A few politely worded letters were exchanged. "M" declined to reveal heridentity, but made an appointment to visit Mr. Ruff at his office. Themorning she was expected, he wore an entirely new suit of clothes andwas palpably nervous. Miss Brown, who had arrived a little late, satwith her back turned upon him, and ignored even his usual morninggreeting. The atmosphere of the office was decidedly chilly!Fortunately, the expected visitor arrived early.
Peter Ruff rose to receive his former sweetheart with an agitationperforce concealed, yet to him poignant indeed. For it was indeedMaud who entered the room and came towards him with carefully studiedembarrassment and half doubtfully extended hand. He did not see thecheap millinery, the slightly more developed figure, the passing ofthat insipid prettiness which had once charmed him into the bloom of anover-early maturity. His eyes were blinded with that sort of masculinechivalry--the heritage only of fools and very clever men--which takes nonote of such things. It was Miss Brown who, from her place in a cornerof the room, ran over the cheap attractions of this unwelcome visitorwith an expression of scornful wonder--who understood the tinsel of herjewellery, the cheap shoddiness of her ready-made gown; who appreciated,with merciless judgment, her mincing speech, her cheap, flirtatiousmethod.
Maud, with a diffidence not altogether assumed, had accepted the chairwhich Peter Ruff had placed for her, and sat fidgeting, for a moment,with the imitation gold purse which she was carrying.
"I am sure, Mr. Ruff," she said, looking demurely into her lap, "Iought not to have come here. I feel terribly guilty. It's such anuncomfortable sort of position, too, isn't it?"
"I am sorry that you find it so," Peter Ruff said. "If there is anythingI can do--"
"You are very kind," she murmured, half raising her eyes to his anddropping them again, "but, you see, we are perfect strangers to oneanother. You don't know me at all, do you? And I have only heard of youthrough the newspapers. You might think all sorts of things about mycoming here to make enquiries about a gentleman."
"I can assure you," Peter Ruff said, sincerely, "that you need have nofears--no fears at all. Just speak to me quite frankly. Mr. Fitzgeraldwas a friend of yours, was he not?"
Maud simpered.
"He was more than that," she answered, looking down. "We were engaged tobe married."
Peter Ruff sighed.
"I knew all about it," he declared. "Fitzgerald used to tell meeverything."
"You were his friend?" she asked, looking him in the face.
"I was," Peter Ruff answered fervently, "his best friend! No one wasmore grieved than I about that--little mistake."
She sighed.
"In some ways," she remarked softly, "you remind me of him."
"You could scarcely say anything," Peter Ruff murmured "which would giveme more pleasure. I am flattered."
She shook her head.
"It isn't flattery," she said, "it's the truth. You may be a few yearsolder, and Spencer had a very nice moustache, which you haven't, but youare really not unlike. Mr. Ruff, do tell me where he is!"
Peter Ruff coughed.
"You must remember," he said, "that Mr. Fitzgerald's absence was causedby events of a somewhat unfortunate character."
"I know all about it," she answered, with a little sigh.
"You can appreciate the fact, therefore," Peter Ruff continued, "thatas his friend and well-wisher I can scarcely disclose his whereaboutswithout his permission. Will you tell me exactly why you want to meethim again?"
She blushed--looked down and up again--betrayed, in fact, all the signsof confusion which might have been expected from her.
"Must I tell you that?" she asked.
"You are married, are you not?" Peter Ruff asked, looking down at herwedding ring.
She bit her lip with vexation. What a fool she had been not to take itoff!
"Yes! Well, no--that is to say--"
"Never mind," Peter Ruff interrupted. "Please don't think that I want tocross-examine you. I only asked these questions because I have a sincereregard for Fitzgerald. I know how fond he was of you, and I cannot seewhat there is to be gained, from his point of view, by reopening oldwounds."
