The Lion's Mouse
Page 26
XXVI
THE GIRL IN PINK
Clo sat watching the crowd. She had removed her veil, and the long,brown cloak lent by Beverley. The latter she had folded, and was sittingupon it.
It was then, when most of the tables were taken, and when a young tenorwith a good voice had replaced the Italian peasants, that the girl inpink walked in. Clo sat with her face to the entrance, and happened tobe looking that way. At sight of the girl, who came in alone, it was allshe could do to sit still. She felt the blood stream to her face, andtaking up the empty coffee cup, pretended to drink.
"Gracious, why did I never think of her!" she wondered. For this was thegirl who had got out of the elevator at the Westmorland, and had beenstared at by the men, when Clo and Beverley descended the stairs fromPeterson's room. Would there have been time after they had turned theirbacks for Kit to get out of the brown trunk (if she'd been in it!),fasten the lid, and descend to the lift while the two women went downthe six flights of stairs?
Yes, there would have been time. Clo was thankful that she had disposedof her veil, and was sitting on the cloak. Here at Krantz's she was onlya girl in a white dress, with a brown toque which at the Westmorland hadbeen hidden with a veil.
There were two or three tables still disengaged, but the one with thebest view of the stage was the one nearest Clo. The girl in pink trippedto it, without hesitation, stood for a minute staring at the singer, andsat down. Clo watched her. She could not be certain, but she thought thegirl had caught the eye of the singer and had made him a sign.
Not only had he a good voice, but he was good to look at, dark andrather "dashing," "almost like a second-hand gentleman," as Clo said toherself. His song pleased the audience, who clapped violently, demandinganother. But the young man smiled, threw out his hands, shrugged,touched his throat, and bowed himself off the stage. By this time thegirl in pink had ordered a bottle of wine which, to judge by the lovingcare of the waiter, must have been rare and expensive.
The singer sat down with his back to Clo, his companion at his side.Thus they were able to draw close, and talk without much fear of beingoverheard.
"Good Lord, Churn, I thought I'd missed you," were the first words Clocaught. As the girl spoke she flung a quick glance toward her littleneighbour at the next table, but Clo had never looked so child-like. "Iwent to the Riche, and you'd gone," Kit continued. "To the Western; toolate. Gosh! how I hiked for this place! I don't know what I'd done ifI'd lost you!"
"Vot's de row?" Churn asked cheerfully, speaking with a slight andrather agreeable foreign accent. He poured himself a tumblerful of thedeep-coloured red wine, and drank as if it were water.
"Say, Churn, a big thing's happened. I can't tell you here."
"You want I take you to de hotel?"
"No! I'm never goin' back there. And I can't go to my own digs either.I'll explain by and by. Could you take me home with you?"
"No, Jake'll be comin' in."
"Well, let's go to Chuff's. We must be somewhere! I've got a thing toshow you, Churn. If there's two rooms free in the house we'll take'em--or, no, better take one. You'll see why we must be together whenyou know. Say, here's money to pay the wine--looks better for you thanme. Then we'll be off."
Clo gazed at the door. No O'Reilly yet. But if this pair went she wouldhave to go, too. She mustn't lose them!
Churn beckoned a waiter with a ten-dollar bill thrust into his hand byKit. The waiter came; but he had to get change. In Clo's lap, hiddenunder her napkin, was the bag she had found in Kit's room. Stealthilyshe opened it and took out a stub of pencil she had noticed among thecontents. On the table lay a programme of the evening's entertainment.Neither she nor O'Reilly had glanced at it; but now the girl eagerlyexamined the list. Among the names was that of "Lorenz Czerny, Tenor";and Clo underlined it with the pencil. Beneath, on the margin, shescrawled: "Kit's come and has been talking to him. They're going away. Imust follow. I leave you all materials for the search--except the pearl.I keep that. Don't worry about me. I'll take care of myself."
Clo had plenty of money, supplied by Beverley, so a five-dollar bill waslaid conspicuously on the crumbs of rusk.
Kit and Churn were on their feet. The waiter had given change, and Churnwas counting it out. Both stood with their backs to Clo. Clo slipped theprogramme into the bead bag and the bead bag into a pocket of Beverley'sbrown silk coat, on which she had been sitting. She then whisked thefolded garment from her own chair on to O'Reilly's, and covered it withhis napkin.
"I hope to goodness I'll meet him on the way up," she thought, "orbefore I get out of the restaurant above. I daren't take the cloak whereshe might see it. Besides, he must have the bag and memorandum."
Churn gave the waiter a fifty-cent piece, and followed Kit, who hadstarted. Neither looked back; and Clo beckoned the waiter. "I've anengagement," she said, "and can't wait longer for the gentleman I camewith. He's upstairs telephoning. You tell him I've paid. Never mind thechange. I'm leaving my coat for the gentleman to bring home. Can I trustyou to be sure and give it to him?"
"You can, miss," said the man. "I'll take charge of it myself."
He looked trustworthy as well as grateful. Kit and Churn were windingtheir way among the tables. Clo pushed after them. O'Reilly was not onthe stairs, nor was he visible in the dull restaurant above. He had theall-important envelope, it was true, and she could not guess who hadreturned it in a way to make him suppose it came from her. O'Reilly was,however, an honourable man, and he had promised to be "on Mrs. Sands'side." In the circumstances she saw only one course, and regretfully,even fearfully, took it. When Kit and Churn walked out into the streetshe walked after them, a few paces behind.
Clo had been gone precisely four minutes when O'Reilly tore downstairsburning to apologize and explain. Mrs. Denham had said that her husbandwas out, but she knew where he was, and would 'phone; ifhe--O'Reilly--would hold the line she'd have an answer "in no time."Presently he had been rewarded by "getting" Denham, who, on hearing thathe was urgently wanted, promised to cut short some work he was doinglate at the office, and taxi to Krantz's. This was good news, andO'Reilly was sure Clo would think it had been worth waiting for. Hecould not believe his eyes when he saw the deserted table. What couldhave happened to the girl?
He stood forlornly for a moment, staring round the room. As his eyessearched vainly, the waiter who had served him came hurrying up.
"The young lady's gone, sare. She had to go--very sorry. She left me disto give you when you come back. She pay de bill, sare, but I keep detable for you. You not finish your supper."
O'Reilly had a stab of violent resentment against Clo. But the thoughthad only to pass through his brain to be rejected. The girl was astrange girl, audacious and unscrupulous in her loyalty to Mrs. Sands;but she could not have told her story in a way to impress its truth uponhim unless she had been sincere.
"The young lady didn't give you any other message?" he asked.
"No, sare. She was in much hurry. But I see her mark on a piece ofpaper," the waiter replied. "Maybe she write you a note."
O'Reilly reflected. Which should he do, look for a message in the pocketof the coat Clo had left, or dash upstairs and find out which way shehad gone? It was almost certain that he would now gain nothing by thelatter course.
O'Reilly sat down at the table, in the chair where he had sat before. Hefound the one pocket in the brown coat, and in that pocket Kit's jet andsteel bag. There was nothing else there, so he opened the bag cautiouslyin case some of Kit's friends had arrived. As he did so, the foldedprogramme dropped out.