Part 13 (1/2)

”Dr. McMurtrie,” I reminded her, ”is never recklessly communicative.”

Then I paused. ”Still I should like to know the reason for the change of programme,” I added.

She raised her head and glanced half nervously, half defiantly at the door.

”We are going to give up this house tomorrow--that's the reason,” she said, speaking low and rather quickly. ”Our work here is finished, and it will be best for us to leave as soon as possible.”

”I wish,” I said regretfully, ”that I inspired just a little more confidence.”

Sonia hesitated. Then she sat up, and with a characteristic gesture of hers pushed back her hair from her forehead.

”Come here,” she said slowly; ”come quite close to me.”

I walked towards her, wondering at the sudden change in her voice.

As I approached she straightened her arms out each side of her, and half-closing her eyes, raised her face to mine.

”Kiss me,” she said, almost in a whisper; ”kiss my lips.”

I could hardly have declined such an invitation even if I had wished to, but as a matter of fact I felt no such prompting. It was over three years since I had kissed anybody, and with her eyes half-closed and her breast softly rising and falling, Sonia looked decidedly attractive. I bent down till my mouth was almost touching hers. Then with a little sigh she put her arms round my neck, and slowly and deliberately our lips met.

It was at this exceedingly inopportune moment that Savaroff's guttural voice came grating up the stairs from the hall below.

”Sonia!” he shouted--”Sonia! Where are you? I want you.”

She quietly disengaged her arms, and drawing back, paused for a moment with her hands on my shoulders.

”Now you understand,” she said, looking straight into my eyes. ”They are nothing to me, my father and the doctor--I hate them both. It is you I am thinking of--you only.” She leaned forward and swiftly, almost fiercely again kissed my mouth. ”When the time comes,” she whispered--

”Sonia! Sonia!” Once more Savaroff's voice rose impatiently from the hall.

In a moment Sonia had crossed the room. I had one rapid vision of her looking back at me--her lips parted her dark eyes s.h.i.+ning pa.s.sionately, and then the door closed and I was alone.

I sat down on the bed and took a long breath. There was a time when an unexpected incident of this sort would merely have left me in a state of comfortable optimism, but a prolonged residence in Dartmoor had evidently shaken my nerve.

I soon collected myself, however, and lighting a cigarette with some care, got up and walked to the open window. If Sonia was really in love with me--and there seemed to be rather sound evidence that she was--I had apparently, succeeded in making a highly useful ally. This may appear to have been rather a cold-blooded way of regarding the matter, but to tell the truth the whole thing had taken me so utterly by surprise that I could scarcely realize as yet that I had been personally concerned in it. I had kissed her certainly--under the circ.u.mstances I could hardly have done otherwise--but of any deliberate attempt to make her fond of me I was beautifully and entirely innocent, it had never struck me that an escaped murderer with an artificial and rather forbidding countenance was in danger of inspiring affection, especially in a girl whose manner had always been slightly suggestive of a merely sullen tolerance. Still, having succeeded in doing so, I felt no qualms in making the best of the situation. I needed friends rather badly, especially friends who had an intimate working acquaintance with the eminent firm of Messrs.

McMurtrie and Savaroff. If the not wholly disagreeable task of returning Sonia's proffered affection was all that was necessary, I felt that it would be flying in the face of Providence to decline such an opportunity. I was not the least in love with her--except by a very generous interpretation of the word, but I did not think that this unfortunate fact would seriously disturb my conscience. A life sentence for what you haven't done is apt to rob one's sense of honour of some of its more delicate points.

With a pleasant feeling that things were working for the best, I got up again; and hoisting the Gladstone bag on to the bed began to collect the books, the tooth-brush, and the few other articles which made up my present earthly possessions.

CHAPTER VIII

RT. HON. SIR GEORGE FRINTON, P.C.

That journey of mine to London stands out in my memory with extraordinary vividness. I don't think I shall ever forget the smallest and most unimportant detail of it. The truth is, I suppose, that my whole mind and senses were in an acutely impressionable state after lying fallow, as they practically had, for over three years.

Besides, the sheer pleasure of being out in the world again seemed to invest everything with an amazing interest and wonder.

It was just half-past one when Savaroff brought the car round to the front door. I was standing in the hall talking to McMurtrie, who had decided not to accompany us into Plymouth. Of Sonia I had seen nothing since our unfortunately interrupted interview in the morning.