"I suppose, then," she remarked, looking at him in such a mannerthat Miss Brown had to cover her mouth with her hands to prevent herscreaming out--"I suppose you are one of those who think it a crime fora woman who is married even to want to see, for a few moments, an oldsweetheart?"
"On the contrary," Peter Ruff answered, "as a bachelor, I have noconvictions of any sort upon the subject."
She sighed.
"I am glad of that," she said.
"I am to understand, then," Peter Ruff remarked, "that your reason forwishing to meet Mr. Fitzgerald again is purely a sentimental one?"
"I am afraid it is," she murmured; "I have thought of him so oftenlately. He was such a dear!" she declared, with enthusiasm.
"I have never been sufficiently thankful," she continued, "that he gotaway that night. At the time, I was very angry, but often since then Ihave wished that I could have passed out with him into the fog and beenlost--but I mustn't talk like this! Please don't misunderstand me, Mr.Ruff. I am happily married--quite happily married!"
Peter Ruff sighed.
"My friend Fitzgerald," he remarked, "will be glad to hear that."
Maud fidgeted. It was not quite the effect she had intended to produce!
"Of course," she remarked, looking away with a pensive air, "one hasregrets."
"Regrets!" Peter Ruff murmured.
"Mr. Dory is not well off," she continued, "and I am afraid that Iam very fond of life and going about, and everything is so expensivenowadays. Then I don't like his profession. I think it is hateful tobe always trying to catch people and put them in prison--don't you, Mr.Ruff?"
Peter Ruff smiled.
"Naturally," he answered. "Your husband and I work from the oppositepoles of life. He is always seeking to make criminals of the people whomI am always trying to prove worthy members of society."
"How noble!" Maud exclaimed, clasping her hands and looking up at him."So much more remunerative, too, I should think," she added, after amoment's pause.
"Naturally," Peter Ruff admitted. "A private individual will pay moreto escape from the clutches of the law than the law will to secureits victims. Scotland Yard expects them to come into its armsautomatically--regards them as a perquisite of its existence."
"I wish my husband were in your profession, Mr. Ruff," Maud said, with asidelong glance of her blue eyes which she had always found so effectiveupon her various admirers. "I am sure that I should be a great dealfonder of him."
Peter Ruff leaned forward in his chair. He, too, had expressive eyes attimes.
"Madam," he said--and stopped. But Maud blushed, all the same.
She looked down into her lap.
"We are forgetting Mr. Fitzgerald," she murmured.
Peter Ruff glanced up at the clock.
"It is a long story," he said. "Are you in a hurry, Mrs. Dory?
"Not at all," she assured him, "unless you want to close you office, oranything. It must be nearly one o'clock."
"I wonder," he asked, "if you would do me the honour of lunching withme? We might go to the Prince's or the Carlton--whichever you prefer. Iwill promise to talk about Mr. Fitzgerald all the time."
"Oh, I couldn't!" Maud declared, with a little gasp. "At least--well,I'm sure I don't know!"
"You have no engagement for luncheon?" Peter Ruff asked quietly.
"Oh, no!" she answered; "but, you see, we live so quietly. I havenever been to one of those places. I'd love to go--but if we were seen!Wouldn't people talk?"
Peter Ruff smiled. Just the same dear, modest little thing!
"I can assure you," he said, "that nothing whatever could be saidagainst our lunching together. People are not so strict nowadays, youknow, and a married lady has always a great deal of latitude."
She looked up at him with a dazzling smile.
"I'd simply love
to go to Prince's!" she declared.
"Cat!" Miss Brown murmured, as Peter Ruff and his client left the roomtogether.
Peter Ruff returned from his luncheon in no very jubilant state of mind.For some time he sat in his easy-chair, with his legs crossed andhis finger tips pressed close together, looking steadily into space.Contrary to his usual custom, he did not smoke. Miss Brown watched himfrom behind her machine.
"Disenchanted?" she asked calmly.
Peter Ruff did not reply for several moments.
