XV
REFUGEES
Now, if Kirkwood's emotion was poignant, Mrs. Hallam's astonishmentparalleled, and her relief transcended it. In order to understand this itmust be remembered that while Mr. Kirkwood was aware of the lady's presencein Antwerp, on her part she had known nothing of him since he had soungallantly fled her company in Sheerness. She seemed to anticipate thateither Calendar or one of his fellows would be discovered at the door,--tohave surmised it without any excessive degree of pleasure.
Only briefly she hesitated, while her surprise swayed her; then with ahardening of the eyes and a curt little nod, "I'm sorry," she said withdecision, "but I am busy and can't see you now, Mr. Kirkwood"; andattempted to shut the door in his face.
Deftly Kirkwood forestalled her intention by inserting both a foot and acorner of the newly purchased hand-bag between the door and the jamb. Hehad dared too greatly to be thus dismissed. "Pardon me," he countered,unabashed, "but I wish to speak with Miss Calendar."
"Dorothy," returned the lady with spirit, "is engaged...."
She compressed her lips, knitted her brows, and with disconcertingsuddenness thrust one knee against the obstructing hand-bag; Kirkwood,happily, anticipated the movement just in time to reinforce the bag withhis own knee; it remained in place, the door standing open.
The woman flushed angrily; their glances crossed, her eyes flashing withindignation; but Kirkwood's held them with a level and unyielding stare.
"I intend," he told her quietly, "to see Miss Calendar. It's useless yourtrying to hinder me. We may as well understand each other, Madam, and I'lltell you now that if you wish to avoid a scene--"
"Dorothy!" the woman called over her shoulder; "ring for the porter."
"By all means," assented Kirkwood agreeably. "I'll send him for agendarme."
"You insolent puppy!"
"Madam, your wit disarms me--"
"What is the matter, Mrs. Hallam?" interrupted a voice from the other sideof the door. "Who is it?"
"Miss Calendar!" cried Kirkwood hastily, raising his voice.
"Mr. Kirkwood!" the reply came on the instant. She knew his voice! "Please,Mrs. Hallam, I will see Mr. Kirkwood."
"You have no time to waste with him, Dorothy," said the woman coldly. "Imust insist--"
"But you don't seem to understand; it is Mr. Kirkwood!" argued thegirl,--as if he were ample excuse for any imprudence!
Kirkwood's scant store of patience was by this time rapidly becomingexhausted. "I should advise you not to interfere any further, Mrs. Hallam,"he told her in a tone low, but charged with meaning.
How much did he know? She eyed him an instant longer, in sullen suspicion,then swung open the door, yielding with what grace she could. "Won't youcome in, Mr. Kirkwood?" she inquired with acidulated courtesy.
"If you press me," he returned winningly, "how can I refuse? You are toogood!"
His impertinence disconcerted even himself; he wondered that she did notslap him as he passed her, entering the room; and felt that he deserved it,despite her attitude. But such thoughts could not long trouble one whoseeyes were enchanted by the sight of Dorothy, confronting him in the middleof the dingy room, her hands, bristling dangerously with hat pins, busywith the adjustment of a small gray toque atop the wonder that was herhair. So vivacious and charming she seemed, so spirited and bright herwelcoming smile, so foreign was she altogether to the picture of her, wornand distraught, that he had mentally conjured up, that he stopped in anextreme of disconcertion; and dropped the hand-bag, smiling sheepishlyenough under her ready laugh--mirth irresistibly incited by theplainly-read play of expression on his mobile countenance.
"You must forgive the unconventionally, Mr. Kirkwood," she apologized,needlessly enough, but to cover his embarrassment. "I am on the point ofgoing out with Mrs. Hallam--and of course you are the last person on earthI expected to meet here!"
"It's good to see you, Miss Calendar," he said simply, remarking with muchsatisfaction that her trim walking costume bore witness to her statementthat she was prepared for the street.
The girl glanced into a mirror, patted the small, bewitching hat aninfinitesimal fraction of an inch to one side, and turned to him again,her hands free. One of them, small but cordial, rested in his grasp for aninstant all too brief, the while he gazed earnestly into her face,noting with concern what the first glance had not shown him,--the almostimperceptible shadows beneath her eyes and cheek-bones, pathetic records ofthe hours the girl had spent, since last he had seen her, in company withhis own grim familiar, Care.
Not a little of care and distress of mind had seasoned her portion in thosetwo weary days. He saw and knew it; and his throat tightened inexplicably,again, as it had out there in the corridor. Possibly the change in her hadpassed unchallenged by any eyes other than his, but even in the little timethat he had spent in her society, the image of her had become fixed soindelibly on his memory, that he could not now be deceived. She waschanged--a little, but changed; she had suffered, and was suffering and,forced by suffering, her nascent womanhood was stirring in the bud. Thechild that he had met in London, in Antwerp he found grown to woman'sstature and slowly coming to comprehension of the nature of the change inherself,--the wonder of it glowing softly in her eyes....
