Part 3 (1/2)

Morley hastily s.n.a.t.c.hed up the letter. It was unsigned, and apparently written in an uneducated hand on common paper. He read it out hurriedly, while Anne and Mrs. Morley stood amazed to hear its contents.

”'Honored Miss,'” read Morley slowly, ”'this is from a well-wisher to say that you must not trust the governess, who will kill you, because of G. W. and the Scarlet Cross.'”

Anne uttered a cry and sank back into her chair white as the snow out of doors. ”The Scarlet Cross,” she murmured, ”again the Scarlet Cross.”

CHAPTER III

A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR

Later in the day Mr. Morley called the three women into his library to have a discussion regarding the strange letter and its stranger accusation. Daisy had recovered from her faint, but was still pale and obviously afraid of Anne. The governess appeared perfectly composed, but her white face was as hard as granite. Both Morley and his wife were much disturbed, as was natural, especially as at the moment Anne had refused any explanation. Now Morley was bent on forcing her to speak out and set Daisy's mind at rest. The state of the girl was pitiable.

The library was a large square apartment, with three French windows opening on to a terrace, whence steps led down to a garden laid out in the stiff Dutch style. The room was sombre with oak and heavy red velvet hangings, but rendered more cheerful by books, photographs, and pictures. Morley was fond of reading, and during his ten years'

residence at The Elms had acc.u.mulated a large number of volumes. Between the bookcases were trophies of arms, mediaeval weapons and armor, and barbaric spears from Africa and the South Seas, intermixed with bows and clubs. The floor was of polished oak, with here and there a brilliantly colored Persian praying-mat. The furniture was also of oak, and cus.h.i.+oned in red Morocco leather. Altogether the library gave evidence of a refined taste, and was a cross between a monkish cell and a sybarite's bower.

”Well, Miss Denham,” said Morley, his merry face more than a trifle serious, ”what have you to say?”

”There is nothing I can say,” replied Anne, with composure, ”the letter has nothing to do with me.”

”My dear,” put in Mrs. Morley, much distressed, ”you cannot take up this att.i.tude. You know I am your friend, that I have always done my best for you, and for my sake, if not for Daisy's, you must explain.”

”She won't--she won't,” said Daisy, with an hysterical laugh.

”I would if I could,” replied Anne, talking firmly, ”but the accusation is ridiculous. Why should I threaten Daisy?”

”Because you love Giles,” burst out the girl furiously.

”I do not love Mr. Ware. I said so the other night.”

”And you said more than that. You said that you would kill me.”

”Miss Denham,” cried Morley, greatly shocked, ”what is this?”

”A foolish word spoken in a foolish moment,” said Anne, realizing that her position was becoming dangerous.

”I think so too,” said Mrs. Morley, defending her. ”It so happened, Miss Denham, that I overheard you make the speech to Daisy, and I told my husband about it the next morning. We decided to say nothing, thinking--as you say now--that it was simply a foolish speech. But this letter”--she hesitated, then continued quickly, ”you must explain this letter.”

Anne thought for a moment. ”I can't explain it. Some enemy has written it. You know all about me, Mrs. Morley. You read my credentials--you inquired as to my former situations at the Governess Inst.i.tute where you engaged me. I have nothing to conceal in my life, and certainly I have no idea of harming Daisy. She came to my room and talked nonsense, which made me lose my temper. I said a foolish thing, I admit, but surely knowing me as you do you will acquit me of meaning anything by a few wild words uttered in a hurry and without thought.”

”Why did you make use of such an expression?” asked Morley.

”Because I was carried out of myself. I have a strain of negro blood in me, and at times say more than I mean.”

”And your negro blood will make you kill me,” cried Daisy, with an expression of terror. ”I am doomed--doomed!”

”Don't be a fool, child,” said Morley roughly.

”She is a trifle hysterical,” explained Mrs. Morley, comforting the girl, who was sobbing violently.