Part 27 (1/2)

”Jenny,” said Dolly, ”are you awake?”

”Yes, dear,” answered Mrs. X. ”It's all right. You go to sleep again.”

”But whatever is it?” asked Dolly. ”Do you think it's fire?”

”I expect,” replied Mrs. X., ”that it's Percy. Very possibly he has stumbled over something in the dark. Don't you worry, dear; you go to sleep.”

But so soon as Dolly had dozed off again, Mrs. X., who was a good wife, thought she would steal off softly and see to it that Percy was all right. So, putting on a dressing-gown and slippers, she crept along the pa.s.sage and into her own room. To awake the gentleman on the bed would have required an earthquake. She lit a candle and stole over to the bedside.

It was not Percy; it was not anyone like Percy. She felt it was not the man that ever could have been her husband, under any circ.u.mstances. In his present condition her sentiment towards him was that of positive dislike. Her only desire was to get rid of him.

But something there was about him which seemed familiar to her. She went nearer, and took a closer view. Then she remembered. Surely it was Mr. Y., a gentleman at whose flat she and Percy had dined the day they first arrived in Berlin.

But what was he doing here? She put the candle on the table, and taking her head between her hands sat down to think. The explanation of the thing came to her with a rush. It was with this Mr. Y. that Percy had gone to the Kneipe. A mistake had been made. Mr. Y. had been brought back to Percy's address. Percy at this very moment-

The terrible possibilities of the situation swam before her. Returning to Dolly's room, she dressed herself hastily, and silently crept downstairs. Finding, fortunately, a pa.s.sing night-cab, she drove to the address of Mrs. Y. Telling the man to wait, she flew upstairs and rang persistently at the bell. It was opened as before by Mrs. Y., still in her tea-gown, and with her book still in her hand.

”Mrs. X.!” exclaimed Mrs. Y. ”Whatever brings you here?”

”My husband!” was all poor Mrs. X. could think to say at the moment, ”is he here?”

”Mrs. X.,” returned Mrs. Y., drawing herself up to her full height, ”how dare you?”

”Oh, please don't misunderstand me!” pleaded Mrs. X. ”It's all a terrible mistake. They must have brought poor Percy here instead of to our place, I'm sure they must. Do please look and see.”

”My dear,” said Mrs. Y., who was a much older woman, and more motherly, ”don't excite yourself. They brought him here about half an hour ago, and, to tell you the truth, I never looked at him. He is in here. I don't think they troubled to take off even his boots. If you keep cool, we will get him downstairs and home without a soul beyond ourselves being any the wiser.

Indeed, Mrs. Y. seemed quite eager to help Mrs. X.

She pushed open the door, and Mrs. X, went in. The next moment she came out with a white, scared face.

”It isn't Percy,” she said. ”Whatever am I to do?”

”I wish you wouldn't make these mistakes,” said Mrs. Y., moving to enter the room herself.

Mrs. X. stopped her. ”And it isn't your husband either.”

”Nonsense,” said Mrs. Y.

”It isn't really,” persisted Mrs. X. ”I know, because I have just left him, asleep on Percy's bed.”

”What's he doing there?” thundered Mrs. Y.

”They brought him there, and put him there,” explained Mrs. X., beginning to cry. ”That's what made me think Percy must be here.”

The two women stood and looked at one another; and there was silence for awhile, broken only by the snoring of the gentleman the other side of the half-open door.

”Then who is that, in there?” demanded Mrs. Y., who was the first to recover herself.