The Second Latchkey | Page 8

who're really alive, as he is, give out
magnetism," she thought. And the thrill lingered as the man thanked
her with eyes and voice.

When he had looked at the rose curiously, as if expecting to learn from
it the secret of its wearer, he put the flower away in a letter-case in an
inner breast pocket of his coat.
For once Annesley was face to face with romance, and even though she
would presently go back to the old round (since the adventure she came
out to meet had failed), she was stirred to a wild gladness in this other
adventure. The hors d'oeuvres appeared; then soup, and wine, which
Mr. Smith begged her to taste.
"Drink luck for me," he insisted. "You and you alone can bring it."
Annesley drank. And the champagne filliped colour to her cheeks.
"Now we'll go on and think out the problem of what may happen at
your door--if Fate takes me there," the man said. "Your old friend's
sailor son is no use to me. He can't be whisked back from the North
Pole to London for my benefit. Perhaps I may be an acquaintance of
Archdeacon Smith's, mayn't I, if worst comes to worst? I've been dining
there, and brought you back in a taxi. Will that do? If there are fibs to
tell, I'll tell them myself and spare you if possible."
"After all I've told to-night, one or two more can't matter," said
Annesley. "They won't hurt Mrs. Ellsworth. It's the other danger that's
more worrying--the danger from those men. I've thought of something
that may help if they follow us to Torrington Square. They may ask a
policeman whose house we've gone into, and find out it's Mrs.
Ellsworth's, before you can get away. So it will be better not to tell
them it's yours. You can be visiting. There is a Mr. Smith who comes
sometimes from America, where he lives, though he's not American.
Even the policemen who have that beat may have heard of him from
Mrs. Ellsworth's servants. There's a room kept always ready for him,
and called 'Mr. Smith's room.'"
"That does help," said the man. "It's clever and kind of you to rack your
brains for me. A Mr. Smith from America! It's easy for me to play that
part, I'm from America. Perhaps you've guessed that?"

"But you're very different from Mrs. Ellsworth's Mr. Smith," Annesley
warned him, hastily. "He's middle-aged, eccentric, and not
good-looking. He comes to England for his 'nerves' when he has
worked too hard and tired himself out. I think he's rich; and once he
was robbed in some big hotel, so he likes to stay at a plain sort of house
where there's no danger. He has a horror of burglars, and won't even
stop at the Archdeacon's since they had a burglary a few years ago. He
pays Mrs. Ellsworth for his room, I believe. A funny arrangement!--it
came about through me. But that's not of importance to you."
"It may be. We can't tell. Better let me know as much as possible about
these Smiths. There's Mrs. Ellsworth's Smith, and the Smith you came
to meet----"
"We needn't talk of him, anyway!"
There was a hint of anger in the girl's protest; but her resentment was
for the man who had humiliated her by breaking his appointment--such
an appointment!
She hurried on, trying to hide all signs of agitation. "You see, Mrs.
Ellsworth once hoped to have Archdeacon Smith and his wife for
friends. They didn't care for her, but they loved my father--oh, long ago
in the country, where we lived. When he died and I hadn't any money
or training for work, they were nice to Mrs. Ellsworth for my sake--or,
rather, for my father's sake--and persuaded her to take me as her
companion. She was glad to do it to please them; but soon she realized
that they didn't mean to reward her by being intimate.
"Poor woman, I was almost sorry for her disappointment! You see,
she's a snob at heart, and though 'Smith' sounds a common name, both
the Archdeacon and his wife have titled relations. So have I--and that
was another reason for taking me. She adores a title. Doesn't that sound
pitiful? But she has few interests and no real friends, so she's never
given up hope of 'collecting' the Smiths.
"That's why she lets me visit them. And when I happened to mention,
for something to say, that the Archdeacon had an eccentric cousin in

America who was afraid of hotels and even of visiting at their house
because of a fad about burglars, she offered to give him the better of
her two spare rooms whenever he came to England. I never thought
he'd accept, but he did,