The clear understanding of mankind that is an appanage of woman's estate,was now added to the intuitions of a girl's untroubled heart. She couldnot be blind to the mute adoration of his gaze; nor could she resent it.Beneath it she colored and lowered her lashes.
"I was about to go out," she repeated in confusion. "I--it's pleasant tosee you, too."
"Thank you," he stammered ineptly; "I--I--"
"If Mr. Kirkwood will excuse us, Dorothy," Mrs. Hallam's sharp tones struckin discordantly, "we shall be glad to see him when we return to London."
"I am infinitely complimented, Mrs. Hallam," Kirkwood assured her; and ofthe girl quickly: "You're going back home?" he asked.
She nodded, with a faint, puzzled smile that included the woman. "After alittle--not immediately. Mrs. Hallam is so kind--"
"Pardon me," he interrupted; "but tell me one thing, please: have you anyone in England to whom you can go without invitation and be welcomed andcared for--any friends or relations?"
"Dorothy will be with me," Mrs. Hallam answered for her, with colddefiance.
Deliberately insolent, Kirkwood turned his back to the woman. "MissCalendar, will you answer my question for yourself?" he asked the girlpointedly.
"Why--yes; several friends; none in London, but--"
"Dorothy--"
"One moment, Mrs. Hallam," Kirkwood flung crisply over his shoulder. "I'mgoing to ask you something rather odd, Miss Calendar," he continued,seeking the girl's eyes. "I hope--"
"Dorothy, I--"
"If you please, Mrs. Hallam," suggested the girl, with just the right shadeof independence. "I wish to listen to Mr. Kirkwood. He has been very kindto me and has every right...." She turned to him again, leaving the womanbreathless and speechless with anger.
"You told me once," Kirkwood continued quickly, and, he felt, brazenly,"that you considered me kind, thoughtful and considerate. You know meno better to-day than you did then, but I want to beg you to trust me alittle. Can you trust yourself to my protection until we reach your friendsin England?"
"Why, I--" the girl faltered, taken by surprise.
"Mr. Kirkwood!" cried Mrs. Hallam angrily, finding her voice.
Kirkwood turned to meet her onslaught with a mien grave, determined,unflinching. "Please do not interfere, Madam," he said quietly.
"You are impertinent, sir! Dorothy, I forbid you to listen to this person!"
The girl flushed, lifting her chin a trifle. "Forbid?" she repeatedwonderingly.
Kirkwood was quick to take advantage of her resentment. "Mrs. Hallam is notfitted to advise you," he insisted, "nor can she control your actions. Itmust already have occurred to you that you're rather out of place in thepresent circumstances. The men who have brought you hit
her, I believe youalready see through, to some extent. Forgive my speaking plainly ... Butthat is why you have accepted Mrs. Hallam's offer of protection. Will youtake my word for it, when I tell you she has not your right interests atheart, but the reverse? I happen to know, Miss Calendar, and I--"
"How dare you, sir?"
Flaming with rage, Mrs. Hallam put herself bodily between them, confrontingKirkwood in white-lipped desperation, her small, gloved hands clenched andquivering at her sides, her green eyes dangerous.
But Kirkwood could silence her; and he did. "Do you wish me to speakfrankly, Madam? Do you wish me to tell what I know--and all I know--," withrising emphasis,--"of your social status and your relations with Calendarand Mulready? I promise you that if you wish it, or force me to it...."
But he had need to say nothing further; the woman's eyes wavered before hisand a little sob of terror forced itself between her shut teeth. Kirkwoodsmiled grimly, with a face of brass, impenetrable, inflexible. And suddenlyshe turned from him with indifferent bravado.
"As Mr. Kirkwood says, Dorothy," she said in her high, metallic voice, "Ihave no authority over you. But if you're silly enough to consider for amoment this fellow's insulting suggestion, if you're fool enough to go withhim, unchaperoned through Europe and imperil your--"
"Mrs. Hallam!" Kirkwood cut her short with a menacing tone.
"Why, then, I wash my hands of you," concluded the woman defiantly. "Makeyour choice, my child," she added with a meaning laugh and moved away,humming a snatch from a French _chanson_ which brought the hot blood toKirkwood's face.
But the girl did not understand; and he was glad of that. "You may judgebetween us," he appealed to her directly, once more. "I can only offeryou my word of honor as an American gentleman that you shall be landed inEngland, safe and sound, by the first available steamer--"
"There's no need to say more, Mr. Kirkwood," Dorothy informed him quietly."I have already decided. I think I begin to understand some things clearly,now.... If you're ready, we will go."
