The Girls of St. Wode's

by L. T. Meade

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE MAN BY THE RUIN.

  Leslie reached her own door; she eagerly turned the handle. The door waslocked. She called Annie's name; there was no answer of any sort. Shethen knelt down and endeavored to peer through the keyhole. The room wasin darkness. Had Annie gone to bed and really forgotten her? For amoment Leslie felt quite alarmed. Her own special friends had alreadyretired to their rooms. She could not well stay in the corridor allnight; but she was not really thinking of herself nor her owninconvenience. She was terribly anxious about Annie. Suppose she hadgone out! Suppose she was not in her room at all! Again Leslie rattledthe handle of the door. There was no reply. At that moment the door ofthe room next to the one at which she was knocking was opened, and SusanMerriman looked out.

  "Oh, is that you, Miss Gilroy?" she exclaimed. "Can I do anything foryou?"

  "No, thank you," replied Leslie; "this door is locked, and I am afraidMiss Colchester has gone to bed and forgotten all about me. If so, Iwill ask Jane Heriot to take me in until the morning."

  "I am sure Annie Colchester has not gone to bed," replied Susan. "I sawyou leave your room on the way to East Hall this evening, and a momentafterwards she came out and ran down the back-stairs. I thought, ofcourse, she had gone across to the hall. Was she not there?"

  "No," replied Leslie; "she did not come to the meeting; did you notobserve when the roll was gone through that her name was missing?"

  "I did not notice it," answered Susan; "but what a scrape she will getinto! How silly of her!"

  "Well, please don't tell anyone that I found the door locked when Ireturned," said Leslie.

  "Certainly not. Why should I? Can I do anything for you? Would you liketo wait in my room until she comes back?"

  "No, thank you. I must go and look for her; I am a little anxious abouther."

  "Oh, I wouldn't fret if I were you," said Susan. "I shall be up for thenext hour, and if you wish to take refuge in my room you are heartilywelcome."

  Leslie thanked her and ran down the corridor. Trusting that no one wouldsee her, she went downstairs. The house was already locked up, and thelower part in darkness, but she knew a side-door by which she could getout. She went to it, found it still on the latch, opened it, and thenext moment found herself in the quadrangle. She stood there, with thesoft night-breeze blowing upon her hot face; her heart was beatingquickly: she felt full of the strangest apprehension. Where was she togo? What was she to do? Without doubt, Annie was in serious trouble. IfMiss Merriman's account was true, she must have been out for hours. Shewould be sure presently to return to this side-door. Leslie thought shewould wait there in order to meet her. She paced up and down, herrestlessness and the queer dread which assailed her increasing eachmoment. When the great clock over East Hall sounded the hour of eleven,she felt that she could not stay inactive any longer. If Annie did notsoon return, the little side-door would be locked, and it would then beimpossible to get back to the college for the night. Should she go andconfide her fears to Miss Frere? When this thought came to her she putit away at once. No; whatever happened, it would never do to tell aboutAnnie. Annie had got into a scrape already in not attending the meetingat East Hall; she would get into a worse scrape, in all probability berusticated, if this latter offense were known.

  Scarcely realizing what she was doing, Leslie now walked down aside-path which led to the river. Presently she stood on the little quayjust outside the boat-house. Here she herself was in complete shadow,but the moon riding high in the heavens made a silver band of lightacross the river. In the middle of this light, seated in a boat, was agirl; a man was with her; he was bending forward and talking in an eagervoice. Presently the words uttered by the girl reached Leslie's ears.

  "Is it not possible for you to do with less than sixty pounds?"

  "No, not a penny less," came the quick reply. "I shall be ruined if Idon't get it."

  "But won't you consider me at all? I am working hard, terribly hard. IfI pass with honors in my June exam., I shall get a good situation and----"

  "What do I care about your passing your exam., or not, Annie? Don't youknow that all that kind of thing is humbug," said the man's voice. "Ihave no intention of your killing yourself for me. I want sixty pounds;if I don't get that sum I shall be ruined. Can't you understand what Imean?"

