CHAPTER VIII
A MEETING IN BOND STREET
Wolfenden returned to his rooms to lunch, intending to go round to seehis last night's visitor immediately afterwards. He had scarcely takenoff his coat, however, before Selby met him in the hall, a note in hishand.
"From the young lady, my lord," he announced. "My wife has just sent itround."
Wolfenden tore the envelope open and read it.
"_Thursday morning._
"DEAR LORD WOLFENDEN,--Of course I made a mistake in coming to you last night. I am very sorry indeed--more sorry than you will ever know. A woman does not forget these things readily, and the lesson you have taught me it will not be difficult for me to remember all my life. I cannot consent to remain your debtor, and I am leaving here at once. I shall have gone long before you receive this note. Do not try to find me. I shall not want for friends if I choose to seek them. Apart from this, I do not want to see you again. I mean it, and I trust to your honour to respect my wishes. I think that I may at least ask you to grant me this for the sake of those days at Deringham, which it is now my fervent wish to utterly forget.--I am, yours sincerely,
"BLANCHE MERTON."
"The young lady, my lord," Selby remarked, "left early this morning. Sheexpressed herself as altogether satisfied with the attention she hadreceived, but she had decided to make other arrangements."
Wolfenden nodded, and walked into his dining-room with the note crushedup in his hand.
"For the sake of those days at Deringham," he repeated softly tohimself. Was the girl a fool, or only an adventuress? It was true thatthere had been something like a very mild flirtation between them atDeringham, but it had been altogether harmless, and certainly more ofher seeking than his. They had met in the grounds once or twice andwalked together; he had talked to her a little after dinner, feeling acertain sympathy for her isolation, and perhaps a little admiration forher undoubted prettiness; yet all the time he had had a slightly uneasyfeeling with regard to her. Her ingenuousness had become a matter ofdoubt to him. It was so now more than ever, yet he could not understandher going away like this and the tone of her note. So far as he wasconcerned, it was the most satisfactory thing that could have happened.It relieved him of a responsibility which he scarcely knew how to dealwith. In the face of her dismissal from Deringham, any assistance whichshe might have accepted from him would naturally have been open tomisapprehension. But that she should have gone away and have written tohim in such a strain was directly contrary to his anticipations. Unlessshe was really hurt and disappointed by his reception of her, he couldnot see what she had to gain by it. He was puzzled a little, but histhoughts were too deeply engrossed elsewhere for him to take herdisappearance very seriously. By the time he had finished lunch he hadcome to the conclusion that what had happened was for the best, and thathe would take her at her word.
He left his rooms again about three o'clock, and at precisely the hourat which Densham had rung the bell of Mrs. Thorpe-Satchell's house inMayfair he experienced a very great piece of good fortune.
Coming out of Scott's, where more from habit than necessity he hadturned in to have his hat ironed, he came face to face, a few yards upBond Street, with the two people whom, more than any one else in theworld, he had desired to meet. They were walking together, the girltalking, the man listening with an air of half-amused deference.Suddenly she broke off and welcomed Wolfenden with a delightful smileof recognition. The man looked up quickly. Wolfenden was standingbefore them on the pavement, hat in hand, his pleasure at thisunexpected meeting very plainly evidenced in his face. Mr. Sabin'sgreeting, if devoid of any special cordiality, was courteous and evengenial. Wolfenden never quite knew whence he got the impression, whichcertainly came to him with all the strength and absoluteness of anoriginal inspiration, that this encounter was not altogether pleasantto him.
"How strange that we should meet you!" the girl said. "Do you know thatthis is the first walk that I have ever had in London?"
She spoke rather softly and rather slowly. Her voice possessed asibilant and musical intonation; there was perhaps the faintestsuggestion of an accent. As she stood there smiling upon him in a deepblue gown, trimmed with a silvery fur, in the making of which no Englishdressmaker had been concerned, Wolfenden's subjection was absolute andcomplete. He was aware that his answer was a little flurried. He wasless at his ease than he could have wished. Afterwards he thoughtof a hundred things he would have liked to have said, but thesurprise of seeing them so suddenly had cost him a little of hisusual self-possession. Mr. Sabin took up the conversation.
"My infirmity," he said, glancing downwards, "makes walking, especiallyon stone pavements, rather a painful undertaking. However, London is oneof those cities which can only be seen on foot, and my niece has all thecuriosity of her age."
She laughed out frankly. She wore no veil, and a tinge of colour hadfound its way into her cheeks, relieving that delicate but not unhealthypallor, which to Densham had seemed so exquisite.
"I think shopping is delightful. Is it not?" she exclaimed.
Wolfenden was absolutely sure of it. He was, indeed, needlesslyemphatic. Mr. Sabin smiled faintly.
"I am glad to have met you again, Lord Wolfenden," he said, "if only tothank you for your aid last night. I was anxious to get away before anyfuss was made, or I would have expressed my gratitude at the time in amore seemly fashion."
"I hope," Wolfenden said, "that you will not think it necessary to sayanything more about it. I did what any one in my place would have donewithout a moment's hesitation."
"I am not quite so sure of that," Mr. Sabin said. "But by the bye, canyou tell me what became of the fellow? Did any one go after him?"
"There was some sort of pursuit, I believe," Wolfenden said slowly, "buthe was not caught."
