Part 25 (1/2)

She went out. The bar-tender crossing to him, Masters called for a whisky and soda. Tasted, then tilted the gla.s.s, and let the contents be soaked up by the sawdust on the floor. It was not a drink which he thought likely to benefit him. The Lambeth blend of whisky did not somehow seem to tickle his palate.

Watching through the saloon door, he presently saw the veiled woman come in through the hotel entrance, and ascend the stairs. Allowing half-a-minute to elapse, he pa.s.sed out and followed in her steps. As he commenced the ascent of the second flight he heard a door close; guessed it to be the door of room No. 15.

Reaching the pa.s.sage on the second floor he noted that the door of room No. 14 was shut. No. 15 was shut too. No. 16 was open. He paused on its threshold. Cast an eye round; not a soul was in the pa.s.sage; entered.

Then the door of No. 16 was shut too; shut, and the key turned on the inside.

A hurried glance satisfied him that it was an unoccupied room. He was glad of that; an explanation that he had entered to wash his hands would suffice, should need of such excuse arise. All the rooms, he guessed, were bedrooms on that floor.

A door was in the dividing wall of Nos. 15 and 16. To that Masters applied his ear. A sense of the contemptibility of the action was strong upon him; yet he could not refrain from acting so.

Something crossed his mind about the end justifying the means. It was a principle he had always violently combated; practice and theory are sometimes at variance. Shame was merged into a feeling of gladness: that there was no key in the lock; it made hearing easier. And he meant to go the whole length; to listen.

As he did so, reflected that such a despicable act as eavesdropping would have been impossible to him a month ago. Suggested to himself that she had brought him to it.

That is men's way--even the best of them.

CHAPTER XX

A HORRIBLE REVELATION

The man she had inquired for in the bar, Rigby--he guessed it was he--was speaking. A husky-toned voice, but the listener could plainly catch the words:

”There! Don't cry, old girl. I have broken my promise to you, I know.

You thought I had gone out of England, and I haven't. Well, I am going--going early to-morrow.”

”d.i.c.k!”

”Gospel truth, old girl. When I said good-bye last time, I meant it. But I got in with the boys and it was the old story. You know; I needn't tell you. I don't blame the boys; they think it a lark, that's all.

First one comes and then the other, and each one doesn't know how far I've gone already. I have myself to blame; no one else. I have been lying here over a fortnight with the D.T.'s--came out of them two days ago. Doctor says I shall be able to go abroad to-morrow. He's a good sort; says the Mediterranean cruise will be the thing to set me on my legs. You said so; he says so. He has been kind enough to see to things, booked my berth, and I am going to-morrow from St. Katharine's dock on _La Mascotte_.

”d.i.c.k!”

”I am speaking honest, old girl; I am going. I might have gone without writing to you to come up and see me, and you would have been spared this, but I couldn't. I felt that I wanted to say good-bye, old girl, because--because you've been so good to me--more than I deserve.

Because,” there was a quaver in the speaker's voice, ”because I believe it will be the last time.”

”d.i.c.k!”

The listener, a fierce pain at his heart, heard the catch in her voice, the gasping way in which she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the name. The man continued:

”It is possible to travel too far on the downward road. So far that you get lost for ever and ever in the valley. I have been down a great big distance. There is a presentiment in possession of me that, somehow, I shall never come back to England. That I shall never come back to worry you again!”

”d.i.c.k! d.i.c.k! d.i.c.k!”

The listening man could hear the heart-breaking sound; the woman's sobs as she spoke. Despite Rigby, despite all, his heart went out to her.

Involuntarily he stretched out his arms. They fell to his side again, empty. There was the door between.

”Don't cry. After all, it is perhaps for the best. See what a failure I am. If I drink myself to death perhaps it would be best. Pity it takes so long, that's all. See how like a blackguard I have behaved to you.”