Part 21 (1/2)
”On the contrary!” Wiley was the first to recover himself. ”A delightful surprise, my dear Angelica! Had I known you were coming directly home from the opera I would have offered my services.”
”I--I thought you were going on to the Judsons' dance,” Willa stammered.
”Evidently.” Angie sneered, looking from one to the other of them. ”I was mistaken also, it appears. I fancied you were indisposed, but that was a mere facon de parler, no doubt.--My cousin is getting on, isn't she, Starr?”
Willa flushed, but Starr Wiley replied easily:
”We were just renewing our acquaintances.h.i.+p, Miss Murdaugh and I met in Limasito, you know.”
”How unfortunate!” Angie t.i.ttered. ”Just when Willa was so successfully living down the past, too! It really wasn't tactful of you, Starr--”
”You are mistaken once more, Angelica!” Willa had risen and her very lips were white. ”I am not trying to live down the past, but to live up to it! If you will excuse me now--”
”Oh, don't let me interrupt your charming tete-a-tete,” shrugged Angie.
”I only stopped on my way to the Judsons' for my vanity case. The car is coming back for me.”
Wiley glanced quickly at Willa, then turned to her cousin.
”I am going on also. Will you give me a lift? I really dropped in just to say 'How-do-you-do'.”
”Good-night, Mr. Wiley.” Willa held out her hand to him.
”Good-night. Remember my prediction.” His eyes rested upon her daringly, their ardor for a fleeting instant unmasked as the other girl turned away. ”I am willing to stake my life that it will come true.”
She smiled, adopting his own light bantering tone.
”Is it worth so high a stake? Good-night, Angie.”
Without waiting for a reply, she bowed, and, turning, left them together.
CHAPTER XII
COALS OF FIRE
Willa paused in the vestibule of the shabby apartment-house and looked carefully up and down the street before venturing forth. The early dusk had fallen and the lamps were not yet alight, but the pa.s.sers-by were still clearly discernible in the gloom. The girl studied their movements for a time, and noting that none loitered or retraced their steps, she descended and made her way around the corner to where her car was waiting.
Dan Morrissey touched his cap with alacrity.
”One guy in a taxicab down the avenue there, Miss, and another across the street. Where to, now?”
”The little house on the Parkway, where you took me the first time,” she directed on a sudden impulse. ”When you drop me there, go straight back to the garage and wait until you get a call from me.”
”They're both stringing out behind us,” he announced, when they had traversed a mile or more in silence.
”That is what I wanted them to do,” Willa responded. ”Don't look back again, Dan; just go along as if you didn't know anyone was trailing. I'm glad you lighted up while you were waiting for me.”
The long, low car seemed to stretch out over the road like a lean horse in a speed that ate up the miles and more than one motor-cycle policeman gazed appraisingly after them, but they drove steadily ahead and drew up at length before the sagging gate.
Darkness had come and the little house looked bleak and deserted. As Willa sprang out of the car, Dan hesitated, and then volunteered: