"On his-because I'm so sorry for him. The poor man is so lonely. He's lost his wife, he has no friends to speak of, and he lives all by himself in a seaside hotel, where he's surrounded by a set of entirely new faces every day. We women ought to do what we can for him. I know he can't be precisely a congenial companion for a girl your age, but if you'll only act the good Samaritan and come with us I give you my solemn word of honour I'll take as much of his conversation off your hands as I can manage."
"Oh, I don't doubt that in the very least."
"Then you consent?"
"No, I refuse," said Isbel, drily.
"It's too bad of you!…Won't you give a reason? I must tell him something."
"Tell him I don't care to. He'll understand. Tell him I don't care to go running about the country with total strangers. I don't like it, and my friends wouldn't like it…Thanks for coming over, Mrs. Richborough! There's nothing else you want to say, is there?" She prepared to get up.
"One little minute more, my dear…If you don't care about accompanying us, would your aunt, I wonder? You say she is negotiating for the house. Mr. Judge, of course, would bring his car for her."
"I'm afraid if he brought wild horses it wouldn't have the desired effect. She's a very difficult person to move."
"There's nothing like trying. If I were to walk back with you to your hotel, should I find her in?"
"She would be in, but whether she would be visible is quite another matter. I may as well tell you that her interest in Runhill Court is extremely thin at the moment, and as for Mr. Judge-merely to mention his name is like holding out a red cloak to a bull…She fancies he hasn't treated her with an excessive amount of consideration-and that's really why the negotiations are falling on me."
"There would be no harm in my trying, though. I think I will look in on my way to the station. It's the Hotel Gondy, isn't it? I fancy I once stayed there."
"You seem quite well posted," said Isbel, smiling with vexation. "Go, by all means, if you think it's at all likely to answer the purpose. Only, please don't bring my name into it-I particularly request that."
The widow shot her a malicious little glance.
"If it can possibly be avoided, my dear, it shall me. In any case, she shall hear nothing of the letter-I promise you that."
"I begin to see!"
"I can hardly do more, can I? If we aren't to be friends, you really can't expect me to fib for you. Be reasonable!"
"No, u really suppose I can't…The only thing that still puzzles me is why my humble society should be so much in request. Such red-hot zeal in the cause of sight-seeing strikes one as quite uncanny! Surely you can't have told me the whole story?"
"I believe we shall come to terms now. Do you know, my dear, you're ever so much cleverer than I gave you credit for at first." She bestowed on Isbel one of those disarming smiles which she ordinarily reserved for her male acquaintances. "As you're so direct with me, Im going to be equally open with you. Runhill Court is notoriously haunted, and…I'm a spiritist…That explains everything at last, doesn't it?"
Isbel stared at her. "But is it notoriously haunted?"
"Perhaps 'haunted' is a rather misleading term. Shall we say queer? There's a corridor there which is quite celebrated throughout the length and breadth of the kingdom-in psychic circles, it goes without saying. You must know it, since you've been there so many times?"
"Oh, yes-but if that's all, it's not much."
"Not to you, my dear, for you take no interest in such matters, but to anyone who is interested in another world the smallest clue is deeply engrossing. Possibly you have never lost anyone who is very, very dear to you? I have."
"And that's the true reason why I'm to be forced to do something I don't want? Excuse my scepticism, Mrs. Richborough, but you've been rattling out different explanations at the rate of sixty miles an hour for the last ten minutes. I'm not sure whether there are more to come."
The widow threw her a hostile glance. "Such as what?"
"That's what I don't know, and what I am wondering."
"You seem to suggest a personal motive?"
"I suggest nothing at all, but it's very funny…How long have you really know Mr. Judge?"
"Exactly a fortnight to-morrow, my dear. You see, there's no question of intimacy between us."
"What is the extent of his fortune, really? I've never heard."
