Williamson a M - The Second Latchkey

8/12/2019 Williamson a M - The Second Latchkey

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The Project

Gutenberg eBook,The Second

Latchkey, byCharles Norris

Williamson andAlice Muriel

Williamson,

Illustrated by


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Rudolph Tandler

This eBook is for the use of anyone

anywhere at no cost and with

almost no restrictions whatsoever. You ma

copy it, give it away or

re-use it under the terms of the Project

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Title: The Second Latchkey

Author: Charles Norris Williamson and

Alice Muriel Williamson

Release Date: May 29, 2006 [eBoo#18470]

Language: English


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Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

***START OF THE PROJECT

GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECONDLATCHKEY***

E-text prepared by Suzanne

Shell, Mary Meehan,

and the Project GutenbergOnline Distributed

Proofreading Team

(http://www.pgdp.net/)


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THE SECONDLATCHKEY


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BY C. N. & A. M.

WILLIAMSON

FRONTISPIECE

BY RUDOLPH TANDLER

GARDEN CITY NEW YORK


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DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY

1920


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"'Stop! He's my lover!'

she cried. 'Don'tshoot!'"


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CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. A White Rose

CHAPTER II. Smiths and Smiths

CHAPTER III. Why She Came

CHAPTER IV. The Great Moment

CHAPTER V. The Second Latchkey

CHAPTER VI. The Beginningor th

End?CHAPTER VII. The Countess de Santiago

CHAPTER VIII. The Blue Diamond Ring

CHAPTER IX. The Thing Knight Wanted

CHAPTER X. Beginning of the SeriesCHAPTER XI. Annesley Remembers

CHAPTER XII. The Crystal

CHAPTER XIII. The Series Goes On

CHAPTER XIV. The Test


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CHAPTER XV. Nelson Smith at Home

CHAPTER XVI. Why Ruthven Smith Wen

CHAPTER XVII. Ruthven Smith'

EyeglassesCHAPTER XVIII. The Star Sapphire

CHAPTER XIX. The Secret

CHAPTER XX. The Plan

CHAPTER XXI. The Devil's RosaryCHAPTER XXII. Destiny and the Waldos

CHAPTER XXIII. The Thin Wall

CHAPTER XXIV. The Anniversary

CHAPTER XXV. The Allegory

CHAPTER XXVI. The Three Words

Books By The Same Author


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THE SECOND

LATCHKEY


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CHAPTER I

A WHITE ROSE

Even when Annesley Grayle turned out ohe Strand toward the Savoy she wa

uncertain whether she would have courag

o walk into the hotel. With each step th

hing, the dreadful thing, that she had como do, loomed blacker. It was monstrous

mpossible, like opening the door of th

ions' cage at the Zoo and stepping inside.

There was time still to change her mind

She had only to turn now ... jump into a

omnibus ... jump out again at the familia

corner, and everything would be as it had


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been. Life for the next five, ten, mayb

wenty years, would be what the last fiv

had been.

At the thought of the Savoy and th

adventure waiting there, the girl's skin ha

ingled and grown hot, as if a wind lade

with grains of heated sand had blown oveher. But at the thought of turning back, o

going "home"oh, misused word!

eaden coldness shut her spirit into

omb.

She had walked fast, after descending a

Bedford Street from a fierce motor-bu

with a party of comfortable people, bounfor the Adelphi Theatre. Never before had

she been in a motor-omnibus, and she wa

not sure whether the great hurtling thin

would deign to stop, except at trysting


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places of its own; so it had seemed wis

o bundle out rather than risk a snub fro

he conductor, who looked like pictures o

he Duke of Wellington.

But in the lighted Strand she had bee

stared at as well as jostled: a girl alone a

eight o'clock on a winter evening, bareheaded, conspicuously tall if conspicuou

n no other way; dressed for dinner or th

heatre in a pale gray, sequined gow

under a mauve chiffon cloak meant fowarm nights of summer.

Of course, as Mrs. Ellsworth (giver o

dress and wrap) often pointed out"beggars mustn't be choosers"; an

Annesley Grayle was worse off than

beggar, because beggars needn't keep up

appearances. She should have thanke


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Heaven for good clothes, and so she did i

chastened moods; but it was a costume t

make a girl hurry through the Strand, an

ust for an instant she had been glad to turfrom the white glare into comparativ

dimness.

That was because offensive eyes hamade her forget the almost immediat

future in the quite immediate present. Bu

he hotel, with light-hearted taxis tearin

up to it, brought remembrance with shock. She envied everyone else who wa

bound for the Savoy, even old women, an

fat gentlemen with large noses. They wer

going there because they wanted to go, foheir pleasure. Nobody in the world coul

be in such an appalling situation as sh

was.


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t was then that Annesley's feet began to

drag, and she slowed her steps to gai

more time to think. Could shecould sh

do the thing?

For days her soul had been rushing towar

his moment with thousand-horsepowe

speed, like a lonely comet tearing througspace. But then it had been distant, th

errible goal. She had not had to gas

among her heart-throbs: "Now! It is now!

Creep as she might, three minutes' brough

her from the turning out of the Strand clos

o the welcoming entrance wher

revolving doors of glass received radianvisions dazzling as moonlight on snow.

"No, I can't!" the girl told herself

desperately. She wheeled more quickl


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han the whirling door, hoping that no on

would think her mad. "All the same, I wa

mad," she admitted, "to fancy I could do it

ought to have known I couldn't, when thime came. I'm the last person towel

'm sane again now, anyway!"

A few long steps carried the girl in thsparkling dress and transparent cloak int

he Strand again. But something queer wa

happening there. People were shoutin

and running. A man with a raucousalcoholic voice, yelled words Annesle

could not catch. A woman gave a

squeaking scream that sounded bot

ridiculous and dreadful. Breaking glascrashed. A growl of human anger mingled

with the roar of motor-omnibuses, an

Miss Grayle fell back from it as from


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slammed door in a high wall.

As she stood hesitating what to do an

wondering if there were a fire or murder, two women, laughing hysterically

rushed past into the hotel court.

"Hurry up," panted one of them. "They'l

hink we belong to the gang. Let's go int

he hotel and stay until it's over."

"Oh, what is it?" Annesley entreated

running after the couple.

"Burglars at a jeweller's window close b

there are womenthey're bein

arrested," one of the pair flung over heshoulder, as both hurried on.

"'Women ... being arrested ...'" That mean

hat if she plunged into the fray she migh


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be mistaken for a woman burglar, and

arrested with the guilty. Even if she lurked

where she was, a prowling policema

might suppose she sought concealmenand bag her as a militant.

magine what Mrs. Ellsworth would say

and doif she were taken off to jail!

Annesley's heart seemed to drop out of it

place, to go "crossways," as her old Iris

nurse used to say a million years ago.

Without stopping to think again, or even to

breathe, she flew back to the hote

entrance, as a migrating bird follows it

eader, and slipped through the revolvin

door behind the fugitives.

"It's fate," she thought. "This must be


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sign coming just when I'd made up m

mind."

Suddenly she was no longer afraid, thougher heart was pounding under the thi

cloak. Fragrance of hot-house flowers an

expensive perfume from women's dresse

ntoxicated the girl as a glass ochampagne forced upon one who ha

never tasted wine flies to the head. Sh

felt herself on the tide of adventure

moving because she must; the soul whicwould have fled, to return to Mrs

Ellsworth, was a coward not worthy t

ive in her body.

She had room in her crowded mind t

hink how queer it wasand how queer i

would seem all the rest of her life i

ooking backthat she should have th


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course of her existence changed becaus

burglars had broken some panes of glas

n the Strand.

"Just because of themcreatures I'l

never meetI'm going to see this throug

o the end," she said, flinging up her chi

and looking entirely unlike the AnnesleGrayle Mrs. Ellsworth knew. "To the

end!"

She thrilled at the word, which had amuch of the unknown in it as though i

were the world's end she referred to, an

she were jumping off.

"Will you please tell me where to leav

my wrap?" she heard herself inquiring of

footman as magnificent as, and far bette

dressed than, the Apollo Belvedere. He


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voice sounded natural. She was glad. Thi

added to her courage. It was wonderful t

feel brave. Life was so deadly, worse

sostuffyat Mrs. Ellsworth's, that if shhad ever been normally brave like othe

girls, she had had the young splendour o

her courage crushed out.