"I am afraid," he admitted, hesitatingly, "that marriage with John Doryhas--well, not had a beneficial effect. She allowed me, for instance, tohold her hand in the cab! Maud would never have permitted a stranger totake such a liberty in the old days."
Miss Brown smiled curiously.
"Is that all?" she asked.
Peter Ruff felt that he was in the confessional.
"She certainly did seem," he admitted, "to enjoy her champagne a greatdeal, and she talked about her dull life at home a little more, perhaps,than was discreet to one who was presumably a stranger. She was curious,too, about dining out. Poor little girl, though. Just fancy, John Doryhas never taken her anywhere but to Lyons' or an A B C, and the pit of atheatre!"
"Which evening is it to be?" Miss Brown asked.
"Something was said about Thursday," Peter Ruff admitted.
"And her husband?" Miss Brown enquired.
"He happens to be in Glasgow for a few days," Peter Ruff answered.
Miss Brown looked at her employer steadily. She addressed him by hisChristian name, which was a thing she very seldom did in office hours.
"Peter," she said, "are you going to let that woman make a fool of you?"
He raised his eyebrows.
"Go on," he said; "say anything you want to--only, if you please, don'tspeak disrespectfully of Maud."
"Hasn't it ever occurred to you at all," Miss Brown continued, risingto her feet, "that this Maud, or whatever you want to call her, may beplaying a low-down game of her husband's? He hates you, and he hasvague suspicions. Can't you see that he is probably making use of yourinfatuation for his common, middle-class little wife, to try and getyou to give yourself away? Can't you see it, Peter? You are not going totell me that you are so blind as all that!"
"I must admit," he answered with a sigh, "that, although I think you goaltogether too far, some suspicion of the sort has interfered with myperfect enjoyment of the morning."
Miss Brown drew a little breath of relief. After all, then, his follywas not so consummate as it had seemed!
"What are you going to do about it, then?" she asked.
Peter Ruff coughed--he seemed in an unusually amenable frame of mind,and submitted to cross-examination without murmur.
"The subject of Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald," he remarked, "seemed, somehowor other, to drop into the background during our luncheon. I propose,therefore, to continue to offer to Mrs. John Dory my most respectfuladmiration. If she accepts my friendship, and is satisfied with it,so much the better. I must admit that it would give me a great deal ofpleasure to be her occasional companion--at such times when her husbandhappens to be in Glasgow!"
"And supposing," Miss Brown asked, "that this is not all shewants--supposing, for instance, that she persists in her desire forinformation concerning Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald?"
"Then," Peter Ruff admitted, "I'm afraid that I must conclude that herunchivalrous clod of a husband has indeed stooped to make a fool ofher."
"And in that case," Miss Brown demanded, "what shall you do?"
"I was just thinking that out," Peter Ruff said mildly, "when youspoke...."
The friendship of Peter Ruff with the wife of his enemy certainlyappeared to progress in most satisfactory fashion. The dinner and visitto the theatre duly took place. Mr. Ruff was afterwards permitted tooffer a slight supper and to accompany his fair companion a portion ofthe way home in a taxicab. She made several half-hearted attempts toreturn to the subject of Spencer Fitzgerald, but her companion had beenable on each occasion to avoid the subject. Whether or not she was thevictim of her husband's guile, there was no question about the realityof her enjoyment during the evening. Ruff, when he remembered the flashof her eyes across the table, the touch of her fingers in the taxi, wasalmost content to believe her false to her truant lover. If only she hadnot been married to John Dory, he realised, with a little sigh, that hemight have taught her to forget that such a person existed as SpencerFitzgerald, might have induced her to become Mrs. Peter Ruff!
On their next meeting, however, Peter Ruff was forced to realise thathis secretary's instinct had not misled her. It was, alas, no personaland sentimental regrets for her former lover which had brought the fairMaud to his office. The pleasures of her evening--they dined at Romano'sand had a box at the Empire--were insufficient this time to keep herfrom recurring continually to the subject of her vanished lover. Hetried strategy--jealousy amongst other things.
