The Heart of a Woman
Page 16
CHAPTER XVI
AND THE PUPPETS DANCED
And so he went to meet Louisa and Colonel Harris at the DanishLegation, and found them a taxicab and generally saw to theircomparative comfort.
There was no restraint between the three of them. It was as natural tothem all to avoid speaking of important matters on the door step of aneighbour's house, as it was to eat or drink or breathe. So Luke askedif the dinner had been enjoyable and the reception crowded, andColonel Harris comfortably complained of both. He hated foreigncooking, and society crushes, and had endured both to-night. No doubtthe terrible events of this night, as yet mere shadows--hardlyadmitted to be real--were weighing on the kind old man's usual heartyspirits.
But so versed were they all in the art of make believe that each oneindividually was able to register in the innermost depths of ananxious heart the firm conviction that the other "had not heard."
Luke was convinced that the gruesome and sordid news could not havepenetrated within the gorgeous mansion where Lou in an exquisite gownhad sung modern songs in her pure contralto voice. He felt sure thatneither Lou nor Colonel Harris had heard that Philip de Mountford hadbeen murdered in a taxicab and that police officers had thought fitto speak to him--Luke--in tones of contemptuous familiarity. Nay more!now that he himself sat thus opposite good-natured, prosy, sensibleColonel Harris, he began to think that he must have been dreaming,that the whole thing could not have occurred, but that he had imaginedit all whilst leaning against the garden-railings trying to strain hisears so that they should hear the soft faint echo of that purecontralto voice.
Perhaps the wish had been father to the thought; whilst gazing up atthose brilliantly illumined windows, he might in his heart of heartshave wished the non-existence of Philip--not his death, but theannihilation of the past few months, the non-advent of the intruder:and, thus wishing, he may have imagined the whole thing--the murder inthe cab, the police officer on the door step of the old home inGrosvenor Square.
A sense of supreme well-being encompassed him now. Lou sat opposite tohim. He could not distinguish her face in the gloom, only the outlineof her head with the soft brown hair perfectly dressed by the hand ofan accomplished maid: Lou, the personification of modernity, ofordinary commonplace life, but exquisite--just the woman whom he lovedwith every fibre of his heart, every tendril of his being and everysense within him. A soft perfume of sweet peas clung to her gown andwas wafted to his nostrils. He closed his eyes, and drew in a longbreath of supreme delight. Now and then as the cab gave a jerk hisknee came in contact with hers, and down on the ground quite close tohis own there rested a small neatly shod foot, the sole of which hewould have given his heart's blood to kiss.
Oh, yes; he was quite, quite happy: this was reality: his exquisiteLouisa, the outline of her perfect head, the touch of her knee, thescent of sweet peas which intoxicated him and whipped his senses tomadness and to dreams. It was reality and the other was only the wildphantasmagoria of a wild imagination--the insane thought born ofinsane desire. In the darkness which enveloped him and Lou, he could,you see, give free rein to himself. The world was not gaping;conventionality held no sway within these four narrow walls; thepuppet could loosen the string which had forced it to dance, it couldlie placid for awhile, dead to the world, but enjoying its ownexistence and its own vitality.
And Lou, watching him in that same darkness which concealed himentirely, save to her eyes of watchfulness, believed that he had heardnothing as yet. She vaguely combated the desire to tell him everythingthen and there, so that he should hear the worst and the best from herlips rather than through indifferent channels later on.
But with that subtle perception peculiar to her--the modern,commonplace woman of the world--she divined that he was living for themoment in a world of his own, from which it was sacrilege to try anddrag him away.
Just then the cab drew up outside the Langham Hotel. The every-dayworld had returned with its flaring electric lights, its hall porters,its noise and bustle, and chased away the illusions of the past fewmoments. Luke jumped out, ready to help Lou down--a happy second that,for her hand must needs rest in his.
The glare of the electric lamp above fell full on his face, which wasserene, placid, the usual mask of supreme indifference: only Louisaread beyond the mask, and as her hand rested in his for just a thoughtlonger than conventionality allowed, she realized that he kneweverything: the murder, the horror, and the suspicion which hadtouched him already with the tip of its sable wing.
Her eyes, and the pressure of her hand bade him "good-night" and shepassed on into the lighted hall of the hotel. He followed ColonelHarris into the lobby.
"You have heard?" he asked quickly and in a whisper, lest Lou shouldhear.
"Yes," replied the other.
"And Louisa? Does she know?"
"Gossip was all over the confounded place," was Colonel Harris'smuttered comment.
"But you've heard no details?"
"No. Have you?"
"Very little. Only what the police officer chose to tell me."
"Then," queried the older man, "it's an absolute fact?"
"Absolute, unfortunately."
"Hm! As to that--have you seen your uncle?"
"No. I went round as soon as I knew, but the police had forestalled meand broken the news to him."
"But why didn't you see him?"
"He sent word that he would rather I come back in the morning.Philip's influence still prevalent, you see."
"Well, it's a confounded business," ejaculated Colonel Harris withhearty conviction, "but I'm not going to lament over it. After all'ssaid and done it's a very simple way out of an impossible situation."
"A very horrible way."
"Bah!"
And the good-natured old man shrugged his shoulders with a gesture ofsupreme indifference.
"Well," said Luke quietly, "it's late now, sir. You'll want to get tobed."
"Well," retorted the other with quite a touch of joviality "it's anill wind--you know."
"Good night, sir."
"Good night, my boy. How will you get back?"
"Oh, a taxi is the quickest. Edie might have heard something, and beanxious. I must hurry home now."
Louisa was standing in the hall at the top of the steps. Luke raisedhis hat to her and having shaken hands with Colonel Harris quietlyturned to go, and was soon lost in the gloom beyond.
No one who had been standing in the lobby of the hotel would haveguessed that these three people who had talked and bowed and shakenhands so quietly were facing one of life's most appalling, mostoverwhelming tragedies.
The world's puppets had been strung up again, because indifferent eyeswere there to watch and gape, and in the presence of these modernBulls of Bashan the puppets danced to the prevalent tune.