Part 42 (1/2)

Flames Robert Hichens 23630K 2022-07-22

”Lord, it isn't that,” she rejoined with trembling lips. ”But what's he goin' to do?”

”Do?”

”Yes. Go and see. Hark!”

She held up her hand and leaned forward in a strained att.i.tude of attention. But there was no sound in the flat. Then she turned again to Julian and said:

”And he's your friend. Well, I never!”

The words were spoken with an extraordinary conviction of astonishment that roused Julian to keen attention.

”Why, what do you mean?” he asked.

”He's a wicked fellow,” she said with a s.n.a.t.c.h of the breath. ”A real downright wicked fellow, like Marr. That's what he is.”

Julian was amazed.

”You don't know what you are saying,” he answered.

But she stuck to her guns with the animation of hysteria.

”Don't I, though? Don't I? A girl that lives like me has to know, I tell you. Where should I be if I didn't? Tell me that, then. Why, there's men in the streets I wouldn't speak to; not for twenty pounds, I wouldn't.

And he's one of them. Why didn't you come? Why ever did you let me be on my own with him? He's a devil.”

”Nonsense,” Julian said brusquely.

She laid her hand on his, and hers was trembling.

”Well, then, why's he gone off all sudden like that?”

”Only for a joke. Wait, I'll fetch him back.”

Cuckoo Bright looked frankly terrified at the idea.

”No,” she cried; ”don't. I'm goin'. I'm off. Help me on with my cloak, dearie. I'm off.”

Julian saw that it was useless to argue with her. He put the cloak round her shoulders. As he did so he was standing behind her, with his face to the fireplace. The leaping flames sprang from the coals in the grate, and their light was reflected on the wall, near the door, but only, of course, to a certain height. Julian's eyes were attracted to these leaping flames on the wall, and he saw one suddenly detach itself from the shadows of its brethren, take definite shape and life, develop while he looked from shadow into substance, float up on the background of the wall higher and higher, reach the ceiling and melt away. As it faded the drawing-room door opened and Valentine reappeared.

Miss Bright started violently, and caught at her cloak with both hands.

Valentine came forward slowly.

”You are not going already, surely,” he said.

”I must, I must,” she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, already in movement towards the hall.

”But I have just been to get you a box of sugar plums.”