Mrs. Richborough showed her long, but beautifully white teeth, in a smile. "Has he one? He has that house, of course…I confess I've never heard whether he's rich or poor, and, to tell the truth, it doesn't worry me in the slightest. I'm afraid I'm a dreadfully unmercenary creature; I choose my friends for their distinction of character, and not at all for their money-bags. I've never had anything to do with money, and I hate the very mention of it."
"Then how do you contrive to live?" asked Isbel bluntly.
"Oh, one has an income, of course…still, one leaves all that to one's banker. The great art of living happily, my dear, is to cut your coat according to your stuff…Now, it's getting late-what about to-morrow?"
"I suppose I shall have to say 'Yes,' since you're so very persuasive."
"I felt sure you would relent eventually."
"On condition that the whole thing is kept quiet."
Mrs. Richborough reassured her with effusiveness.
"It had better be in the morning," said Isbel, cutting her short somewhat contemptuously.
"I was going to suggest it. I'm so glad you can fit in-I know how horribly tied you girls are. They call it a free country, yet a girl is a perfect slave to her little circle…Now, will you come over to Worthing by the same train as before? Come straight along to the Metropole, and ask for me. The car will be waiting, and we can start at once-just the three of us."
"How do you know that Mr. Judge will be sufficiently recovered to come?"
"Oh, he will be. There's nothing seriously wrong with him, my dear. I shall pack him off to bed early, and see that he gets a real good night's rest."
Isbel stood up. "He's evidently in good hands."
"Any woman would do that much for him. It would be abominable to leave him to the mercies of the hotel staff." Mrs. Richborough also ascended to ther perpendicular position-a floating mass of soft furs…"You don't wish me to convey a personal message?"
"Oh, say I'm sorry he's unwell, and that the other matter is all right."
She extended her hand, which the widow hastened to grasp warmly. The latter even raised her veil and pushed her face forward, but this was too much for Isbel, who deliberately ignored the invitation. Mrs. Richborough, recognising her faux pas, made all speed to cover it up:
"I hear you're to be married, my dear?"
"Oh, yes…Who told you?"
"Mr. Judge hinted at it…I'm so glad!"
"Thanks! But I wish he'd leave my private affairs alone."
"He's so isolated, and had so little to talk about."
"He has no right to discuss me. I don't like it."
"My dear, it was only the shadow of a hint-perhaps not even that. Perhaps he said nothing at all, and it was merely my intuition…Well, then, good-bye till to-morrow. By the way, if you would care to dash off a few lines to him, I have paper and a fountain pen."
Isbel declined, thinking the offer rather strange. They separated, to go their respective ways.
Five minutes later, as she passed along the now nearly deserted parade towards the hotel, she whipped a hairpin out of her hair, and, halting for a moment, compared it carefully with that which Judge had sent her. They were identical in size and shape…She returned them both to her hair.
Chapter XIII THE LUNCH AT THE METROPOLE
It had been raining heavily, but the sky was rapidly clearing and there were great tracts of blue everywhere as Isbel mounted the steps of the Metropole Hotel at Worthing shortly after noon on the following day. She had been unable to escape from her aunt in time to catch the earlier train, but to compensate for this she was free to
spend the whole day as she pleased. By a lucky chance, Mrs. Moor was compelled to go up to town on business.
Judge was waiting in the porch. He grasped her hand warmly, preventing her apologies.
"It was very good of you to come at all, Miss Loment. As far as we are concerned, the time is of no importance. Mrs. Richborough will be here immediately."
Even as he spoke, the widow appeared. Her tall and lovely form was attired as usual in the rich, soft furs and velvets which she so much affected. She moved charmingly, and her grace-fully swaying waist was that of a quite young woman, but Isbel no sooner saw the angular, witchlike face than her old feelings of repugnance and distrust returned.
As it was so late, an early lunch at the hotel was agreed upon, before starting. They passed into the restaurant. Here Isbel received an unpleasant shock. She recognised and was recognised by a girl acquaintance belonging to her particular set-Louie Lassells, who probably was more intimate with Blanche, Marshall, and the rest than with her own relations.