The statue in gray plush and dark blu

cloth came to life, and showed her th

cloak-room.

Other women were there, taking last

affectionate peeps at themselves in th

ong mirrors. Annesley took a last peep a

herself also, not an affectionate but aanxious one. Compared with thes

visions, was she (in Mrs. Ellsworth'

cast-off clothes, made over in od

moments by the wearer) so dowdy an


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second-hand thatthata stranger woul

be ashamed to?

The question feared to finish itself." I do look like a lady, anyhow," the gir

hought with defiance. "That's what he

hat seems to be the test."

ow she was in a hurry to get the ordea

over. Instead of hanging back she walked

briskly out of the cloak-room before thos

who had entered ahead of her finishe

patting their hair or putting powder o

heir noses.

t was worse in the large vestibule, whermen sat or stood, waiting for thei

feminine belongings; and she was the onl

woman alone. But her boat was launche


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on the wild sea. There was no returning.

The rendezvous arranged was in what h

had called in his letter "the foyer."Annesley went slowly down the steps

rying not to look aimless. She decided t

steer for one of the high-back brocade

chairs which had little satellite tables

Better settle on one in the middle of th

hall.

This would give him a chance to see an

recognize her from the description she ha

written of the dress she would wear (sh

had not mentioned that she'd be spared al

rouble in choosing, as it was her onl

realevening frock), and to notice that sh

wore, according to arrangement, a whit

rose tucked into the neck of her bodice.


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She felt conscious of her hands, an

especially of her feet and ankles, for sh

had not been able to make Mrs

Ellsworth's dress quite long enoughLuckily it was the fashion of the momen

o wear the skirt short, and she ha

painted her old white suede slipper

silver.

She believed that she had pretty feet. Bu

oh! what if the darn running up the heel o

he pearl-gray silk stocking should showor have burst again into a hole as sh

umped out of the omnibus? She coul

have laughed hysterically, as the escapin

women had laughed, when she realizehat the fear of such a catastrophe wa

overcoming graver horrors.

Perhaps it was well to have a counter


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rritant.

Though Annesley Grayle was the onl

manless woman in the foyer, the peoplwho sat therewith one exceptiondi

not stare. Though she had five feet eigh

nches of height, and was graceful despit

self-consciousness, her appearance wadistinguished rather than striking. Yes

"distinguished" was the word for it

decided the one exception who gazed wit

particular interest at that tall, slight figurn gray-sequined chiffon too old-lookin

for the young face.

He was sitting in a corner against thwall, and had in his hands a copy of th

Sphere, which was so large when hel

high and wide open that the reader coul

hide behind it. He had been in his corne


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for fifteen or twenty minutes whe

Annesley Grayle arrived, glancing ove

he top of his paper with a sort of jaunt

carelessness every few minutes at thcrowd moving toward the restaurant

picking out some individual, the

dropping his eyes to the Sphere.

For the girl in gray he had a long

appraising look, studying her every point

but he did the thing so well that, even ha

she turned her head his way, she need nohave been embarrassed. All she would

have seen was a man's forehead and a ri

of smooth black hair showing over the to

of an illustrated paper.

What he saw was a clear profile with

delicate nose slightly tilting upward in

proud rather than impertinent way; an arc


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of eyebrow daintily sketched; a large ey

which might be gray or violet; a droopin

mouth with a short upper lip; a reall

charming chin, and a long white throatskin softly pale, like white velvet; thick

ash-blond hair parted in the middle an

worn Madonna fashionthere seemed t

be a lot of it in the coil at the nape of heneck.

The creature looked too simple, toono

dowdy, but too unsophisticated, to havanything false about her. Figure too thin

hardly to be called a "figure" at all, bu

agreeably girlish; and its owner might b

anywhere from twenty to five or six yearolder. Not beautiful: just an average, lady

ike English girlor perhaps more o

rish type; but certainly with possibilities


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f she were a princess or a millionairess

she might be glorified by newspapers as

beauty.

Annesley forced her nervous limbs t

slow movement, because she hoped, o

dreadedanyhow, expectedthat one o

he dozen or so unattached men woulspring up and say, constrainedly, "Mis

Grayle, I believe?erhow do you do?

f only he might not be fat or very bald

headed!

He had not described himself at al

Everything was to depend on her gra

dress and the white rose. That seemednow one came face to face with the fear

rather ominous.

But no one sprang up. No one wanted t


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know if she were Miss Grayle; and this

although she was ten minutes late.

Her instructions as to what to do at thSavoy were clear. If she were not met i

he foyer, she was to go into the restauran

and ask for a table reserved for Mr. N

Smith. There she was to sit and wait to boined by him. She had neve

contemplated having to carry out the latte

clause, however; and when she ha

oitered for a few seconds, the thoughrushed over her that here was a loop-hol

hrough which to slip, if she wanted

oop-hole.

One side of her did want it: the side sh

knew best and longest as herself

Annesley Grayle, a timid girl brought up

conventionally, and taught that to rely on


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others older and wiser than she was th

right way for a well-born, sheltere

woman to go through life. The other side

he new, desperate side that MrsEllsworth's "stuffiness" had developed

was not looking for any means of escape

and this side had seized the upper han

since the alarm of the burglars in thStrand.

Annesley marched into the restaurant wit

he air of a soldier facing his first battleand asked a waiter where was Mr. Smith'

able.

The youth dashed off and produced duke-like personage, his chief. A list wa

consulted with care; and Annesley wa

respectfully informed that no table ha

been engaged by a Mr. N. Smith for dinne


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hat evening.

"Are you sure?" persisted Annesley

bewildered and disappointed."Yes, missmadame, I am sure we have

not the name on our list," said the head

waiter.

The blankness of the girl's disappointmen

ooked out appealingly from wistfu

wide-apart eyes. The man was sorry.

"There may be some misunderstanding,

he consoled her. "Perhaps Mr. Smith ha

elephoned, and we have not received th

message. I hope it is not the fault of thhotel. We do not often make mistakes; ye

t is possible. We have had a few early

dinners before the theatre and there is on


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small table disengaged. Would madame

care to take itit is here, close to th

doorand watch for the gentleman whe

he comes?"

"When he comes!" The head-waite

comfortably took it for granted that Mr

Smith had been delayed, that he woulcome, and that it would be a pity to mis

him. The polite person might be right

hough with a sinking heart Annesle

began to suspect herself played withabandoned, as she deserved, for he

dreadful boldness.

Perhaps Mr. Smith had been icommunication with someone else mor

suitable than she, and had thrown over th

appointment without troubling to let he

know. Or perhaps he had been waiting i


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he foyer, had inspected her as she passed

and hadn't liked her looks.

This latter supposition seemed probablebut the head-waiter was so confident o

what she ought to do that the girl coul

hink of no excuse. After all, it would do

ittle harm to wait and "see whahappened." As Mr. Smith was apparently

not living at the Savoy (he had merel

asked her to meet him there), he migh

have had an accident in train or taxAnnesley had made her plans to be awa

from home for two hours, so she coul

give him the benefit of the doubt.

A moment of hesitation, and she wa

seating herself in a chair offered by th

head-waiter. It was one of a couple draw

up at a small table for two. Sitting thus


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Annesley could see everybody who cam

n, andwhat was more important

could be seen. By what struck her as a

odd coincidence, the table was decoratewith a vase of white roses whose heart

blushed faintly in the light of a pink

shaded electric lamp.

A quarter of an hour, twenty minutes

dragged along, and no Mr. Smith

Annesley could follow the passin

moments on her wrist-watch in its silvebracelet, the only present Mrs. Ellswort

had ever given her, with the exception o

cast-off clothes, and a pocket handkerchie

each Christmas.

Every nerve in the girl's body seemed t

prickle with embarrassment. She playe

with a dinner roll, changed the places o


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he flowers and the lamp, trying to appea

at ease, and not daring to look up lest sh

should meet eyes curious or pitying.

"What if they make me pay for dinner afte

've kept the table so long?" she thought i

her ignorance of hotel customs. "And I'v

got only a shilling!"

Half an hour now, all but two minutes

There was nothing more to hope or fear

But there was the ordeal of getting away.

