Читать книгу Dangerous Cargo - Footner Hulbert - Страница 8

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One afternoon Mme. Storey and I were in our sitting-room decoding wireless messages that had been received, and coding the replies. It had been impossible to cut off the business in New York with one stroke. Latham Rowe had been left in charge of the office, and we were in communication with him every day. I helped Mme. Storey to prepare many of the messages, but not all of them.

We were interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Celia Dare. She ran in, flung her arms around Mme. Storey, and buried a hot face in her neck. The girl was as natural and spontaneous as a flower, and a great friendship had sprung up between her and my employer.

Mme. Storey held her off, trying to see into her face. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

Celia obstinately kept her head down. The red and white chased each other through her delicate cheeks. “Emil kissed me,” she murmured.

Mme. Storey folded her in her arms. We exchanged a glance over Celia’s head. It was only too clear what a danger this created, yet the girl was such a darling we couldn’t help smiling, too.

“How did it happen?” asked Mme. Storey.

“It was up in the music-room just now. Emil was playing something so wistful that it brought the tears to my eyes. I always cry when he plays, though I love it better than anything. Suddenly he stopped and looked around. He said ... he said my eyes were like diamonds. He went down on his knees beside my chair and ... and he kissed me.”

“Did you like it?” asked Mme. Storey.

A very small voice issued from her neck, “Ye-es.”

“Did you kiss him back again?”

“I’m afraid I did.”

Mme. Storey held her close. “But you’re engaged to marry another man.”

“I clean forgot it!” cried Celia.

We laughed outright at that.

“Oh, what shall I do!” mourned Celia.

“Well, we must talk it over,” said Mme. Storey.

“I think Emil is waiting out in the corridor,” murmured Celia.

“Bring him in.”

Emil entered, very flustered and good-looking, his blond hair all standing on end as if he had been wildly running his fingers through it. “I’m so sorry!” he burst out. “I wouldn’t have had it happen for anything. I just lost myself!”

Celia raised her head and looked at him a little resentfully.

“Don’t express too much regret,” said Mme. Storey. “It might be misunderstood.”

“I love her!” he cried, with perfect inconsistency. “And I think she loves me back again. Anyhow, she would in time.”

“Yes,” said Celia.

“Nonsense!” said Mme. Storey as well as she could speak for laughing. “When did you two meet for the first time?”

“When we came aboard the yacht.”

“Then you don’t know your own minds yet, either of you. Give yourselves a chance.”

“I shall never change,” said Emil, seriously.

“Me neither,” said Celia.

“This is just dramatics,” said Mme. Storey. “Now listen to me. The trouble with young people is they attach far too much importance to a kiss. They think because they have kissed once that they must go on kissing to the bitter end. There’s nothing to it. A kiss is just an accident. It’s like a drop of rain that might fall on anybody’s head. You don’t have to stay out in it until you’re all wet!”

They both laughed at that. Celia left Mme. Storey and, going to Emil, slipped her hand inside his like a child. They looked at each other, completely lost. It gave me a little stab of pain to see it because if ever a love affair was ill-starred, this was it.

“Emil, you know she’s promised to another man,” said Mme. Storey.

He dropped Celia’s hand and thrust his fingers through his hair. “Oh, it’s damnable!” he cried. “An old man like that!” (Emil was twenty-three.)

“Celia,” said Mme. Storey, “are you in love with Horace?”

“Oh no!” cried the girl, in great surprise. “I respect him, of course, but how could I be in love with him?”

“Then you must tell your mother that.”

“I have told her. She says love will come.”

“Emil,” said Mme. Storey, “you know that Horace is a violent man. He is terrible when his will is crossed. There will be the most awful trouble if this comes out.”

Emil flushed up. “I’m not afraid of him,” he said, quickly.

Mme. Storey saw that she was taking the wrong line, and quietly abandoned it. “What do you propose to do in this situation?”

Emil despaired again. “What can I do?” he groaned. “If we were ashore it would be easy. I could walk out of the man’s house. But here I am, a guest on his yacht, and I can’t get away!”

“You can leave at Curaçao when we call there in a couple of days.”

“Oh no!” they both cried, in terror. Their hands flew together again.

“How could I go away and leave her in that man’s power?” cried Emil, brokenly. “Her mother is completely dominated by him. It would be more than flesh and blood could stand!”

“All right,” said Mme. Storey. “But there must be no more kissing until this matter is cleared up. Don’t fool yourselves by thinking you can keep it secret. Nothing can be kept secret aboard a yacht. You must play the game.”

“All right,” said Emil, doggedly. He glanced longingly at Celia. “It’s not going to be easy, now that I know she likes it.”

Mme. Storey bit her lip. “And, Celia,” she went on, “you must tell your mother about Emil.”

The girl paled. “How can I?” she gasped. “Her heart is set on my marrying Horace. She thinks of nothing else. You don’t know my mother!”

“Mme. Storey is right, Celia,” urged Emil. “Your mother must be told. If you can’t do it, I will.”

“Oh no!” cried Celia, in terror. “That would be worse. She doesn’t like you.”

“Sophie must be told!” said Mme. Storey, firmly.

“All right,” murmured the girl. “I’ll manage it somehow.” She looked imploringly at Mme. Storey. “But you’ll stand by us, Rosika?”

“To the limit!” said Mme. Storey, “... if you play the game!”