"Supposing," he said, as they sat quite close to one another in the boxduring the interval, "supposing I were to induce our friend to come toLondon--I imagine he would be fairly safe now if he kept out of yourhusband's way--what would happen to me?"
"You!" she murmured, glancing at him from behind her fan and thendropping her eyes.
"Certainly--me!" he continued. "Don't you think that I should be doingmyself a very ill turn if I brought you two together? I have very fewfriends, and I cannot afford to lose one. I am quite sure that you stillcare for him."
She shook her head.
"Not a scrap!" she declared.
"Then why did you put that advertisement in the paper?" Ruff asked, withsmooth but swift directness.
She was not quick enough to parry his question. He read the truth in herdisconcerted face. Knowing it now for a certainty, he hastened to heraid.
"Forgive me," he said, looking away. "I should not have asked thatquestion--it is not my business. I will write to Fitzgerald. I will tellhim that you want to see him, and that I think it would be safe for himto come to London."
Maud recovered herself quickly. She thanked him with her eyes as well asher words.
"And you needn't be jealous, really," she whispered behind her fan. "Ionly want to see him once for a few minutes--to ask a question. Afterthat, I don't care what becomes of him."
A poor sort of Delilah, really, with her flushed face, her tooelaborately coiffured hair with its ugly ornament, her ready-madeevening dress with its cheap attempts at smartness, her cleaned gloves,indifferent shoes. But Peter Ruff thought otherwise.
"You mean that, after I have found him for you, you will still come outwith me again sometimes?" he asked wistfully.
"Of course!" she answered. "Whenever I can without John knowing," sheadded, with an unpleasant little laugh. "If you only knew how I lovedthe music and the theatres, and this sort of life! What a good time yourwife would have, Mr. Ruff!" she added archly.
It was no joking matter with him. He had to remember that he was, ineffect, her tool, that she was making use of him, willing to betray herformer lover at her husband's bidding. It was enough to make him, onhis side, burn for revenge! Yet he put the thought away from him witha shiver. She was still the woman he had loved--she was still sacred tohim! That night he pleaded an engagement, and sent her home in a taxicabalone.
John Dory, waiting patiently at home for his wife's return, felt acertain uneasiness when she swept into their little sitting room in allher cheap splendour, with flushed cheeks--an obvious air of satisfactionwith herself and disdain for her immediate surroundings. John Dory wasa commonplace looking man--the absence of his collar, and his somewhatshabby carpet slippers, did not improve his appearance. He hadneglected to shave, and he was drinking beer. At headquarters he was notconsidered quite the smart young officer which he had once shown signsof becoming. He looked at his wife with darkening face, and his wife, onher part, thought of Peter Ruff in his immaculate evening clothes.
"Well," he remarked, grumblingly, "you s
eem to find a good deal ofpleasure in this gadding about!"
She threw her soiled fan on the table.
"If I do," she answered, "you are not the one to sit there and reproachme with it, are you?"
"It's gone far enough, anyway," John Dory said. "It's gone further thanI meant it to go. Understand me, Maud--it's finished! I'll find your oldsweetheart for myself."
She laughed heartily.
"You needn't trouble," she answered, with a little toss of the head."I am not such a fool as you seem to think me. Mr. Ruff has made anappointment with him."
There was a change in John Dory's face. The man's eyes were bright--theyalmost glittered.
"You mean that your friend Mr. Ruff is going to produce SpencerFitzgerald?" he exclaimed.
"He has promised to," she answered. "John," she declared, throwingherself into an easy-chair, "I feel horrid about it. I wonder what Mr.Ruff will think when he knows!"
"You can feel how you like," John Dory answered bluntly, "so long as Iget the handcuffs on Spencer Fitzgerald's wrists!"
She shuddered. She looked at her husband with distaste.