"I'll sit out the two minutes," she tol

herself. "Then I'll go. Ought I to tip th

waiter?" Horrible doubt! And she mus

have been dreaming to touch that roll

Better sneak away while the waiter wa

busy at a distance.


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Frightened, miserable, she was countin

her chances when a man, whose comin

nto the room her dilemma had caused he

o miss, marched unhesitatingly to heable.


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CHAPTER II

SMITHS AND SMITHS

Annesley glanced up, her face aflame, lika fanned coal. The man was tall, dark

ean, square-jawed, handsome in just tha

hrilling way which magazine illustrator

and women love; the ideal story-hero took at, even to the clothes which an

female serial writer would certainly hav

described as "immaculate evening dress."

t was too goodoh, far too wonderfull

good!to be true that this man should b

Mr. Smith. Yet if he were not Mr. Smith

why should heAnnesley got no farthe


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n the thought, though it flashed through he

mind quick as light. Before she had time t

seek an answer for her question the man

who was young, or youngish, not morhan thirty-three or fourhad bent ove

her as if greeting a friend, and had begu

o speak in a low voice blurred by hast

or some excitement.

"You will do me an immense service," he

said, "if you'll pretend to know me and le

me sit down here. You sha'n't regret it, ant may save my life."

"Sit down," answered something i

Annesley that was newly awake. Shfound her hand being warmly shaken. The

he man took the chair reserved for Mr

Smith, just as she realized fully that h

wasn't Mr. Smith. Her heart was beatin


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fast, her eyesfixed on the man's face

waiting for some explanationwer

dilated.

"Thank you," he said, leaning toward her

n his hand a menu which the waiter ha

placed before the girl while she was stil

alone. She noticed that the hand wabrown and nervous-looking, the hand of

man who might be a musician or an artis

He was pretending to read the menu, an

o consult her about it. "You're a truewoman, the right sortbrave. I swear I'

not here for any impertinence. Now, wil

you go on helping me? Can you keep you

wits and not give me away, whatevehappens?"

"I think so," answered the new Annesley

"What do you want me to do?" She too


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he pitch of her tone from his, speakin

quietly, and wondering if she would no

wake up in her ugly brown bedroom a

Mrs. Ellsworth's, as she had done a dozeimes when dreaming in advance of he

rendezvous at the Savoy.

"It will be a shock when I tell you," hanswered. "But for Heaven's sake, don

misunderstand. I shouldn't ask this if i

weren't absolutely necessary. In case

man comes to this table and questions youyou must let him suppose that you are m

wife."

"Oh!" gasped Annesley. Her eyes met theeyes that seemed to have been waiting fo

her look, and they answered with a

appeal which she could not refuse.


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woman out of ten thousand would have th

nerve and presence of mind and th

humanity to do what you're doing. When

came into this room and saw your face counted on you."

Annesley blushed again in a rush o

happiness. She had always longed to dsomething which would really matter t

another soul. She had even prayed for it

ow the moment seemed to have come

God would not let her be the victim of agnoble trick!

"I'm glad," she said, her face lit by a ligh

from within. And at that moment, bendinoward each other, they were a beautifu

couple. A seeker of romance would have

aken them for lovers.


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"Tell me what you want me to do,

Annesley said once more.

"The worst of it is, I can't tell you exactlyTwo men may come into this restauran

ooking for me. One or both will speak t

me. They'll call me a certain name, and

shall say they've made a mistake. Youmust say so, too. You must tell them I'm

your husband, and stick to that no matte

what the man, or men, may tell you abou

me. The principal thing now is to choose name. Butby JoveI forgot it in m

hurry! Are you expecting any one to join

you? If you are, it's awkward."

"I was expecting someone, but I've give

him up."

"Was this table taken in his name o


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yours? Or, perhapsbut no, I'm sur

you're not!"

"Sure I'm not what?""Married. You're a girl. Your eyes haven't

got any experience of life in them."

Annesley looked down; and when shooked down her face was very sweet

She had long, curved brown lashes

shade or two darker than her hair.

"I'm not married," she said, rather stiffly

"I thought a table had been engaged in th

name of Mr. Smith, but there was

misunderstanding. The head waiter put mat this table in case Mr. Smith should

come. I've given him up now, and wa

going away when"


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"When you took pity on a nameless man

But it seems indicated that he should b

Mr. Smith, unless you have an

objection!"

"No, I have none. You'd better take the

name, as I mentioned it to the waiter."

"And the first name?"

"I don't know. The initial I gave was N."

"Very well, I choose Nelson. Where dowe live?"

Annesley stared, frightened.

"Forgive me," the man said. "I ought t

have explained what I meant before askin

you that, or put the question another way

Will you go on as you've begun, and trus


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me farther, by letting me drive with you to

your home, if necessary, in case of bein

followed? At worst, I'll need to beg no

more than to stand inside your front doofor a few minutes if we're watched, and

but I see that this time I have passed th

imit. I'm expecting too much! How do yo

know but I may be a thief or a murderer?"

"I hadn't thought of such a thing," Annesle

stammered. "I was only thinkingit isn

my house. It doesn't even belong to mpeople. I live with an old lady, Mrs

Ellsworth. I hope she'll be in bed when

get back, and the servants, too. I have

key becausebecause I told a fib abouhe place where I was going, an

consequently Mrs. Ellsworth approved. I

she hadn't approved, I shouldn't have bee


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allowed out. I could let you stand insid

he door. But if any one followed us to th

house, and saw the number, he could loo

n the directory, and find out that ibelonged to Mrs. Ellsworth, not Mr

Smith."

"He couldn't have a directory in hipocket! By the time he got hold of one an

could make any use of his knowledge, I'

be far away."

"Yes, I suppose you would," Annesley

hought aloud, and a little voice seemed t

add sharply in her ear: "Far away out o

my life."

This brought to her memory what she ha

n her excitement forgotten: the adventur

she had come out to meet had faded int


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hin air! The unexpected one which had s

startlingly taken its place would end to

night, and she would be left to the drear

existence from which she had tried tbreak free.

She was like a pebble that had succeede

n riding out to sea on a wave, only to bwashed back into its old place on th

shore. The thought that, after all, she ha

no change to look forward to, gave the gir

a passionate desire to make the most ohis one living hour among many that wer

born dead.

"Mrs. Ellsworth's house," she said, "is 22A, Torrington Square."

"Thank you." Only these two words h

spoke, but the eager dark eyes seemed t


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add praise and blessings for he

confidence.

"My name is Annesley Grayle," shvolunteered, as if to prove to the man an

o herself how far she trusted him; als

perhaps as a bid for his name in paymen

of that trust. So at least he must havunderstood, for he said: "If I don't tell yo

mine, it's for your own protection. I'm no

ashamed of it; but it's better that yo

shouldn't knowthat if you heard isuddenly, it should be strange to you, jus

ike any other name. Don't you see I'

right?"

"I dare say you are."

"Then we'll leave it at that. But we can

go on pretending to study this menu fo


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ever! You came to dine with Mr. Smith

You'll dine with his understudy instead

You'll let me order dinner? It's part of the

programme."

"Very well," Annesley agreed.

The man nodded to the head-waiter, who

had been interested in the little dram

ndirectly stage-managed by him. Instea

of sending a subordinate, he came himsel

o take the order. With wonderfupromptness, considering that Mr. Smith'

houghts had not been near the menu unde

his eyes, several dishes were chosen an

a wine selected.

"Madame is glad now that I persuaded he

not to go?" the waiter could not resist, an

Annesley replied that she was glad. As th


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man turned away, "Mr. Smith" raised hi

eyebrows with rather a wistful smile.

"I'm afraid you're sorry, really," he said"If I'd come a minute later than I did, you'

have been safe and happy at home by thi

ime."

"Not happy," amended the girl. "Becaus

t isn't home. If it were, I shouldn't hav

old fibs to Mrs. Ellsworth to-night."

"That sounds interesting," remarked he

companion.

"It's not interesting!" she assured him

"Nothing in my life is. I don't want to boryou by talking about my affairs, but if yo

hink we may beinterrupted, perhaps, I'

better explain one or two things whil


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here's time. I wanted to come here thi

evening to keep an engagement I'd made

but it's difficult for me to get out alone

Mrs. Ellsworth doesn't like to be left, anshe never lets me go anywhere without he

except to the house of some friends o

mine, the only real friends I have. It's odd

but theirname is Smith, and that saved melling a direct lie. Not that a half-lie isn

worse, it's so cowardly!

