Part 21 (1/2)
”Well?”
”That gentleman is a friend of mine, related to the lady who lives with me. If I call on him and ask him to persuade you to go and not return, he will do so.”
”Oh, he will, and what then?”
”I don't understand you--what then? Why did you come here uninvited? Why did you send an untruthful message by my servant--that I would not recognise your name?”
”Trying to bluff me, aren't you?” Slotman said. He looked her in the eyes. ”But it won't come off, Joan; no, my dear, I've been too busy of late to be taken in by your airs and defiance!” He laughed. ”I've been making quite a round, here, there, and everywhere, and all because of you, Joan--all because of you! Among other places I've been to,” he went on, seeing that she stood silent and unmoved, ”is Marlbury You remember it, eh? A nice little town, quiet though. I had a long talk with Miss Skinner--remember her, don't you, Joany?”
Her eyes glittered. ”Mr. Slotman, I am trying to understand what this means. Is it that you are mad or intoxicated? Why do you come here to me with all these statements? Why do you come here at all?”
”Marlbury,” he continued unmoved, ”a nice, quiet little place. I spent some time in the church there, and at the Council offices, looking for something, for something I didn't find, Joany--and didn't expect to find either, come to that, ha, ha!” He laughed. ”No, never expected to find, but, to make dead sure, I went to Morchester, and hunted there, Joany, and still I didn't find what I was looking for and knew I shouldn't find!”
”Mr. Slotman!”
”You aren't curious, are you? You won't ask what I was looking for, perhaps you can guess!” He took a step nearer to her. ”You can guess, can't you, Joany?” he said.
”I am not attempting to guess. I can only imagine that you are not in your sane senses. You will now go, and if you return--”
”Wait a moment. What I was looking for at Marlbury and Morchester and did not find--was evidence of a marriage having taken place in June, nineteen eighteen, between Hugh Alston and Joan Meredyth. But there's no such evidence, none! Ah, that touches you a bit, don't it? Now you begin to understand why I ain't taken in by your fine dignity!”
”You--you have been looking for--for evidence of a marriage--my marriage with--what do you mean?”
Her face was flushed, her eyes brilliant with anger.
”I mean that I am not a fool, though I was for a time. You took me in--I am not blaming you”--he paused--”not blaming you. You were only a girl, straight out of school. You didn't understand things, and the man--”
”What--do--you--mean?” she whispered.
”You left Miss Skinner's, said you were going to Australia, didn't you?
But you didn't go. Oh no, you didn't go! You know best where you went, but there's no proof of any marriage at Marlbury or Morchester. Now--now do you begin to understand?”
She did understand, a sense of horror came to her, horror and shame that this man should dare--dare to think evil of her! She felt that she wanted to strike him. She saw him as through a mist--his hateful face, the face she wanted to strike with all her might, and yet she was conscious of an even greater anger, a very pa.s.sion of hate and resentment against another man than this, against the man who had subjected her to these insults, this infamy. She gripped her hands hard.
”You--you will leave this house. If you ever dare to return I will have you flung out--you hear me? Go, and if you ever dare--”
”No, no you don't!” he said. ”Wait a moment. You can't take me in now!”
He laughed in her face. ”If I go I'll go all right, but you'll never hear the end of it. You're someone down here, aren't you? I have heard about you. You're a Meredyth, and the Meredyths used to hold their heads pretty high about here. But if you aren't careful I'll get talking, and if I talk I'll make this place too hot to hold you. You know what I mean. I hate threatening you, Joan, only you force me to do it.” His voice altered. ”I hate threatening, and you know why. It is because I love you, and I am willing to marry you--in spite of everything, you understand? In spite of everything!”
Joan threw out her hand and grasped at the edge of the table.
”My friend out there--am I to call for him? Are you driving me to do that? Shall I call him now?”
”If you like,” Slotman said. ”If you do, I'll have something to tell him of a marriage that never took place in June, nineteen eighteen, and of a man who came to my office to see you, and offered to marry you--as atonement. Oh yes, I heard--trust me! I don't let interviews take place in my offices that I don't know anything about!”
He was silent suddenly. There was that in her face that worried him, frightened him in spite of himself--a wild, staring look in her eyes; the whiteness of her cheeks, the whiteness even of her lips. There was a tragic look about her. He had seen something like it on the stage at some time. He realised that he might be goading her too far.
”I'll go now,” he said. ”I'll go and leave you to think it all out. You can rely on me not to say anything. I shan't humble you, or talk about you--not me! A man don't run down the girl he means to make his wife, and that's what I mean--Joan! In spite of everything, you understand, my girl?” He paused. ”In spite of everything, Joan, I'll still marry you!