mouth, the even set of pearly teeth, the wealthof auburn hair and the laughing blue eyes so full of mischief andmerriment rendered her peerless among women, while her wit andeasy-going good-humour endeared her to all, rich and poor alike.
As I stood by, watching her bent head beneath the lamplight, I saw thatalthough she tried to write, her small white hand trembled so that theattempt was by no means successful. She seemed nervous and upset, for Inow noticed for the first time that her breast rose and fell quicklybeneath her laces, and that she was trying in vain to repress a wildtumult of agitation that raged within her.
"No," she cried, throwing down the pen and looking up at me, "I can'twrite. I--" And she stopped without concluding her sentence, fixing herbeautiful eyes upon me. She was magnificent. That look of hers wassurely sufficient to make any man's head reel.
"Do you know," she exclaimed suddenly, bursting into a nervous laugh, "Ididn't really want you to write a letter at all! I only wanted anexcuse to come into this den of yours--to speak to you."
Her laugh somehow sounded unnatural. With her woman's subtle tact shewas, I knew, trying to conceal her agitation.
"To speak to me? What about?"
She grew grave again in an instant, and rising, crossed towards me. Isaw that all the colour had died from her face and that she grasped theedge of the table to steady herself.
"I wanted to ask you--I wanted to see if you would do something for me,"she said in a low tremulous voice, very harsh and intense.
Was it possible that Warr had already seen her and delivered the noteand message from that mysterious stranger?
"What do you wish me to do?" I inquired eagerly.
"I want you to help me, Willoughby," she said. "I am in peril--deadlyperil. You can save me if you will."
"Peril? Peril of what?"
"Ah! That I cannot tell you," she answered; then suddenly losing allcontrol of herself she exclaimed wildly, "The past has risen against me,to torment me, to hound me down to the very depths of hell. Ah!Willoughby, save me--you will, won't you? You are my friend. Say youare--say you will help me," she implored with clasped hands.
"But what do you fear, Lady Lolita?" I asked in the hope of learningher secret.
"I fear death," she cried hoarsely. "The blow has fallen, and I amlost--lost."
"No, no," I said, taking her soft hand gently in mine and finding itcold, trembling in fear. "Do not anticipate the worst, whatever may beyour danger."
"Ah! if I could tell you all--if I only dared to tell you," she sighed."But even then you wouldn't believe it--you couldn't."
"But may I not know something of this peril of yours?" I urged. "Ifyou tell me, I shall then know how to deal with it."
"You can only serve me at great risk to yourself," was her quick reply.
"In any way I can serve you, Lolita, do not hesitate to command me," Isaid, deeply in earnest and still holding her trembling hand in mine.By that wild look in her beautiful eyes I saw that her heart was grippedby some nameless terror, and that she was in desperation. Then, in amoment of deep sympathy, recollecting the stranger's ominous words, Iadded: "I love you now, Lolita, with the deepest devotion with which anyman has loved."
And before she was aware of it, I had raised those thin white fingersreverently to my lips and imprinted upon them a tender lingering kiss.
CHAPTER THREE.
WHICH IS A MYSTERY.
In my hot passionate declaration I repeated my readiness to serve her,at the same time acknowledging the difference in our stations and thefear that my dream of happiness must be a vain one.
She smiled very sweetly upon me, and I saw her eyes were dimmed withtears. Her lips moved, but in the first moments no sound escaped them.I had taken her by surprise, I think, for she had always regarded me asfriend, and not as lover.
"I thank you for your kind promise to assist me in this hour of myneed," she answered at last in a voice that seemed to have strangelyaltered. "I know now that I enjoy your regard, although I--well, I mustconfess that I had no idea that, good friends that we have been allthese years, you would end by really falling in love with me. You have,however, told me the truth, and a woman always respects a man for that.I know now that I have at least one firm and devoted friend." And asshe spoke her fingers closed upon my hand.
As I feared, I had presumed too far. I had no right to love her, I, amere paid servant of the family, yet she had treated my confession withsweet dignity and womanly tact that so well became her, and cleverlyturned my declaration of love into one of friendship.
"To serve me in this matter would be to imperil yourself," she went onin deep seriousness after a moment's pause. "My enemies hold my futurein their hands. To me it is a matter of life or death."
"I am prepared to undertake any risk for your sake," I declared. "Onlysuggest a course, and I will adopt it instantly."
"Ah, you are very good!" she cried. "How can I sufficiently thank you?In all the world you are the only friend I can really trust. Well, whatI want you to do is this. Take the first train to London to-morrow andgo to 98, Britten Street, Chelsea, where you will find a certainFrenchwoman named Lejeune. Tell her that I have sent you to implore herto tell me the truth; that if she fears to approach me direct you willact as intermediary; that if she withholds the secret it must result inmy death--my death--you understand."
"In your death!" I gasped, puzzled.
"Yes. I cannot face exposure. I would prefer death!" was her hoarsereply. "Tell that woman that Richard Keene has returned! She willknow." I watched her face and recognised how desperate she was. I hadnever before seen such a look in any woman's eyes.
"And what else?" I asked mechanically.
"Nothing. All you have to do in order to save me is to get a writtenconfession from that woman. If she refuses, as I fear she will, then myfate is sealed. The blow I have been dreading these past years willfall. I shall be crushed, and Lolita Sibberton will be but the memoryof an unhappy woman who fell the victim of as foul and ingenious a plotas was ever conceived by the mind of man." Her hands were claspedbefore her, and she shivered from head to foot. I saw that she wascold, and without a word wound about her bare neck my scarf that layupon a chair.
"I will do my utmost in your interests," I assured her. "This woman--isshe one of the conspirators?"
"Beware of her. She is treacherous, unscrupulous, and possessed of acunning that is almost beyond comprehension. Act with discretion, andexercise every care of your own personal safety."
"Why? I have no fear in London in broad daylight," I smiled.
"Ah! You don't know," she cried. "In dealing with her, you are dealingwith a person who would hesitate at nothing in order to attain her ownends. Until now, although a word from her could give me my freedom fromthis imminent danger that threatens to overtake me, she has kept silenceand watched for my downfall."
"I will compel her to confess," I cried fiercely. "If it is withinhuman power to save you, Lolita, I will do so. Trust me, because I loveyou."
She sighed, and again her eyes were dimmed by tears.
"And if you hear strange tales about me, certain allegations of--shameful stories, I mean--you will believe none of them till you haveproof--will you?" she urged breathlessly, with a deep anxiety in hervoice.
"No," I promised. "I will not. To me, Lolita, you are innocent, pureand good, just as when we were boy and girl together." And again Iplaced her finger-tips to my lips as seal of my allegiance to the onewoman who was all the world to me.
At that instant there came a tap at the door, and I was compelled todrop her hand instantly.
Slater, the aged, white-whiskered butler, opened the door, saying in hissqueaky voice--
"His lordship would like to see you, m'lady, in the library beforesending a telegram--at once, if convenient."
"I'll be there in a moment," she answered, without turning towards theman to reveal her face. Then, when Slater had gone, she rushed to thesmall mirror and
with her handkerchief quickly removed all traces of hertears.
"George is worrying about Marigold being alone at Aix-les-Bains," sheremarked. "I'm rather surprised he let her go. If I were a man with ayoung and pretty wife, I shouldn't let her far out of my sight. ButMarigold, I suppose, isn't an ordinary woman."
Her last sentence was indeed correct. All the world knew that the youngCountess of Stanchester was the gayest and giddiest of the ultra-smartset in which she moved, and that after two years of marriage she haddeveloped into one of the most popular and unconventional Societyhostesses. The young Earl was not exactly
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