Part 24 (1/2)

”Not at all! We must put the Resolution.”

”Come Miss!--” said the tall constable behind Winnington--”no use talking! There's a lot of fellows here that mean mischief. You go with this gentleman. He'll look after you.”

”Not without my friend!” cried Delia, both hands behind her on the edge of the waggon--erect and defiant. ”Gertrude!--” she raised her voice--”What do you wish to do?”

But amid the din, her appeal was not heard.

Gertrude Marvell however could be clearly seen on the other side of the waggon, with Paul Lathrop beside her, listening to the remonstrances and entreaties of Andrews, with a smile as cool, as though she were in the drawing-room of Maumsey Abbey, and the Captain were inviting her to trifle with a cup of tea.

”Take her along, Sir!” said the policeman, with a nod to Winnington.

”It's getting ugly.” And as he spoke, a man jumped upon the waggon, a Latchford doctor, an acquaintance of Winnington's, who said something in his ear.

The next moment, a fragment of a bottle, flung from a distance, struck Winnington on the wrist. The blood rushed out, and Delia, suddenly white, looked from it to Winnington's face. The only notice he took of the incident was expressed in the instinctive action of rolling his handkerchief round it. But it stirred him to lay a grasp upon Delia's arm, which she could hardly have resisted. She did not, however, resist. She felt herself lifted down from the waggon, and hurried along, the police keeping back the crowd, into the open door of the hotel. Shouts of a populace half enraged, half amused, pursued her.

”Brutes--Cowards!” she gasped, between her teeth--then to Winnington--”Where are you taking me? I have the car!”

”There's a motor belonging to a doctor ready at once in the yard of the hotel. Better let me take you home in it. Andrews, I a.s.sure you, will look after Miss Marvell!”

They pa.s.sed through the brilliantly-lighted inn, where landlady, chambermaids, and waiters stood grinning in rows to see, and Winnington hurried his charge into the closed motor standing at the inn's back door.

”Take the street behind the hotel, and get out by the back of the town.

Be quick!” said Winnington to the chauffeur.

Booing groups had already begun to gather at the entrance of the yards, and in the side street to which it led. The motor pa.s.sed slowly through them, then quickened its pace, and in what seemed an incredibly short time, they were in country lanes.

Delia leant hack, drawing long breaths of fatigue and excitement. Then she perceived with disgust that her dress was bemired with sc.r.a.ps of dirty refuse, and that some mud was dripping from her hat. She took off the hat, shook it out of the window of the car, but could not bring herself to put it on again. Her hair, loosely magnificent, framed a face that was now all colour and pa.s.sion. She hated herself, she hated the crowd; it seemed to her she hated the man at her side. Suddenly Winnington turned on the electric light--with an exclamation.

”So sorry to be a nuisance--but have you got a spare handkerchief? I'm afraid I shall spoil your dress!”

And Delia saw, to her dismay, that his own handkerchief which he had originally tied round his wound was already soaked, and the blood was dripping from it on to the motor-rug.

”Yes--yes--I have!” And opening her little wrist-bag, she took out of it two spare handkerchiefs, and tied them, with tremulous hands, round the wrist he held out to her,--a wrist brown and spare and powerful, like the rest of him.

”Now--have you got anything you could tie round the arm, above the wound--and then twist the knot?”

She thought.

”My veil!” She slipped it off in a moment, a long motor veil of stout make. He turned towards her, pus.h.i.+ng up his coat sleeve as high as it would go, and shewing her where to put the bandage. She helped him to turn back his s.h.i.+rt sleeve, and then wound the veil tightly round the arm, so as to compress the arteries. Her fingers were warm and strong.

He watched them--he felt their touch--with a curious pleasure.

”Now, suppose you take this pencil, and twist it in the knot--you know how? Have you done any First Aid?”

She nodded.

”I know.”

She did it well. The tourniquet acted, and the bleeding at once slackened.

”All right!” said Winnington, smiling at her. ”Now if I keep it up that ought to do!” She drew down the sleeve, and he put his hand into the motor-strap hanging near him, which supported it. Then he threw his head back a moment against the cus.h.i.+ons of the car. The sudden loss of blood on the top of a long fast, had made him feel momentarily faint.