Part 5 (2/2)

”For whom is this prescription required?” he asked.

”For my mistress,” the man answered. ”Her name is there.”

”Where is she?”

”Outside; she is waiting for it.”

”If she really wants this made up to-night,” the chemist declared, ”she must come in and sign the book.”

The footman looked across the counter, for a moment, a little blankly.

”Am I to tell her that?” he inquired. ”It's only a sleeping draught. Her regular chemist makes it up all right.”

”That may be,” the man behind the counter replied, ”but, you see, I am not her regular chemist. You had better go and tell her so.”

The footman departed upon his errand without a glance at the girl who was sitting within a few feet of him.

”I am very sorry, madam,” he announced to his mistress, ”that the chemist declines to make up the prescription unless you sign the book.”

”Very well, then, I will come,” she declared.

The woman, handed from the automobile by her servant, lifted her white satin skirts in both hands and stepped lightly across the pavement.

Tavernake stood on one side to let her pa.s.s. She seemed to him to be, indeed, a creature of that other world of which he knew nothing. Her slow, graceful movements, the s.h.i.+mmer of her skirt, her silk stockings, the flas.h.i.+ng of the diamond buckles upon her shoes, the faint perfume from her clothes, the soft touch of her ermine as she swept by--all these things were indeed strange to him. His eyes followed her with rapt interest as she approached the counter.

”You wish me to sign for my prescription?” she asked the chemist. ”I will do so, with pleasure, if it is necessary, only you must not keep me waiting long.”

Her voice was very low and very musical; the slight smile which had parted her tired lips, was almost pathetic. Even the chemist felt himself to be a human being. He turned at once to his shelves and began to prepare the drug.

”I am sorry, madam, that it should have been necessary to fetch you in,”

he said, apologetically. ”My a.s.sistant will give you the book if you will kindly sign it.”

The a.s.sistant dived beneath the counter, reappearing almost immediately with a black volume and a pen and ink. The chemist was engrossed upon his task; Tavernake's eyes were still riveted upon this woman, who seemed to him the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in life. No one was watching the girl. The chemist was the first to see her face, and that only in a looking gla.s.s. He stopped in the act of mixing his drug and turned slowly round. His expression was such that they all followed his eyes. The girl was sitting up in her chair, with a sudden spot of color burning in her cheeks, her fingers gripping the counter as though for support, her eyes dilated, unnatural, burning in their white setting with an unholy fire. The lady was the last to turn her head, and the bottle of eau-de-cologne which she had taken up from the counter, slipped with a crash to the floor. All expression seemed to pa.s.s from her face; the very life seemed drawn from it. Those who were watching her saw suddenly an old woman looking at something of which she was afraid.

The girl seemed to find an unnatural strength. She dragged herself up and turned wildly to Tavernake.

”Take me away,” she cried, in a low voice. ”Take me away at once.”

The woman at the counter did not speak. Tavernake stepped quickly forward and then hesitated. The girl was on her feet now and she clutched at his arms. Her eyes besought him.

”You must take me away, please,” she begged, hoa.r.s.ely. ”I am well now--quite well. I can walk.”

Tavernake's lack of imagination stood him in good stead then. He simply did what he was told, did it in perfectly mechanical fas.h.i.+on, without asking any questions. With the girl leaning heavily upon his arm, he stepped into the street and almost immediately into a pa.s.sing taxicab which he had hailed from the threshold of the shop. As he closed the door, he glanced behind him. The woman was standing there, half turned towards him, still with that strange, stony look upon her lifeless face. The chemist was bending across the counter towards her, wondering, perhaps, if another incident were to be drawn into his night's work. The eau-de-cologne was running in a little stream across the floor.

”Where to, sir?” the taxicab driver asked Tavernake.

”Where to?” Tavernake repeated.

The girl was clinging to his arm.

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