The Cardiff Times

CHAPTER I. Dorothy Sets Off With Her Guardian. The girls were in the convent garden, when word came that Dorothy Gilbert was wanted. Dorothy was walking with Frances Vernon. Ever since she could remember her world had been that garden with its shaded walks and its high walls; never before had a visitor come to her. The moment she was told that some- one desired her presence, she turned to Frances exclaiming :— It is he With characteristic impetuosity Frances threw her arms about her, remarking as she did so Just as we were speaking of him As if there was anything strange in that. The strangeness would have been if he had come when they had not been speaking of him for. of hlle. they had spoken of little ebe. Elsie Farquhar. who had brought the message, pressed it home. "You had better be quick, Dorothy. Sister Celestine said you were to hurry." So Dorothy hurried, her tall, slender figure held very straight, her pretty head a little In the air. in her eyes a gleaming Lght. She believed herself to be passing from a world she knew into one of which she had dreamed. But she was mistaken, she was going into a world of which she had not dreamed. Sister Celestine met her at the door. It is Mr Emmett ?" she inquired. "Yes," replied the sister, "it is Mr Emmett." Something in her tone. on her fare, in her glanœ. struck quick wetted/Dorothy. •• What is t1w matter!! Why do vou look at me like thnt ? What is he like ?" H Who am I that I should be able to tell you what he 's like, when I have seen him for Scarcely five minutes." The sister smiied it seemed to Dorothy, not with that brightness which she knew so well. The young iady's mental processes were rapid •she divined on the instant that Sister Celes- tine was disapDointed with Mr Emmett. As she went with the sister from the garden to the guest-room she wondered why. Would sbe be disappointed also After all her talks with Frances ? Her communings with herself ? She had fashioned the unknown Mr Emmett in so many shapes that she could not have told which of them she expected to see certainly it was not. the person she actually saw. Her knowledgeof men had practically been restrict- ed to the personages in the story books which found their way into the convent precincts. These had to undergo a severe examination be- fore being admitted, as one bad character was enough to damn them and as the conventual standard of masculine morals was peculiar. even if the individuals who fisrured in the tales were not drawn from imagination, they cer- tainlv were not taken from life. One require- ment all the men in the books had to satisfy, they all had to be gentlemen, or what the convent censor took to be gentlemen. Dorothy Gilbert might have had more or less vague doubts, but it never had been brought clearly home to her that a man could be anything but a gentleman, till she entered that guest- room and was introduced to Mr Emmett. When she saw him any illusions she mav have had upon that point were shattered at once and for ever. A big, burlv man was sitting on the edge 1)f the table. One foot rested on the floor, the other dangled in air. He did not move when she enetored he merely looked round at her and stared His great bald head had :4, narrow fringe of sandy hair which was just Inmiusr grey. He wore a huge sandy mous- tache, whose hue was more than matched by his bead and face. A large angry-looking spot was on the left of bis big nose a smaller one was on his right cheek near the ear. His eyes were so bloodshot that it was not easy to ten what colour they really were they re- minded her of the eyes of a wicked giant who had played a prominent and disreputable part in a fairv tale she had once read. Indeed, the whole raaq re-called that giant.: sh0 had an trncomfortable feeing that he might, at anv moment set. about the—to him—acreeable business of devouring her. Sister Celestmc performed the ceremony nf introduction. This, Mr Emmett. is Dorothy Gilbert." Still he keot his seat on the edge of the table, and his hands in the pockets of the huge overcoat which he wore, although the weather wn&so warm- Only he stared at Dorothy a '■i^ harder. No You don't say ? Well, I'm blessed There -wa<» r4h"t. in his voice. bis words, and his manner which .JTected Do-othv almost as If he had struck he.. Coles*->e "ihoeked nearly into speechlessness. Sir w; all she could say. Beg pardon. I'm sure forgetting where I was • X suppose vou ladies don't do much of that sort of thing in here." He addressed him- self to Dorothy with what was apparently meant to be jocositv. So, vou're Bullv Gilbert's gic) ? I shouldn't have thought it it only shows that you never can tell. I don't know wbere vou get your looks from not from him. Why, you really are— Do you know who I am ?" Sister Celestine says yon are Mr Emmett." Georgie Emmett, your father's best friend in fact, bis only friend because he was not the kind of person who gathers them onnd When, some nine months ago. be eparted this life, he left it owing me a hatful f monev. and I'm blessed if he hadn't the cheek and impudence, by way of wiping off his owines, to appoint Ill" your one and only guardian as if ron were a little bit of some- thing which could be turned into cash. I'd have' come and looked at you before if I'd known vou were so well worth looking at but who would have guessed that your father would have had