Part 23 (1/2)
”What was written on the paper?” the girl demanded obliquely.
He made his eyes blank: ”Written on the paper--?”
”I saw something in red ink at the head of the column. You tried to hide it from me, but I saw.... What was it?”
”Oh--that!” he laughed contemptuously: ”just Popinot's impudence--an invitation to come out and be a good target.”
She shook her head impatiently: ”You're not telling me the truth. It was something else, or you wouldn't have been so anxious to hide it.”
”Oh, but I a.s.sure you--!”
”You can't. Be honest with me, Mr. Lanyard. It was an offer to let you off if you'd give me up to Bannon--wasn't it?”
”Something like that,” he a.s.sented sheepishly--”too absurd for consideration.... But now we're due to clear out of this before they find a way in. Not that they're likely to risk a raid until they've tried starving us out; but it would be as well to put a good distance between us before they find out we've decamped.”
He shrugged into his borrowed raincoat, b.u.t.toned it to his chin, and turned down the brim of his felt hat; but when he looked up at the girl again, he found she hadn't moved; rather, she remained as one spellbound, staring less at than through him, her expression inscrutable.
”Well,” he ventured--”if you're quite ready, Miss Shannon--?”
”Mr. Lanyard,” she demanded almost sharply--”what was the full wording of that message?”
”If you must know--”
”I must!”
He lifted a depreciative shoulder. ”If you like, I'll read it to you--or, rather, translate it from the thieves' argot Popinot complimented me by using.”
”Not necessary,” she said tersely. ”I'll take your word for it.... But you must tell me the truth.”
”As you will.... Popinot delicately suggested that if I leave you here, to be reunited to your alleged parent--if I'll trust to his word of honour, that is, and walk out of the house alone, he'll give me twenty-four hours in which to leave Paris.”
”Then only I stand between you and--”
”My dear young woman!” he protested hastily. ”Please don't run away with any absurd notion like that. Do you imagine I'd consent to treat with such canaille under any circ.u.mstances?”
”All the same,” she continued stubbornly, ”I'm the stumbling-block.
You're risking your life for me--”
”I'm not,” he insisted almost angrily.
”You are,” she returned with quiet conviction.
”Well!” he laughed--”have it your own way!...”
”But it's _my_ life, isn't it? I really don't see how you're going to prevent my risking it for anything that may seem to me worth the risk!”
But she wouldn't laugh; only her countenance, suddenly bereft of its mutinous expression, softened winningly--and her eyes grew very kind to him.
”As long as it's understood I understand--very well,” she said quietly; ”I'll do as you wish, Mr. Lanyard.”
”Good!” he cried cheerfully. ”I wish, by your leave, to take you out to dinner.... This way, please!”