A Millionaire of Yesterday

  CHAPTER XVI

  Ernestine Wendermott travelled back to London in much discomfort,being the eleventh occupant of a third-class carriage in a particularlyunpunctual and dilatory train. Arrived at Waterloo, she shook out herskirts with a little gesture of relief and started off to walk to theStrand. Half-way across the bridge she came face to face with a tall,good-looking young man who was hurrying in the opposite direction. Hestopped short as he recognised her, dropped his eyeglass, and uttered alittle exclamation of pleasure.

  "Ernestine, by all that's delightful! I am in luck to-day!"

  She smiled slightly and gave him her hand, but it was evident that thismeeting was not wholly agreeable to her.

  "I don't quite see where the luck comes in," she answered. "I have notime to waste talking to you now. I am in a hurry."

  "You will allow me," he said hopefully, "to walk a little way with you?"

  "I am not able to prevent it--if you think it worth while," sheanswered.

  He looked down--he was by her side now--in good-humoured protest.

  "Come, Ernestine," he said, "you mustn't bear malice against me. PerhapsI was a little hasty when I spoke so strongly about your work. I don'tlike your doing it and never shall like it, but I've said all I want to.You won't let it divide us altogether, will you?"

  "For the present," she answered, "it occupies the whole of my time, andthe whole of my thoughts."

  "To the utter exclusion, I suppose," he remarked, "of me?"

  She laughed gaily.

  "My dear Cecil! when have I ever led you to suppose for a moment that Ihave ever wasted any time thinking of you?"

  He was determined not to be annoyed, and he ignored both the speech andthe laugh.

  "May I inquire how you are getting on?"

  "I am getting on," she answered, "very well indeed. The Editor isbeginning to say very nice things to me, and already the men treat mejust as though I were a comrade! It is so nice of them!"

  "Is it?" he muttered doubtfully.

  "I have just finished," she continued, "the most important piece of workthey have trusted me with yet, and I have been awfully lucky. I havebeen to interview a millionaire!"

  "A man?"

  She nodded. "Of course!"

  "It isn't fit work for you," he exclaimed hastily.

  "You will forgive me if I consider myself the best judge of that," sheanswered coldly. "I am a journalist, and so long as it is honest work mysex doesn't count. If every one whom I have to see is as courteous to meas Mr. Trent has been, I shall consider myself very lucky indeed."

  "As who?" he cried.

  She looked up at him in surprise. They were at the corner of the Strand,but as though in utter forgetfulness of their whereabouts, he hadsuddenly stopped short and gripped her tightly by the arm. She shookherself free with a little gesture of annoyance.

  "Whatever is the matter with you, Cecil? Don't gape at me like that, andcome along at once, unless you want to be left behind. Yes, we are veryshort-handed and the chief let me go down to see Mr. Trent. He didn'texpect for a moment that I should get him to talk to me, but I did, andhe let me sketch the house. I am awfully pleased with myself I can tellyou."

  The young man walked by her side for a moment in silence. She looked upat him casually as they crossed the street, and something in his facesurprised her.

  "Why, Cecil, what on earth is the matter with you?" she exclaimed.

  He looked down at her with a new seriousness.

  "I was thinking," he said, "how oddly things turn out. So you have beendown to interview Mr. Scarlett Trent for a newspaper, and he was civilto you!"

  "Well, I don't see anything odd about that," she exclaimed impatiently."Don't be so enigmatical. If you've anything to say, say it! Don't lookat me like an owl!"

  "I have a good deal to say to you," he answered gravely. "How long shallyou be at the office?"

  "About an hour--perhaps longer."

  "I will wait for you!"

  "I'd rather you didn't. I don't want them to think that I go trailingabout with an escort."

  "Then may I come down to your flat? I have something really important tosay to you, Ernestine. It does not concern myself at all. It is whollyabout you. It is something which you ought to know."

  "You are trading upon my curiosity for the sake of a tea," she laughed."Very well, about five o'clock."

  He bowed and walked back westwards with a graver look than usual uponhis boyish face, for he had a task before him which was very little tohis liking. Ernestine swung open the entrance door to the "Hour", andpassed down the rows of desks until she reached the door at the furtherend marked "Sub-Editor." She knocked and was admitted at once.

  A thin, dark young man, wearing a pince-nez and smoking a cigarette,looked up from his writing as she entered. He waved her to a seat, buthis pen never stopped for a second.

  "Back, Miss Wendermott! Very good! What did you get?"

  "Interview and sketch of the house," she responded briskly.

  "Interview by Jove! That's good! Was he very difficult?"

  "Ridiculously easy! Told me everything I asked and a lot more. IfI could have got it all down in his own language it would have beenpositively thrilling."

  The sub-editor scribbled in silence for a moment or two. He had reachedan important point in his own work. His pen went slower, hesitated for amoment, and then dashed on with renewed vigour.

  "Read the first few sentences of what you've got," he remarked.

  Ernestine obeyed. To all appearance the man was engrossed in his ownwork, but when she paused he nodded his head appreciatively.

  "It'll do!" he said. "Don't try to polish it. Give it down, and see thatthe proofs are submitted to me. Where's the sketch?"

  She held it out to him. For a moment he looked away from his own workand took the opportunity to light a fresh cigarette. Then he nodded,hastily scrawled some dimensions on the margin of the little drawing andsettled down again to work.

  "It'll do," he said. "Give it to Smith. Come back at eight to look atyour proofs after I've done with them. Good interview! Good sketch!You'll do, Miss Wendermott."

  She went out laughing softly. This was quite the longest conversationshe had ever had with the chief. She made her way to the side of thefirst disengaged typist, and sitting in an easy-chair gave down hercopy, here and there adding a little but leaving it mainly in the rough.She knew whose hand, with a few vigorous touches would bring the wholething into the form which the readers of the "Hour", delighted in, andshe was quite content to have it so. The work was interesting and morethan an hour had passed before she rose and put on her gloves.

  "I am coming back at eight," she said, "but the proofs are to go in toMr. Darrel! Nothing come in for me, I suppose?"

  The girl shook her head, so Ernestine walked out into the street. Thenshe remembered Cecil Davenant and his strange manner--the story whichhe was even now waiting to tell her. She looked at her watch and after amoment's hesitation called a hansom.

  81, Culpole Street, she told him. "This is a little extravagant," shesaid to herself as the man wheeled his horse round, "but to-day I thinkthat I have earned it."