a girl with a face like yours. However, here T am at last and I daresay vou won't be sorry to sa.v crond-bye to this queer old shanty, and to come with me to have a peep at what the world looks like out- Bide I rather think there aren't many men who can show you more of it than T can. Anvhow. I've come to take you atong so nm upstairs and put your hat and jacket on, and vour things in your box My car's out- side." a 60 F.L.VT-if there's anything on earth can move its her. But that's no reason why she should be kept waiting, so if vou can manarre to do your packing inside ten minutes I'll be obliged." Sister Celestine and Dorothy looked at each other as if both were at a loss tor words as. indeed, they were It seemed incredible, that Dorothy should be expected to quit, at a moment's notice, the place which had shelter- t whole life long to go with this uncouth t, she knew not where. The sister ''orr> be proposed, to take her his 1 scarcely have been vaguer. Oh, a run round just now I'm rather end my future movements depend upon circumstances To the sister ? orderly mind the prospect seemed uncomfortably nebulous; yet there seemed nothing to do but to let the girl go. The man was her lawfn! guardian. In his method of oavingthe convent, dues the late Mr Gilbert had been erratic. Quite a consider- able sum had been owing when he died. Dur- ing the intervening months that sum had lw. come still larger. Taking out a fat pocket- book Mr Emmett paid all demands with bank notes, in that respect nothing coukl have been satisfactory. The convent, which could ill afford to lose the monev. had b«v~ome an- xious the sight of those bank-notes removed a burden from the sister's mind, and Dorothy was sent upstairs to put her hat and jacket on. and her things into her box. The process was not a lengthy one. She still had the small wooden box which she had brought to the convent as a tiny child. But her stock of elothes had not grown much larger those which would not go into her box was wrapped In a sheet of brown paper. As. theoretically. Frances Vernon assisted in thA business of packing, she plied Dorothy with questions. Thd answers she received were very short gradually Frances became conscious that some subtle change had taken place in her friend during the last few minutes. What is he like ?" she demanded, as Dorothv had done of Sister CVlestme- In her answer Dorothy paraphrased her sister. How can I tell you, when I have been acquainted with him only ten minutes.?" Franco leaped to conclusions as she herself ..d dene. I know; what tha.t means it means that he's horrid. Is he very horrid ?" I didn't say he was horrid." "No, but you didn't say he wasn't. You might at least tell me what he looks like. Dolly, do And Dolly did. She painted Mr Emmetfc exactly as be had appeared to her. She had a pretty knack of description by the time the portrait was finished. Miss Vernon was gazing with wide-open eyes. Why." she cried, he must be perfectly hideous He is not." admittedDorothy. "wbatsome people would call good-looking." 66 Fancy going you don't know where with such a man as that. You who have always said that in a man you must have beauty of mind, and soul, and form." Dorothy bent over the frock she was fold- ing. We have been taught that a plain casket may contain a priceless jewel." She might have been taught it yet she doubted if Mr Emmett was a casket of that kind.. Before long she was sure that lie was act. Her box, whose appearane produced un- complimentary remarks from her guardian, was fastened on the top of the car presently she had quitted the convent, with all her worldly possessions. Mr Emmett was his own driver. She sat beside him, on the front seat. while the chaffeur sat behind. She would have preferred to have had it the other way round, but it was settled for her without her having a voice in the matter. A b;g coat was slipped over her shoulders she was on the Mat a rug was wrapped round her knees ^hey were off-before she clearly realised what had happened, certainly before she had said all the adieux she would have liked to have said. It was all like some strange dream, whose strengeness was accentuated by the subse- quenfc flight of the throbbing rfiouster through the air. What was the Dame of the town at which they stayed that first night she never knew, She had not curioitv enough to a^sk no one i volunteered the information. After dinner, which wa-i to her a wholly unaccustomed feast, at which she ate scarcely anything, in spite of Mr Rmmetfs well-meant gibes and jeers, she stole up to bed as soon as she could-to a big bed, in a big room, in the old inn. There she lay a loneiv, forlorn maiden, thinking, puz- ling, doubting, wishing with all her heart that she was back again in the safe shelter of the convent. She wished it often during the days and weeks which followed. She was a young girl and, like a young girl, all agog to stand on t'ptoe, it needs be. and open the windows which would enable her to look into the house of life. Under normal circumstances, that motor cruise might have been to her one long d'dtght but the circumstances were abnor- mal so that for long afterwards a motor-car stood for her a sort of synonym for a night- mare. Everything was spoilt by Mr Ernmett's pre- sence. From the first moment he had im- pressed her disagreeably that impression grew with each hour that she