The Blood-Red Cross | Page 5

your police friend is coming," she said. "It will be safer."
"Vandeleur arrives at twelve o'clock," was my answer.
"Well, I am pleased. I like that woman less and less. I was amazed when she dared to call you her friend."
"Oh, we have met before on business," I answered, guardedly.
"You won't tell me anything further, Mr. Druce?"
"You must excuse me, Lady Kennedy."
"Her assurance is unbounded," continued the good lady. "She has brought a maid or nurse with her--a most extraordinary-looking woman. That, perhaps, is allowable; but she has also brought her black servant, an Arabian, who goes by the name of Achmed. I must say he is a picturesque creature with his quaint Oriental dress. He was all in flaming yellow this morning, and the embroidery on his jacket was worth a small fortune. But it is the daring of the woman that annoys me. She goes on as though she were somebody."
"She is a very emphatic somebody," I could not help replying. "London Society is at her feet."
"I only hope that Antonia will take her remedies and let her go. The woman has no welcome from me," said the indignant mistress of Rowland's Folly.
I did not see anything of Antonia that morning, and at the appointed time I went down to the station to meet Vandeleur. He arrived in high spirits, did not ask a question with regard to Antonia, received the information that Madame Sara was in the house with stolid silence, and seemed intent on the pleasures of the moment.
"Rowland's Folly!" he said, looking round him as we approached one of the finest houses in the whole of Yorkshire. "A folly truly, and yet a pleasant one, Druce, eh? I fancy," he added, with a slight smile, "that I am going to have a good time here."
"I hope you will disentangle a most tangled skein," was my reply.
He shrugged his shoulders. Suddenly his manner altered.
"Who is that woman?" he said, with a strain of anxiety quite apparent in his voice.
"Who?" I asked.
"That woman on the terrace in nurse's dress."
"I don't know. She has been brought here by Madame Sara--a sort of maid and nurse as well. I suppose poor little Antonia will be put under her charge."
"Don't let her see me, Druce, that's all. Ah, here is our host."
Vandeleur quickened his movements, and the next instant was shaking hands with Rowland.
The rest of the day passed without adventure. I did not see Antonia. She did not even appear at dinner. Rowland, however, assured me that she was taking necessary rest and would be all right on the morrow. He seemed inclined to be gracious to Madame Sara, and was annoyed at his sister's manner to their guest.
Soon after dinner, as I was standing in one of the smoking-rooms, I felt a light hand on my arm, and, turning, encountered the splendid pose and audacious, bright, defiant glance of Madame herself.
"Mr. Druce," she said, "just one moment. It is quite right that you and I should be plain with each other. I know the reason why you are here. You have come for the express purpose of spying upon me and spoiling what you consider my game. But understand, Mr. Druce, that there is danger to yourself when you interfere with the schemes of one like me. Forewarned is forearmed."
Someone came into the room and Madame left it.
The ball was but a week off, and preparations for the great event were taking place. Attached to the house at the left was a great room built for this purpose.
Rowland and I were walking down this room on a special morning; he was commenting on its architectural merits and telling me what band he intended to have in the musicians' gallery, when Antonia glided into the room.
"How pale you are, little Tonia!" he said.
This was his favourite name for her. He put his hand under her chin, raised her sweet, blushing face, and looked into her eyes.
"Ah, you want my answer. What a persistent little puss it is! You shall have your way, Tonia --yes, certainly. For you I will grant what has never been granted before. All the same, what will my lady say?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"But you will let me wear them whether she is angry or not?" persisted Antonia.
"Yes, child, I have said it." She took his hand and raised it to her lips, then, with a curtsy, tripped out of the room.
"A rare, bright little bird," he said, turning to me. "Do you know, I feel that I have done an extraordinarily good thing for myself in securing little Antonia. No troublesome mamma in-law--no brothers and sisters, not my own and yet emphatically mine to consider--just the child herself. I am very happy and a very lucky fellow. I am glad my little girl has no past history.