forcing a smile to her lips. “I understood that you had left England altogether; that, in fact, you—”
She paused in some confusion. Cleave laughed a little bitterly. He was feeling quite at home now, quite ready to carry out his programme to the letter.
“I can quite understand what you mean,” he said. “You thought that I had left my country for my country’s good; and yet, knowing me as you did in the old days, you will be disposed to admit that I was more sinned against than sinning. I fell into bad hands, amongst men who took advantage of my generosity and stripped me of all I had. Then when I discovered the extent of my folly, I became the pigeon which has turned a hawk. But any man has a right to a chance of recovery if he proves himself worthy of it. The fact that I am here to-night shows you that I have taken my chance.”
Lena made no reply for a moment; she was casting around for a means to get rid of this man; she wanted to be alone and think. A little way off stood her lover in conversation with one of the leaders of his party, but Lena could see that he was paying but scant attention to the great man’s utterances. There was a puzzled frown on his face, as if he were struggling to remember the name of Lena’s acquaintance. Then there was a sudden lurid flash in his eyes and a sudden hardening of his lips. Lena did not need anyone to tell her that Philip knew. He made one stride forward, then recovered his self-possession. His back was turned to the others. Lena flashed an uneasy glance at Cleave’s face. She could see at once that the little comedy had not passed over his head.
“I have heard about that,” he said. “I have been in England long enough to know that Philip Hardy has so far honoured you as to offer his hand and what he calls his heart to you. He is going to be a great man, I understand, but he must not be too impulsive. And, after all, what business is it of his to question my presence in this house?”
“I did not know such was his intention,” Lena said coldly. “You will excuse me, I am sure; please do not let me detain you any longer. There is much I have to do.”
A sudden anger flamed up in Cleave’s heart; he had no intention of being dismissed in this cold contemptuous way.
Softly, softly,” he said between his teeth. “What a wonderful change in a woman in the course of three short years! When I left England there was no more timid or more affectionate creature than yourself. Now you are so hard and cold to me. Why?”
“Why should you question my feelings at all?” Lena retorted. “They cannot concern you.”
“Oh, yes, they can,” Cleave sneered. “Do not tell me you have forgotten those pleasant old days when we were together in the heart of the country. Do you recollect the night—”
Lena’s face flushed crimson. She felt as if some cold hands had been laid about her heart. A subtle instinct told her that this man was here for no good; she flashed round upon him with a challenge in her eyes.
“What is it?” she demanded. “Why do you come here like this and force yourself upon me? Let me grant at once that all you say is true, that we were at one time more than friends. I was young and innocent of the world—I loved you. But I was merely a child and knew no better. The love that I felt for you in those days I know now was no more than a passing fancy. I know now that I had given my heart to a scoundrel, who would surely have broken it had not Providence been kind. If you are the man you say you are, if you have done your best to redeem your disgraceful past, you would have shrunk from me, you would have avoided my presence. But you are here to-night for some purpose inimical to my happiness. If you think you can damage me in any way you are mistaken. There is nothing you can do.”
“You are flattering,” Cleave said bitterly. “Upon my word, you tempt me to take up your challenge. You are marrying a man who is as different to myself as light from darkness, but Philip Hardy is not the man to forgive or forget. Suppose I go to him and tell him all I know?”
“He will not believe you,” Lena said proudly.
“No, he may not believe my spoken word,” Cleave said significantly. “Being a born politician and a statesman, he would ask for evidence. He would want to see the written document. Now just cast your mind back for a few years, and don’t reply in a hurry. If he asked for the documents, don’t you think I should be in a position to give them to him?”
Lena started. Her face lost a little of its natural colour.
“The letters,” she whispered. “I had forgotten all about them. Surely you would not be so cruel, you would not so far forget—”
“The past,” Cleave sneered. “Sounds like a scene from some melodrama. Had not you better smile at me as if we were discussing some pleasant problem? There is a fat old woman opposite who is regarding us in a highly suspicious manner. Ah, that is better. And now let me ask you another question. Why should you take it for granted that I am going to use those letters to do you any harm? Why do you regard me as if. I were some offensive animal trying to push myself upon you? If you only knew everything—”
Cleave paused abruptly for a moment, then the strange thin smile that Lena had disliked so much came to his face again.
“Let us make a compact,” he said. “I can help you and you can help me. If I choose to go to Hardy and lay those letters before him, your happiness is gone for ever.”
Lena was silent. She could not deny the truth of this. She was passionately attached to Philip, and she knew that he cared equally for her, but his was not the love that forgave, not the pure and disinterested affection that overlook anything and everything. Very timidly Lena waited for her companion to speak.
“I have those letters ” he said. “They are not in my pocket at the present moment, but they can be within an hour. It is for you to say whether I shall get them or not and return them to you.”
Lena’s heart gave a great leap; it seemed to rise up in her throat and suffocate her. It was difficult for her to collect her scattered thoughts amidst all the chatter and laughter that was going on around her. The strains of a distant band seemed to muddle and confuse her senses. Philip Hardy was close by, still in deep conversation with the great political personage. He had his back resolutely turned to Lena, and something in his attitude seemed to suggest that he was both annoyed and suspicious. And yet the whole thing could be smoothed away in a few moments. Still Lena hesitated; it was her bounden duty to defy Cleave, to turn from him scornfully and bid him do his worst. It was plainly her duty also to tell her whole story to Philip Hardy and ask him to protect her against the insidious advances of this adventurer.
“Very well,” she said at length. “I know I am doing wrong. Still, if you will be so good as to give me those letters I shall be obliged to you.”
“Good for evil,” Cleave laughed. “You shall have your letters, but not here. There are too many people about. It is ten now, and supper will be at twelve. Meet me at half-past eleven in the little alcove leading to the rose garden and I will place those papers in your hands.”
Once more Lena hesitated. She was trembling from head to foot with an emotion that she was powerless to resist; she seemed to detect some scheme here, and yet what could this man gain?
“Very well,” she said breathlessly. “It shall be as you say. I will meet you at half-past eleven.”
IX. — THE SYREN SPEAKS
