A Fatal Dose. Fred M. White
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Eleanor Marsh attempted no defence; she was far too clever a woman for that. As far as Monk well could see, she did not turn so much as a hair. There was a hard smile on her face.
“Very well,” she said; “I think I can see my way to manage it by that time. Almost at once I am going into the country to stay with the Duchess of Daventry. I had better give you her address, so that you can communicate with me if necessary. Have you a visiting card in your pocket, or a piece of paper?”
Monkwell searched his pockets and produced a telegram. He tore off a corner and pencilled the address down upon it, then he retired, leaving the pink flimsy behind him. In a mechanical kind of way Eleanor took up the telegram and read it. A quick cry came from her lips; she rang the bell for the butler.
“A marvellous trick of fortune,” she cried. “Robert, Jasper Cleave will be in England tomorrow. You must find him without fail. To think that this should fall into my hands!”
IV. — FOR HIS SAKE
IN a very thoughtful frame of mind, Philip drove along with the idea of finding Lena and taking her to Lexington House. He was disposed to be annoyed with himself, because he felt that in a way he had played the coward in not telling Eleanor Marsh that ‘his engagement to Lena was an accomplished fact. He might have gone further and said that they also were going down to stay with the Duchess of Daventry, and that the engagement would be formally announced there. Indeed, Philip was actually taking his mother’s family jewels with him, so that Lena might see them and make up her mind as to whether or not she approved of the setting. It was, perhaps, a small matter, but on the whole it would have been more loyal and straightforward to have told Eleanor Marsh this. And yet, all the time, Philip was haunted with the idea that Eleanor was the wife for him.
At any rate, he put her out of his mind now, resolved to think no more about her. Lena welcomed him shyly. She was glad to have her lover back again; she had striven not to feel in the least jealous of Eleanor Marsh.
“So you have come for me,” she said timidly. “Really, I began to feel quite anxious about you. I am so sorry we have had no opportunity as yet to discuss one or two little things that trouble me. Do you know, I sometimes feel afraid of the future. I doubt if, after all, you have made a wise selection, Philip. I am so shy of Society and its many strange ways.”
Philip laughed. He could understand quite clearly what was passing in the girl’s mind.
“You will get used to that in time,” he said. Not once during this time had he shown the slightest disposition towards endearment; indeed, Lena could have counted the times her lover had kissed her since their engagement.
“You want someone more stately,” she said—“someone more commanding. I used to think at one time that Eleanor Marsh would have suited you better.”
Hardy shrugged his shoulders indifferently. He felt a little mean, too.
“Yes?” he said. “An exceedingly brilliant woman—clever and all that sort of thing—but at the same time, I can never get it out of my mind that there is something of the adventuress about her. For instance, she never speaks of her people, except some vague references to relations in Virginia, and I am quite certain that the money she makes by her journalism is not sufficient to maintain that luxurious flat in Courtville Square. By the way, I saw that she was in the House to-night, with Lady Lorimer.”
They stood there for some time longer, discussing the future—always his future, by the way—until Hardy noticed a little impatience pass over the face of his companion.
“I am sure, I beg your pardon,” he said contritely. “You are ready. Had we not better get on as far as Lexington House?”
They drove away together and came at length to their destination—one of the largest houses in Grosvenor Place. The establishment was lighted from top to bottom. Crimson cloth lay across the pavement, a constant stream of carriages ebbed and flowed before the door, and at the head of the stairs one of the most fashionable and exclusive hostesses in London greeted Hardy warmly.
He was already beginning to feel the subtle intoxication of success. In her shy, quiet way Lena slipped in; she was terribly afraid of great ladies like her hostess. She had only come here to-night to please Hardy, but there were many people here to whom she was known, and almost at once she was surrounded by a bevy of friends. Looking up presently, she saw with a smile that Philip Hardy was in animated discussion with the very woman whom they had so recently been discussing. They made a handsome pair as they stood there together, and Lena sighed just a little enviously as she recognised the fact.
The dark, glittering eyes of Eleanor Marsh rested on Hardy’s face with a subtle flattery. He was always moved to his best in the presence of this woman, though there was something about her at the same time that repelled him. She was smiling her sweetest and best now; her words of welcome were smooth and well chosen.
“Lucky in war, lucky in love,” she said gaily. “Is it a fact that I am to congratulate you on your engagement to Lena Grey? But why did you not tell me before supper to-night?”
Philip nodded gravely. Just for a moment the woman’s face grew hard; she hid her eyes behind her fan. It was only a fleeting spasm, and a second later she was smiling as gloriously as ever. With a bow and a smile she turned to another man who had just come up to claim her society. Philip moved on, thinking nothing of this interview, and little dreaming how fateful it was going to be for him. He was somewhat bored and tired of this idle frivolity; he wanted to be alone, to think over the events of the evening. Perhaps Lena divined what was uppermost in his mind, for she stole across the room and laid her hand on his arm.
“Don’t you want to go?” she asked. “Philip, you have been working too hard lately, your eyes look tired and misty. Whatever you do, don’t neglect your health.”
Hardy laughed indifferently. He was feeling to-night that he could defy the fates in all directions. He was so well, so strong, and so successful that illness of any kind seemed far removed from him. He had listened lightly to a famous specialist’s statement that he would have to be careful of his heart. True, he saw things in a dim and hazy way sometimes, but a day or two’s rest speedily gave relief. Nevertheless, he professed himself ready to do anything that Lena needed. She drew him towards the door.
“Then let us go,” she said. “Take me home to aunt’s flat. She will not be back just yet, so that we can have a delicious hour together. We have been in London now for over a month, and I have only seen you twice in the last fortnight.”
“I feel horribly guilty,” Hardy laughed. “We won’t have a cab; we will walk as far as the flat.”
Lena asked nothing better; she felt perfectly happy now, as she sauntered along with her hand in her lover’s arm, listening to his glowing plans