"Don't talk about it!" she begged sharply. "It makes me feel the meanestcreature that ever crawled. I can't help feeling, too, that Mr. Ruffwill think me a wretch--quite the gentleman he's been all the time! Inever knew any one half so nice!"
John Dory set down his empty glass.
"I wonder," he said, looking at her thoughtfully, "what made him takesuch a fancy to you! Rather sudden, wasn't it, eh?"
Maud tossed her head.
"I don't see anything so wonderful about that," she declared.
"Listen to me, Maud," her husband said, rising to his feet. "Youaren't a fool--not quite. You've spent some time with Peter Ruff.How much--think carefully--how much does he remind you of SpencerFitzgerald?"
"Not at all," she answered promptly. "Why, he is years older, and thoughSpencer was quite the gentleman, there's something about Mr. Ruff, andthe way he dresses and knows his way about--well, you can tell he's beena gentleman all his life."
John Dory's face fell.
"Think again," he said.
She shook her head.
"Can't see any likeness," she declared. "He did remind me a little ofhim just at first, though," she added, reflectively--"little things hesaid, and sort of mannerisms. I've sort of lost sight of them the lastfew times, though."
"When is this meeting with Fitzgerald to come off?" John Dory askedabruptly.
She did not answer him at once. A low, triumphant smile had parted herlips.
"To-morrow night," she said; "he is to meet me in Mr. Ruff's office."
"At what time?" John Dory asked.
"At eight o'clock," she answered. "Mr. Ruff is keeping his office openlate on purpose. Spencer thinks that afterwards he is going to take meout to dinner."
"You are sure of this?" John Dory asked eagerly. "You are sure that theman Ruff does not suspect you? You believe he means that you shall meetFitzgerald?"
"I am sure of it," she answered. "He is even a little jealous," shecontinued, with an affected laugh. "He told me--well, never mind!"
"He told you what?" John Dory asked.
She laughed.
"Never you mind," she said. "I have done what you asked me anyway.If Mr. Ruff had not found me an agreeable companion he would not havebothered about getting Spencer to meet me. And now he's done it," sheadded, "I do believe he's a little jealous."
John Dory glared, but he said nothing. It seemed to him that his hour ofrevenge was close at hand!
It was the first occasion upon which words of this sort had passedbetween Peter Ruff and his secretary. There was no denying the factthat Miss Violet Brown was in a passion. It was an hour past the timeat which she usually left the office. For an hour she had pleaded, andPeter Ruff remained unmoved.
"You are a fool!" she cried to him at last. "I am a fool, too, that Ihave ever wasted my thoughts and time upon you. Why can't I make yousee? In every other way, heaven knows, you are clever enough! And yetthere comes this vulgar, commonplace, tawdry little woman from heavenknows where, and makes such a fool of you that you are willing to flingaway your career--to hold your wrists out for John Dory's handcuffs!"
"My dear Violet," Peter Ruff answered deprecatingly, "you really worryme--you do indeed!"
"Not half so much as you worry me," she declared. "Look at the time.It's already past seven. At eight o'clock Mrs. Dory--your Maud--iscoming in here hoping to find her old sweetheart."
"Why not?" he murmured.
"Why not, indeed?" Miss Brown answered angrily. "Don't you know--can'tyou believe--that close on her heels will come her husband--that Mr.Spencer Fitzgerald, if ever he comes to life in this room, will leave itbetween two policemen?"
Peter Ruff sighed.
"What a pessimist you are, my dear Violet!" he said.
She came up to him and laid her hands upon his shoulders.
"Peter," she said, "I will tell you something--I must! I am fond of you,Peter. I always have been. Don't make me miserable if there is no needfor it. Tell me honestly--do you really believe in this woman?"
He removed her hands gently, and raised them to his lips.
"My dear girl," he said, "I believe in every one until I find themout. I look upon suspicion as a vice. But, at the same time," he added,"there are always certain precautions which one takes."
"What precautions can you take?" she cried. "Can you sit there and makeyourself invisible? John Dory is not a fool. The moment he is in thisroom with the door closed behind him, it is the end."
