High Noon | Page 9

was almost noon, and too late to catch the Paris train.
Fate again! And yet there arose no feeling of rebellion in Sir Paul. If he
were in the hands of a great will, let that same will direct. There would
be another train in the evening, but Paul would have none of it. His
mood had changed. He could not leave the place quite yet. So he
dressed leisurely; and it was not till mid-afternoon that his flannel-clad
figure appeared upon the lawn. He had no energy for a walk or row,
and spent the time till dinner reading and smoking.
That night he did not wish to dine alone. The approach of darkness,
with its eerie suggestion of his strange experience of the night before,
made him crave the society of his kind. As he passed through the
lounge, carefully groomed as ever, his friend Barclay called to him.
"I say, Verdayne! Join us to-night, won't you, old chap? We will be
dining early."
The cheery English voice was what Paul needed, and though he had all
the week avoided the party--there were three men--now he gladly
greeted them. Barclay, totally unable to account for Paul's sudden
recension from his aloofness, nevertheless secretly rejoiced. He greatly
admired Verdayne, and had felt rather hurt at his keeping quite so much
to himself. With a wisdom beyond his usual capabilities, however, he
refrained from making any comment and only showed the pleasant
eagerness of a cordial host.
They were the first to enter the restaurant, and as they sat there with
talk of familiar things in Paul's ears he began to feel himself again.
After dinner Paul played billiards, and then took a hand at bridge, and
when at length the game broke up he was sure of himself; the
amusement of the evening had been sane enough to convince Paul that
there would be no visions for him that night. He took a few turns back
and forth before the hotel, and then, rounding a corner of one of the
wings, he came upon a little rustic tea-house hidden away among a
wealth of shrubbery and young trees.

A fancy to explore it seized him, and he followed the path that led
toward it. The heavy vines clustering completely over the structure
made the interior of an inky blackness. Paul halted on the threshold and
struck a match. At first, as the phosphorus flared, the darkness beyond
seemed intensified. Then, as the flame subsided, Paul saw--the face
again, looking straight into his--the same beautiful face, it seemed, that
had gazed at him on that memorable night years before, the same red
lips, the same wonderful eyes.
The blazing match fell from his fingers, and in another moment he
clasped a warm and clinging figure in his arms. Without a word their
lips met in one long kiss. To Paul it was as if he had been transported to
some distant sphere, and in some mystic fashion transcending time and
space, he held his lady in his arms again.
But it was no dream; that kiss was a reality.
* * * * *
A low cry suddenly broke the silence--a quick exclamation of alarm. It
was a language Paul remembered well, for his Queen had often talked
to him caressingly in her own strange tongue. He started and turned his
head, to see a tongue of flame leaping shoulder-high behind him. The
match had fallen on some inflammable drapery and set the place afire.
He seized a rug and tried to smother the blaze, but the little house was a
tinder box.
The lady had not moved meanwhile. But as the sound of running feet
and a loud call of "Au feu! Au feu!" shattered the quiet, she sprang like
a frightened fawn out into the darkness. An instant later, blinded by the
glare of the conflagration, Paul followed. He was too late. The darkness
had swallowed her completely, and with the blaze still dazzling his
eyes Paul could scarcely see even the hurrying forms that came racing
up the path.
In a few moments the tea-house was a ruin. Paul hurried to the hotel,
where several startled guests had gathered in somewhat scanty attire,
alarmed by the cry of fire ringing out into the still night. But the lady of

the midnight kiss was not there.
CHAPTER VI
Too stirred within his heart to sleep, Paul paced the lawn, in the vain
hope of seeing her again.
He was walking lightly over the wet grass with almost silent feet, so
occupied with his thoughts that he came near to walking into a couple
talking beneath a tree.
When, however, he beheld them, he came to a sudden standstill, all his
senses alive, his quick intuition telling him he was in