Читать книгу Ambition's Slave - Fred M. White - Страница 12

Table of Contents

FOR once in his life Desborough had no retort ready. This man had read his mind with an accuracy that was amazing. He had yielded to the temptation, he dared not give Price up. So long as this man was at large, nothing very definite could come of the Certified Company trial, that fatal tampering with Desborough's brief would not be necessary.

"Who are you, really?" he asked.

"Never mind that," Price retorted. "I'm a public school and university man, and that is enough for you for the present. You ask no questions, and you will be told no lies. The point is that I left a policeman half dead outside, and that, all things considered, I should be more safe if I chose another exit. Is it possible to find one?"

Desborough pointed to the door by means of which Ericsson had got away. "Try that direction," he said.

"It is the caretaker's private right of way."

Price nodded and disappeared. Hardly had he gone before there was a knock at the door. Before Desborough could shout a request for his visitor to come in, Price's bullet head was back again.

"Locked!" he said crisply, "and only one light left. Caretaker's evidently gone to bed. What—"

"Stay where you are!" Desborough whispered fiercely. "I've got a visitor. Don't show yourself if you have any respect for your safety and my reputation. Go back!"

Price nodded. It was all the same to him. He was quite safe where he was, and for some reason or another his involuntary host was going to shield him. Price darted back again and pushed the door to as Desborough's visitor entered. The barrister seemed to be poring over some papers as if he had no mind for anything else in the world. The shaded lamp flooded the table, and left the rest of the room in semi-darkness.

Desborough looked up abstractedly at the slim, girlish figure. It paid him to pose like this. He made out a shabby dress, and a slim hand in a shabby glove, but he could not see the face.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I come from Mr. Denton," the visitor said. "He particularly asked me to let you have this typed notice to-night. And I could not find a messenger, so I brought this myself. Will you be so good as to look over the pages and see if they are correct?"

The voice was gentle and refined, and pleasing to Desborough's ear. The notes were beautifully correct, and clearly done, and the barrister said as much.

"I am glad of that," the girl said timidly. "I—I get my living that way. My name is Alice Price, and I live in Paradise Buildings. If you should ever have work of that kind to do I can do it well at very reasonable prices. I have a lot of time on my hands."

Desborough listened with a certain interest. He had not the slightest feeling or compassion for anybody, but it struck him that there was a romance here. The girl was evidently a lady. As if by accident he pushed up the shade of the lamp so that the light fell full on the girl's face.

"I must tell my clerk your name and ask him to give you an opinion or two to copy," he said. "If the work is quite satisfactory—"

Desborough stopped with a gasp. He saw a pale, beautiful face, delicate and refined, a face that was strange, and at the same time familiar to him. The girl looked mildly surprised.

"A twinge of neuralgia," he muttered. "It comes from working too hard. Are you quite sure that your name is Price, young lady?"

"I am quite certain of it," the girl said, flushing hotly. "I—I am married."

"And before your name was Price was it not Alice Beaumont? Believe me, I am not asking out of any mere motive of curiosity."

"It was a secret," the girl murmured. "In fact, it is a secret still. I cannot tell you how you found out, but I implore you as a gentleman not to let it go any further. If you know my people—"

"I know your people very well indeed, your sister especially so. It was your extraordinary likeness to her that told me who you were. All I know is that Mrs. Beaumont's younger daughter married unhappily, and there is an end of the matter. But surely, there can be no reason why you do not let them know that—that—"

Desborough paused in some confusion. With all his faults and vices, this acting the hypocrite was a new rôle to him. As a matter of fact, he was profoundly disturbed. The secret of the diaries that had come into his hands professionally had told him of the disgrace that had befallen Mrs. Beaumont's younger daughter. But then the diaries had also told him that the girl and the man to whom she had given her heart were dead. And here she was alive and well, but with every desire to keep the fact from her relatives.

Clearly it was the policy of Clifford Desborough to aid in the deception. True, if Alice and her mother came together again, the disgrace would not be washed away, and he would still retain his iron grip on the fortune and person of Maude, but the extra knowledge would give him fresh power. It was strange that he and Alice should have met there at such a time.

"I will do anything you like," he murmured. "For the present your secret is safe with me. Presently I shall hope to persuade you to divulge it. And I will take care that you have plenty of work to do, we have lots of it here, Miss—"

He hesitated over the name. The stranger flushed.

"I am what I claim to be," she said proudly. "My name is Price. I couldn't prove the fact yet, but I hope to some day. I was bitterly deceived, but not in that way. But the time is coming when I shall be able to clear my name, such as it is."

She spoke with a deep note of bitterness in her voice.

"Your husband did not prove satisfactory?" Desborough asked.

"The man that I claim for a husband was a scoundrel. He deceived me. He thought I had money, but I had none. All the money belongs to Maude, my sister. My father died poor, and Maude's money came from her godmother. The man I married thought we were co-heiresses. He never mentioned the matter to me. Oh, if he only had, if he only had done so."

There were tears in the girl's eyes, a bitter regret in her voice. Then she drew herself up, and went on in a quiet voice. She was very like Maude, Desborough thought.

"Not that it matters," she said. "I am fairly free, or thought I was free till to-night. It is not every woman who rejoices in the thought that her husband has been sentenced to seven years' penal servitude. But I was glad, really glad to hear—"

"Your husband is in gaol?" Desborough asked hoarsely.

"Yes, you see when Eli—a pretty name, is it not?—when Eli—"

But Desborough was not listening. He was utterly dazed and confused for the moment. It had only just occurred to him that Alice Beaumont had given the name of Price. And that very Price at that moment was not many feet away behind a door that was not closed. The convict was here, and could prove if he liked the truth of the girl's words. Here was another and a still deeper temptation. A word, a sign, and Price would have gone back to the Fate that he had earned, and this unhappy girl would have been free to look the whole world in the face again. Like a flash, the thought of Graham Minter crossed Desborough's mind. He stepped over to the girl and laid a hand on her lips.

"For Heaven's sake be silent!" he whispered hoarsely. "Remember that even here the walls may have ears. I hope you have not said—"

He was shaking with excitement. The girl looked at him with wild amazement. What could he mean? What had she said or done to cause all this violent agitation on the part of so strong a man? Desborough read the questions in the girl's eyes. He drew a slip of paper and a pen to her.

"I am not quite myself to-night," he said. "And I am more deeply interested in this case than you imagine. Write your address here."

"Paradise Buildings," the girl said. "Just off the street that—"

Desborough stifled something like an oath. Silence was everything at this moment. The man in the inner room must not know.

"Write," he said sternly, "and then leave me. I am very busy. That will do!"

The address was set clown with a shaking hand, and the next moment Alice was in the street. Desborough called carelessly to the escaped convict. He lounged into the room. How much or how little did he know, Desborough wondered. But he could read nothing in Price's eyes.

"Safe to go, eh!" he muttered. "Like my room better than my company, eh? Well, so long. But you haven't seen the last of Eli Price!"