  "Yes, yes; and I'll do my best for you," was the reply. "You must leaveme now, Rupert. As it is, I shall in all probability be locked out ofthe college."

  "You are always thinking of yourself and your own miserable safety,"replied the man.

  He took up a pair of light sculls, and rowed swiftly in the direction ofthe boat-house.

  Leslie, who had heard each word of this conversation, shrank up againstthe house; she was in complete shadow, and trusted no one would see her.The boat touched the boards of the little quay, and Annie sprang lightlyon shore.

  "You must help me put the boat back into the house," she said.

  The man did so without uttering a word. The key was then turned in thelock, and Annie slipped it into her pocket. She stood at the edge of thequay, the man standing near her.

  "Good-by," she said, raising her face to his.

  "Good-by, old girl. You mean the best, but it is all humbug about yourgetting that scholarship, and my----" He broke off suddenly.

  "Annie," he continued, "I could not do it; you may as well know now forcertain that I have made up my mind to cut the old life. With that sixtypounds, or without, I leave England in a day or two. You will be betteroff without me than with me, but you know what it means if I go withoutthe money."

  "What?" said Annie in a low, terrified voice.

  "That I am followed and arrested. Think of that! Think what the disgracewill mean to you!"

  "Oh, Rupert, Rupert, it would kill me!" moaned the poor girl.

  "Well, then, get me the sixty pounds, and you have nothing to fear."

  "I will do my best; but this terrible, awful blow has nearly killed me."

  "Humbug. I say--humbug! Girls don't die as quickly as all that. Listen, Imust have that sixty pounds by hook or by crook; you must get it for me.This is Tuesday evening. I will be here about ten o'clock on Thursday;if you don't have the money then, well, you know what will happen."

  "Good-by, Rupert, good-by. I will do my best, my very best."

  The man walked away, and Annie, standing for a moment where he had lefther, with her hands hanging helplessly to her sides, turned slowly inthe direction of the college.

  Leslie waited behind until her companion was well out of sight, then shefollowed her; the side-door was not yet latched, and Annie let herselfin. In trembling and sick fear Leslie followed, dreading each moment tohear the key turned in the lock, and yet anxious to give Annie time toescape to her room before she entered the house.

  In a moment or two she approached the little door, found that it wasstill on the latch, entered, and uttered a long sigh of relief. When shereached her room the door was unlocked, the electric light was on, andAnnie was standing near her window. Leslie came in and softly shut thedoor behind her. Annie turned and looked at her.

  "What a long time you have been," she said.

  Leslie made no reply. She seated herself on the edge of her bed, herhead ached, she felt a new sense of fear. Should she tell Annie that shehad listened to her, that she had overheard her conversation, that sheknew a part at least of the terrible secret which was weighing her down?

  Before she could make up her mind whether to speak or not, Annie herselfcame forward, drew a chair opposite to Leslie, and sat down.

  "What did they say about my being absent at the meeting to-night?" shebegan.

  "Miss Lauderdale was very much displeased," replied Leslie in amonotonous sort of voice, "and so was Miss Frere. Miss Frere intends tospeak to you in the morning. I did what I could for you. I said you wereill, and----"

  "Humbug!" interrupted Annie. "I wasn't ill." Then she laughed in aqueer, strained way. "After all, that may be as good an excuse a
sanything else; but I don't mind your knowing that I wasn't really ill. Iwas obliged to go out. Leslie, I am in a great, a terrible strait, andit has occurred to me that perhaps you can help me."

  "In what way?" asked Leslie.

  "Leslie Gilroy, let me ask you a question. Did you ever want money sobadly, so dreadfully badly, that you would even commit a crime to getit?"

  "Never," answered Leslie.

  "Then you are one of the rich and lucky ones: I am one of the poor andunlucky. What a wide, wide gulf lies between us!"

