Part 3 (2/2)

Yes, there was most decidedly a silver lining to the dark cloud of Leek's translation to another sphere of activity.

In replacing the pocket-book his hand encountered the letter which had arrived for Leek in the morning. Arguing with himself whether he ought to open it, he opened it. It ran: ”Dear Mr. Leek, I am so glad to have your letter, and I think the photograph is most gentlemanly. But I do wish you would not write with a typewriter. You don't know how this affects a woman, or you wouldn't do it. However, I shall be so glad to meet you now, as you suggest. Suppose we go to Maskelyne and Cook's together to-morrow afternoon (Sat.u.r.day). You know it isn't the Egyptian Hall any more. It is in St. George's Hall, I think. But you will see it in the _Telegraph_; also the time. I will be there when the doors open.

You will recognize me from my photograph; but I shall wear red roses in my hat. So _au revoir_ for the present. Yours sincerely, Alice Challice.

P.S.--There are always a lot of dark parts at Maskelyne and Cook's. I must ask you to behave as a gentleman should. Excuse me. I merely mention it in case.--A. C.”

Infamous Leek! Here was at any rate one explanation of a mysterious little typewriter which the valet had always carried, but which Priam had left at Selwood Terrace.

Priam glanced at the photograph in the pocket-book; and also, strange to say, at the _Telegraph_.

A lady with three children burst into the drawing-room, and instantly occupied the whole of it; the children cried ”Mathaw!” ”Mathah!”

”Mathaw!” in shrill tones of varied joy. As one of the gentlewomen pa.s.sed near him, he asked modestly--

”How much, please?”

She dropped a flake of paper on to his table without arresting her course, and said warningly:

”You pay at the desk.”

When he hit on the desk, which was hidden behind a screen of elm-trees, he had to face a true aristocrat--and not in muslins, either. If the others were the daughters of earls, this was the authentic countess in a tea-gown.

He put down Leek's sovereign.

”Haven't you anything smaller?” snapped the countess.

”I'm sorry I haven't,” he replied.

She picked up the sovereign scornfully, and turned it over.

”It's very awkward,” she muttered.

Then she unlocked two drawers, and unwillingly gave him eighteen and sixpence in silver and copper, without another word and without looking at him.

”Thank you,” said he, pocketing it nervously.

And, amid reiterated cries of ”Mathah!” ”Mathaw!” ”Mathah!” he hurried away, unregarded, unregretted, splendidly repudiated by these delicate refined creatures who were struggling for a livelihood in a great city.

_Alice Challice_

”I suppose you are Mr. Leek, aren't you?” a woman greeted him as he stood vaguely hesitant outside St. George's Hall, watching the afternoon audience emerge. He started back, as though the woman with her trace of c.o.c.kney accent had presented a revolver at his head. He was very much afraid. It may reasonably be asked what he was doing up at St. George's Hall. The answer to this most natural question touches the deepest springs of human conduct. There were two men in Priam Farll. One was the shy man, who had long ago persuaded himself that he actually preferred not to mix with his kind, and had made a virtue of his cowardice. The other was a doggish, devil-may-care fellow who loved das.h.i.+ng adventures and had a perfect pa.s.sion for free intercourse with the entire human race. No. 2 would often lead No. 1 unsuspectingly forward to a difficult situation from which No. 1, though angry and uncomfortable, could not retire.

Thus it was No. 2 who with the most casual air had wandered up Regent Street, drawn by the slender chance of meeting a woman with red roses in her hat; and it was No. 1 who had to pay the penalty. n.o.body could have been more astonished than No. 2 at the fulfillment of No. 2's secret yearning for novelty. But the innocent sincerity of No. 2's astonishment gave no aid to No. 1.

Farll raised his hat, and at the same moment perceived the roses. He might have denied the name of Leek and fled, but he did not. Though his left leg was ready to run, his right leg would not stir.

Then he was shaking hands with her. But how had she identified him?

<script>