CHAPTER XXIX
BLOOMSBURY
Edward entered the little vestibule of the select Bloomsbury hotel, andcrossing to the office window, behind which sat a sleepy-lookingbook-keeper, asked for an envelope. Then taking a card from his pockethe scribbled a few words on it and enclosing it requested that it betaken up to Mrs. Povey.
A few minutes later he was following an attendant up the broad flightof carpeted stairs. It was then five minutes past ten by the clockwhich stood ticking sonorously in a corner of the landing.
* * * * *
At twenty minutes to eleven Edward Povey descended the stairs and,walking quickly through the vestibule, emerged into Russell Square.There were but few people about, and no one seemed to notice the littlefigure which stood in indecision on the curb. Even had they done so itwould have taken a student of human physiognomy of no mean order toread what was written on Edward's face. Some would have said thatthere was an expression of sorrow behind the eyes, others would haveimagined a suggestion of a smile at the corners of the mouth, and onthe whole countenance a look of joyful relief.
For some moments he stood, gazing out across the road at the lights ofthe Hotel Russell, and at the cabs and taxis that were drawing upbefore it. Then he turned with a little sigh, and made his way downSouthampton Row, and along past the Museum into the glare of light atthe end of the Tottenham Court Road. Here the sight of the restaurantsreminded him that it was mid-day when he had taken his last meal. Withthe thought he crossed the road and walked up Oxford Street toFrascati's.
The supper crush in the great circular room had well began, but Edwardwas fortunate in finding a little table near the orchestra, and heprepared to order himself a meal in keeping with his feelings of themoment--some soup, a couple of kidneys, a kirsch omelette and a smallbottle of hock.
He ate slowly and in a lazy contentment. At intervals his face changedits expression, now frowning slightly, now smiling. He asked thewaiter who served him with his coffee to bring him writing materials,and pushed a clear space among the plates and glasses on the table.For perhaps ten minutes he sat deep in thought staring at the blotter,keeping time absently to a rag-time melody the little band had struckup by tapping his pen on the inkstand.
Then he squared his shoulders, finished his coffee at a gulp, andwrote--
"_MY DEAR CHARLOTTE,_
"_I have been thinking things over, and I am willing to admit that I amnot, after all, wholly surprised at the reception you gave me when Icalled on you this evening. But I may also say, that knowing you as Ido, I was not prepared for the manner in which you acted._
"_It appears to me that you might, perhaps, had you thought, chosenyour expressions better. You could have been quite as effective hadyou been a little less vulgar, and you could have couched yoursuspicions of me in a less offensive manner. But let it pass._
"_I can only surmise that the life of ease that you have been livingfor the past few months has entirely unfitted you for the managementand duties of a home. I take it also that what you are pleased to termmy desertion of you, accompanied as it was by ample provision for yourwants, has not been distasteful to you._
"_Perhaps you are right--that we had better continue to live apart. Iam afraid that the future would hold many little rifts. Personally, Ihave led a larger, fuller life since I left England, and have seen manyadventures (you would be surprised to hear that I still have a bulletin my back which I will carry to my grave). Yes, I am afraid ourformer existence would irritate me beyond measure. Your allowance willbe paid to you as formerly. You need have no compunction in taking themoney. It was fairly earned by bringing to a successful issue adifficult and delicate affair of business._
"_Again, there would always be friction between us on account of ourseveral acquaintances. I have mixed with the highest in the land, andcould never tolerate the state of intimacy you tell me you are in withUncle Jasper, a man I never pretended that I had the least affectionfor. He is a low fellow--and you know what I think of your Aunt Eliza._
"_And so, Charlotte, we will go our own ways. The suggestion I madeto-night that we should meet each anniversary of our wedding-day anddine together, I consider a good one. This will be a standingappointment, under the clock at Charing Cross Station, at seven, eachthird of May._
"_I am glad to think that we remain friends._
"_I am, dear Charlotte,_ "_Your affectionate husband,_ "_EDWARD._"
Povey posted this letter at the office in Oxford Street, afterwardstaking a cab to Victoria. Here he reclaimed his personal luggage, andhad it conveyed into the Grosvenor, in which excellent hotel he engageda modest apartment.
The taxi-cab which Edward had seen leave the courtyard of the station,and which contained Anna Paluda, bowled merrily up Victoria Street,across Trafalgar Square, and so on to Gower Street, turning off into anarrow and somewhat dingy thoroughfare which ran behind the Museum.
At Number 9, Dorrington Street, the cab drew up and Anna alighted. Thedriver had not particularly noticed the fare who had engaged him or hewould have seen a vast difference in the woman who now tendered him ashilling and a half-crown, to the one who had entered his cab atVictoria.
The white hair which was so strong and noticeable a feature in thepersonality of Anna Paluda was now entirely covered up by a well-madewig of black-brown, drawn down over the ears, and a pair ofslightly-smoked spectacles hid the piercing black eyes.
But a heavy veil made this alteration in the appearance of the ladyvery slight to the casual observer, and the chauffeur noticed nothingas, touching his cap, he restarted his car, leaving Anna standing onthe pavement, her jewel case and handbag in her hands, looking up atNumber 9.
It was a cheerless enough sight, dingy in the extreme, and the womanwondered that the fastidious Gabriel Dasso should have chosen such ahabitation. But it was an admirable hiding-place, and doubtless theex-dictator had only intended that it should be a temporary one. Whowould think of looking for the dilettante fugitive among these sordidsurroundings?
