The Second Latchkey | Page 5

lean, square-jawed, handsome in just that thrilling way which
magazine illustrators and women love; the ideal story-hero to look at,
even to the clothes which any female serial writer would certainly have
described as "immaculate evening dress."
It was too good--oh, far too wonderfully good!--to be true that this man

should be Mr. Smith. Yet if he were not Mr. Smith why should
he----Annesley got no farther in the thought, though it flashed through
her mind quick as light. Before she had time to seek an answer for her
question the man--who was young, or youngish, not more than
thirty-three or four--had bent over her as if greeting a friend, and had
begun to speak in a low voice blurred by haste or some excitement.
"You will do me an immense service," he said, "if you'll pretend to
know me and let me sit down here. You sha'n't regret it, and it may
save my life."
"Sit down," answered something in Annesley that was newly awake.
She found her hand being warmly shaken. Then the man took the chair
reserved for Mr. Smith, just as she realized fully that he wasn't Mr.
Smith. Her heart was beating fast, her eyes--fixed on the man's face,
waiting for some explanation--were dilated.
"Thank you," he said, leaning toward her, in his hand a menu which the
waiter had placed before the girl while she was still alone. She noticed
that the hand was brown and nervous-looking, the hand of a man who
might be a musician or an artist. He was pretending to read the menu,
and to consult her about it. "You're a true woman, the right sort--brave.
I swear I'm not here for any impertinence. Now, will you go on helping
me? Can you keep your wits and not give me away, whatever
happens?"
"I think so," answered the new Annesley. "What do you want me to
do?" She took the pitch of her tone from his, speaking quietly, and
wondering if she would not wake up in her ugly brown bedroom at Mrs.
Ellsworth's, as she had done a dozen times when dreaming in advance
of her rendezvous at the Savoy.
"It will be a shock when I tell you," he answered. "But for Heaven's
sake, don't misunderstand. I shouldn't ask this if it weren't absolutely
necessary. In case a man comes to this table and questions you, you
must let him suppose that you are my wife."
"Oh!" gasped Annesley. Her eyes met the eyes that seemed to have

been waiting for her look, and they answered with an appeal which she
could not refuse.
She did not stop to think that if the dark eyes had not been so handsome
they might have been easier to resist. She--the suppressed and timid girl,
never allowed to make up her mind--let herself go with the wave of
strong emotion carrying her along, and reached a resolve.
"It means trusting you a great deal," she answered. "But you say you're
in danger, so I'll do what you ask. I think you can't be wicked enough to
pay me back by trying to hurt me."
"You think right," the man said, and it struck her that his accent was
not quite English. She wondered if he were Canadian or American. Not
that she knew much about either. "A woman like you would think
right!" he went on. "Only one woman out of ten thousand would have
the nerve and presence of mind and the humanity to do what you're
doing. When I came into this room and saw your face I counted on
you."
Annesley blushed again in a rush of happiness. She had always longed
to do something which would really matter to another soul. She had
even prayed for it. Now the moment seemed to have come. God would
not let her be the victim of an ignoble trick!
"I'm glad," she said, her face lit by a light from within. And at that
moment, bending toward each other, they were a beautiful couple. A
seeker of romance would have taken them for lovers.
"Tell me what you want me to do," Annesley said once more.
"The worst of it is, I can't tell you exactly. Two men may come into this
restaurant looking for me. One or both will speak to me. They'll call me
a certain name, and I shall say they've made a mistake. You must say so,
too. You must tell them I'm your husband, and stick to that no matter
what the man, or men, may tell you about me. The principal thing now
is to choose a name. But--by Jove--I forgot it in my hurry! Are you
expecting any one to join you? If you are, it's awkward."

"I was expecting someone, but I've given him up."