laverick smiled and sat on the arm of her chair.
"Miss Zoe," he said, "I have come because you told me to, just toprove, you see, that I am not in the toils of Mademoiselle Idiale.But do you know that it is half past one? I must not stay here anylonger."
She sighed once more.
"You are right," she admitted, "but it is so lonely. I have neverbeen here without May and her mother. I have never slept alone inthe house before the other night. If I had known that they weregoing away, I should never have dared to come here."
"It is too bad," he declared. "Couldn't you get one of the othergirls to stay with you?"
She shook her head.
"There are one or two whom I would like to have," she said, "butthey are all living either at home or with relatives. The others Iam afraid about. They seem to like to sit up so late and--"
"You are quite right," he interrupted hastily,--"quite right. Youare better alone. But you ought to have a servant."
She laughed.
"On two pounds fifteen a week?" she asked. "You must remember thatI could not even live here, only I have practically no rent to pay."
He fidgeted for a moment.
"Miss Zoe," he said, "I am perfectly serious when I tell you that Ihave money which should go to your brother. Why will you not let mealter your arrangements just a little? I cannot bear to think ofyou here all alone."
"It is very kind of you," she answered doubtfully; "but please, no.Somehow, I think that it would spoil everything if I accepted thatsort of help from you. If you have any money of Arthur's, keep itfor a time and I think when you write him--I do not want to seemgrasping--but I think if he has any to spare you might suggest thathe does give me just a little. I have never had anything from himat all. Perhaps he does not quite understand how hard it is for me.
"I will do that, of course," Laverick answered, "but I wish youwould let me at least pay over a little of what I consider due toyou. I will take the responsibility for it. It will come from himand not from me."
She remained unconvinced.
"I would rather wait," she said. "If you really want to give mesomething, I will let you--out of my brother's money, of course,I mean," she added. "I haven't anything saved at all, or I wouldn'thave that. But one day you shall take me out and buy me a dress andhat. You can tell Arthur directly you write to him. I don't mindthat, for sometimes I do feel ashamed--I did the other night tohave you sit with me there, and to feel that I was dressed so verydifferently from all of them."
He laughed reassuringly.
"I don't think men notice those things. To me you seemed just asyou should seem. I only know that I was glad enough to be therewith you."
"Were you?"--rather wistfully.
"Of course I was. Now I am going, but before I go, don't forgetMonday afternoon. We'll have lunch and then go to your brother'srooms."
She glanced at the clock.
"Is it really so late?" she asked.
"It is. Don't you notice how quiet it is outside?"
They stood hand in hand for a moment. A strange silence seemed tohave fallen upon the streets. Laverick was suddenly conscious ofsomething which he had never felt when Mademoiselle Idiale hadsmiled upon him--a quickening of the pulses, a sense of gatheringexcitement which almost took his breath away. His eyes were fixedupon hers, and he seemed to see the reflection of that same waveof feeling in her own expressive face. Her lips trembled, her eyeswere deeper and softer than ever. They seemed to be asking him aquestion, asking and asking till every fibre of his body wasconcentrated in the desperate effort with, which he kept her atarm's length.
"Is it so very late?" she whispered, coming just a little closer,so that she was indeed almost within the shelter of his arms.
He clutched her hands almost roughly and raised them to his lips.
"Much too late for me to stay here, child," he said, and his voiceeven to himself sounded hard and unnatural.
"Run along to bed. To-morrow night--to-morrow night, then, I willfetch you. Good-bye!"
He let himself out. He did not even look behind to the spot wherehe had left her. He closed the front door and walked with swift,almost savage footsteps down the quiet Street, across the Square,and into New Oxford Street. Here he seemed to breathe more freely.He called a hansom and drove to his rooms.
The hall-porter had left his post in the front hall, and there wasno one to inform Laverick that a visitor was awaiting him. When heentered his sitting-room, however, he gave a littl
e start of surprise.Mr. James Shepherd was reclining in his easy-chair with his handsupon his knees--Mr. James Shepherd with his face more pasty eventhan usual, his eyes a trifle greener, his whole demeanor one ofunconcealed and unaffected terror.
"Hullo!" Laverick exclaimed. "What the dickens--what do you wanthere, Shepherd?"
