"I noticed it almostthe instant you had left the house. The ashes were quite warm then."
"Are you sure you haven't had an accident with it?" I queried, lookinghim straight in the face.
"No, sir; I swear I haven't," he replied. "Your cab had hardly drivenaway when I found it just as it is now. I haven't touched it."
I looked, and noted its position. It was in the exact spot where Alinehad placed it after taking it in her hand.
I recollected, too, that it was there where she had seen the objectwhich had so disturbed her.
That some deep and extraordinary mystery was connected with this suddenspontaneous destruction of the crucifix was plain. It was certainly anuncanny circumstance.
I stood before that little table, my eyes fixed upon the ashes, amazed,open-mouthed, petrified.
A vague, indefinite shadow of evil had fallen upon me.
CHAPTER THREE.
WOMAN'S WORLD.
The more I reflected, the greater mystery appeared to surround my prettyacquaintance of that well-remembered evening.
Three days went by, and, truth to tell, I remained in an uncertain,undecided mood. For a year past I had been the closest friend andconfidant of Muriel Moore, but not her lover. The words of love I hadspoken had been merely in jest, although I could not disguise frommyself that she regarded me as something more than a mere acquaintance.Yet the strange, half-tragic beauty of Aline Cloud was undeniable.Sometimes I felt half-inclined to write to her and endeavour to againsee her, but each time I thought of her, visions of Muriel rose beforeme, and I recollected that I admired her with an admiration that wasreally akin to love.
On the third evening I looked in at the St Stephen's Club, findingRoddy stretched in one of the morocco-covered chairs in thesmoking-room, with a long whisky and soda on the table by his side.
"Hullo!" he cried gaily, as I advanced, "where did you get to the othernight?"
"No, old fellow," I answered, sinking into a chair near him; "askyourself that question. You slipped away so very quickly that I thoughtyou'd met some creditor or other."
"Well," he answered, after a pause, "I did see somebody I didn't want tomeet."
"A man?" I asked, for my old chum had but few secrets from me.
"No; a woman."
I nodded.
At that instant a thought occurred to me, and I wondered whether Roddyhad encountered Aline, and whether she was the woman he did not wish tomeet. "Was she young?" I asked, laughing.
"Not very," he replied vaguely, adding, "There are some persons who,being associated with the melancholy incidents in one's life, bring backbitter memories that one would fain forget."
"Yes, yes; I understand," I said.
Then presently, when I had got my cigar under way, I related to him whathad afterwards occurred, omitting, however, to tell him of theremarkable fusion of my crucifix. The latter fact was so extraordinarythat it appeared incredible.
He listened in silence until I had finished, and then I asked him--
"Now, you've had a good long experience of all kinds of adventure. Whatdo you think of it?"
"Well, when you commenced to tell me of her loneliness I felt inclinedto think that she was deceiving you. The alone-in-London dodge has toooften been worked. But you say that she was evidently a lady--modest,timid, and apparently unused to London life. What name did she giveyou?"
"Cloud--Aline Cloud."
"Aline Cloud!"--he gasped, starting forward with a look of inexpressiblefear.
"Yes. Do you know her?"
"No!" he answered promptly, instantly recovering himself.
But his manner was unconvincing. The hand holding his cigar trembledslightly, and it was apparent that the news I had imparted had createdan impression upon him the reverse of favourable.
I did not continue the subject, yet as we chatted on, discussing otherthings, I pondered deeply.
"Things in the House are droning away as usual," Roddy said, in answerto a question. "I get sick of this never-ending talk. The debates seemto grow longer and longer. I'm heartily weary of it all." And hesighed heavily.
"Yet the papers report your speeches, and write leaders about them," Iremarked. "That speech of yours regarding Korea the other night wassplendid."
"Because I know the country," he replied. "I'm the only man in theHouse who has set foot in the place, I suppose. Therefore, I spoke frompersonal observation."
