Part 64 (1/2)

”My instructions, sir, are to say to you that the ladies are not at home.”

But Akers held out his hat and gloves with so ugly a look that Grayson took them.

”I have come to see my wife,” he said. ”Tell her that, and that if she doesn't see me here I'll go upstairs and find her.”

When Grayson still hesitated he made a move toward the staircase, and the elderly servant, astounded at the speech and the movement, put down the hat and faced him.

”I do not recognize any one in the household by that name, sir.”

”You don't, don't you? Very well. Tell Miss Cardew I am here, and that either she will come down or I'll go up. I'll wait in the library.”

He watched Grayson start up the stairs, and then went into the library.

He was very carefully dressed, and momentarily exultant over the success of his ruse, but he was uneasy, too, and wary, and inclined to regard the house as a possible trap. He had made a gambler's venture, risking everything on the cards he held, and without much confidence in them.

His vanity declined to believe that his old power over Lily was gone, but he had held a purely physical dominance over so many women that he knew both his strength and his limitations.

What he could not understand, what had kept him awake so many nights since he had seen her, was her recoil from him on w.i.l.l.y Cameron's announcement. She had known he had led the life of his sort; he had never played the plaster saint to her. And she had accepted her knowledge of his connection with the Red movement, on his mere promise to reform. But this other, this accident, and she had turned from him with a horror that made him furious to remember. These silly star-eyed virgins, who accepted careful abstractions and then turned sick at life itself, a man was a fool to put himself in their hands.

Mademoiselle was with Lily in her boudoir when Grayson came up, a thin, tired-faced, suddenly old Mademoiselle, much given those days to early ma.s.ses, during which she prayed for eternal life for the man who had ruined Lily's life, and that soon. To Mademoiselle marriage was a final thing and divorce a wickedness against G.o.d and His establishment on earth.

Lily, rather like w.i.l.l.y Cameron, was finding on her spirit at that time a burden similar to his, of keeping up the morale of the household.

Grayson came in and closed the door behind him. Anger and anxiety were in his worn old face, and Lily got up quickly. ”What is it, Grayson?”

”I'm sorry, Miss Lily. He was in the vestibule behind Mrs. Denslow, and I couldn't keep him out. I think he had waited for some one to call, knowing I couldn't make a scene.”

Mademoiselle turned to Lily.

”You must not see him,” she said in rapid French. ”Remain here, and I shall telephone for your father. Lock your door. He may come up. He will do anything, that man.”

”I am going down,” Lily said quietly. ”I owe him that. You need not be frightened. And don't tell mother; it will only worry her and do no good.”

Her heart was beating fast as she went down the stairs. From the drawing room came the voices of Grace and Mrs. Denslow, chatting amiably. The second man was carrying in tea, the old silver service gleaming. Over all the lower floor was an air of peace and comfort, the pa.s.sionless atmosphere of daily life running in old and easy grooves.

When Lily entered the library she closed the door behind her. She had, on turning, a swift picture of Grayson, taking up his stand in the hall, and it gave her a sense of comfort. She knew he would remain there, impa.s.sively waiting, so long as Akers was in the house.

Then she faced the man standing by the center table. He made no move toward her, did not even speak at once. It left on her the burden of the opening, of setting the key of what was to come. She was steady enough now.

”Perhaps it is as well that you came, Louis,” she said. ”I suppose we must talk it over some time.”

”Yes,” he agreed, his eyes on her. ”We must. I have married a wife, and I want her, Lily.”

”You know that is impossible.”

”Because of something that happened before I knew you? I never made any pretensions about my life before we met. But I did promise to go straight if you'd have me, and I have. I've lived up to my bargain. What about you?”

”It was not a part of my bargain to marry you while you--I have thought and thought, Louis. There is only one thing to be done. You will have to divorce me, and marry her.”

”Marry her? A girl of the streets, who chooses to say that I am the father of her child! It's the oldest trick in the word. Besides--” He played his best card--”she won't marry me. Ask Cameron, who chose to make himself so d.a.m.ned busy about my affairs. He's in love with her. Ask him.”

In spite of herself Lily winced. Out of the wreckage of the past few weeks one thing had seemed to remain, something to hold to, solid and dependable and fine, and that had been w.i.l.l.y Cameron. She had found, in these last days, something infinitely comforting in the thought that he cared for her. It was because he had cared that he had saved her from herself. But, if this were true--