Part 27 (1/2)
”Even before I saw--Mr. Dundas,” she went on, ”I had the idea of calling on you--about a different matter. I think it would be more honest of me, if before I go on I tell you that--quite by accident, so far as I was concerned--I was with someone who saw Mr. Dundas go to your house last night, a little after twelve. I didn't dream of spying on--either of you. It just happened, it wouldn't interest you to know how. Yet--I beg of you to tell me one thing. Was he with you for long--so long that he couldn't have got to the other place in time to commit the murder?”
”He was in my house until after one,” I said boldly. ”But you, if you are his friend, ought to know him well enough to be certain without such an a.s.surance from me, that he is no murderer.”
”Oh, I am certain,” she protested. ”I asked the question, not for that reason, but to know if you could really prove his innocence, if you choose. Now, I find you can. When I read the papers this afternoon, at first I wanted to rush off to the police and tell them where he had been while the murder was being committed. But I didn't know how long he had stopped in your house, and, besides--”
”You would have dared to do that!” I broke in, the blood, angry blood, stinging my cheeks more hotly than it stung hers.
”It wasn't a question of daring,” she answered. ”I thought of him more than of you; but I thought of you, too. I knew that if I were in your place, no matter how much harm I might do to myself, I would confess that he had been in my house.”
”There are reasons why I can't tell that he was there,” I said, trying to awe her by speaking coldly and proudly. ”His visit was entirely on business. But Mr. Dundas understands why I must keep silence, and he approves. You know he has remained silent himself.”
”For your sake, because he is a gentleman--brave and chivalrous. Would you take advantage of that?”
”You take advantage of me,” I flung back at the girl, looking her up and down. ”You pretend that you came from Mr. Dundas with a pressing message for me. Do you want me to believe _this_ his message? I think too well of him.”
”I don't want you to believe that,” she answered. ”I haven't come to the message yet. I have earned a right to speak to you first, on my own account.”
”In twelve minutes I must be on the stage,” I said.
”The stage!” she echoed. ”You can go on acting just the same, though he is in prison--for you!”
”I must go on acting. If I didn't, I should do him more harm than good.”
”I won't keep you beyond your time. But I beg that you _will_ do him good. If you care for him at all, you must want to save him.”
”If I care for him?” I repeated, in surprise. ”You think--oh, but I understand now. You are the girl he spoke of.”
She blushed deeply, and then grew pale.
”I did not think he would speak of me,” she said. ”I wish he hadn't.
But, if you know everything, the little there is to know, you must see that you have nothing to fear from any rivalry of mine, Mademoiselle de Renzie.”
”Why,” I exclaimed, ”you speak as if you thought Ivor Dundas my lover.”
”I don't know what you are to each other,” she faltered, all her coolness deserting her. ”That isn't my affair--”
”But I say it is. You shall not make such a mistake. Mr. Dundas cares nothing for me, except as a friend. He never did, though we flirted a little a year ago, to amuse ourselves. Now, I am engaged to marry a man whom I wors.h.i.+p. I would gladly die for him. Ivor Dundas knows that, and is glad. But the other man is jealous. He wouldn't understand--he would want to kill me and himself and Ivor Dundas, if he knew that Ivor was in my house last night. He was there too, and I lied to him about Ivor. How could I expect him to believe the real truth now? He is a man. But _you_ will believe, because you are a woman, like myself, and I think the woman Ivor Dundas loves.”
Her beautiful eyes brightened. ”He told you--that?”
”He told me he loved a girl, and was afraid that he would lose her because of the business which brought him to me. You seem to have been as unreasonable with him, as Ra--as the man I love could be with me.
Poor Ivor! Last night was not the first time that he sacrificed himself for chivalry and honour. Yet you blame me! Look to yourself, Miss Forrest.”
”I--I don't blame you,” she stammered, a sob in her voice. ”Only I beg you to save him, from grat.i.tude, if not from love.”
”It's true I owe him a debt of grat.i.tude, deeper than you know,” I answered. ”He is worth trusting--worth saving, at the expense of almost any sacrifice. But I can't sacrifice the man I love for him.”
She looked thoughtful. ”You say the man you were engaged to was at your house while Ivor was there?”