Part 26 (2/2)

Often in after time she remembered the complacent little touch of vanity, and wondered how it had been possible that she could stand there, making so thoughtless and foolish a speech when danger was so near, and so much of sharp, pa.s.sionate suffering was approaching her.

She had waited until the last minute, and finding, on consulting her watch, that it was past six, she decided to wait no longer. She took up her gloves from the dressing-table and drew them on; she settled the little drooping plume in her hat and picked up her m.u.f.f, and then, giving a last glance and a saucy nod to the piquant reflection in the gla.s.s, she opened her bedroom door to go out.

And then it was, just at this last moment, that there came a ring at the hall-door bell,--evidently a hurried ring, and withal a ring which made her heart beat, she knew not why.

She stood at the head of the staircase and listened. A moment later, and the visitor was speaking to the servant who had admitted him.

”Mr. Gowan,” she heard. ”Miss Crewe--wish to see her at once--at once.”

She knew by his voice that something was wrong, and she did not wait for the up-coming of the servant. She almost flew down the staircase, and entered the parlor an instant after him; and when he saw her he met her with an exclamation of thankfulness.

”Thank G.o.d!” he said, ”that you are ready!” He was pale with excitement, and fairly out of breath. He did not give her time to answer him. ”You must come with me,” he said. ”There is not a moment to lose. I have a cab at the door. I have driven here at full speed. The report is true, and I have found out that to-night Chandos leaves London. But that is not the worst,--for G.o.d's sake, be calm, and remember how much depends upon your courage,--he intends taking your sister with him.”

Terrible as the shock was to her, she was calm, and did remember how much might depend upon her. She forgot Grif and the happy evening she had promised herself; she forgot all the world but Mollie,--handsome, lovable, innocent Mollie, who was rus.h.i.+ng headlong and unconsciously to misery and ruin. A great, sharp change seemed to come upon her as she turned to Ralph Gowan. She was not the same girl who, a minute or so before, had nodded at her pretty self in the gla.s.s; the excited blood tingled in her veins; she was full of desperate, eager bravery,--she could not wait a breath's s.p.a.ce.

”Come!” she exclaimed, ”I am ready. You can tell me the rest when we are in the cab.”

She did not even know where they were going until she heard Gowan give the driver the directions. But, as they drove through the streets, she learned all.

In spite of his efforts, it was not until the eleventh hour that he had succeeded in obtaining positive proof of the truth of the report, though he had found less cause to doubt it each time he made fresh inquiries.

In the end he had been driven to the necessity of appealing to a man who had been Chandos's confidential valet, and who, rascal though he was, still was able to produce proofs to be relied on. Then he had been roused to such indignation that he had driven to the fellow's lodgings with the intention of confronting him with his impudent guilt, and there he had made the fearful discovery that he had just left the place with ”a pretty, childish-looking girl,--tall, and with a lovely color,” as the landlady described her; and he had known it was Mollie at once.

The good woman had given him all particulars. They had come to the house together in a cab, and the young lady had not got out, but had remained seated in it while her companion had given his orders to his servant indoors. She--his housekeeper--had heard him say something about Brussels, and, having caught a glimpse of the charming face in the vehicle outside, she had watched it from behind the blinds, suspecting something out of the common order of things.

”Not that he did not treat her polite and respectful enough,” she added; ”for he did and she--pretty young thing--seemed quite to expect it, and not to be at all ashamed of herself, though she were a trifle shy and timid. I even heard him ask her if she would rather he rode outside, and she said she 'thought so, if he pleased,' And he bowed to her and went, quite obedient. That was what puzzled me so; if he 'd ha' been freer, I could have understood it.”

”It does not puzzle me!” cried Dolly, clenching her hands and fairly panting for breath when she heard it. ”He knows how innocent she is, and he is too crafty to alarm her by his manner. Oh, cannot we make this man drive faster?--cannot we make him drive faster?”

Gowan drew out his watch and referred to it.

”There is no danger of our losing their train,” he said. ”It does not leave the station until nearly seven, and it is not yet half-past six.

If they leave London to-night, we shall meet them; if they do not, I think I can guess where we shall find them. Re-member, you must not allow yourself to become excited. We have only our coolness and readiness of action to rely upon. If we lose our presence of mind, we lose all.”

He did not lose his presence of mind, at least.

Even in the midst of her distress, Dolly found time to feel grateful to him beyond measure, and to admire his forethought. He never seemed to hesitate for a moment. He had evidently decided upon his course beforehand, and there was no delay. Reaching the station, he a.s.sisted Dolly to descend from the cab and led her at once to a seat where she could command a view of all who made their appearance upon the platform.

Then he left her and went to make inquiries from the officials. He was not absent long. In a few minutes he returned with the necessary information. The train was not due for twenty minutes, and as yet no lady and gentleman answering to his description had been seen by any one in the place.

He came to Dolly and took a seat by her, looking down at her upturned, appealing face pityingly, but rea.s.suringly.

”We are safe yet,” he said. ”They have not arrived, and they can have taken pa.s.sage in no other train. We will watch this train leave the station, and then we will drive at full speed to the hotel Chandos is in the habit of visiting when he makes a flying journey. I know the place well enough.”

The next half-hour was an anxious one to both. The train was behind time, and consequently they were compelled to wait longer than they had expected. A great many people crowded into the station and took tickets for various points,--workingmen and their wives, old women with bundles, and young ones without, comfortable people who travelled first-cla.s.s and seemed satisfied with themselves, shabbily attired little dressmakers and milliners with bandboxes, a party of tourists, and a few nice girls; in fact, the usual samples of people hurrying or taking it easy, losing their temper or preserving it; but there was no Mollie. The last moment arrived, the guards closed the carriage doors with the customary bang, and the customary cry of ”All right;” there were a few puffs and a whistle, and then the train moved slowly out of the station. Mollie was not on her way to Brussels yet; that was a fact to be depended upon.

Dolly rose from her seat with a sigh which was half relief.

”Now for trying the hotel,” said Gowan. ”Take my arm and summon up your spirits. In less than a quarter of an hour, I think I may say, we shall have found our runaway, and we shall have to do our best to reduce her romantic escapade to a commonplace level. We may even carry her back to Bloomsbury Place before they have had time to become anxious about her.

Thank Heaven, we were so fortunate as to discover all before it was too late!”