The Mischief Maker | Page 8

see a soul you know where I'm going to take you."
Julien turned slowly away from the window. He was looking for the last time from those rooms at the London which he had loved. The setting sun had caught the dome of St. Paul's, was flashing from the dark, placid water of the Thames. The roar of the great city was passing from eastwards to westwards.
"You're a good chap, Kendricks," he declared. "I'll come along, with pleasure. I shall have enough solitude later on. But listen, before we go--listen, David, to a speech after your own heart."
Julien stood quite still for a moment. His pale face seemed suddenly whiter, his eyes were full of fire.
"David," he said, "if ever the time comes in the future when I find that a woman is beginning to claim a minute of my thoughts, a single one of my emotions, to govern the slightest throb of my pulses, I'll take her by the throat and I'll throw her out of what's left of my life as I would a rat that had crept into my room. I've done with them. Curse all women!"
There was a silence. Kendricks leaned over to the fireplace and knocked his pipe against the hearth. Then he suddenly paused.
"What's that?" he asked abruptly.
There was a soft knocking at the outside door.

CHAPTER IV
A BUNCH OF VIOLETS
Kendricks rose slowly to his feet. Julien was looking toward the door with a frown upon his face. While they stood there the knocking was repeated, still soft but a little more insistent. Julien hesitated no longer.
"I think," Kendricks said dryly, "that you had better see who is there."
The door was already opened. Julien seemed suddenly transformed into a graven image. He said nothing, merely gazing at the woman who walked calmly past him into the room. Kendricks, who also recognized her, withdrew his pipe from his mouth. This was a situation indeed! The woman, with her hands inside her muff, looked from one to the other of the two men.
"Am I interrupting a very important interview?" she asked calmly. "If not, perhaps you could spare me five minutes of your time, Sir Julien?"
Kendricks recovered himself at once.
"I'll wait for you downstairs, Julien," he declared.
He caught up his hat and departed, closing the door after him. Julien was still motionless.
"Well?" she began.
He drew a little breath. He was beginning to regain his self-possession.
"My dear Mrs. Carraby," he said, "with your wonderful knowledge of the world and its ways, will you permit me to point out that your presence here is a little embarrassing to me and might, under certain circumstances, be a good deal more embarrassing to you?"
Mrs. Carraby smiled. She stood where the sunlight touched her brown hair and her quiet, pale face. She was one of those women who are never afraid of the light. Her face was of that strange, self-contained nature, colorless, apparently, yet capable of strange and rapid changes. Just now the last glow of sunlight seemed to have found a skein of gold in her hair, a queer gleam of light in her eyes. She stood there looking at the man whom she had come to visit.
"Julien," she said, "I wanted a few words with you."
It was impossible for him to remain altogether unmoved. Whatever else might be the truth, she had risked most of the things that were dear to her in life by this visit.
"Mrs. Carraby," he declared, "I am entirely at your service. If you think that any useful purpose can be served by words between you and me, I would only point out, for your own sake, that your visit is, to say the least of it, unwise. These are bachelor chambers."
"You know very well," she replied calmly, "that it was my only chance of speaking with you. If I had sent for you, you would not have come. If I had spoken to you in the street, you would have passed me by--quite rightly. This was my only chance. That is why I have come to you."
"If you think it worth the risk," he remarked gravely, "pray continue."
She shrugged her shoulders very slightly.
"Who can tell what is worth the risk?"
"You have at least excited my curiosity," he admitted, leaning a little towards her. "I cannot conceive what it is that you want to say to me."
She lifted her eyes to his, and though there was nothing unusual about them--there were few people, indeed, who could tell you what color they were--men seldom forgot it when Mrs. Carraby looked at them steadily.
"I do not know, myself," she said. "I do not know why I have come."
Julien laughed unnaturally.
"Pray be seated," he begged. "Would you like to examine my curios or my photographs? I must apologize for the condition of my room. You see, you happen to