"Mrs. Ellsworth likes me to go tArchdeacon and Mrs. Smith's because

'm afraid because she thinks they'r

swells.' Mrs. Smith has a duke for a

uncle! Mrs. Ellsworth said 'yes' at oncewhen I asked, and gave me her key an

permission to stop out till half-past ten

hough everyone in the house is suppose


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o be in bed by ten. She's almost sure to b

n bed herself, but if she gets interested i

one of the books I brought from the librar

o-day, it's possible she may be sitting upo read, and to ask about my evening.

"Our bedrooms are on the ground floor a

he back of an addition to the house. Whaf she should hear the latchkey (it's ol

fashioned and hard to work), and what i

she should come to the swing door at th

end of the corridor where she'd see yowith me? What would you say or do?"

"H'm! It would be awkward. Butisn

here ayoungSmith in your Archdeacon'family?"

"There is one, but I haven't seen him sinc

was a little girl. He's a sailor. He's awa


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now on an Arctic expedition."

"Then it wasn't that Mr. Smith you cam

o meet at the Savoy?""No. They're not related." As Annesley

returned in thought to the Mr. Smith who

had thrown her over, she took from he

bodice the white rose which was to hav

dentified her for him, and found it a plac

n the vase with the other white roses. Sh

had a special reason for doing this. Threal Mr. Smith, if by any chance h

appeared now, would be a complication

Without the rose he could not claim he

acquaintance.

"Why do you do that?" her companio

broke the thread of his questioning to ask.


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The girl was tempted to tell some easy fi

hat the rose was faded, or too fragrant

but somehow she could not. They bot

seemed so close to the deep-down thingof life at this moment that to speak th

ruth was the one possible thing.

"I arranged to wear a white rose for MrSmith to recognize me. Wehave neve

seen each other," she confessed.

"Yet you say there's nothing interesting inyour life!"

"It's true! Thisthing waswas dreadful. I

could happen only to a girl whose life wa

not interesting."

"Now I understand why you put away th

rosefor my sake, in case Mr. Smit


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should turn up, after all. Will you give i

o me? I won't flaunt it in my buttonhole

'll hide it sacredly, in memory of thi

eveningand of you. Not that I shall neeo be reminded of anything whic

concerns this nightyou especially, and

your generosity, your courage. But it ma

be that the men I spoke of won't find mhere. If they don't, the worst of your ordea

s over. It will only be to finish dinner

and let me put you into a taxi. To-morrow

you can think that you dreamed the wretc

who appealed to you, and be glad that yo

will never see him again."

Annesley selected her white rose from itfellows, dried its stem daintily with he

napkin, and gave the flower to "Mr

Smith." Already it looked refreshed, a


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she herself felt refreshed, after five year

of "stuffiness," by these few throbbin

moments.

Their hands touched, and throug

Annesley's darted a little tingle o

electricity that flashed up her arm to he

heart, where it caught like a hooked wireShe was surprised, almost frightened b

he sensation, and ashamed because sh

didn't find it disagreeable.

"It must be that people who're really alive

as he is, give out magnetism," she thought

And the thrill lingered as the man thanke

her with eyes and voice.

When he had looked at the rose curiously

as if expecting to learn from it the secre

of its wearer, he put the flower away in


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etter-case in an inner breast pocket of hi

coat.

For once Annesley was face to face witromance, and even though she woul

presently go back to the old round (sinc

he adventure she came out to meet ha

failed), she was stirred to a wild gladnesn this other adventure. The hor

d'oeuvresappeared; then soup, and wine

which Mr. Smith begged her to taste.

"Drink luck for me," he insisted. "You and

you alone can bring it."

Annesley drank. And the champagn

filliped colour to her cheeks.

"Now we'll go on and think out th

problem of what may happen at your doo


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if Fate takes me there," the man said

"Your old friend's sailor son is no use to

me. He can't be whisked back from th

orth Pole to London for my benefitPerhaps I may be an acquaintance o

Archdeacon Smith's, mayn't I, if wors

comes to worst? I've been dining there

and brought you back in a taxi. Will thado? If there are fibs to tell, I'll tell the

myself and spare you if possible."

"After all I've told to-night, one or twmore can't matter," said Annesley. "They

won't hurt Mrs. Ellsworth. It's the othe

danger that's more worryingthe dange

from those men. I've thought of somethinhat may help if they follow us t

Torrington Square. They may ask a

policeman whose house we've gone into


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and find out it's Mrs. Ellsworth's, befor

you can get away. So it will be better no

o tell them it'syours. You can be visiting

There is a Mr. Smith who comesometimes from America, where he lives

hough he's not American. Even th

policemen who have that beat may hav

heard of him from Mrs. Ellsworth'servants. There's a room kept alway

ready for him, and called 'Mr. Smith'

room.'"

"That does help," said the man. "It's cleve

and kind of you to rack your brains for me

A Mr. Smith from America! It's easy fo

me to play that part, I'm from AmericaPerhaps you've guessed that?"

"But you're very different from Mrs

Ellsworth's Mr. Smith," Annesley warned


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him, hastily. "He's middle-aged, eccentric

and not good-looking. He comes t

England for his 'nerves' when he ha

worked too hard and tired himself out. hink he's rich; and once he was robbed i

some big hotel, so he likes to stay at

plain sort of house where there's n

danger. He has a horror of burglars, andwon't even stop at the Archdeacon's sinc

hey had a burglary a few years ago. H

pays Mrs. Ellsworth for his room,

believe. A funny arrangement!it came

about through me. But that's not o

mportance to you."

"It may be. We can't tell. Better let meknow as much as possible about thes

Smiths. There's Mrs. Ellsworth's Smith

and the Smith you came to meet"


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"We needn't talk of him, anyway!"

There was a hint of anger in the girl'

protest; but her resentment was for thman who had humiliated her by breakin

his appointmentsuchan appointment!

She hurried on, trying to hide all signs o

agitation. "You see, Mrs. Ellsworth once

hoped to have Archdeacon Smith and hi

wife for friends. They didn't care for her

but they loved my fatheroh, long ago ihe country, where we lived. When h

died and I hadn't any money or training fo

work, they were nice to Mrs. Ellswort

for my sakeor, rather, for my father'sakeand persuaded her to take me as he

companion. She was glad to do it t

please them; but soon she realized tha

hey didn't mean to reward her by bein


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ntimate.

"Poor woman, I was almost sorry for he

disappointment! You see, she's a snob aheart, and though 'Smith' sounds a commo

name, both the Archdeacon and his wif

have titled relations. So have Iand tha

was another reason for taking me. Shadores a title. Doesn't that sound pitiful

But she has few interests and no rea

friends, so she's never given up hope o

collecting' the Smiths.

"That's why she lets me visit them. And

when I happened to mention, fo

something to say, that the Archdeacon hadan eccentric cousin in America who wa

afraid of hotels and even of visiting a

heir house because of a fad abou

burglars, she offered to give him the bette


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of her two spare rooms whenever he cam

o England. I never thought he'd accept

but he did, only he would insist on paying

"That's the story, if you can call it a story

for Mr. Ruthven Smith isn't a bit excitin

nor interesting. When he appears

generally quite suddenlyhe finds hiroom ready. He has his breakfast sent up

and lunches out at his club or somewhere

He mostly dines out, too, but he has

standing invitation to dine with MrsEllsworth, and we always have goo

dinners when he is staying, to be ready i

case of the worst."

The man smiled, rather a charming smile

Annesley could not help noticing.

"In case of the worst!" he repeated. "H


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must be deadly if his society bores yo

more than that of an old lady on whom,

suppose, you dance attendance morning

noon, and night. Now, my situation is soerpeculiar that I ought to be thankful t

exchange identities with any man. But

wouldn't with Mr. Ruthven Smith for al

his money and jewels."

Annesley opened her eyes. "Did I sa

anything about jewels?" she asked.

"No, you didn't," the man assured her

"except in mentioning the name of Ruthve

Smith. Anybody who has lived in America

as long as I have, associates jewels withe name of Ruthven Smith. His 'Ruthven

ifts him far above the ruck of a mer

Smithlike myself, for instance"; and h

smiled again.