Louie was lunching with a couple of youngsters of the subaltern type; she seemed in the highest spirits, and champagne was already on the table. She pledged Isbel in a glass from the other side of the room. Presently she came over to her, her dark, bold, handsome, gypsy-like face looked very flushed and defiantly gay.
"So this is where you get to!" she began, throwing a single critical glance towards Mrs. Richborough and Judge.
"I'm not the only one, it appears," retaliated Isbel. She laid down her knife and fork, and looked up calmly. "You're having a high old time, obviously."
"Rather! We're making a day of it. Sorry I can't introduce you, but we're all here incog. I'm supposed to be in Regent Street at this blessed minute."
"Bravo! I'm supposed to be in Brighton. We'd better draw up a deed."
Louie laughed immoderately. "What shall we drink it in?" Her eye roved round the table. "What are you drinking? Only Burgundy?…I say…"-she bent to whisper-"you're not having much of a time, are you? Where did you dig them up?"
Mrs. Richborough unluckily overheard.
"Surely I know your face?" she remarked graciously to Louie, who still held on to the edge of the table. "Your name is just hovering on the tip of my tongue."
The girl smiled vaguely, without even looking at her. "One sees so many people. It's going to turn out a quite charming day, I think…Well, ta-ta, Isbel! No manner of use asking you to join us, of course?"
"You see, I can't."
Louie trod lightly back to her impatient squires, while Isbel watched with some amusement Mrs. Richborough's efforts to regain her composure.
"She seems a pleasant girl," remarked Judge.
"Is she a very close friend of yours?" inquired the widow of Isbel, returning, however, to her plate.
"We know each other fairly well."
"What an unfortunate coincidence that she should be lunching here to-day, of all days."
"Why?" asked Judge.
"Miss Loment rather wished to keep her visit private, I fancy. I'm afraid she is inclined to regard it in the light of an escapade."
"Is that really so, Miss Loment?"
"Naturally I have appearances to consider. However, it's no good crying over spilt milk if anyone splits, it won't be Louie."
"Quite sure?" asked Mrs. Richborough, with a smile which was almost a sneer.
"I hope I can trust my own friends to behave with common decency."
Judge looked perplexed. "I hope you're not here against your will?"
"Why should I come, if I hadn't wanted to? I'm a free agent."
"Can't you grasp, Mr. Judge? La tante terrible! Miss Loment is experiencing the fearful joy of being out of school."
"Clever, but unsound, Mrs. Richborough. I was thinking more of public opinion."
"You think you are acting unwisely?" asked Judge, wrinkling his forehead.
"Oh, I know if there's any doubt about it the judgement won't be given in my favour. Lunching in a strange town, with quite unknown people, strikes me as being exactly calculated t lead to a lot of questions being asked. And we know that if a question is uncharitable, the answer to it won't be otherwise. Even if I were to plead altruistic motives, I'm afraid it wouldn't be of any avail."
"Does that imply you're here out of kindness?"
"Perhaps it comes to that in the end. The pleasure of a chaperon is always rather impersonal."
"Of a chaperon, Miss Loment?
"Didn't you know? I'm chaperoning Mrs. Richborough. She made such a strong point of it that really I hadn't the heart to refuse. Otherwise, I didn't mean to come."
Judge's expression was one of absolute amazement.
"Here is some misunderstanding, evidently. Mrs. Richborough was kind enough to offer herself as chaperon to you, on learning that you were so anxious to see the house once more…"
The widow actually coloured, beneath her paint and powder. "Really, I'll never equivocate again as long as I live! Miss Loment seemed so unwilling to join us that there was positively nothing left to do except appeal to her sympathy…I feel an absolute criminal."
"Oh, it's funny, Mrs. Richborough!" said Isbel. "Don't start apologising or you'll spoil the joke."
"But surely, Miss Loment," said Judge, "you didn't for one minute imagine that I desired to fetch you all the way from Brighton merely to act as a companion to another lady? I must have made that clear in my letter."