spent in his near neighbourhood. The trouble was that it was so hard to get away from him. He would have her sit. beside him him on that front scat. igno- noring utterly her reiterated requests to be allowed to sit behind. During the first clavs they motored continually, stopping in thedav- time only vo eit and drink, principally—so it seemed to Dorothy—where Mr Emmett was concernedforthe latter. The quantity he drank amazed and frightened her always, when night fell. he had drunk too much. During the day the liquor he consumed had an unhappy effect upon his driving. He was quick enough to perceive that he had not inspired the girl with sentiments of affection, and this he re- sented. But instead of setting himself to get the better of any distaste she might have for him, he seemed to take a malicious pleasure in paving her out for entertainirg a feeling of the kind. Discovering that she felt a not un- natural girlish timidity in her new position as passenge^ on a motor-car, he went out of his way to increase (instead of lessen it, so that, way to increase (instead of lessen it, so that, He did not move when she entered he merely looked round and stared. I before long, her timidity became actual terror. I always he vxik the car along at what appeared Lu hei- to be a dangerous speed. As the day advanced, and the drinks multiplied, the speed grew more. At first she remonstra- ted, feebly enough but he only laughed, and pressed the car still faster. Afterwards she sat silent but she could not prevent her cheeks from turning white or her mouth from shut- ting tighter. When he saw these signs he delighted in taking risks which made her heart stand still. One afternoon he knocked down a child in a village street on the other side of Blois. At first, in her agony, she thought it was killed but it appeared that only its arm was broken. When the people came flocking rovmd he gave the parents two thousand francs in bank-notes. One could not but feel that they would have been willing to have their own arms broken on thet<e terms. He was lavish enough with his money. They spent that night in Tours. The next day he offered her a wad of notes, and suggested that she should go into the town and provide herself with a sufficient wardrobe. She had not real- ised till lately how scanty it really was conti- nual travelling made drains on her resources which she found it hard to meet. But he offered her cash in a way which jarred on her every nerve. She would not buy herself clothes with money which came from him. When she made this clear to him he called her an ad jec- tived fool, and broke into a torrent of language from which she fled in terror. At Lyons he tried to kiss her whereat she burst into a frenzy of rage which surprised herself, and .startled him. It was in the hall of the hotel, after dinner, just as she was going up to bed always, as soon as dinner was over, she went straight to hpr room. Billson, the chaffeur, happened toj enter at the moment, to get orders for the morrow. Emmett, turn- ing, saw him grinning at his discomfiture. By he cried, eager to vent his fury on someone. If you don't take care I'll kill you But Billson never flinched, and he continued to grin. He was a shortish, youngish man, with a white clean-shaven fa-cp. and black hair which he wore parted in the middle. He seemed to have a gift for silence Dorothy had hardly heard him speak a dozen times. She had a feeling that, for some cause, his master stood in awe of him. Although he went on grinning, Mr Emmett made no attempt to carry out his threat at least, not while she was flymg up the stairs. They spent fsome days at Aix-Ies-Bain". There he made to her his fi!t proposal of mar- riage he was in his cups at the time. To say that she refused him is to say little. When she gained the sanctum of her own apart- ment she was in an agony of shame and dis- tress. Her dilemma was not a pleasant one. It seemed to her that it was just as impossible to remain in this man's company as it was to escape it. She was penniless—friendless. How was she to get away from him ? to whom was she to turn Her ignorance was piti. able. For all she knew his position as her guardian gave him powers over her against which it was vain to struggle. If she ran away from him she thought it very probable that he could compel her to return in which case her last plight would be worse than her first. Be- sides, with no money in her pocket, where could she run ? Despite her horror of the man, to her, in her childlike ignorance, it seemed as if he had gripped her to him with bonds of steel. CHAPTER II. The Curtain. When they landed in England, it was to her as if she had been for years with Mr Emmett, and Billson. and the car. though, in reality, they had only been associated for a very few weeks. Sheieltasif. during those intermin- able weeks, the best of her life had gone from her, and already she had grown old before she was yet eighteen. She had forgotten how to smile at night, she could not sleep her head was always aching her nerves were in such a state of tension that she was beginning to be afraid of the sound of her own voice tbe world had become to her a prison, from which there was no way out. She bad not been in England since she was a small child, returning to it was like coming to a strange country. She would have forgotten her own tongue" had not so many of