Part 49 (1/2)

He opened his arms wide, but with a smothered cry she backed away, placing the table between them.

”No!” she protested; and the words were almost sobs--”No!”

”Yes!” he exclaimed exultantly. ”Yes! A thousand times yes! It must be so!”

With a swift movement she seized her m.u.f.f and scarf from the chair and fled to the door. There pausing, she turned, her face white and blazing.

”It is not true!” she cried. ”You are mistaken. Do you hear me? You are utterly mistaken. I do not love you. You are mad to think it. I have just told you I don't love you. I am afraid of you; I daren't stay with you for fear of you. I--I despise you!”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”I do not love you. You are mad to think it”]

”I don't believe it!” he cried, advancing.

But she was gone. The hall door slammed before he could reach it.

He halted, turned back, his whole long body shaking, his face wrung with fear and uncertainty.

”Good G.o.d!” he cried--”which of us is right--she or I?”

XXI

BLACK OUT

Toward eight in the evening, after a day-long search through all his accustomed haunts, Ember ran Whitaker to earth in the dining-room of the Primordial. The young man, alone at table, was in the act of topping off an excellent dinner with a still more excellent cordial and a super-excellent cigar. His person seemed to diffuse a generous atmosphere of contentment and satisfaction, no less mental than physical and singularly at variance with his appearance, which, moreover, was singularly out of keeping not only with his surroundings but also with his normal aspect.

He wore rough tweeds, and they were damp and baggy; his boots were muddy; his hair was a trifle disorderly. The ensemble made a figure wildly incongruous to the soberly splendid and stately dining-hall of the Primordial Club, with its spa.r.s.e patronage of members in evening-dress.

Ember, himself as severely beautiful in black and white as the ceremonious livery of to-day permits a man to be, was wonder-struck at sight of Whitaker in such unconventional guise, at such a time, in such a place. With neither invitation nor salutation, he slipped into a chair on the other side of the table, and stared.

Whitaker smiled benignantly upon him, and called a waiter.

Ember, always abstemious, lifted his hand and smiled a negative smile.

Whitaker dismissed the waiter.

”Well...?” he inquired cheerfully.

”What right have you got to look like that?” Ember demanded.

”The right of every free-born American citizen to make an a.s.s of himself according to the dictates of his conscience. I've been exploring the dark backwards and abysm of the Bronx--afoot. Got caught in the rain on the way home. Was late getting back, and dropped in here to celebrate.”

”I've been looking for you everywhere, since morning.”

”I suspected you would be. That's why I went walking--to be lonesome and thoughtful for once in a way.”

Ember stroked his chin with thoughtful fingers.

”You've heard the news, then?”