  "You are quite mistaken when you say that I am one of the rich ones,"said Leslie; "we are none of us rich. On the contrary, we are poor. Mymother has to work very hard to support us; and I should not be here atthis moment were it not for the great kindness of a friend of my dearfather's, a Mr. Parker."

  "Parker?" said Annie, starting; "did you say Parker?" She roused herselfand looked attentively at Leslie.

  "I did," replied Leslie. "Mr. Parker--he was my father's great friend. Doyou happen to know anyone of the name?"

  "My brother has been in the office of a man of that name, and I happento know him slightly myself. He is a very rich city merchant. I wonderif it could possibly be the same."

  "Very likely," answered Leslie. "Our friend's name is Charles Parker,and he lived for a great many years in Sydney."

  "The same; it must be the same," said Annie. She clasped her hands andlooked excited. "And you know this Mr. Charles Parker well?" she said,turning to Leslie. "He is good to you?"

  "I do not know him well," replied Leslie; "but he is very good tome--more than good. The fact is, it is he who has sent me here. He ispaying all my fees. He was a great friend of my dear father's, andmother could not help accepting his generous offer. You see by thatfact, Annie, that I am not a rich girl, and that I know about poverty.Now, what is troubling you? Do tell me."

  "I cannot," replied Annie abruptly. "I have changed my mind. It is muchbetter for you not to know."

  She moved away, looking sulky and wretched.

  "Don't you want to go to bed?" she said presently.

  "Yes, I am tired," answered Leslie; "but I don't mind how long I wait upif I can really help you."

  "You cannot help me. I have quite changed my mind. It is better for youto know nothing whatever about me."

  Annie moved to the other end of the room and began to take off herthings. She tossed her hat on the nearest chair; her jacket had alreadytumbled on to the floor, but she had not observed it. She then began tounfasten her dress, and, taking down her untidy red hair, twisted it upinto a knot at the back of her head.

  "I wonder if it is quite certain," she said presently, "if the Mr.Charles Parker you know is the one in whose office my brother has been?"

  "It is impossible for me to tell you that," replied Leslie. "I only knowthat our friend's name is Charles Parker, that he made his fortune inSydney, and that he is now in the city."

  Annie heaved a great sigh of mingled relief and perplexity.

  "It must be the same," she said. "Leslie, you are a very good girl, andI am sorry I was rude to you to-day."

  "It does not matter about that in the least," replied Leslie. "I wishyou would think more of how you are to get out of your scrape. MissLauderdale was considerably annoyed at your not attending the meeting.Are you prepared to apologize to-morrow?"

  "Of course I am. Oh, by the way, what did you say about me?"

  "The truth. I said you were ill."

  "If they ask you again, you will tell them again that I was really ill?"

  "Of course I shall; you were very ill. You were not putting it on, wereyou, Annie?"

  "Of course not," answered Annie. "Now, do go to bed, and don't ask anymore questions. I was ill, and I am ill still, but my illness is not ofthe body. All the same, I have got such a headache that I can scarcelystand up."

  "Well, I am glad you are not going to do any more work to-night."

  "Work!" said Annie. "The mere thought makes me feel sick. Good-night,Leslie. Don't let us talk any more until the morning."

  Annie lay down on her bed, taking the clothes and wrapping them tightlyround her.

  "Don't speak to me again," she muttered; and Leslie, kneeling by herlittle bed, tried to pray. But all her thoughts were in a whirl. Shehated herself for not telling Annie that she had overheard herconversation. Finally, she made up her mind to do so in the morning.

  Being dead tired, she soon dropped asleep; but she was awakened justwhen the dawn was breaking by a noise in the room. She opened her eyes.To her astonishment, she saw that Annie Colchester was up; that she wasstanding by her desk turning over her (Leslie's) papers just as if shewere looking for something.

  "What is it, Annie?" called Leslie, raising herself on her elbow, andstaring in astonishment at her room-fellow.

