Part 96 (1/2)
”You are determined to go?” Dan demanded angrily.
”I must go,” she rejoined.
”It is going to the devil, then,” said Dan deliberately; ”and I always said you would. Remember, you don't return to this house!”
When Beth arrived in town, she found that there would be no need to appear in the case at all, for the Kilroys' old butler Roberts had seen the name of Mr. Alfred Cayley Pounce in the papers, and had unwittingly frustrated his manoeuvre by going to the coroner's court himself and volunteering to give evidence. He was accompanied by the footman who had been out with the carriage on the night in question, and the two together had no difficulty in proving an alibi. Thus, in an ordinary commonplace manner, what had promised to be the triumph of his life, the moment when he should stand confessed to the world a chivalrous gentleman, sacrificing himself to save a lady of prepossessing appearance, was converted into another of the many failures of Mr. Alfred Cayley Pounce. This ended the case so far as he and Beth were concerned; but with regard to Dan, Beth recognised that her position remained the same. There was no return for her from the step she had taken, and she would have to begin her life anew.
CHAPTER L
Beth went out into the world alone, knowingly and willingly. The prospect had no terrors for her, neither did she feel any regret for the past. She took it all as a matter of course. The days with Dan at Slane were over, but life had still to be lived, and she set to work to arrange it and live it to the best of her ability; what she most urgently felt being merely that there were things she must see to at once and settle about, and that she was rather pushed for time. The first thing she did in London was to buy a map so that she might find her way about economically, and some newspapers recommended to her by the stationers as likely to have advertis.e.m.e.nts of respectable lodgings in them. She studied these over a cup of coffee and a roll, cut all the promising addresses out of the papers, found on the map the best way to go by omnibus or railway, and then set off on her quest, taking the red Hammersmith 'bus first of all, and explored West Kensington. Her efforts in that direction were not successful.
Everything she saw at first was dear, dingy, and disheartening.
Landladies, judging her by her appearance, would only show her their best rooms. When she explained that all she wanted was a nice, clean, roomy attic because she was poor, they became suspicious, and declared that she wasn't likely to get anything of that sort in a good neighbourhood. Beth wondered what the bad neighbourhoods were like if the one she was in were a good one. Later in the afternoon she found herself on the Bayswater side in a street of tall houses off the main thoroughfare. They were good houses, that must have been built for the families of affluent people, and Beth was afraid it would be useless to ask at any of them for the modest kind of accommodation which was all she could afford. While she hesitated, however, standing in the street before the one she had come to find, the hall-door opened, and a young man came out. He and Beth looked at each other as he ran down the steps, and Beth saw something so attractive in his face that she spoke to him without hesitation.
”Can you tell me,” she said, ”if they have any attics to let at a moderate price in this house?”
”Well, _I_ got one out of them,” he said, smiling, ”and I guess there's another empty that would just about hold you, dress boxes and all. I'll ring the bell, if you'll allow me, and get Ethel Maud Mary to show you up. You'll make a better bargain with her than with her ma.”
The door was opened at this moment by a grimy servant.
”Gwendolen, will you give my compliments to Miss Ethel, if you please,” the young man said with grave formality, ”and ask her if she will be so good as to speak to me here for a moment.”
Gwendolen nodded and retired to the back regions, whence presently a plump, fair-complexioned, yellow-haired young person came hurrying with a look of inquiry on her face.
”Oh, Miss Ethel,” the young man began, taking off his hat, ”I'm real sorry to trouble you, but I want to introduce this young lady. I've been recommending her to get a room here. I know she'll find you moderate and comfortable, and the situation is one of the best for getting into town.”
Beth recognised the wording of the advertis.e.m.e.nt that had brought her to the house.
”It _is_ handy,” Miss Ethel agreed. ”But we've nothing but an attic unlet. Are you in Art, miss?”
”No, Literature,” Beth answered, with presence of mind.
”_Lady's_, I suppose?” Ethel Maud Mary observed, meaning lady's papers, and glancing at Beth's dress. ”You've got to be smart for that, and it doesn't leave much for living. Come this way, miss, please. And thank you, Mr. Brock, for mentioning us.”
She led the way upstairs, talking all the time with cheerful inconsequence. ”He's a real gentleman is Mr. Brock, as doubtless you know, though an American, and dry, and you never know which is his fun; and in Art, which is not much to reckon on, and that's why I thought that you might be, though you do look more like Fas.h.i.+on. Art is apt to be towzled, but why, goodness knows. You're not used to the stairs, I see. I wish it wasn't such a height up.”
”Oh, I don't mind the height, if the price is proportionately low,”
Beth said. ”I must live within my means, and keep out of debt, you know.”
”That's a rhyme--low and you know. Did you do it on purpose?” Ethel Maud Mary asked with interest.
”No,” said Beth.
”Then that's for luck,” said Ethel. ”You'll keep out of debt all right. I see it in your face. And I know a face when I see it. They'll keep you on the _Lady's_ for the sake of your appearance, even if you're not much use. You're elegant and speak nice, and that's what they want to go about for them, particularly if it's a man.”
”If what is a man?” Beth asked.
”The editor, you know. We 'ad a young lady here who used to say she'd undertake to get an extra half-sovereign out of any editor in town; but editresses there was no managing. Which is yours?”