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Annesley began curiously to feel as if sh

knew him well. This made her mor

anxious to give him helpfor it would no

be helping a stranger: it would be helpina friend.

"I've heard, of course, that he's somethin

I'm not sure whatin a firm oewellers," she said. "But I'd no idea o

his being so important."

"He's third partner with Van Vreck &Co.," her companion explained. "I'v

heard he joined at first because of hi

great knowledge of jewels and becaus

he's been able to revive the lost art omaking certain transparent enamels. Th

Van Vrecks sent for him from England

years ago. He buys jewels for the fir

now, I believe. No doubt that's why he's i


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such a funk about burglars."

"Fancy your knowing more about Mr

Smith than I know! Perhaps more thaMrs. Ellsworth knows!" exclaime

Annesley, forgetting the strain o

expectationthe dread that a pair o

mysterious, nightmare men might break uphe dreamlike dinner-party for two.

"I don't know more about him than hal

America and Europe knows," laughed thman. "It's lucky I do know something

hough, as I may have to be mistaken fo

Ruthven Smith, and add an 'N' to hi

nitials. I suppose he's not in England nowby any chance?"

"No. It must be six or seven months sinc

he was here last," said Annesley. "I don


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hink Mrs. Ellsworth has heard from him

She hardly ever does until a day or tw

before he's due to arrive; neither do hi

cousins."

"A peculiar fellow, it would seem,

remarked her companion. And then, out o

a plunge into thought, "You say you'venever seen the Mr. Smith you came to

meet at the Savoy? How can you be sure i

sn't old 'R. S.' as they call him at Van

Vreck's, wanting to play you a trickgivyou a surprise?"

Annesley shook her head. "If you knew

Mr. Ruthven Smith, you'd know that woulbe impossible. Why, I don't believe h

remembers when I'm out of sight that

exist."


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"Still more peculiar! Miss Grayle,

haven't any right to ask you questions. Bu

shouldn't be a man if I weren't forgettin

my own affairsinin curiosity, if yowant to call it that (I don't!), about yours

o! I won't let it pass for ordinar

curiosity. Can't you understand you'r

doing for me more than any woman evehas done, or any man would do? That doe

make a bond between us. You can't deny

t. Tell me about this Mr. Smith whom you

don't know and never saw, yet came to th

Savoy Hotel to meet."


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CHAPTER III

WHY SHE CAME

Surprised by the abruptness of hiquestion, Annesley's eyes dropped fro

he eyes of her host, which tried to hol

hem. She felt that she ought to be angr

with him for taking advantage of hegenerosityfor it amounted to that! Ye

anger would not come, only shame and th

desire to hide a thing which would chang

his gratitude to contempt.

"Don't let's waste time talking about me,

she said. "We haven't arranged"


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"We've arranged everything as well as we

can. For the rest, I must trust to luckan

you. Do tell me why you came here, wh

you thought you came here, I mean; fo'm convinced you were sent for my sak

by any higher powers there may be. I fel

hat, the minute I saw you. I feel it te

imes more strongly now. I know thawhatever your reason was, it's nothing t

be ashamed of."

"I am ashamed," Annesley was led on toconfess. "You'd despise me if I told you

for you can't realize what my life's bee

for five years. And that's my one excuse."

"Only a fool would want a woman lik

you to excuse herself for anything. I swea

wouldn't despise you. I couldn't. If yo

should tell meknowing you as little, o


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as well, as I do, that you'd been plotting

murder, I'd be certain you were justified

and my first thought would be to save you

as you're saving me now."

Annesley felt again the man's intens

magnetism. Suddenly she wanted to tel

him everything. It would be a relief. Shwould watch his face and see how i

changed. It would be like having th

verdict of the world on what she had don

or meant to do.

"I saw an advertisement in the Morning

ost," she said with a kind of breathles

violence, "from a man whowho wanteo meet a girl witha 'view to marriage.'

The words brought a blush so painful tha

he mounting blood forced tears to he


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eyes. But she looked her vis--vi

unwaveringly in the face.

That did not change at all, unless thnterest in his eyes grew warmer. Th

sympathy she saw there gave Annesley

new and passionate desire to defen

herself. If he had shown disgust, shwould not have cared to try, she thought.

"I told you it was horrid, and no

nteresting or romantic," she dashed on"But I was desperate. Mrs. Ellsworth i

awful! I don't suppose you ever met such

woman. She's not cruel about starving m

body. It's only my soul she starves. Whabusiness haveI with a soul, except i

church, where it's proper to think abou

such things? But she nagsnags! Sh

makes my hair feel as if it were turnin


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gray at the roots, and my face drying up

ike an apple.

"I wasn't nineteen when I came to her. I'wenty-three now, and I feel old

desiccated, thanks to those piling-u

hundreds of days with her. They've killed

my spirit. I used to be different. I can feet. I can see it in the mirror. It isn't only th

passing days, but having nothing better t

ook forward to. I'm too cowardlyor to

religious or something, to kill myselfeven if I knew how to, decently. But th

deadliness of it all, the airlessness of he

house and her heart!

"A man couldn't imagine it. She's made m

forget not only my own youth, but tha

here's youth in the world. Why, at first

was so wild I should have loved to sa


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dreadful things, or strike her. But now

haven't the spirit left to feel like that. M

blood's turning white. The other day whe

was reading aloud to Mrs. Ellsworth (read a lot: the stupidest parts of the paper

and the silliest books, that turn my brain t

fluff) I caught sight of an advertisement i

he Personal Column.

"I stopped just in time and didn't read i

out. Only a glimpse I had, for I was in th

midst of something else when my eyewandered. But when Mrs. Ellsworth wa

aking her nap after luncheon I got thePos

again and read the advertisement throug

carefully. The reason I was interested wabecause even the glance I took showe

hat the girl who was 'wanted' seemed i

some ways rather like me. Th


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advertisement said she must be fro

wenty-one to twenty-six; needn't be

beauty, but of pleasant appearance; mone

no object; the essentials were that shmust have a fair education and be of goo

birth and manners, so as to command

certain position in society.

"I believe those were the very words. And

t didn't seem too conceited to think that

answered the description. I'm not bad

ooking, and my mother's father was aearlan Irish one. I couldn't get th

advertisement out of my head. It fascinate

me."

"No wonder!" exclaimed Mr. Smith. H

had been listening intently, and though sh

had paused, panting a little, more tha

once, he had not broken in with a word.


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"Do you honestly think it no wonder?

Annesley flashed at him.

"It was like a prisoner seeing a kesticking in a door that has always bee

ocked," he said.

"How strange you should think of that!

she cried. "It was the thought which cam

nto my mind, and seemed to excuse me i

anything could." Annesley felt grateful to

he man. She was sure she could nevehave explained herself in this way o

pleaded her own cause with the real Mr

Smith. A man cold-blooded enough to

advertise for a wife "well-born and ablo command a certain position in society

would have frozen her into an ice-block o

reserve.


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She might possibly have accepted hi

"proposition" (one couldn't speak of it i

he ordinary way as a "proposal")

provided that, on seeing her, he hadudged her suitable for the place; but sh

could never have talked her heart out t

him as she was led on to do by this othe

man, equally a stranger, yet sympathetibecause of his own trouble and th

mystery which made of him a figure o

romance.

"It isn't strange I should think of the priso

door and the key," her companion said

"That was the situation. 'N. Smith' wa

rather clever in his way. There must bmany girls of good family and good look

who are in prison, pining to escape. H

must have had a lot of answers, tha


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fellow; but none of the girls could hav

come within a mile of you. I'm selfish!

bless my lucky stars he didn't turn u

here."

"I dare say it's the best thing that coul

happen," Annesley agreed with a sigh

"Probably he's horrible. But there was onhing: I thought, though he must be a snob

and vulgar, advertising as he did for

wife of good birth, that very thing looke

as if he were no worsethan a snob. Not villain, I mean. Otherwise, I shouldn

have dared answer. But I did answer th

same day, while I had the courage.

posted a letter with some of MrsEllsworth's, which she sent me out to drop

nto the box. His address was 'N. S., th

Morning Post'; and I told him to send


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reply, if he wrote, to the stationery shop

and library where Mrs. Ellsworth make

me go every day to change her books."