From the window, where she stood, holding the curtains back and staringout, Mrs. Hallam turned with a curling lip.
From the window, Mrs. Hallam turned with a curling lip.]
"'The honor of an American gentleman,'" she quoted with a stinging sneer;"I'm sure I wish you comfort of it, child!"
"We must make haste, Miss Calendar," said Kirkwood, ignoring theimplication. "Have you a traveling-bag?"
She silently indicated a small valise, closed and strapped, on a table bythe bed, and immediately passed out into the hall. Kirkwood took the casecontaining the gladstone bag in one hand, the girl's valise in the other,and followed.
As he turned the head of the stairs he looked back. Mrs. Hallam was stillat the window, her back turned. From her very passiveness he received animpression of something ominous and forbidding; if she had lost a trick ortwo of the game she played, she still held cards, was not at the end of herresources. She stuck in his imagination for many an hour as a force to bereckoned with.
For the present he understood that she was waiting to apprise Calendar andMulready of their flight. With the more haste, then, he followed Dorothydown the three flights, through the tiny office, where Madam sat soundasleep at her over-burdened desk, and out.
Opposite the door they were fortunate enough to find a fiacre drawn up inwaiting at the curb. Kirkwood opened the door for the girl to enter.
"Gare du Sud," he directed the driver. "Drive your fastest--double fare forquick time!"
The driver awoke with a start from profound reverie, looked Kirkwood over,and bowed with gesticulative palms.
"M'sieu', I am desolated, but engaged!" he protested.
"Precisely." Kirkwood deposited the two bags on the forward seat of theconveyance, and stood back to convince the man. "Precisely," said he,undismayed. "The lady who engaged you is remaining for a time; I willsettle her bill."
"Very well, M'sieu'!" The driver disclaimed responsibility and accepted thefavor of the gods with a speaking shrug. "M'sieu' said the Gare du Sud? _Envoiture_!"
Kirkwood jumped in and shut the door; the vehicle drew slowly away fromthe curb, then with gratifying speed hammered up-stream on the embankment.Bending forward, elbows on knees, Kirkwood watched the sidewalks narrowly,partly to cover the girl's constraint, due to Mrs. Hallam's attitude,partly on the lookout for Calendar and his confederates. In a few momentsthey passed a public clock.
"We've missed the Flushing boat," he announced. "I'm making a try for theHoek van Holland line. We may possibly make it. I know that it leaves bythe Sud Quai, and that's all I do know," he concluded with an apologeticlaugh.
"And if we miss that?" asked the girl, breaking silence for the first timesince they had left the hotel.
"We'll take the first train out of Antwerp."
"Where to?"
"Wherever the first train goes, Miss Calendar.... The main point is to getaway to-night. That we must do, no matter where we land, or how we getthere. To-morrow we can plan with more certainty."
"Yes..." Her assent was more a sigh than a word.
The cab, dashing down the Rue Leopold de Wael, swung into the Place du Sud,before the station. Kirkwood, acutely watchful, suddenly thrust head andshoulders out of his window (fortunately it was the one away from thedepot), and called up to the driver.
"Don't stop! Gare Centrale now--and treble fare!"
"_Oui, M'sieu'! Allons!_"
The whip cracked and the horse swerved sharply round the corner into theAvenue du Sud. The young man, with a hushed exclamation, turned in hisseat, lifting the flap over the little peephole in the back of thecarriage.
He had not been mistaken. Calendar was standing in front of the station;and it was plain to be seen, from his pose, that the madly careering fiacreinterested him more than slightly. Irresolute, perturbed, the man tooka step or two after it, changed his mind, and returned to his post ofobservation.
Kirkwood dropped the flap and turned back to find the girl's wide eyessearching his face. He said nothing.
"What was that?" she asked after a patient moment.
"Your father, Miss Calendar," he returned uncomfortably.
There fell a short pause; then: "Why--will you tell me--is it necessary torun away from my father, Mr. Kirkwood?" she demanded, with a moving littlebreak in her voice.
Kirkwood hesitated. It were unfeeling to tell her why; yet it was essentialthat she should know, however painful the knowledge might prove to her.
And she was insistent; he might not dodge the issue. "Why?" she repeated ashe paused.
"I wish you wouldn't press me for an answer just now, Miss Calendar."
"Don't you think I had better know?"
Instinctively he inclined his head in assent.
"Then why--?"
Kirkwood bent forward and patted the flank of the satchel that held thegladstone bag.
"What does that mean, Mr. Kirkwood?"
"That I have the jewels," he told her tersely, looking straight ahead.
