began to return from their various missions. Bellamy went back to Louise, who was lying down again and drinking some tea. She motioned Bellamy to come over to her side.
“Tell me,” she asked, “what are you going to do now?”
“I am going to do what I ought to have done before,” Bellamy answered. “Laverick’s connection with this affair is suspicious enough, but after all he is a sportsman and an Englishman. I am going to tell him what that envelope contains—tell him the truth.”
“You are right!” she exclaimed. “Whatever he may have done, if you tell him the truth he will give you that document. I am sure of it. Do you know where to find him?”
“I shall go to his rooms,” Bellamy declared. “I must be quick, too, for Lassen is free—they will know that he has failed.”
“Come back to me, David,” she begged, and he kissed her fingers and hurried out.
XXX. THE CONTEST FOR THE PAPERS
Laverick, sitting with Zoe at dinner, caught his companion looking around the restaurant with an expression in her face which he did not wholly understand.
“Something is the matter with you this evening, Zoe,” he said anxiously. “Tell me what it is. You don’t like this place, perhaps?”
“Of course I do.”
“It is your dinner, then, or me?” he persisted. “Come, out with it. Haven’t we promised to tell each other the truth always?”
The pink color came slowly into her cheeks. Her eyes, raised for a moment to his, were almost reproachful.
“You know very well that it is not anything to do with you,” she whispered. “You are too kind to me all the time. Only,” she went on, a little hesitatingly, “don’t you realize—can’t you see how differently most of the girls here are dressed? I don’t mind so much for myself—but you—you have so many friends. You keep on seeing people whom you know. I am afraid they will think that I ought not to be here.”
He looked at her in surprise, mingled, perhaps, with compunction. For the first time he appreciated the actual shabbiness of her clothes. Everything about her was so neat—pathetically neat, as it seemed to him in one illuminating moment of realization. The white linen collar, notwithstanding its frayed edges, was spotlessly clean. The black bow was carefully tied to conceal its worn parts. Her gloves had been stitched a good many times. Her gown, although it was tidy, was old-fashioned and had distinctly seen its best days. He suddenly recognized the effort—the almost despairing effort—which her toilette had cost her.
“I don’t think that men notice these things,” he said simply. “To me you look just as you should look—and I wouldn’t change places with any other man in the room for a great deal.”
Her eyes were soft—perilously soft—as she looked at him with uplifted eyebrows and a faint smile struggling at the corners of her lips. A wave of tenderness crept into his heart. What a brave little child she was!
“You will quite spoil me if you make such nice speeches,” she murmured.
“Anyhow,” he went on, speaking with decision, “so long as you feel like that, you are going to have a new gown—or two—and a new hat, and you are going to have them at once. They are going to be bought with your brother’s money, mind. Shall I come shopping with you?”
She shook her head.
“Mind, it is partly for your sake that I give in,” she said. “It would be lovely to have you come, but you would spend far too much money. You really mean it all?”
“Absolutely,” he answered. “I insist upon it.”
She leaned towards him with dancing eyes. After all, she was very much of a child. The prospect of a new gown, now that she permitted herself to think of it, was enthralling.
“I might get a coat and skirt,” she remarked thoughtfully, “and a simple white dress. A black hat would do for both of them, then.”
“Don’t you study your brother too much,” Laverick declared. “His stock is going up all the time.”
“Tell me your favorite color,” she begged confidentially.
“I can’t conceive your looking nicer than you do in black,” he replied.
She made a wry face.
“I suppose it must be black,” she murmured doubtfully. “It is much more economical than anything—”
She broke off to bow to a stout, red-faced man who, after a rude stare, had greeted her with a patronizing nod. Laverick frowned.
“Who is that fellow?” he asked.
“Mr. Heepman, our stage-manager,” Zoe answered, a little timidly.
“Is there any particular reason why he should behave like a boor?” Laverick continued, raising his voice a little.
She caught at his arm in terror. The man was sitting at the next table.
“Don’t, please!” she implored. “He might hear you. He is just behind there.”
Laverick half turned in his chair. She guessed what he was about to say, and went on rapidly.
“He has been so foolish,” she whispered. “He has asked me so often to go out with him. And he could get me sent away, if he wanted, any time. He almost threatened it, the last time I refused. Now that he has seen me with you, he will be worse than ever.”
Laverick’s face darkened, and there was a peculiar flash in his eyes. The man was certainly looking at them in a rude manner.
“There are so many of the girls who would only be too pleased to go with him,” Zoe continued, in a terrified undertone. “I can’t think why he bothers me.”
“I can,” Laverick muttered. “Let’s forget about the brute.”
But the dinner was already spoiled for Zoe, so Laverick paid the bill a few minutes later, and walked across to the stage-door of the theatre with her. Her little hand, when she gave it to him at parting, was quite cold.
“I’m as nervous as I can be,” she confessed. “Mr. Heepman will be watching all the night for something to find fault with me about.”
“Don’t you let him bully you,” Laverick begged.
“I won’t,” she promised. “Good-bye! Thanks so much for my dinner.”
She turned away with a brave attempt at a smile, but it was only an attempt. Laverick walked on to his club. There was no one in the dining-room whom he knew, and the card-room was empty. He played one game of billiards, but he played badly. He was upset. His nerves were wrong he told himself, and little wonder. There seemed to be no chance of a rubber at bridge, so he sallied out again
