Part 19 (1/2)
She blushed--looked down and up again--betrayed, in fact, all the signs of confusion which might have been expected from her.
”Must I tell you that?” she asked.
”You are married, are you not?” Peter Ruff asked, looking down at her wedding ring.
She bit her lip with vexation. What a fool she had been not to take it off!
”Yes! Well, no--that is to say--”
”Never mind,” Peter Ruff interrupted. ”Please don't think that I want to cross-examine you. I only asked these questions because I have a sincere regard for Fitzgerald. I know how fond he was of you, and I cannot see what there is to be gained, from his point of view, by reopening old wounds.”
”I suppose, then,” she remarked, looking at him in such a manner that Miss Brown had to cover her mouth with her hands to prevent her screaming out--”I suppose you are one of those who think it a crime for a woman who is married even to want to see, for a few moments, an old sweetheart?”
”On the contrary,” Peter Ruff answered, ”as a bachelor, I have no convictions of any sort upon the subject.”
She sighed.
”I am glad of that,” she said.
”I am to understand, then,” Peter Ruff remarked, ”that your reason for wis.h.i.+ng to meet Mr. Fitzgerald again is purely a sentimental one?”
”I am afraid it is,” she murmured; ”I have thought of him so often lately. He was such a dear!” she declared, with enthusiasm.
”I have never been sufficiently thankful,” she continued, ”that he got away that night. At the time, I was very angry, but often since then I have wished that I could have pa.s.sed out with him into the fog and been lost--but I mustn't talk like this! Please don't misunderstand me, Mr.
Ruff. I am happily married--quite happily married!”
Peter Ruff sighed.
”My friend Fitzgerald,” he remarked, ”will be glad to hear that.”
Maud fidgeted. It was not quite the effect she had intended to produce!
”Of course,” she remarked, looking away with a pensive air, ”one has regrets.”
”Regrets!” Peter Ruff murmured.
”Mr. Dory is not well off,” she continued, ”and I am afraid that I am very fond of life and going about, and everything is so expensive nowadays. Then I don't like his profession. I think it is hateful to be always trying to catch people and put them in prison--don't you, Mr.
Ruff?”
Peter Ruff smiled.
”Naturally,” he answered. ”Your husband and I work from the opposite poles of life. He is always seeking to make criminals of the people whom I am always trying to prove worthy members of society.”
”How n.o.ble!” Maud exclaimed, clasping her hands and looking up at him.
”So much more remunerative, too, I should think,” she added, after a moment's pause.
”Naturally,” Peter Ruff admitted. ”A private individual will pay more to escape from the clutches of the law than the law will to secure its victims. Scotland Yard expects them to come into its arms automatically--regards them as a perquisite of its existence.”
”I wish my husband were in your profession, Mr. Ruff,” Maud said, with a sidelong glance of her blue eyes which she had always found so effective upon her various admirers. ”I am sure that I should be a great deal fonder of him.”