"I am glad to hear it," Mr. Sabin said.
Wolfenden looked at him in some surprise. He could not make up his mindwhether it was his duty to disclose the name of the man who had madethis strange attempt.
"Your assailant was, I suppose, a stranger to you?" he said slowly.
Mr. Sabin shook his head.
"By no means. I recognised him directly. So, I believe, did you."
Wolfenden was honestly amazed.
"He was your guest, I believe," Mr. Sabin continued, "until I enteredthe room. I saw him leave, and I was half-prepared for something of thesort."
"He was my guest, it is true, but none the less, he was a stranger tome," Wolfenden explained. "He brought a letter from my cousin, who seemsto have considered him a decent sort of fellow."
"There is," Mr. Sabin said dryly, "nothing whatever the matter with him,except that he is mad."
"On the whole, I cannot say that I am surprised to hear it," Wolfendenremarked; "but I certainly think that, considering the form his madnesstakes, you ought to protect yourself in some way."
Mr. Sabin shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.
"He can never hurt me. I carry a talisman which is proof against anyattempt that he can make; but none the less, I must confess that youraid last night was very welcome."
"I was very pleased to be of any service," Wolfenden said, "especially,"he added, glancing toward Mr. Sabin's niece, "since it has given me thepleasure of your acquaintance."
A little thrill passed through him. Her delicately-curved lips werequivering as though with amusement, and her eyes had fallen; she hadblushed slightly at that unwitting, ardent look of his. Mr. Sabin'scold voice recalled him to himself.
"I believe," he said, "that I overheard your name correctly. It isWolfenden, is it not?"
Wolfenden assented.
"I am sorry that I haven't a card," he said. "That is my name."
Mr. Sabin looked at him curiously.
"Wolfenden is, I believe, the family name of the Deringhams? May Iask, are you any relation to Admiral Lord Deringham?"
Wolfende
n was suddenly grave.
"Yes," he answered; "he is my father. Did you ever meet him?"
Mr. Sabin shook his head.
"No, I have heard of him abroad; also, I believe, of the Countess ofDeringham, your mother. It is many years ago. I trust that I have notinadvertently----"
"Not at all," Wolfenden declared. "My father is still alive, although heis in very delicate health. I wonder, would you and your niece do me thehonour of having some tea with me? It is Ladies' Day at the 'GeraniumClub,' and I should be delighted to take you there if you would allowme."
Mr. Sabin shook his head.
Wolfenden had the satisfaction of seeing the girl look disappointed.
"We are very much obliged to you," Mr. Sabin said, "but I have anappointment which is already overdue. You must not mind, Helene, if weride the rest of the way."
He turned and hailed a passing hansom, which drew up immediately atthe kerb by their side. Mr. Sabin handed his niece in, and stood for amoment on the pavement with Wolfenden.
"I hope that we may meet again before long, Lord Wolfenden," he said."In the meantime let me assure you once more of my sincere gratitude."
The girl leaned forward over the apron of the cab.
"And may I not add mine too?" she said. "I almost wish that we were notgoing to the 'Milan' again to-night. I am afraid that I shall benervous."
She looked straight at Wolfenden. He was ridiculously happy.
"I can promise," he said, "that no harm shall come to Mr. Sabinto-night, at any rate. I shall be at the 'Milan' myself, and I will keepa very close look out."
"How reassuring!" she exclaimed, with a brilliant smile. "Lord Wolfendenis going to be at the 'Milan' to-night," she added, turning to Mr.Sabin. "Why don't you ask him to join us? I shall feel so much morecomfortable."
There was a faint but distinct frown on Mr. Sabin's face--a distincthesitation before he spoke. But Wolfenden would notice neither. He waslooking over Mr. Sabin's shoulder, and his instructions were very clear.
"If you will have supper with us we shall be very pleased," Mr. Sabinsaid stiffly; "but no doubt you have already made your party. Supper isan institution which one seldom contemplates alone."
"I am quite free, and I shall be delighted," Wolfenden said withouthesitation. "About eleven, I suppose?"
"A quarter past," Mr. Sabin said, stepping into the cab. "We may go tothe theatre."
The hansom drove off, and Wolfenden stood on the pavement, hat in hand.What fortune! He could scarcely believe in it. Then, just as he turnedto move on, something lying at his feet almost at the edge of thekerbstone attracted his attention. He looked at it more closely. It wasa ribbon--a little delicate strip of deep blue ribbon. He knew quitewell whence it must have come. It had fallen from her gown as she hadstepped into the hansom. He looked up and down the street. It was full,but he saw no one whom he knew. The thing could be done in a minute. Hestooped quickly down and picked it up crushing it in his gloved hand,and walking on at once with heightened colour and a general sense ofhaving made a fool of himself. For a moment or two he was especiallycareful to look neither to the right or to the left; then a sense thatsome one from the other side of the road was watching him drew hiseyes in that direction. A young man was standing upon the edge of thepavement, a peculiar smile parting his lips and a cigarette between hisfingers. For a moment Wolfenden was furiously angry; then the eyes ofthe two men met across the street, and Wolfenden forgot his anger. Herecognised him at once, notwithstanding his appearance in an afternoontoilette as carefully chosen as his own. It was Felix, Mr. Sabin'sassailant.