"But with the reputation you've gained you ought to be well satisfied,"I urged. "You are among the youngest men in the House, yet you arehailed as a coming man."
"That's all very well," he answered. "Nevertheless I wish I'd nevergone in for it," and he yawned and stretched himself.
Then, after a pause, he said reflectively--
"That was really a remarkable adventure of yours--very remarkable!Where did you say the girl lived?"
"In Ellerdale Road, Hampstead. She lives with an aunt named Popejoy."
"Ah!" he exclaimed, then lapsed into a sullen silence, his brow cloudedby a heavy, thoughtful look, as though he were reflecting upon somestrange circumstance of the past.
I remained about an hour, when suddenly the division-bell rang and weparted: he entering the House to record his vote, I to stroll along tomy own club to write letters.
Whether Roddy was acquainted with my pretty companion I was unable todetermine. It seemed very much as if he were, for I could not fail tonotice his paleness and agitation when I had pronounced her name. StillI resolved to act with discretion, for I felt myself on the verge ofsome interesting discovery, the nature of which, however, I knew not.
Next evening, in response to a telegram, Muriel Moore met me, and wedined together on the balcony of Frascati's Restaurant, in OxfordStreet.
First let me confess that our attachment was something of a secret, forthere was considerable difference in our social positions; I had knownher for years, indeed ever since her hoydenish days when she had wornshort frocks. Her father, a respectable tradesman in Stamford, a fewmiles from Tixover, had failed, and within a year had died, with theresult that at nineteen she had drifted into that channel wherein somany girls drift who are compelled to seek their own living, and hadbecome an assistant at a well-known milliner's in Oxford Street. In theshop world milliners' assistants and show-room hands rank higher thanthe ordinary girl who serves her wealthier sisters with tapes, ribbons,or underclothing, therefore Muriel had been decidedly fortunate inobtaining, this berth. It was, no doubt, on account of her beauty thatthe shrewd manageress of the establishment had engaged her, for herchief duty seemed to be to try on hats and bonnets for customers towitness the effect, and as nearly everything suited her she was enabledto effect many advantageous sales. Dozens of women, ugly and a trifle_passe_, were cajoled into believing that a certain hat suited them whenthey saw it upon her handsome, well-poised head.
She was dark, with refined, well-cut, intelligent features; not thedoll-like, dimpled face of the average shop-girl, but a countenance openand handsome, even though her hair was arranged a trifle coquettishly, afact which she explained was due to the wishes of the manageress. Hermouth was small, and had the true arch of Cupid, her teeth even andwell-matched, her chin pointed and showing considerable determination,and her eyes black as those of any woman of the South. Many men whowent with their wives and sisters to choose hats glanced at her inadmiration, for she was tall, with a figure well-rounded, a small waistand an easy, graceful carriage, enhanced perhaps by the well-fittingcostume of black satin supplied her by the management.
My family had bought their smaller drapery goods of her father foryears, and it was in my college days that I had first seen and admiredher in the little old-fashioned shop in St Martin's, in Stamford. OldMr Moore, a steady-going man of antiquated ideas, had been overtakenand left behind in the race of life, for cheap "cash drapers" had ofrecent years sprung up all around him, his trade had dwindled down,until it left him unable to meet the invoices from Cook's, Pawson's, andother firms
of whom he purchased goods, and he was compelled to file hispetition.
I knew nothing of this, for I was abroad at the time. It must, however,have been a terrible blow to poor Muriel when she and her father werecompelled to leave the old shop and take furnished rooms in a backstreet at the further end of the town, and a still more seriousmisfortune fell upon her when a few months later her father died,leaving her practically alone in the world. Through the influence ofone of the commercial travellers from London, who had been in the habitof calling upon her father, she had obtained the berth at MadameGabrielle's, and for the past year had proved herself invaluable at thatestablishment, one of the most noted in London as selling copies of "thelatest models."
We did