At his shoulder he heard a low gasp of amazement and incredulitycommingled.
"But--! How did you get them? My father deposited them in bank thismorning?"
"He must have taken them out again.... I got them on board the Alethea,where your father was conferring with Mulready and Captain Stryker."
"The Alethea!"
"Yes."
"You took them from those men?--you!... But didn't my father--?"
"I had to persuade him," said Kirkwood simply.
"But there were three of them against you!"
"Mulready wasn't--ah--feeling very well, and Stryker's a coward. They gaveme no trouble. I locked them in Stryker's room, lifted the bag of jewels,and came away.... I ought to tell you that they were discussing theadvisability of sailing away without you--leaving you here, friendless andwithout means. That's why I considered it my duty to take a hand.... Idon't like to tell you this so brutally, but you ought to know, and I can'tsee how to tone it down," he conclud
ed awkwardly.
"I understand...."
But for some moments she did not speak. He avoided looking at her.
The fiacre, rolling at top speed but smoothly on the broad avenues thatencircle the ancient city, turned into the Avenue de Keyser, bringing intosight the Gare Centrale.
"You don't--k-know--" began the girl without warning, in a voice gusty withsobs.
"Steady on!" said Kirkwood gently. "I do know, but don't let's talk aboutit now. We'll be at the station in a minute, and I'll get out and seewhat's to be done about a train, if neither Mulready or Stryker are about.You stay in the carriage.... No!" He changed his mind suddenly. "I'll notrisk losing you again. It's a risk we'll have to run in company."
"Please!" she agreed brokenly.
The fiacre slowed up and stopped.
"Are you all right, Miss Calendar?" Kirkwood asked.
The girl sat up, lifting her head proudly. "I am quite ready," she said,steadying her voice.
Kirkwood reconnoitered through the window, while the driver was descending.
"Gare Centrale, M'sieu'," he said, opening the door.
"No one in sight," Kirkwood told the girl. "Come, please."
He got out and gave her his hand, then paid the driver, picked up the twobags, and hurried with Dorothy into the station, to find in waiting astring of cars into which people were moving at leisurely rate. Hisinquiries at the ticket-window developed the fact that it was the 22:26 forBrussels, the last train leaving the Gare Centrale that night, and due tostart in ten minutes.
The information settled their plans for once and all; Kirkwood promptlysecured through tickets, also purchasing "Reserve" supplementary ticketswhich entitled them to the use of those modern corridor coaches which takethe place of first-class compartments on the Belgian state railways.
"It's a pleasure," said Kirkwood lightly, as he followed the girl into oneof these, "to find one's self in a common-sense sort of a train again.'Feels like home." He put their luggage in one of the racks and sat downbeside her, chattering with simulated cheerfulness in a vain endeavor tolighten her evident depression of spirit. "I always feel like a travelinganachronism in one of your English trains," he said. "You can'tappreciate--"
The girl smiled bravely.... "And after Brussels?" she inquired.
"First train for the coast," he said promptly. "Dover, Ostend,Boulogne,--whichever proves handiest, no matter which, so long as it getsus on English soil without undue delay."
She said "Yes" abstractedly, resting an elbow on the window-sill and herchin in her palm, to stare with serious, sweet brown eyes out into thearc-smitten night that hung beneath the echoing roof.
Kirkwood fidgeted in despite of the constraint he placed himself under, tobe still and not disturb her needlessly. Impatience and apprehension ofmisfortune obsessed his mental processes in equal degree. The ten minutesseemed interminable that elapsed ere the grinding couplings advertised theimminence of their start.
The guards began to bawl, the doors to slam, belated travelers to dashmadly for the coaches. The train gave a preliminary lurch ere settling downto its league-long inland dash.
Kirkwood, in a fever of hope and an ague of fear, saw a man sprintfuriously across the platform and throw himself on the forward steps oftheir coach, on the very instant of the start.
Presently he entered by the forward door and walked slowly through,narrowly inspecting the various passengers. As he approached the seatsoccupied by Kirkwood and Dorothy Calendar, his eyes encountered the youngman's, and he leered evilly. Kirkwood met the look with one that was like akick, and the fellow passed with some haste into the car behind.
"Who was that?" demanded the girl, without moving her head.
"How did you know?" he asked, astonished. "You didn't look--"
"I saw your knuckles whiten beneath the skin.... Who was it?"
"Hobbs," he acknowledged bitterly; "the mate of the _Alethea_."
"I know.... And you think--?"
"Yes. He must have been ashore when I was on board the brigantine; hecertainly wasn't in the cabin. Evidently they hunted him up, or ran acrosshim, and pressed him into service.... You see, they're watching everyoutlet.... But we'll win through, never fear!"