"We must hope not," Peter Ruff said cheerfully. "There are other thingswhich may happen, you know."
She turned away from him a little drearily.
"You do not mind if I stay?" she said. "I am not working to-night.Perhaps, later on, I may be of use!"
"As you will," he answered. "You will excuse me for a little time, won'tyou? I have some preparations to make."
She turned her head away from him. He left the room and ascended thestairs to his own apartments.
Eight o'clock was striking from St. Martin's Church when the door ofPeter Ruff's office was softly opened and closed again. A man in aslouch hat and overcoat entered, and after feeling along the wall for amoment, turned up the electric light. Violet Brown rose from her placewith a little sob. She stretched out her hand to him.
"Peter!" she cried. "Peter!"
"My name," the newcomer said calmly, "is Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald."
"Oh, listen to me!" she begged. "There is still time, if you hurry.Think how many clever men before you have been deceived by the womanin whom they trusted. Please, please go! Hurry upstairs and put thosethings away."
"Madam," the newcomer said, "I am much obliged to you for your interest,but I think that you are making a mistake. I have come here to meet--"
He stopped short. There was a soft knocking at the door. A stifledscream broke from Violet Brown's lips.
"It is too late!" she cried. "Peter! Peter!"
She sank into her chair and covered her face with her hands. The doorwas opened and Maud came in. When she saw who it was who sat in PeterRuff's place, she gave a little cry. Perhaps after all, she had notbelieved that this thing would happen.
"Spencer!" she cried, "Spencer! Have you really come back?"
He held out his hands.
"You are glad to see me?" he asked.
She came slowly forward. The man rose from his place and came towardsher with outstretched hands. Then through the door came John Dory, andone caught a glimpse of others behind him.
"If my wife is not glad to see you, Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald," he aid, ina tone from which he vainly tried to keep the note of triumph, "I canassure you that I am. You slipped away from me cleverly at Daisy Villa,but this time I think you will not find it so easy."
Maud shrank back, and her husband took her place. But Mr. SpencerFitzgerald looked upon them both as one who looks upon figures in adream. Miss Brown rose hurried
ly from her seat. She came over to him andthrust her arm through his.
"Peter," she said, taking his hand in hers, "don't shoot. It isn't worthwhile. You should have listened to me."
The little man in the gold-rimmed spectacles looked at her, looked atMr. John Dory, looked at the woman who was shrinking back now againstthe wall.
"Really," he said, "this is the most extraordinary situation in which Iever found myself!"
"We will help you to realise it," John Dory cried, and the triumph inhis tone had swelled into a deeper note. "I came here to arrest Mr.Fitzgerald, but I hear this young lady call you 'Peter.' Perhaps thismay be the solution--"
The little man struck the table with the flat of his hand.
"Come," he said, "this is getting a bit too thick. First of all--you,"he said, turning to Miss Brown--"my name is not Peter, and I have noidea of shooting anybody. As for that lady against the wall, I don'tknow her--never saw her before in my life. As for you," he added,turning to John Dory, "you talk about arresting me--what for?"
Mr. John Dory smiled.
"There is an old warrant," he said, "which I have in my pocket, but Ifancy that there are a few little things since then which we may have toenquire into."
"This beats me!" the little man declared. "Who do you think I am?"
"Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald, to start with," John Dory said. "It seems to menot impossible that we may find another pseudonym for you."
"You can find as many as you like," the little man answered testily,"but my name is James Fitzgerald, and I am an actor employed at theShaftesbury Theatre, as I can prove with the utmost ease. I never calledmyself Spencer; nor, to my knowledge, was I ever called by such a name.Nor, as I remarked before, have I ever seen any one of you three peoplebefore with the exception of Miss Brown here, whom I have seen on thestage."
John Dory grunted.