"And the answer? What was it like? Wha

mpression did it give you?" questione

he man who sat in Mr. Smith's place.

"Oh, it was written in a good hand. But i

was a stiff, commonplace sort of letter

except that it asked me to wear a whit

rose. White roses happen to be the ones ike best."

"So do I," said Mr. Smith. "Did he tell yo

o come to a table here and wait for him?"

"Not exactly. He was to meet me in th

foyer. But if he did not, I was to

understand he'd been delayed; and in tha


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case I must come to the restaurant an

nquire for a table engaged by Mr. N

Smith. Lots of times I decided not to d

anything. But you see I came, and this imy reward."

"A poor one," her companion finished.

"I don't mean that! I mean he hasn't com

at all. Maybe he never meant to. Maybe h

got some letter he liked better than mine

and arranged to meet the girl somewherelse. A man of that sort wouldn't write to

ell the straight truth in time, and save th

unwanted one from humiliation."

"Are you very sorry he didn't?"

"No," Annesley said, frankly. "I'm no

sorry. It's good to be able to help


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someone. I'm glad I came."

"So am I," Mr. Smith answered with

sudden change in his voice from calm texcitement. "And now the moment isn't fa

off, I think, for the help to be given. Th

men I spoke of are here. They're in th

restaurant. You can't see them withouurning your head, which would not b

wise. They're speaking to a waiter. The

haven't seen me yet, but they're sure t

ook soon. They're pointing to a table neaus. It's free. The waiter's leading them t

t. In an instant you'll have a better view o

hem than I shall. Now ... but don't look up

yet."

From under her lashes Annesley sawi

he way women do see without seeming t

use their eyestwo men conducted to


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able directly in front of her. As she sat on

her host's right, at the end of the table, no

opposite to him, this gave her th

advantageor disadvantageof facinhe newcomers fully, while Mr. Smith

who had faced them as they entered

would have his profile turned toward thei

able.

The pair seated themselves in the sam

way that Annesley and her companio

were placed, one at the right hand of thother. This caused the first man to face th

girl fully and gave her the second i

profile. One table only intervene

between Mr. Smith's and that selected bhe late arrivals, and the latter had hardl

sat down when the party of four at th

ntermediate table rose to go.


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Under cover of their departure, bowing o

waiters and readjustment of ladies' sabl

or ermine stoles, Annesley ventured

ightning glance at the men. She saw thaboth were black-haired and black

bearded, with dark skins and long noses

There was a slight suggestion o

resemblance between them. They might bbrothers. They were in evening dress, bu

did not look, Annesley thought, lik

gentlemen.

Mr. Smith was eating blennes au cavia

apparently with enjoyment. He called

waiter and told him to put more whippe

cream on the caviare as yet untouched ihe middle of Annesley's pancake.

"That's better, I think," he said, genially

And as the waiter went away, "What ar


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hey doing now?"

Annesley lifted her champagne glass as a

excuse to raise her eyes. "I'm afraihey've seen us and are talking about you

Can't wehadn't we better go?"

"Certainly not," replied Mr. Smith. "A

east,Ican't. But if you repent"

"I don't," Annesley broke in. "I wa

hinking of you, of course."

"Bless you!" said her host. His tone wa

suddenly gay. She glanced at him and saw

hat his face was gay also, his eyes brigh

and challenging, his look almost boyishShe had taken him for thirty-three or four

now she would have guessed him younger

Annesley could not help admiring hi


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pluck, for he had said that the arrival o

hese men meant danger. She ought to b

sorry as well as frightened because the

had come, but at that moment she waneither. Her companion's example wa

contagious. Her spirits rose. And th

hought flashed through her head, "Thi

adventure won't end here!" If she had haime she would have been ashamed of he

gladness; but there was no time. Smit

was talking again in a suppressed ye

cheerful tone.

"You won't forget that we're Mr. and Mrs

elson Smith?"

"Nono. I sha'n't forget."

"You may have to call me Nelson, and I

o call you Annesley. It's a pretty name


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odd for a woman to have. How did yo

get it?"

"Oh, you don't want to hear that now!""Why not?unless you'd rather not tel

me. We can't do anything more till the

blow falls, except enjoy ourselves and g

on with our dinner. How did you come to

be Annesley?"

"It was part of my mother's maiden name

She was an Annesley-Seton."

"There's a Lord Annesley-Seton, isn

here?"

"Yes."

"Related to you?"


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"A cousin. But Grayle isn't a name in thei

set. He and his wife have forgotten m

existence. I'm not likely to remind them o

t."

"His wife was an American girl, wasn

she?"

"How odd that you should know!"

"Not very. I remember there being a lot i

he papers about the wedding six or seve

years ago. The girl was very richa Mis

Haverstall. Her father's lost his mone

since then."

"How can you keep such uninterestinhings in your mindjust now?"

"They're not uninteresting. They concer

you!"


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"Lord Annesley-Seton's affairs don

concern me, and never will."

"I wonder?" said Smith, lookinhoughtful; and the girl wondered, too: no

about her future or her relatives, but wha

he next few minutes would do with thi

strange young man, and how at such a timhe could bear to talk commonplaces.

"If you're trying to keep me from bein

nervous," she whispered, "it's not a bit ouse! I can't think of anything or any on

except those men. They've stoppe

whispering. But they're looking at you

owthey're getting up. They're cominoward us!"


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CHAPTER IV

THE GREAT MOMENT

The men were staring so keenly at "Mr. NSmith" that it seemed to Annesley he mus

feel the stab of eyes, sharp as pin-pricks

n his back. He had the self-contro

however, not to look round, not even tochange expression. No man in th

restaurant appeared more calmly at eas

han he.

The couple had accompanied their star

with eager whisperings. Then, as if o

some hasty decision, they pushed bac

heir chairs and got up. Taking a few step


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hey separated, approaching Smith on righ

and left. One, therefore, stood betwee

him and Annesley as if to prevent an

exchange of words or glances. There wasomething Eastern and oddly alien abou

hem in spite of their conventional clothes

"Mr. Michael Varcoe!" said the biggeand older, he who stood on the left o

Smith. The other kept in the background

not to crowd with conspicuous rudenes

between Annesley and her host. The mawho spoke had a thick voice and a curiou

accent which the girl, with her smal

experience, was unable to place.

"No," answered "Smith," in a puzzle

one. "You mistake me for someone else."

"I think not," insisted the bearded man, i


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a hostile drawl. "I thinknot!"

"I'msurenot," echoed the other. "You are

Michael Varcoe. There's no getting awayfrom that."

The emphasis seemed to add, "And n

getting away from us."

Excitement stirred Annesley to courage

"Why, how horrid!" she exclaimed

bending past the human obstacle; "peopl

aking you for someforeigner! I'm sur

you can't be like a man with such a nam

asMichael Varcoe! Tell them who we

are."

"My name is Nelson Smith," said he

official husband. "My wife is not"

"Your wife!" repeated the man standing


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opposite Annesley. He stared with

nsolent incredulity. "'Mr. and Mrs

elson Smith.' A good name to take."

"It happens to have been given me." Sligh

sharpness broke the tolerance of Smith'

one.

"I don't believe you!" exclaimed the other

Smith's black brows drew together. "I

doesn't matter whether you believe o

not," he said. "What does matter is tha

you should annoy us. I tell you I'm no

Michael Varcoe, and never heard the

name. If you're not satisfied, and if yo

don't go back to your dinner and let u

finish ours in peace, I'll appeal to th

management."


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"Well!" grumbled the taller of the pair. "I

you're not the man I want, you're his imag

minus moustache and beard. You mus

be Varcoe!"

"Of course he's Varcoe," insisted the

other.

"Of course he's not!" said Annesley, with

ust the right amount of irritation. "Ou

name is Smith. Nelson, do tell this

person to ask the head-waiter whengaged the table, and not stay her

making a fuss."

"Anybody can engage a table in the nam

of Smith!" sneered the first speaker. "Tha

s nothing. We go by something more

convincing than a name. There ar

countries where men have been arreste


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on less resemblanceor put out of th

way."

"Oh, Nelson, he's frightening me," faltereAnnesley. "He must have lost his senses."

"You think that, do you?" The fierce eye

fixed her with a stare. "You tell meyou

madame, that you are this man's wife?"

