Part 16 (1/2)

But he failed to detect anything of this nature in her manner.

So, what was one to think? That she was mental enough to appreciate how ruinous to her design would be any such advances? ...

In such perplexity he brought her to the end of the alley and there pulled up for a look round before venturing out into the narrow, dark, and deserted side street that then presented itself.

At this the girl gently disengaged her hand and drew away a pace or two; and when Lanyard had satisfied himself that there were no Apaches in the offing, he turned to see her standing there, just within the mouth of the alley, in a pose of blank indecision.

Conscious of his regard, she turned to his inspection a face touched with a fugitive, uncertain smile.

”Where are we?” she asked.

He named the street; and she shook her head. ”That doesn't mean much to me,” she confessed; ”I'm so strange to Paris, I know only a few of the princ.i.p.al streets. Where is the boulevard St. Germain?”

Lanyard indicated the direction: ”Two blocks that way.”

”Thank you.” She advanced a step or two, but paused again. ”Do you know, possibly, just where I could find a taxicab?”

”I'm afraid you won't find any hereabouts at this hour,” he replied. ”A fiacre, perhaps--with luck: I doubt if there's one disengaged nearer than Montmartre, where business is apt to be more brisk.”

”Oh!” she cried in dismay. ”I hadn't thought of that.... I thought Paris never went to sleep!”

”Only about three hours earlier than most of the world's capitals....

But perhaps I can advise you--”

”If you would be so kind! Only, I don't like to be a nuisance--”

He smiled deceptively: ”Don't worry about that. Where do you wish to go?”

”To the Gare du Nord.”

That made him open his eyes. ”The Gare du Nord!” he echoed. ”But--I beg your pardon--”

”I wish to take the first train for London,” the girl informed him calmly.

”You'll have a while to wait,” Lanyard suggested. ”The first train leaves about half-past eight, and it's now not more than five.”

”That can't be helped. I can wait in the station.”

He shrugged: that was her own look-out--if she were sincere in a.s.serting that she meant to leave Paris; something which he took the liberty of doubting.

”You can reach it by the Metro,” he suggested--”the Underground, you know; there's a station handy--St. Germain des Pres. If you like, I'll show you the way.”

Her relief seemed so genuine, he could have almost believed in it. And yet--!

”I shall be very grateful,” she murmured.

He took that for whatever worth it might a.s.say, and quietly fell into place beside her; and in a mutual silence--perhaps largely due to her intuitive sense of his bias--they gained the boulevard St. Germain. But here, even as they emerged from the side street, that happened which again upset Lanyard's plans: a belated fiacre hove up out of the mist and ranged alongside, its driver loudly soliciting patronage.

Beneath his breath Lanyard cursed the man liberally, nothing could have been more inopportune; he needed that uncouth conveyance for his own purposes, and if only it had waited until he had piloted the girl to the station of the Metropolitain, he might have had it. Now he must either yield the cab to the girl or--share it with her.... But why not?