VI
DULCIE
One warm afternoon late in spring, Dulcie Soane, returning from schoolto Dragon Court, found her father behind the desk, as usual, awaitinghis daughter's advent, to release him from duty.
A tall, bony man with hectic and sunken cheeks and only a single eyewas standing by the desk, earnestly engaged in whispered conversationwith her father.
He drew aside instantly as Dulcie came up and laid her school books onthe desk. Soane, already redolent of Grogan's whiskey, pushed back hischair and got to his feet.
"G'wan in f'r a bite an' a sup," he said to his daughter, "while Italk to the gintleman."
So Dulcie went slowly into the superintendent's dingy quarters for hermid-day meal, which was dinner; and between her and a sloppyscrub-woman who cooked for them, she managed to warm up and eat whatSoane had left for her from his own meal.
When she returned to the desk in the hall, the one-eyed man had gone.Soane sat on the chair behind the desk, his face over-red and shiny,his heels drumming the devil's tattoo on the tessellated pavement.
"I'll be at Grogan's," he said, as Dulcie seated herself in theancient leather chair behind the desk telephone, and began to sort thepile of mail which the postman evidently had just delivered.
"Very well," she murmured absently, turning around and beginningto distribute the letters and parcels in the various numberedcompartments behind her. Soane slid off his chair to his feet andstraightened up, stretching and yawning.
"Av anny wan tilliphones to Misther Barres," he said, "listen in."
"What!"
"Listen in, I'm tellin' you. And if it's a lady, ask her name first,and then listen in. And if she says her name is Quellen or Dunois,mind what she says to Misther Barres."
"Why?" enquired Dulcie, astonished.
"Becuz I'm tellin' ye!"
"I shall not do that," said the girl, flushing up.
"Ah, bother! Sure, there's no harm in it, Dulcie! Would I be askin' yeto do wrong, asthore? Me who is your own blood and kin? Listen then:'Tis a woman what do be botherin' the poor young gentleman, an' I'llnot have him f'r to be put upon. Listen, m'acushla, and if airy a ladytilliphones, or if she comes futtherin' an' muttherin' around here,call me at Grogan's and I'll be soon dishposen' av the likes av her."
"Has she ever been here--this lady?" asked the girl, uncertain andpainfully perplexed.
"Sure has she! Manny's the time I've chased her out," replied Soaneglibly.
"Oh. What does she look like?"
"God knows--annything ye don't wish f'r to look like yourself! Sure, Idisremember what make of woman she might be--her name's enough foryou. Call me up if she comes or rings. She may be a dangerous woman,at that," he added, "so speak fair to her and listen in to what shesays."
Dulcie slowly nodded, looking at him hard.
Soane put on his faded brown hat at an angle, fished a cigar with ared and gold band from his fancy but soiled waistcoat, scratched amatch on the seat of his greasy pants, and sauntered out through thebig, whitewashed hallway into the street, with a touch of the swaggerwhich always characterised him.
* * * * *
Dulcie, both hands buried in her ruddy hair and both thin elbows onthe desk, sat poring over her school books.
Graduation day was approaching; there was much for her to absorb, muchto memorise before then.
As she studied she hummed to herself the air of the quaint song whichshe was to sing at her graduation exercises. That did not interferewith her concentration; but as she finished one lesson, cast aside thebook, and opened another to prepare the next lesson, vaguely happymemories of her evening party with Barres came into her mind todisturb her thoughts, tempting her to reverie and the deliciousidleness she knew only when alone and absorbed in thoughts of him.
But she resolutely put him out of her mind and opened her book.
The hall clock ticked loudly through the silence; slanting sun raysfell through the street grille, across the tessellated floor whereflies crawled and buzzed.
The Prophet sat full in a bar of sunlight and gravely followed themovements of the flies as though specialising on the study of thoseamazing insects.
Tenants of Dragon Court passed out or entered at intervals, pausing toglance at their letter-boxes or requesting their keys.
Westmore came down the eastern staircase, like an avalanche, with acheery:
"Hello, Dulcie! Any letters? All right, old dear! If you see Mr.Mandel, tell him I'll be at the club!"
Corot Mandel came in presently, and she gave him Westmore's message.
"Thanks," he said, not even glancing at the thin figure in the shabbydress too small for her. And, after peering into his letter-box, hewent away with the indolent swing of a large and powerful plantigrade,gazing fixedly ahead of him out of heavy, oriental eyes, and twistingup his jet black, waxed moustache.
A tall, handsome girl called and enquired for Mr. Trenor. Dulciereturned her amiable smile, unhooked the receiver, and telephoned up.But nobody answered from Esme Trenor's apartment, and the girl, whosename was Damaris Souval, and whose profession varied between the stageand desultory sitting for artists, smiled once more on Dulcie andsauntered out in her very charming summer gown.
The shabby child looked after her through the sunny hallway, the smilestill curving her lips--a sensitive, winning smile, untainted by envy.Then she resumed her book, serenely clearing her youthful mind ofvanity and desire for earthly things.
Half an hour later Esme Trenor sauntered in. His was a sensitivenature and fastidious, too. Dinginess, obscurity--everything that wasshabby, tarnished, humble in life, he consistently ignored. He hadignored Dulcie Soane for three years: he ignored her now.
He glanced indifferently into his letter-box as he passed the desk.Dulcie said, with the effort it always required for her to speak tohim:
"Miss Souval called, but left no message."
Trenor's supercilious glance rested on her for the fraction of asecond, then, with a bored nod, he continued on his way and up thestairs. And Dulcie returned to her book.
The desk telephone rang: a Mrs. Helmund desired to speak to Mr.Trenor. Dulcie switched her on, rested her chin on her hand, andcontinued her reading.