"It was Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald," he said, "a clerk in Howell & Wilson'sbookshop, who leapt out of the window of Daisy Villa two years ago. Itmay be Mr. James Fitzgerald now. Gentlemen of your profession have aknack of changing their names."
"My profession's as good as yours, anyway!" the little man exclaimed."We aren't all fools in it! My friend Mr. Peter Ruff said to me thatthere was a young lady whom I used to know who was anxious to meet meagain, and would I step around here about eight o'clock. Here I am, andall I can say is, if that's the young lady, I never saw her before in mylife."
There was a moment's breathless silence. Then the door was softlyopened. Violet Brown went staggering back like a woman who sees aghost. She bit her lips till the blood came. It was Peter Ruff who stoodlooking in upon them--Peter Ruff, carefully dressed in evening clothes,his silk hat at exactly the correct angle, his coat and white kid glovesupon his arm.
"Dear me," he said, "you don't seem to be getting on very well! Mr.Dory," he added, with a note of surprise in his tone, "this is indeed anunexpected pleasure!"
The man who stood by the desk turned to him. The others were strickendumb.
"Look here," he said, "there's some mistake. You told me to come hereat eight o'clock to meet a young lady whom I used to know. Well, I neversaw her before in my life," he added, pointing to Maud. "There's aman there who wants to arrest me--Lord knows what for! And here's MissBrown, whom I have seen at the theatre several times but who nevercondescended to speak to me before, telling me not to shoot! What's itall about, Ruff? Is it a practical joke?"
Peter Ruff laid down his coat and hat, and sat upon the table with hishands in his pockets.
"Is it possible," he said, "that I have made a mistake? Isn't yoursecond name Spencer?"
The man shook his head.
"My name is James Fitzgerald," he said. "I haven't missed a day at theShaftesbury Theatre for three years, as you can find out by goinground the corner. I never called myself Spencer, I was never clerk in abookshop, and I never saw that lady before in my life."
Maud came out from her place against the wall, and leaned eagerlyforward. John Dory turned his head slowly towards his wife. A sickeningfear had arisen in his heart--gripped him by the throat. Fooled oncemore, and by Peter Ruff!
"It isn't Spencer!" Maud said huskily. "Mr. Ruff," she added, turningto him, "you know very well that this is not the Mr. Spencer Fitzgeraldwhom you promised to bring here to-night--Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald to whomI was once engaged."
Peter Ruff pointed to the figure of her husband.
"Madam," he said, "my invitation did not include your husband."
John Dory took a step forward, and laid his hands upon the shoulders ofthe man who called himself Mr. James Fitzgerald. He looked into his facelong and carefully. Then he turned away, and, gripping his wife by thearm, he passed out of the room. The door slammed behind him. The soundof heavy footsteps was heard descending to the floor below.
Violet Brown crossed the room to where Peter Ruff was still sitting witha queer look upon his face, and, gripping him by the shoulders, shookhim.
"How dare you!" she exclaimed. "How dare you! Do you know that I havenearly cried my eyes out?"
Peter Ruff came back from the world into which, for the moment, histhoughts had taken him.
"Violet," he said, "you have known me for some years. You have been mysecretary for some months. If you choose still to take me for a fool, Icannot help it."
"But," she exclaimed, pointing to Mr. James Fitzgerald--
Peter Ruff nodded.
"I have been practising on him for some time," he said, with an air ofself-satisfaction.
"A thin, mobile face, you see, and plenty of experience in the art ofmaking up. It is astonishing what one can do if one tries."
Mr. James Fitzgerald picked up his hat and coat.
"It was worth more than five quid," he growled; "when I saw thehandcuffs in that fellow's hand, I felt a cold shiver go down my spine."
Peter Ruff counted out two banknotes and passed them to his confederate.
"You have earned the money," he said. "Go and spend it. Perhaps,Violet," he added, turning towards her, "I have been a littleinconsiderate. Come and have dinner with me, and forget it."
She drew a little sigh.
"You are sure," she murmured, "that you wouldn't rather take Maud?"