Part 7 (1/2)
The girl at his side laughed softly and lightly. ”A lifetime is not long,” she said, ”when you are locked in a room and a madman is shooting at you. It may last only an hour.”
”Whether it lasts an hour or many years,” said Ford, ”it can mean to me now only one thing----” He turned quickly and looked in her face boldly and steadily: ”You,” he said.
The girl did not avoid his eyes, but returned his glance with one as steady as his own. ”You are an amusing person,” she said. ”Do you feel it is necessary to keep up my courage with pretty speeches?”
”I made no pretty speech,” said Ford. ”I proclaimed a fact. You are the most charming person that ever came into my life, and whether Prothero shoots us up, or whether we live to get back to G.o.d's country, you will never leave it.”
The girl pretended to consider his speech critically. ”It would be almost a compliment,” she said, ”if it were intelligent, but when you know nothing of me--it is merely impertinent.”
”I know this much of you,” returned Ford, calmly; ”I know you are fine and generous, for your first speech to me, in spite of your own danger, was for my safety. I know you are brave, for I see you now facing death without dismay.”
He was again suddenly halted by, two sharp reports. They came from the room directly below them. It was no longer possible to pretend to misinterpret their significance.
”Prothero!” exclaimed Ford, ”and his pistol!”
They waited breathlessly for what might follow: an outcry, the sound of a body falling, a third pistol-shot. But throughout the house there was silence.
”If you really think we are in such danger,” declared Miss Dale, ”we are wasting time!”
”We are NOT wasting time,” protested Ford; ”we are really gaining time, for each minute Cuthbert and the police are drawing nearer, and to move about only invites a bullet. And, what is of more importance,” he went on quickly, as though to turn her mind from the mysterious pistol-shots, ”should we get out of this alive, I shall already have said what under ordinary conditions I might not have found the courage to tell you in many months.” He waited as though hopeful of a reply, but Miss Dale remained silent. ”They say,” continued Ford, ”when a man is drowning his whole life pa.s.ses in review. We are drowning, and yet I find I can see into the past no further than the last half-hour. I find life began only then, when I looked through the bars of that window and found YOU!”
With the palm of her hand the girl struck the floor sharply. ”This is neither the time,” she exclaimed, ”nor the place to----”
”I did not choose the place,” Ford pointed out. ”It was forced upon me with a gun. But the TIME is excellent. At such a time one speaks only what is true.”
”You certainly have a strange sense of humor,” she said, ”but when you are risking your life to help me, how can I be angry?”
”Of course you can't,” Ford agreed heartily; ”you could not be so conventional.”
”But I AM conventional!” protested Miss Dale. ”And I am not USED to having young men tell me they have 'come into my life to stay'--certainly not young men who come into my life by way of a trap-door, and without an introduction, without a name, without even a hat! It's absurd! It's not real! It's a nightmare!”
”The whole situation is absurd!” Ford declared. ”Here we are in the heart of London, surrounded by telephones, taxicabs, police--at least, hope we are surrounded by police and yet we are crawling around the floor on our hands and knees dodging bullets. I wish it were a nightmare. But, as it's not”--he rose to his feet--”I think I'll try----”
He was interrupted by a sharp blow upon the door and the voice of Prothero.
”You, navy officer!” he panted. ”Come to the door! Stand close to it so that I needn't shout. Come, quick!”
Ford made no answer. Motioning to Miss Dale to remain where she was, he ran noiselessly to the bed, and from beneath the mattress lifted one of the iron bars upon which it rested. Grasping it at one end, he swung the bar swiftly as a man tests the weight of a baseball bat. As a weapon it seemed to satisfy him, for he smiled. Then once more he placed himself with his back to the wall. ”Do you hear me?” roared Prothero.
”I hear you!” returned Ford. ”If you want to talk to me, open the door and come inside.”
”Listen to me,” called Prothero. ”If I open the door you may act the fool, and I will have to shoot you, and I have made up my mind to let you live. You will soon have this house to yourselves. In a few moments I will leave it, but where I am going I'll need money, and I want the bank-notes in that blue envelope.” Ford swung the iron club in short half-circles.
”Come in and get them!” he called.
”Don't trifle with me!” roared the Jew, ”I may change my mind. Shove the money through the crack under the door.”
”And get shot!” returned Ford. ”Not bit like it!”
”If, in one minute,” shouted Prothero, ”I don't see the money coming through that crack, I'll begin shooting through this door, and neither of you will live!”