Some time afterward the telephone rang again.
"Dragon Court," said Dulcie, mechanically.
"I wish to speak to Mr. Barres, please."
"Mr. Barres has not come in from luncheon."
"Are you sure?" said the pretty, feminine voice.
"Quite sure," replied Dulcie. "Wait a minute----"
She called Barres's apartment; Aristocrates answered and confirmed hismaster's absence with courtly effusion.
"No, he is not in," repeated Dulcie. "Who shall I say called him?"
"Say that Miss Dunois called him up. If he comes in, say that MissThessalie Dunois will come at five to take tea with him. Thank you.Good-bye."
Startled to hear the very name against which her father had warnedher, Dulcie found it difficult to reconcile the sweet voice that cameto her over the wire with the voice of any such person her father haddescribed.
Still a trifle startled, she laid aside the receiver with a disturbedglance toward the wrought-iron door at the further end of the hall.
She had no desire at all to call up her father at Grogan's and informhim of what had occurred. The mere thought of surreptitious listeningin, of eavesdropping, of informing, reddened her face. Also, she hadlong since lost confidence in the somewhat battered but jaunty man whohad always neglected her, although never otherwise unkind, even whenintoxicated.
No, she would neither listen in nor inform on anybody at the behest ofa father for whom, alas, she had no respect, merely those shreds ofconventional feeling which might once have been filial affection, buthad become merely an habitual solicitude.
No, her character, her nature refused such obedience. If there wastrouble between the owner of the unusually sweet voice and Mr. Barres,it was their affair, not he
rs, not her father's.
This settled in her mind, she opened another book and turned the pagesslowly until she came to the lesson to be learned.
It was hard to concentrate; her thoughts were straying, now, toBarres.
And, as she leaned there, musing above her dingy school book, throughthe grilled door at the further end of the hall stepped a young girlin a light summer gown--a beautiful girl, lithe, graceful, exquisitelygroomed--who came swiftly up to the desk, a trifle pale andbreathless:
"Mr. Barres? He lives here?"
"Yes."
"Please announce Miss Dunois."
Dulcie flushed deeply under the shock:
"Mr.--Mr. Barres is still out----"
"Oh. Was it you I talked to over the telephone?" asked ThessalieDunois.
"Yes."
"Mr. Barres has not returned?"
"No."
Thessalie bit her lip, hesitated, turned to go. And at the sameinstant Dulcie saw the one-eyed man at the street door, peeringthrough the iron grille.
Thessalie saw him, too, stiffened to marble, stood staring straight athim.
He turned and went away up the street. But Dulcie, to whom theincident signified nothing in particular except the impudence of aone-eyed man, was not prepared for the face which Thessalie Dunoisturned toward her. Not a vestige of colour remained in it, and herdark eyes seemed feverish and too large.
"You need not give Mr. Barres any message from me," she said in analtered voice, which sounded strained and unsteady. "Please do noteven say that I came or mention my name.... May I ask it of you?"
Dulcie, very silent in her surprise, made no reply.
"Please may I ask it of you?" whispered Thessalie. "Do you mind nottelling anybody that I was here?"
"If--you wish it."
"I do. May I trust you?"
"Y-yes."
"Thank you--" A bank bill was in her gloved fingers; intuition warnedher; she took another swift look at Dulcie. The child's face wasflaming scarlet.
"Forgive me," whispered Thessalie.... "And thank you, dear--" She bentover quickly, took Dulcie's hand, pressed it, looking her in theeyes.
"It's all right," she whispered. "I am not asking you to do anythingyou shouldn't. Mr. Barres will understand it all when I write tohim.... Did you see that man at the street door, looking through thegrating?"
"Yes."
"Do you know who he is?" whispered Thessalie.
"No."
"Have you never before seen him?"
"Yes. He was here at two o'clock talking to my father."
"Your father?"
"My father's name is Lawrence Soane. He is superintendent of DragonCourt."
"What is your name?"
"Dulcie Soane."
Thessalie still held her hand tightly. Then with a quick but forcedsmile, she pressed it, thanking the girl for her consideration, turnedand walked swiftly through the hall out into the street.
* * * * *
Dulcie, dreaming over her closed books in the fading light, vaguelyuneasy lest her silence might embrace the faintest shadow ofdisloyalty to Barres, looked up quickly at the sound of his familiarfootsteps on the pavement.
"Hello, little comrade," he called to her on his way to the stairs."Didn't we have a jolly party the other evening? I'm going out toanother party this evening, but I bet it won't be as jolly as ours!"
The girl smiled happily.
"Any letters, Sweetness?"
"None, Mr. Barres."
"All the better. I have too many letters, too many visitors. It leavesme no time to have another party with you. But we shall have another,Dulcie--never fear. That is," he added, pretending to doubt herreceptiveness of his invitation, "if you would care to have anotherwith me."
She merely looked at him, smiling deliciously.
"Be a good child and we'll have another!" he called back to her,running on up the western staircase.
* * * * *
Around seven o'clock her father came in, steady enough of foot butshiny-red in the face and maudlin drunk.
"That woman was here," he whined, "an' ye never called me up! I amb-bethrayed be me childer--wurra the day----"
"Please, father! If any one sees you----"
"An' phwy not! Am I ashamed o' the tears I shed? No, I am not. NoIrishman need take shame along av the tears he sheds for Ireland--Godbless her where she shtands!--wid the hob-nails av the crool tyrantforeninst her bleeding neck an'----"
"Father, please----"
"That woman I warned ye of! She was here! 'Twas the wan-eyed lad whoseen her----"
Dulcie rose and took him by his arm. He made no resistance; but hewept while she conducted him bedward, as the immemorial wrongs ofIreland tore his soul.