Part 38 (1/2)
”It's late. I think I had better see you safely home.”
”I dare say our watchman has found himself a comfortable bed--”
”The slumbers of night-watchmen are notoriously deep.”
”And Papa La Branche has finished his solitaire. There is no danger.”
No one was in sight as they stole in through the driveway to the servants' door. She gave him her hand, and he pressed it closely, whispering:
”When shall I see you again?”
”After the quarantine. I can do nothing until then.”
”You will go back to Oliveta's house?”
”Yes, but you must never come there, even in daylight.” She thought for a moment while he still retained her hand. ”I will instruct you later--” She broke off suddenly, and at the same instant Blake heard a stir in the darkness behind him.
Vittoria drew him quickly into the black shadows of the rear porch, where they stood close together, afraid to move until the man had pa.s.sed. The kitchen gallery was s.h.i.+elded by a latticework covered with vines, and Blake felt reasonably safe within its shelter. He was beginning to breathe easier when a voice barely an arm's-length away inquired, gruffly:
”Who's there?”
He would have given something handsome to be out of this foolish predicament, which he knew must be very trying to his companion. But the fates were against him. To his horror, the man struck a match and mounting the steps to the porch flashed it directly into his face.
”Good evening,” said Blake, with rather a weak attempt at a.s.surance.
”What are you doing here?” the guard demanded. ”Don't you know that this house is quarantined?”
”I do. Kindly lower your voice; there are people asleep.”
The fellow's eyes took in the girl in her stiffly starched uniform before the match burned out and darkness engulfed them once more.
”I'm not a burglar.”
”Humph! I don't know whether you are or not.”
”I a.s.sure you,” urged Vittoria.
”Strike another match and I'll prove to you that I'm not dangerous.”
When the light flared up once more Norvin selected a card from his case and handed it to the watchman. ”I am Norvin Blake, president of the Cotton Exchange.”
But this information failed of the desired effect.
”Oh, I know you, but this ain't exactly the right time to be calling on a lady.”
Vittoria felt her companion's muscles stiffen.
”I will explain my presence later,” he said, stiffly; then, turning to Vittoria, ”I am sorry I disturbed this estimable man. Good night.”
”Just a minute,” the watchman broke in. ”You needn't say good night.”