Part 21 (2/2)

”Of course I expect you to tell me,” Balcome mocked again, sliding the bills into a coat pocket.

”Well, she didn't leave her new address.” Out came a beringed hand.

”Didn't she?” Once more Balcome displayed the money.

”No, she said she'd send it.” Then pointing toward the double door, her fingers closed on the bribe.

Wallace gulped, looking about him at the carpet, like a creature in misery that would lie down.

Balcome was taking a turn about the room. ”So she's gone,” he said.

”Too bad! Too bad! And no address.” Presently, as he came close to the door again, he gave one half of it a sudden, wrenching pull. It opened, and disclosed Clare, crouched to listen, one knee on the floor.

”No! Don't!” It was Tottie, pretending to interfere.

”O-o-oh!” Clare scrambled to her feet. But contrary to what might have been expected, she almost hurled herself into the room, shut the door at her back, and stood against it.

Tottie addressed herself angrily to Balcome. ”Say, look-a here! This ain't the way out!”

”My mistake,” apologized Balcome. Then with a look at Wallace that was full of meaning, he retired to the hearth, planted his shoulders against the mantel at Tottie's favorite vantage point, and surveyed Clare. ”We thought you were gone,” he remarked good-naturedly. He bobbed at her, with a flop of the big hat against his leg.

She made no reply, only waited, breathing hard, her eyes now on Wallace, now on Tottie. To the former, her glance was a warning.

He understood. ”We'd--we'd like to see Miss Crosby alone,” he said curtly, for by another wave of the hat Balcome had given him the initiative.

”Yes--go, Tottie.”

Miss St. Clair turned, her gown trailing luxuriously. ”I seem to be in the way today,” she laughed, with an attempt at coquetry. Then to Clare, ”I'm your friend, pettie. If you need me----”

The younger man could no longer contain himself. ”Oh, she told us you were here!” he cried.

”Tottie!”

”It's a lie!--a lie!” She swept past him, her face ugly with resentment. And to Clare, ”Don't you let this feller put anything over on you, kid.”

”All right, madam! All right!” Wallace's fingers twitched. He was ready to thrust her from the room.

She went, with a backward look intended to reduce him; and shut the door. As he followed, opening the door to find that she was actually gone, and leaning out to see her whereabouts farther along the hall, she broke into a raucous laugh.

”Rubber!” she taunted. ”Rubber!”

When he had shut the door again, and faced about, he kept hold of the k.n.o.b, as if supported by it. ”I--I felt you'd like to know, Miss Crosby,” he commenced, forcing himself to speak evenly, ”that Mr.

Farvel is over there at the Rectory.”

”Oh!” She put a hand to her head, waited a moment, then--”I--I thought--maybe when--I saw you.”

”I knew that was why you left.” He was more at ease now, and came toward her. ”Do you want to see him?”

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