  Annie started and flushed guiltily.

  "I was looking for a paper of mine," she said, "which I thought mighthave got amongst yours. I cannot think where I put it; but I see it isnot here, and I must only do it over again. It is too bad."

  She sighed heavily as she spoke, dragged herself across the room, andonce more got into bed.

  Leslie lay down without making any remark.

  "Another time I will lock my desk," she thought. "I hate to have mypapers and letters looked over. Somehow, I don't believe what she saidabout her own paper having got mixed up with mine. She knows that if sheis untidy I am absolutely the reverse."

  Soon afterwards she fell asleep again, and when she did awake saw to herastonishment that the sun was pouring into the room, and that AnnieColchester was already up and neatly dressed; her hair was put uptidily, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes wore a bright and yetcurious expression.

  "How early you are!" said Leslie. "You don't look well," she continued,"and yet in some ways I have never seen you look better."

  "I have a headache, but that does not matter in the least," repliedAnnie. "I am off now to see Miss Lauderdale, and to apologize for myrudeness in not coming to the meeting last night. I shall tell her thatI had such a terrible headache I could not hold my head up; but be sure,Leslie, you don't mention that I was out part of the time."

  "I shall not volunteer the information," answered Leslie; "but if I amasked, of course I must mention it. I don't suppose I shall be."

  "If you are asked!" said Annie, frowning. "You don't mean to say thatyou will betray me?"

  "I am not likely to be asked," said Annie. "I said last night that youwere very ill. Will you never understand, Annie, that I really wish tohelp you?"

  "You can help me by holding your tongue," said Annie. She went up toLeslie, half-bent forward as if she meant to kiss her, then changed hermind, and a moment afterwards left the room.

  "What can be up?" said Leslie to herself. "How is she going to get thatmoney? Poor girl, I wish she would confide in me; not that I know anyway of really helping her. But stay--I wonder if Mr. Parker---- No, no, Icould not--I could not ask him."

  Leslie dressed hastily, put her part of the room in order, opened herwindow wide, and then ran down to breakfast.

  There were a couple of letters on her plate. These occupied herattention during the meal, and she scarcely spoke to anyone. Immediatelyafter prayers she had to attend a lecture in Wingfield. As she wasreturning to the college she was met by Marjorie and Eileen, who stoppedher, to speak eagerly about Miss Lauderdale's scheme of the nightbefore.

  "It is exactly what we want," said Eileen; "for the first time we bothfeel really in touch with St. Wode's. You, Leslie, will be sure to takepart in this noble work?"

  "If I have time I certainly will," replied Leslie; "but I have come hereto study. I am working hard for a very definite object, and nothing muststand in the way of my work."

  "By the way, you are going to see Belle Acheson this afternoon?"

  "Yes; I promised to do so," replied Leslie.

  "I am heartily glad you like her," said Eileen; "she is a dear oldthing. I cannot bear the way Lettie goes on about her. Le
ttie is my owncousin; but she disappoints me terribly in her attitude towards Belle.But I can prophesy that you and Belle Acheson will be firm friends."

  "I respect all people who are really earnest," said Leslie in a gravevoice.

  "By the way, do you know why Annie Colchester has gone up to town?" saidEileen suddenly.

  "Annie Colchester gone to London?" said Leslie, starting and turningslightly pale.

  "Yes: didn't you know? We met her two hours ago on her way to thestation. She will return by the last train this evening. She told usthat Miss Lauderdale had given her leave. Miss Lauderdale was very goodto her, and she has gone off in the highest spirits. She asked if we hadany messages."

  Leslie said nothing more; but she slowly entered North Hall, went up toher own room, and sat down by the open window. Some of the fear of thenight before visited her. What was Annie's motive in going up to town?Was she really only looking for one of her own papers in Leslie's deskin the middle of the night? A queer sense of coming danger and calamityoppressed her. Her head ached, and she scarcely knew her own sensations.