A few stone steps flanked by broken iron railings led up to a faded andblistered street-door that once had been green. The brass numeralunder the knocker was hanging by one screw, and had fallen round sothat it might as well have been six as nine. As Anna ascended thesteps she caught a glimpse of a dirty area in which the street-lampshowed a littered profusion of bottles and jars. On a spike of one ofthe railings hung a tarnished and battered milk-can.
There was a semi-circular fanlight over the door through the grimypanes of which a gas-jet, innocent of globe, gave a dull glow. A lightalso showed beneath the blinds of the windows flanking the door-step.In the room within some one was thumping out a dismal melody on acracked pianoforte.
The woman waited a moment to compose herself, then reached out andpulled the bell-handle. There was a jangle of wires, and somewhere atthe back of the house a bell tinkled. The musician stopped in themiddle of a bar, and there was silence for a few moments. Then sheheard a door opened, and a shrill feminine voice shouted--
"Liz!"
Shuffling footsteps approached the door, a chain was unfastened, andthe catch pulled back. Framed in the aperture stood a servant girl,small in stature, and of a dirtiness unbelievable. This presumably wasLiz.
"I see you have a card in the window----"
"Rooms, eh, mum? Come inside, will yer?"
The small domestic stood aside to allow Anna to pass into the hall,then carefully wiping her hands on the torn square of coarse sackingwhich constituted her apron, Liz tapped at a door, and, pushing itopen, motioned the visitor to walk in. Anna Paluda did so, and foundherself in the apartment that contained the piano.
The room showed traces of a glory that had long departed. Thefurniture for the most part had been good, and was of that peculiarcomfortless family of horsehair and mahogany with which themid-Victorian epoch was blessed. There were a few pictures on thewall, one or two of which looked as though they might pro
ve valuablecould one penetrate beneath the grime with which they were covered.
There was an oval table in the centre of the room, from which the clothhad evidently been hurriedly cleared at the visitor's ring. Anna couldsee its crumpled dirtiness peeping from a drawer in the sideboard intowhich it had been hurriedly thrust. Glimpses of crockery showedbeneath the shabby sofa, and over all was the same objectionable odourof meals which Anna had noticed even in the hall.
The person who rose from an arm-chair by the fire, and advanced alittle to meet her, fitted the room to a nicety. She, too, wasmid-Victorian, and, like her surroundings, had once been handsome. Herfaded tea-gown was trimmed with still more faded lace, and fadedribbons nodded wearily in her faded cap.
Her face was pale and thin and worn, but there was a little smile whichcame into her pale blue eyes as she guessed Anna's errand.
"You have come about a room, madam?"
Anna nodded.
"Yes, for a few weeks--just a bed-sitting room. I want to be quiet.By the way, have you many other lodgers?"
"Two, madam; a lady on this floor"--pointing to the folding doors--"anda gentleman on the floor above. It is the room behind his that you canhave, or one above it in the front."
"I think the back would suit me. The traffic at night cannot keep meawake there. Is the gentleman of quiet habits?"
"Quite. Mr. Gabriel is a foreigner, but he is most regular in all hishabits. He is at home all day, reading, and he goes out in theevening. He comes in late, but we never hear him."
Anna followed the faded landlady up the creaking stairs, and gazedround as the woman held the candle up for her survey of the room. Shedid not take much notice of the furniture. The room seemed airy andclean, and she agreed to the price named without demur, forestallingthe request for references which she saw trembling on the lady's lipsby paying rent for a month in advance.
As she removed her bonnet and cloak she asked that a cup of tea mightbe served to her in her room. This in due course was brought up byLiz, whose appearance had undergone a slight change for the better.The new lodger made friends at once with the little maid of all work,seeing in her a possible ally of the future, and, without directlyasking questions, she managed to get Liz to talk, and from her she soonlearnt some of the ways of her fellow-lodger.
She discovered that Mr. Gabriel left the house about eight to half-pasteach evening. "An awful swell, mum; puts on a clean shirt everyblessed night, an 'as one of them smash 'ats." When he came in thegirl could not tell; they all went to bed and left his supper ready forhim--"not much, only a basin of cold beef-tea, _consommy_ 'e calls it."
"In his room, I suppose?"
"Lor' love yer, mum, not 'im--you don't catch anybody in 'is room when'e goes out. 'E locks it up. I makes the bed and all that while 'e'sthere in the mornin'."
After the girl had gone up to bed, Anna sat up reading until the chimesof some near-by church clock told the hour of midnight. All was silentin No. 9, Dorrington Street. Outside, too, it was quiet, onlysometimes a hansom would rattle past the front of the house, its bellsjingling, and the horse's hoofs beating merrily on the asphalt.
The woman rose and looked out into the hall. On a bracket stood anevil-smelling oil-lamp turned down low. Beside it a brass traycontained the basin of _consomme_ and a dingy little metal cruet.There were two letters there also, addressed to Mr. Gabriel, and Annatook them up to examine them.
They were in her hands when she started suddenly and put them back onthe tray. There was the sound of a key being inserted in the streetdoor below, and hastily slipping back into her room, Anna put out herlight and closed the door.
She heard the man come up the stairs and unlock his door and carry thetray into his room. Then a match was struck, and with a start Annanoticed a thin streak of light break out in the darkness of the wallbeside her.
She noticed then for the first time that the rooms, like those below,were separated by folding doors, but in the case of the first floorthey had been fastened up, and on her side had been papered over and aheavy wardrobe placed against them.
Eagerly Anna Paluda placed her eye to the crack of light beside themassive piece of furniture, but she could see nothing. She determinedthat when Dasso went out on the following evening she would see whatcould be done to widen the crack in the papered door.