Читать книгу The Hand of Power - Edgar Wallace - Страница 15

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BETTY was mute. A cold sensation ran down her spine; her knees trembled beneath her. Again the old man spoke.

"O Golden Voice of Supreme Justice, what word have you from the planes beyond?"

She could only thrust forward the letter. It was unaddressed. In the top left-hand comer was a queer sign which had excited her curiosity before, and which was now to have an extraordinary effect upon her strange visitor. No sooner did his eyes fall upon the scrawl than he fell on his knees, and, stooping, kissed the hem of her dress.

"I have your leave to go, O Long Desired?"

She nodded, and, incapable of speech, stood, frozen to the spot, long after the door had closed behind him.

Within ten minutes of his departure the door was flung open, and Dr. Laffin came in. He was pale, unusually excited, betraying an agitation which was foreign to him.

"Well, girl, what happened?" he asked, the affectation eliminated from his voice.

"I don't know," she said, dully. "What does it mean... that man in the strange dress, with the long white hair he kissed my dress. Oh, doctor, what does it mean?"

"You gave him the letter? You're sure—you gave him the message?"

Laffin's eagerness was like nothing she had ever seen in him.

"Change and come home," he said, speaking rapidly.

"Doctor, I can't come here any more," she said, desperately. "I don't care what you do, I can't come!"

To her amazement, he nodded.

"No, I do not want you to come again. Your work is not finished, but it does not lie here."

He turned to the little manager, and paralysed him with his next announcement.

"Close this store to-morrow morning; get everything cleared out. I engaged you for a month, and I'll give you a month's salary."

"But what about selling the desks?" stammered the little man.

Dr. Laffin did not vouchsafe an answer.

The crowd had dispersed with the drawing of the window shades, and there was no person in Duke Street curious enough to glance at her when she came out with the doctor. His hired car was waiting a little way up the street.

"I'll go home on top of a bus, Doctor," she said. "I have a headache, and I—"

"You're coming home with me, my friend," said Laffin, who hid regained his old imperturbability. "I have something to say to you."

"But I promised I would go to tea with Clive—"

"You're coming home with me. Clive can wait—if by Clive yon mean that impecunious young man, Lord Lowbridge."

She could not make a scene in the street, and nothing was to be gained by further argument. She preceded him into the car, resolved to make the forthcoming interview short. One good thing had happened, and she sighed thankfully as she remembered that Duke Street and that horrible window would know her no more.

The car drew up before the house in Camden Road; the doctor jumped out and offered his hand to her; and at that moment came a horrible sense of danger, a premonition of peril beyond her understanding.

"I don't think I'll go in with you, Doctor," she said. "Can't you get the chauffeur to drive us round the park and say what you have to say then? I must be home before dinner—"

"You will come inside for a few moments no longer. I promise you I will not keep you more than five minutes." Fear of making a scene induced her to yield. Without a glance to left or right, she followed him through the badly fitting gate, and did not so much as notice that there had been one interested spectator. Mr. William Holbrook had both seen and heard.