Part 7 (1/2)

She deftly cleared the table of the two useless places, slipped the much talked of ducks into the oven, and brought two bottles of champagne from the ice box. At the end of the allotted time Palmer appeared, and the girl placed the smoking meal on the table. Then she glanced at him, smiling.

”I know you don't want to eat with the cook, do you?” she asked, and before he could protest she deftly threw off the concealing ap.r.o.n, and stood before him in all the glory of womanhood, a 'delicate flush in her cheeks, her eyes bright, the low cut, somber gown setting off to perfection the rounded whiteness of her neck and arms. Palmer, in admiration, gazed at her until with a laugh she broke the spell.

”I wanted to surprise d.i.c.k,” she said simply. ”He's always making fun of me for living in the country, and I thought I'd show him I knew something about dressmaking, anyway. Do you like it?”

”Like it?” the young man exclaimed fervently. ”Like it? Why, by Jove, I should say I did. You're simply ripping, you know. You're--”

Words failed him, and by way of relieving his feelings he began a savage onslaught on the ducks.

As the supper progressed, better and better grew his humor. Everything was delicious, and his third gla.s.s of champagne found him gazing at the dainty figure opposite through a mellow haze of sentimental content, until, finally, when she rose and held the match for his cigar, he somehow found the little hand which hung so invitingly at her side, and held it close until she gently withdrew it.

”You mustn't,” she whispered, with heightened color. ”Won't you please fix the fire? It's half out.”

He rose reluctantly to obey, and in that instant she poured the contents of a tiny phial into his gla.s.s. Then, as he turned again towards her, his face flushed, his eyes gleaming, his throat working convulsively, she raised her own gla.s.s in laughing challenge. ”One more,” she cried daringly: ”To our better acquaintance!”

Palmer touched his gla.s.s to hers and drained it at a gulp. ”To our better acquaintance,” he echoed thickly, and, putting down the gla.s.s, he came unsteadily toward her, and, before she could move, had seized her in his arms.

The girl struggled faintly. ”Oh, don't,” she cried piteously, as she strove to free herself from his grasp; ”please don't, Mr. Palmer! Let me go!” But her strength was as nothing compared to his, and with all her seeming shrinking, one would have said that her lithe form clung even more closely to his.

Suddenly Palmer released her, raising both hands quickly to his head as he staggered back. ”G.o.d,” he cried, in a strange, choked voice, ”it's all dark! I can't see!”

Then, with a last conscious effort, he reeled towards the window and fell heavily face downwards on the cus.h.i.+oned seat.

CHAPTER VIII

GORDON PREVENTS A SCANDAL.

”Exactly,” said Gordon. ”Yes, I understand. I trust I shall be equally so. In about fifteen minutes, you think. All right. Good-by.”

With a smile he hung up the receiver, and turned again to his work.

Ten minutes more, and Harrington, his confidential clerk, entered, a puzzled expression on his face. He bent over the desk and spoke a few words to Gordon in a low tone. Gordon nodded.

”Certainly,” he said, ”show him in. And, Harrington,” he added, ”I'm not to be disturbed until I ring; not by any one, you understand. If Rogers should telephone, I'm out of town but expected back any minute, and I'll ring him up as soon as I get in. Remember, I'm not to be disturbed for any reason whatsoever, unless I should ring. All right, now. Ask him to step in.”

The clerk nodded and withdrew, and Gordon, rising, stood waiting by the window, outwardly calm, inwardly exerting every atom of self-control to keep down his rising excitement, as the crucial moment in the game drew near. Even as he listened, a hurried step sounded in the corridor without, and Palmer burst into the room, flinging the door to behind him as if to shut out some threatened pursuit. His unshaven face was pale and haggard, his eyes bloodshot and wild, his clothing awry, his whole demeanor as unlike that of his every-day, placid self as could by any possibility be imagined. His eyes sought Gordon's face, half in relief, half in fear.

”I've come straight here,” he cried hoa.r.s.ely. ”I thought I might have missed you if you'd gone to the island. Gordon, there's the very devil to pay. Have you heard what's happened?”

Gordon, his face set and hard, nodded silently. He motioned to a chair, and seated himself at his desk, his voice, when he spoke, sounding low and constrained.

”Yes, I've heard,” he said; ”I was just starting for the island when Mrs. Francis got me on the 'phone. Poor woman, she's half out of her mind.” He paused, and then his seeming emotion mastered him, sweeping away in an instant his effort at self-control.

”For G.o.d's sake, Palmer,” he cried aloud, his eyes fixed on the other's face, ”how did you come to do it? I can't believe it yet. You!

A man of your position! My guest! Great heavens, Palmer, it can't be true! Tell me the whole thing's a lie.”

The younger man sat silent with head bowed and eyes fixed on the ground; his hands clenched, his body drawn back as if to avert a blow.

Once, twice, he tried to speak, swallowing with difficulty and moistening his dry lips with his tongue. Then unwillingly he raised his eyes to Gordon's face.

”It's true enough,” he muttered thickly; ”I've been a fool, that's all, and now I suppose there'll be the deuce to pay. Wine and women, d.a.m.n them both! they've got me into trouble enough before this, but this time I guess they've just about done for me.”