"I do tell you so," the girl replied, firmly

"though I don't see that it's your affair

ow go away."

"Very well, we take your word," returned

he man, in a tone which said that he di

nothing of the sort. "And we goback tour table, to let you finish your meal, Mr

and Mrs. Smith."

His black glance sprang like a tarantul


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from her face to her companion's, then t

his friend's. The latter accepted th

ultimatum and followed in sulky silence

but when the pair were seated at their owable, though they ordered food and wine

heir attention was still for the alleged Mr

and Mrs. Smith.

Annesley tried to ignore the fact that the

stared without ceasing, but she could no

help being aware of their eyes. She fel

faint, and everything in the room whirlegiddily.

"Drink some champagne," said Smith'

quiet voice.

The girl obeyed, and the ice-cold win

cooled the fire in blood and nerves.


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"You have been splendid," Smith

encouraged her. "I know you won't fail m

now."

"I promise you I will not!" returne

Annesley. "The worst is over. I feel ready

for anything."

"How can I thank you?" he murmured. "If

had all the rest of my life to do it in

nstead of a few minutes, it wouldn't b

oo much. You were perfect in yourmanner, not anxious, only annoyed; just th

right air for a self-respecting Mrs. Smith."

They both laughed, and Annesley wa

surprised that she could laugh naturall

and gaily. Presently she laughed again

when Mr. Smith remarked that she had

missed her vocation in not being a


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actressshe, the country mouse, who ha

hardly been inside a theatre.

The two lingered over their dinnerwatched with impatience by the men at th

other table, who had ordered only on

dish and paid for it immediately, that they

might be ready for anything at an instant'notice. They had also a small bottle o

wine, which they sipped abstemiously a

an excuse to remain after their food ha

been eaten.

When at last Mr. and Mrs. Smith had

finished their bombe surprise, and trifle

with some fruit, Annesley said: "Evidentlhey don't care how long they have t

wait! I suppose there's nothing for us to d

but to go?"


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"Oh, yes, there's still something," sai

Smith. "We'll have coffee in the foyer, and

see what the enemy's next move is. I

would be a mistake to let the brutebelieve they're frightening us."

Annesley agreed in silence; but in he

heart she was glad to lengthen out thadventure. Soon she would have to cree

back to her dull modern substitute for

moated grange, and after thatnot "th

deluge"; nothing so exciting: extinction.

As they walked out of the restauran

ogether the girl glanced up at the dar

profile, mysterious as a stranger's, yefamiliar as a friend's. The man had tol

her nothing about himself except that h

was in danger, and had given no hint as to

what that danger was; but the girl's hear


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was warm with belief in him. If ther

were a question of crime, the crime wa

not his. His superiority over thos

creatures must be moral as well aphysical and social.

By an odd coincidence, Mr. Smith steered

for the sofa in the corner whence a mahad stared from behind an ope

newspaper at a tall, lonely girl in gray

earlier in the evening. Annesley knew

nothing of this coincidence, because shhad not noticed the man; but even if sh

had, she would have forgotten him. Sh

had been thinking of herself when she firs

railed her gray dress over the red carpeof the foyer; now, returning, she thought o

he man who was with her and the tw

who were certain to follow.


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Scarcely were she and Smith seate

before the others appeared. The men sa

down in chairs drawn up at a little table

and not only must those in the corner pasby them in escaping, but every wor

spoken above a whisper must b

overheard.

This fact did not embarrass Smith. H

ordered coffee and cigarettes, and talke

o Annesley in an ordinary tone about

motor trip which it would be pleasant take. The watchers also demanded coffee

But the waiter they summoned was slow

n fulfilling their order. When it wa

obeyed, before the pair had time to lift cuo lip, Mr. Smith took impish pleasure i

getting to his feet.

"Come, dear," he said, "we'd better b


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off."

He laid on the table money for the coffe

and cigarettes, with a satisfactory tipThen without looking at their neighbour

he and Annesley passed, walking shoulde

o shoulder with a leisurely step towar

he entrance.

"I suppose there's no chance of shakin

hem off?" the girl whispered.

"None whatever," said Smith. "But we'v

had the fun of cheating them out of thei

coffee, because they won't chance ou

stopping to pick up our wraps. They'll b

on our heels till the end of the journey, so

here's nothing for it except to stick to th

original plan of my going home with you.

hope you don't mind? I hope you're no


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afraid of me now?"

"I'm not at all afraid," said Annesley.

"Thank you for that. If our taxi outrunheirs, I sha'n't need to trespass on you

kindness beyond the doorstep. But if the

overtake us, and are on the spot befor

you can vanish into the house and I ca

disappear in some other direction, are yo

still game to keep your promiseth

promise to let me go indoors with you?"

"Yes, I am 'game' to the endwhateve

he end may be," the girl answered; an

she wondered at herself, because her hear

was as brave as her words.

Five minutes later Annesley, wrapped in

her thin cloak, was stepping into a taxi. A


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Smith followed and told the chauffeu

where to drive, the two watchers sho

hrough the revolving door in time t

overhear, and also to order a taxi.

Annesley wondered for one dismaye

nstant why her companion should hav

given the real address. He might havmentioned some other street, and thus hav

gained time; but a second thought told he

hat, with the pursuing taxi so close upo

heir heels, an attempt to deceive woulhave been useless. The policy of defianc

was the only one.

For a few moments neither the girl nor thman spoke, although Annesley felt tha

here were a thousand things to say. Ever

second was taking them nearer t

Torrington Square; and their parting mus


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come soon. After that, all would b

blankness for her, as before thi

wonderful night.

Such thoughts made the girl a prisoner o

silence; and "Mr. Smith" was also tongue

ied. Was he concentrating his mind upon

some plan of escape from thesmysterious enemies? She told herself thi

must be so; yet his first words proved tha

he had been thinking of the risk she ran.

"If the dragon comes out of her den an

catches us at the door, will that mean

catastrophe for you, or can I be explaine

away?" he inquired.

"I don't know," said Annesley. "And

somehow I don't care!"


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"I care," the man replied. "I can't hav

harm come to you through me. But tell me

before we go fartherdoes it matter t

you, Miss Grayle, that in a little while yoand I may see the last of each other? I fee

have a sort of right to ask that question

because it matters such a lot to me. I'v

got to know you better in this one eveninhan I could in a year in a commonplac

way. I don't want you to go out of my life

because you're the best thing that eve

came into it. And if I dared hope that

might mean to you some day half wha

you've begun to mean for me already, why

wouldn't letyou go!"Annesley clasped her hands under he

cloak. They were cold yet tingling. He

blood was leaping; but she could no


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speak. She was afraid of saying too much

"Can't you give me a grain of hope?" h

went on. His voice was wistful. "We haveso little time."

"Whatdo you want me to say?

Annesley stammered.

"I want you to saythat you don't wish t

see the last of me to-night."

"I shouldn't be human if I couldwish that!he words seemed to speak themselves

and she, who had been taught to repres

and hide emotion as if it were a vice, wa

glad that the truth was out. After all theyhad gone through together she couldn

send this man away believing he

ndifferent. "Iit doesn't seem as if w


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were strangers," she faltered on.

"Strangers! I should think not," he echoed

"We mayn't know much about each other'astes, but we do know about each other'

souls, which is more than can be said o

most men and women acquainted for half

ifetime. As for our pasts, you haven't hadone, and Iwell, if I swear to you tha

've never murdered anybody, or been i

prison, or committed an unforgivabl

crime, will you take my word?"

"If you told me you were a murderer, o

had committed some unforgivable crime,

I don't feel as if I could believe it,Annesley assured him. "Itwould hurt m

o think evil of you. I'm sure it isn't yo

who are evil, but these men."


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"You're an angel to feel like that and

speak like that!" exclaimed Smith. "I don

deserve your goodness, but I appreciate it

'd like to take your hand and kiss it whethank you, but I won't, because you'r

alone with me, under my protection. To

save me from trouble you've risked dange

and put yourself in my power. I may bbad in some waysmost men are, o

would be in women's eyes if women saw

hem as they are; but I'm not a brute. Th

worst I've ever done is to try to pay back

great injury, an eye for an eye, a tooth fo

a tooth. Do you blame me for that?"