"Upon my word, sir, I'm not sure that I know," the man replied,"but I'm scared. I've brought you back the certificates of themshares. I want you to keep them for me. I'm terrified lest theycome and search my room. I am, I tell you fair. I'm terrified toorder a pint of beer for myself. They're watching me all the time."
"Who are?" Laverick demanded.
"Lord knows who;" Shepherd answered, "but there's two of them at it.I told you about them as asked questions, and I thought there we'ddone and finished with it. Not a bit of it! There was another onethere this afternoon, said he was a journalist, making sketches ofthe passage and asking me no end of questions. He wasn't nojournalist, I'll swear to that. I asked him about his paper.'Half-a-dozen,' he declared. 'They're all glad to have what I sendthem.' Journalist! Lord knows who the other chap was and what hewas asking questions for, but this one was a 'tec, straight. JoeForman, he was in to-day looking after my place, for I'd given amonth's notice, and he says to me, 'You see that big chap?'--meaninghim as had been asking me the questions--and I says 'Yes!' and hesays, 'That's a 'tee. I've seed him in a police court, givingevidence.' I went all of a shiver so that you could have knocked medown."
"Come, come!" said Laverick. "There's no need for you to be feelinglike this about it. All that you've done is not to have rememberedthose two customers who were in your restaurant late one night.There's nothing criminal in that."
"There's something criminal in having two hundred and fifty pounds'worth of shares in one's pocket--something suspicious, anyway,"Shepherd declared, plumping them down on the table. "I ain't givingyou these back, mind, but you must keep 'em for me. I wish I'd nevergiven notice. I think I'll ask the boss to keep me on."
"Why do you suppose that this man is particularly interested in you?"Laverick inquired.
"Ain't I told you?" Shepherd exclaimed, sitting up. "Why, he'sbeen to my place down in 'Ammersmith, asking questions about me.My landlady swears he didn't go into my room, but who can tellwhether he did or not? Those sort of chaps can get in anywhere.Then I went out for a bit of an airing after the one o'clock rushwas over to-day, and I'm danged if he wasn't at my 'eels. I seedhim coming round by Liverpool Street just as I went in a bar to geta drop of something."
Laverick frowned.
"If there is anything in this Story, Shepherd," he said, "if youare really being followed, what a thundering fool you were to comehere! All the world knows that Arthur Morrison was my partner."
"I couldn't help it, sir," the man declared. "I couldn't, indeed.I was so scared, I felt I must speak about it to some one. And thenthere were these shares. There was nowhere I could keep 'em safe."
"Look here," Laverick went on, "you're alarming yourself aboutnothing. In any case, there is only one thing for you to do. Pullyourself together and put a bold face upon it. I'll keep thesecertificates for you, and when you want some money you can cometo me for it. Go back to your place, and if your master is willingto keep you on perhaps it would be a good thing to stay there foranother month or so. But don't let any one see that you'refrightened. Remember, there's nothing that you can get into troublefor. No one's obliged to answer such questions as you've been asked,except in a court and under oath. Stick to your story, and if youtake my advice," Laverick added, glancing at his visitor's shakingfingers, "you will keep away from the drink."
"It's little enough I've had, sir," Shepherd assured him. "A dropnow and then just to keep up one's spirits--nothing that amountsto anything."
"Make it as little as possible," Laverick said. "Remember, I'm backof you, I'll see that you get into no trouble. And don't come hereagain. Come to my office, if you like--there's nothing in that--butdon't come here, you understand?"
Shepherd took up his hat.
"I understand, sir. I'm sorry to have troubled you, but the sightof that man following me about fairly gave me the shivers."
"Come into the office as often as you like, in reason," Laverick said,showing him out, "but not here again. Keep your eyes open, and letme know if you think you've been followed here."
"There's no more news in the papers, sir? Nothing turned up?"
"Nothing," replied Laverick. "If the police have found out anythingat all, they will keep it until after the inquest."
"And you've heard nothing, sir," Shepherd asked, speaking in ahoarse whisper, "of Mr. Morrison?"
"Nothing," Laverick answered. "Mr. Morrison is abroad."
The man wiped his forehead with his hand.
"Of course!" he muttered. "A good job, too, for him!"