"Oh, it's a mix-up, and that's all about it. Mrs. Richborough was obliging me, and I was under the impression that I was obliging her. When women start conferring favours on one another there's no end to the complications. To show our thorough disinterestedness, we stick at nothing."
"It must certainly have been a most confusing situation for both of you," remarked Judge, smiling at last "However, the main point is we've got you here, by fair means or foul; and I don't think you need be in the least afraid of tittle-tattle, as we are both highly respectable people. If might suggest a compromise, you had better terminate your dispute of generosity by agreeing to chaperon each other, since in the eyes of the world I am such a dangerous person.?
"Then what are we waiting for?" demanded Isbel cheerfully. "Lunch seems to be at an end."
They stayed for coffee, however, and then, while Judge went outside to prepare the car, Mrs. Richborough led the somewhat unwilling girl upstairs to her room, where for five unpleasant minutes she was forced to inhale an atmosphere almost nauseous with feminine perfume, while witnessing the elder woman's final applications of paint, powder, and salve. Refusing the use of these materials for herself, at the end ot that time she broke away, and went downstairs alone.
She found Judge promenading before the hotel. A rather embarrassed discussion of the weather began.
"Thanks for the letter!" said Isbel, quietly and suddenly.
"It was my hairpin."
"I decided as much; there's no one else it could have belonged to."
"Won't you tell me what was in that note you destroyed?"
"I can't-I can't. Say no more about it."
"Whose idea really was it, that I should come over to-day-yours or hers?"
"Mine, Miss Loment. She has nothing at all to do with the business. I am simply bringing her because you can't go with me alone."
"I'd rather it were anyone else. Who is she? Do you know anything about her?"
"Nothing, I fear, except that she's quite reputable…Don't you like her, then?"
"Not particularly-but we won't pay her the honour of talking about her…What are we to do to-day?
"I thought we could make a desperate effort to get this mystery cleared up, once for all…I fear we must both recognise that things can't go on in the way they're doing. It's unfair to both of us."
Isbel gave him a half-frightened glance. "What's to prevent us from finishing now? Why need we take a still deeper plunge-for that's what it amounts to…or does it? What do you think-shall we really ever get any satisfaction? I'm fearfully uncertain…"
"You place a great responsibility on my shoulders, Miss Loment…To be quite truthful, I feel I have no right to ask you to proceed further. I would not have written you as I did, except that I somehow had it firmly wedged in my head that the uncertainty was causing you great uneasiness…"
"It's half-killing me…We'll go…But what are we to do with that woman when we get there?"
"It hasn't occurred to me. It may be awkward, I can see."
"If we don't hurry up and plan something, we shall have her trailing after us all the time."
"Something may turn up, to give us our chance."
"That's most unlikely-nothing ever turns up when you want it to. We'd better contrive something after this style: while we are all three going over the house together, I'll accidentally become separated from you, and you must leave her while you hunt for me. We both know our respective stations."
"But if she insists on accompanying me…?"
"OH, she won't keep it up; she'll soon tire of tramping up and down stairs, and along interminable corridors, in her high-heeled boots-searching for a girl she's utterly callous about. Besides, she has a weak heart…"
"Did she say so?"
"No, but she has all the symptoms…Of course, you'll make a point of looking upstairs first."
Judge obviously was reluctant to assent to her plan. "I suppose we can think of nothing better. Apart altogether from putting a deliberate deceit on a defenceless and unsuspecting woman, we have to consider the circumstance that she will be alone in a large and gloomy house very likely upwards of half an hour; and you say her heart is not in good shape."
"I expect she'll survive the ordeal, and if it's any consolation to you, I fancy her own programme won't bear a great deal of looking at."
"What programme is that?"
"Oh, I don't pretend to know the details, Mr. Judge; only I'm pretty sure she's hatching something. Otherwise, why should she go to the trouble of blackmailing me into accompanying you to-day? I don't suppose you're aware of the fact that she openly threatened me with informing my aunt that I had met you privately at Worthing?"
"You didn't tell me that!…Upon my soul!…Solely for the purpose of getting you to come?
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