Part 89 (1/2)

”The Garden House!”

”Garden House, sir? Inner court left-hand corner.”

John pa.s.sed through. ”That will be remembered afterward,” he thought.

”But no matter--it will all be over then.”

And coming out of the close streets, with their clatter of traffic, into the cool gardens, with their odour of moistened gra.s.s, the dull glow in the sky, and the glimpse of the stars through the tree-tops, his mind went back by a sudden bound to another night, when he had walked over the same spot with Glory. At that there came a spasm of tenderness, and his throat thickened. He could almost see her, and feel her by his side, with her fragrant freshness and buoyant step. ”O G.o.d! must I do it, must I, must I?” he thought again.

But another memory of that night came back to him; he heard Drake's voice as it floated over the quiet place. Then the same upheaval of hatred which he had felt before he felt again. The man was the girl's ruin; he had tempted her by love of dress, of fame, of the world's vanities and follies of every sort. This made him think for the first time of how he might find her. He might find her with _him_. They would come back from the Derby together. He would bring her home, and they would sup in company. The house would be lit up; the windows thrown open; they would be playing and singing and laughing, and the sounds of their merriment would come down to him into the darkness below.

All the better, all the better! He would do it before the man's face.

And when it was done, when all was over, when she lay there--lay there--there--he would turn on the man and say: ”Look at her, the sweetest girl that ever breathed the breath of life, the dearest, truest woman in all the world! You have done that--you--you--you--and G.o.d d.a.m.n you!”

His tortured heart was afire, and his brain was reeling. Before he knew where he was he had pa.s.sed from the outer court into the inner one.

”Here it is--this is the house,” he thought. But it was all dark. Just a few lights burning, but they had been carefully turned down. The windows were closed, the blinds were drawn, and there was not a sound anywhere!

He stood some minutes trying to think, and during that time the mood of frenzy left him and the low cunning came back. Then he rang the bell.

There was no answer, so he rang again. After a while he heard a footstep that seemed to come up from below. Still the door was not opened, and he rang a third time.

”Who's there?” said a voice within.

”It is I--open the door,” he answered.

”Who are you?” said the voice, and he replied impatiently:

”Come, come, Liza, open, and see.”

Then the catch lock was shot back. At the next moment he was in the hall, shutting the door behind him, and Liza was looking up into his face with eyes of mingled fear and relief.

”Lor', sir, whyever didn't you say it was you?”

”Where's your mistress?”

”Gone to the office, and won't be back till morning. And Miss Gloria isn't home from the races yet.”

”I must see her to-night--I'll wait upstairs.”

”You must excuse me, sir--Farver, I mean--but I wouldn't a-known your voice, it seemed so different. And me that sleepy too, being on the go since six in the mornin'----”

”Go to bed, Liza. You sleep in the kitchen, don't you?”

”Yes, sir, thank you, I think I will, too. Miss Gloria can let herself in, anyway, same as comin' from the theatre. But can I git ye anythink?

No? Well, you know your wye up, sir, down't ye?”

”Yes, yes; good-night, Liza!”