"I have no rightI don't know what thnjury was," said the girl; and, hesitating

ittle, "stillI don't thinkI could fin

happiness in revenge."


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"I could, or anyhow, satisfaction:

confess that. About 'happiness,' I don

know much. But you could teach me."

"I?"

"Yes. Do you believe there can be such a

hing as love at first sight?"

"I can't tell. Books say so. Perhaps"

"There's no 'perhaps.' I've found that ou

o-night. I believe love that comes at sighmust be the only real lovea sort o

electric call from soul to soul. The thin

hat's happened is just this: I've met th

one womanmy help-mate. If I come ouof this trouble, and can ask a girl like yo

o give herself to me, will you do it?"

"Oh, you say this because you think yo


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ought to be grateful!" cried Annesley. "Bu

don't want gratitude. This is the first tim

've ever lived. I owe that to you. And it'

more than you can owe to me."

The man laughed, a happy laugh, as thoug

danger were miles away instead of on hi

heels. "You know almost as much aboumen as a child knows, Miss Grayle," h

said, "if you think I'm one of the sorti

here is such a sortwho would ti

himself to a woman for gratitude. I've jusone motive in wanting you to marry me.

ove you and need you. I couldn't fee

more if I'd known you months instead o

hours."

The wonder of it swept over Annesley i

a flood. Even in her dreamsand she ha

had wild dreams sometimesshe ha


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never pictured a man such as this lovin

her and wanting her. To the girl's mind he

was so attractive that it seeme

mpossible his choice of her could bfrom the heart. She would wake up to

stale, flat to-morrow and find that none o

hese things had really happened.

Still, she might as well live up to th

dream while it lasted, and have the mor

o remember.

"It's a fairy story, surely!" she said, tryin

o laugh. "There are so many beautifu

girls in the world for a man like you, that

"

"A man like me! What amI like?"

"Oh, it's hard to put into words. But


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well, you're brave; I'm sure of that."

"I hope I'm not a coward. All normal men

are brave. That's nothing. What else am to you?"

"Interesting. More interesting thantha

any one I ever saw."

"If you feel that, you don't want to send m

out of your life, do you?after you'v

stood by and sheltered me from danger?"

"No-o. I don't want to send you out of m

ife. But"

"There's only one way in which you cakeep me and I can keep you

circumstanced as we are. We must be

husband and wife."


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"Oh!" The girl covered her face with bot

hands. The world was on fire around her.

"I frighten you. Yet you might haveconsented to marry that other Smith. You

went to meet him, to decide whether h

was possible."

"I know. But I see now, if he'd kept hi

appointment, it would have ended i

nothing, even ifif he had been please

with me. I couldn't have brought myself tsay 'yes'."

"How can you be certain?"

"Because"Annesley spoke almost in whisper"because he wasn'tyou."

Smith snatched her clasped hands an

kissed them. The warm touch of the man'


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ips gave the girl a new, mysteriou

sensation. No man had ever kissed eve

her hands. Suddenly she felt sure that wha

she felt must be lovelove at first sightwhich, according to him, was an electri

call from soul to soul. His kiss told he

hat they belonged to each other for goo

or evil.

"Darling!" he said. "You are mine. I sha'n

et you go. For love of you I'll free mysel

from this temporary trouble I'm in, ancome back to claim you soon. When I as

you to be my wife you'll say to me wha

y o u wouldn't have said to the othe

Smith?"

"If I can escape to hear you. Butyo

don't know Mrs. Ellsworth."


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"St. George rescued the princess from th

dragon: so will I, though I've warned yo

'm no saint. When we meet again I'll tel

you what I am, and perhaps my real namewhich is better than Smith, though it mayn

be as safe. Now, there are other things to

say"

But there was no time to say them, for th

axi stopped. The time seemed so shor

since the Savoy that Annesley couldn

believe they were in Torrington SquarePerhaps the chauffeur had made

mistake? She looked out, hoping that i

might be so; but before her were th

darkened windows of the dull, familiahouse, 22-A. The great moment was upo

hem.


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CHAPTER V

THE SECOND LATCHKEY

Without another word Smith opened thdoor and sprang out. As Annesley put he

hand into his to descend she gave him th

atchkey. It had been inside the neck of he

dress, and the metal was warm from thwarmth of her heart.

"Take this," she whispered. "If they ar

watching, it will be best for you to havhe key."

Mr. Smith bestowed a generous tip on th

driver, and was rewarded with a loud


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cheerful "Thank you, sir!" which mus

have reached the ears of a chauffeur in th

act of stopping before a house near by

Annesley, glancing sidewise at the otheaxi, thought that it drew up wit

suspicious suddenness, as if it ha

awaited a "cue."

There was little doubt in her mind as t

who the occupants were, and her hear

beat fast, though she controlled herself t

walk with calmness across the strip opavement. On the doorstep she turned t

wait for her companion, and, withou

seeming to look past him, saw that no on

got out from the neighbouring taxi.

"They don't care whether we guess wh

hey are or not," was her thought. "The

mean to find out whether we have


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atchkey and can let ourselves into a hous

n this square. When they see us go in

will they believe the story and driv

away, orwill they stay on?"

What would happen if the watcher

persisted Annesley dared not think; bu

she knew that she would sacrifice herseln any way rather than send the man sh

oved (yes, she did love him!) out to fac

peril.

Having paid the chauffeur, Mr. N. Smith

oined the figure on the doorstep, an

fitted into the lock Annesley's latchkey

Then he opened the door for the girl, anfollowed her in with a cool air o

proprietorship which ought to hav

mpressed the watchers. A minute later, i

another proof had been needed that Mr


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n sprawling gilt frames, the heavy plus

curtains, the furniture with its "saddle

bag" upholstery, the common Turkish

carpet, and the mantel mirror witasteless, tasselled draperies, "Nelso

Smith" seemed to comprehend the deadl

"stuffiness" of Annesley Grayle'

existence.

The look of Mrs. Ellsworth's middle-clas

dining room, and the atmosphere whenc

oxygen had been excluded, were enough tell him, if he had not realized already

why the lady's companion had gone out t

meet a strange man "with a view t

marriage."

To Annesley, however, for the first time

his room was neither hideous no

depressing. It seemed years since she ha


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seen it. She was a different girl from th

spiritless slave who had crept out afte

uncheon, in the wake of her mistress: tha

short, shapeless form with a large head seon a short neck, and a trailing, old

fashioned dress of black.

ow, with a man holding her hands andcalling her an angela "dear, brav

angel!"it looked to the girl a beautifu

room. There was glamour upon it, an

upon the rest of the world. Surely lifcould never seem commonplace again!

"Ssh!" Annesley whispered. "We mustn'

wake Mrs. Ellsworth, or she'll run to thfront door in her dressing gown and cal

Police!' She's old, but her ears are sharp

as a cat's. She can almost hear on

hinking. But I'm glad she can't quite


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How frightful if she could!"

"Nothing about her need be frightful to yo

any more," said the man. "You have savedme. Soon it will be my turn to rescue you.

"I haven't saved you yet," the gir

reminded him. "They are sure to b

waiting to see whether you come out. Bu

've thought of one more thing to mak

hem believe that you live here. I can stea

softly upstairs to the front room on thsecond floor, above the drawing room

he one we call 'Mr. Smith's'to turn on

he lights, and then those hateful creature

will think". She hesitated, and thcolour sprang to her cheeks.

"That Mr. and Mrs. Nelson Smith hav

gone to their room," the man finished he


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sentence. His eyes beamed love an

gratitude, a glorious reward. "You're

wonderful! You forget nothing that can

help. Do you know, your trust, your faithn me, in spite of appearances, are the bes

hings that have come into my life? You

call those fellows 'hateful creatures

because they're my enemies. Yet, for alyou know, they may be injured innocent

and I the 'hateful' one. This may be m

way of getting into a rich old woman'

house to steal her jewels and money

making you a cat's paw."

"Don't!" Annesley cut him short. "I can

bear to hear you say such things. I trusyou becausesurely a woman can tell b

nstinct which men to trust. I don't nee

proof."


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"By Jove!" he exclaimed, his eyes fixe

upon her face. "You are the kind of gir

whose faith could turn Lucifer back fro

devil into archangel. Iyou're a millioimes too good for

Documents

Williamson a M - The Second Latchkey