Part 34 (1/2)

The bell rang again.

”You'll have to!” Mrs. Brace said at last. ”I won't let anybody in. I have to answer it!”

”You'll send them away--whoever it is--at once?”

”At once. I don't want you seen here, any more than you want to be seen!”

Lucille started toward the bedroom. At the first step she took, Mrs.

Brace put a hand on her arm.

”That money!” she demanded, in a low whisper. ”I'll take it.”

”And do what I asked--stop attacking us?”

”Yes. Yes!”

Lucille gave her the money.

There were no lights in the bedroom. Lucille, for fear of stumbling or making a noise, stood to one side of the door-frame, close to the wall.

Mrs. Brace's footsteps stopped. There was the click of the opening door. Then, there came to Lucille the high-pitched, querulous voice which she had been afraid she would hear.

It was her father's.

XVII

”THE WHOLE TRUTH”

”Mrs. Brace, good evening.--May I come in?”

Then followed the sound of footsteps, and the closing of the door.

”I shan't detain you long, Mrs. Brace.” They were still in the hall.

”May I come in?”

”Certainly.” The tardy a.s.sent was the perfection of indifference.

They entered the living room. Lucille, without using her eyes, knew that her father was standing just within the doorway, glancing around with his slight squint, working his lips nervously, his head thrust forward.

”Ah-h!” his shrill drawl, although he kept it low, carried back to Lucille. ”All alone--may I ask?” He went toward the chairs by the window. ”That is, I hope to have--well--rather a confidential little talk with you.”

Mrs. Brace resumed her place on the armless rocker after she had moved a chair forward for him. Lucille heard it grate on the floor. Certain that he had taken it, she looked into the room. Her intuition was correct; Mrs. Brace had placed it so that his back was turned to both the bedroom door and the door into the entry. This made her escape possible.

The relief she got from the thought was of a violent nature. It came to her like a blow, almost forcing a gasp from her constricted throat. If she could tiptoe without sound a distance of eighteen feet, a matter of six or seven steps, she could leave the apartment without his knowledge.

To that she was doubly urged. In the first place, Hastings' warning drummed upon her brain; he had specified the importance of keeping even her father in ignorance of her errand.

Upon that came another reason for flight, her fear of hearing what her father would say. A wave of nausea weakened her. She bowed down, there in the dark, under the burden of her suspicion: he had come to do, for quite a different reason, what she had done! She kept away from definite a.n.a.lysis of his motive. Fear for Berne, or fear for himself, it was equally horrible to her consideration.