Part 48 (1/2)

He had arrived at this point by the time that the rus.h.i.+ng by of cars began to be heard up the Strand, down the Embankment and along every street within earshot; cars containing joyously important children in Scout's kit who ”_woke to find that Noise was Duty_,” and who now roused London's echoes with their bugle calls of two long notes:

”_All clear----! All----clear!_”

Yes; the raid was over. Captain Ross of the Honeycomb found himself drawing a long breath and realizing that he did most bitterly resent these raids on account of the women that he knew who were in the danger zone. That child Olwen, now; had she been frightened? Very likely indeed. Scared to death, no doubt.

Poor wee girl!...

With the return to the thought of her, there suddenly stirred within him a feeling that lay so deep down and under so many other mere immediate things that he seldom allowed himself the chance of leisure to delve towards it....

It was----how express it? A gentle, reverent unspoilt tenderness. It was That which makes the difference in the ingrainedly sentimental mind of Man, between Woman----and his own women-folk. The key to the hearts of these finest judges of women in Europe is to be found held in the hands of a mother, a wife, or (most surely) of a baby-daughter.... This particular Scot had denied _in toto_ that that chit of a Welsh girl could ever have part or lot in any of his jealously-secret dreams.

But denied it he had; yes! Already he was so far gone as all that.

Therefore it will be seen that he had reached the moment when a man pulls himself resolutely together and determines that having gone so far, he will go no further.

The moment had arrived when he told himself that, having taken all things into consideration, he had done with the girl.

Yes; he had done with this Olwen.

What was meant by this could only be judged by subsequent events. One cannot but surmise that it meant the following:

To come to that office on Monday and, as usual, to treat her as part of the office furniture. To speak to her as usual with the charm of manner of a bear with a sore head. To glower at her as usual in the Strand if she pa.s.sed him with young Ellerton. To have lunch on Friday as usual at that restaurant where she had lunch and, still as usual, to spar and wrangle with her until it was time to get back to work. To meet her as usual at Mrs. Cartwright's; to meet her perhaps with her friend Mrs.

Awdas; to----well, to carry on in the usual way, as he had done up to now, and so, indefinitely, to continue....

”Yes! I've done with her,” he meditated aloud in the solitude of whatever place it was in which he found himself. The sound of his own voice p.r.o.nouncing these resolute words was balm to his irritated, exasperated mood. ”I've done with her. _That's_ sett----”

Into the word there broke the shrill whirring call of the telephone.

He snapped it up. The silence of the place where he sat seemed to ring to the now irritated bark of his voice, answering.

”Spikkin'! Who is that?”

”Ell--what? Oh, Ellerton? Yes; what is it?” He listened, scowling, to the clear boyish voice that came through, obviously in the joyous high feather. ”Oh, yes; I know the raid's over, yes.... Nothing of consequence; nothing at all.... You saw _what_? Miss Howel-Jones home safely? That's all?... You were held up? Is that so? Where? For _how_----For two hours, was it? All the lights turned out, I suppose?...

Indid.... Ah.... Well! I don't know that I was worrying specially about either of you; not so as you'd notice it. But thanks all the same for rea.s.suring me, Ellerton----”

(This with the bitter sarcasm which, the Celt maintains, is ever lost upon the Saxon.)

”And I suppose Miss Howel-Jones will make it her excuse for turrrning up late on Monday morrrrning.... _Whatt?_ She won't be coming Monday? How's that?... _Leave?_”

His voice jumped up three notes.

”Going on leave?... Where's she going? Wales?... What part of Wales?...

I said what part of Wales.... Aber-_which_?... Ah.... 'Night.”

The finest judge of women snapped up the receiver and sat for a moment motionless: only the shapely feminine mouth under the hogged moustache moving to the form of inaudible words.

Then he sprung up and grabbed a paper-covered book from a shelf of reference books. He stood holding it.