the girls of the convent been English. They went up to town on the inevitable motor on the way she kept looking about her with eves which, in spite of herself, would grow dim. She had often dreamed of the journey she would make, one day, to London she had never dreamed that it would be like this. They put up, that night, in a huge railway station hotel. On the morrow, for once, they parted company with the motor Mr Emmett took her with him to a Midland town by rail. Some race meeting was on Dorothy bad a hazy notion that her guardian had something to do with horses and with racing it was a subject of which she had heard him speaking more than once. Some horsey acquaintances travelled with him in the same coru- partment; they played bridge all the way. to Dorothy's relief she was glad that they should do anything which would keep them from speaking to her. Mr Emmett took apartments at the pri icipal hotel. iThcrc, in the private sitticg-roou., after a tete-a-tete dinner, he proposed to her again, He was more sober than he sometimes ;vas at that hour perhaps, on that account, he ex- | pressed himself with a clearness which she found appalling. In various fashions he had asked her again and again to marry him since that first time at Aix-les-Bains. She had begun to understand that not only was be a man who would not take no for an answer, but also that he was not likely tll stick at any- thing which would enable, him to gain an end he had in view. If she had had anv doubts upon that little. point they were dissipated then. He did not so much ask her to he his wife. as tell her thut she would have to he his wife —nforming her, with complete candour, that if she was not an utter fool she would grasp that fact without any further fuss and nonsense. He added that, when she was his wife. he would give her a good time—an Al time. There wasn't a bi-tter-natured fellow going, if vou rubbed him the right way nor a more gener- ous one he would give his wife all she wanted and more, if she was only nice to him. That vras all he wanted her to be-nice to him. He had sacks full of money—ask anyone who knew. George Emmett if he was a poor man. Why, he thought nothing of lending anyone twenty or thirty thousand pounds, if the security was decent; that was all he asked, decent secu- rity and, he went on with a, grin, a chance of making cent, pee cent. He might tell her, in confidence, that he be bad his lingers round the I throats of more people than anyope had an idea of; all sorts of people, some of them the highest in the land. He never talked even when he was drunk he kept his tongue off delicate subjects but if he were to talk he could mention names-male and female— which would make her sit up straight. There was scarcely a man or woman who had any- thing to do with horses, who did not some- I times find himself, or herself, in a tight corner, about settling day. Those were the times they came to him. The number of services he had rendered of that kind—well, they'd fill a hook. Everybody knew George Emmett was a friend in need when a bad settlement had to be faced. He winked and Dorothy shuddered. Knocking off the ash from his cigar he filled himself anothor glass of champagne. If she had only had the courage she would have sprung from her chair and rushed from the room but just then all her courage seemed to have deserted her. This man seemed to have for her the fascination which a snake is so id to have for the victim it proposes to swallow. The worst of it was that, despite herself, his influencc over her seemed to lie momentarily increasing as if he were weaving a spell which, as it proceeded, placed her more and more at his mercy. It w,-s not, he went on. as if her father was anything:, or anyone. He was not one to say a word to a child against her father but she had only to think of how he had treated her to know what sort he was. What kind of a parent had he been to her ? How often had he written to her ? How many times liad he been to see her ? What had he ever given her ? What had he ever done for her ? lie dare hot that the bills he had paid for her keep in the convent had been paid with other people's money. There was no disguis- ing the fact that Bully Gilbert was a regular rip and there it was. Not only had she not got a penny of her own. but sfoe had no right to the clothes she stood up in, and pretty things they were to call clothes. Let her say the word, and she should have the run of the Rue do la Paix then she'd know what clothes were. Why, as things stood, there wasn't a chambermaid in that hotel who wasn't in a better position than she was ever likely to be, if she was left to herself. And yet here he was. ready and willing to marry her. He'd get a special licence to-morrow: or, if she'd like, he'd have the banns put up in church, any church she chose to name though, for his part, he never could see what was the pull in going to church to be married. She might take a long day's walk without meeting one woman who wouldn't snatch at the chance 6f getting him women of birth, and with money in their pockets, too. What he saw. in her hanged if he knew himself; but he did see something. The first moment he set eyes on her he'd made up his mind he'd marry her that's whv he took her away from that adjectived convent; and marry her be wouJd. So what was the use of talking ? Men and women were curious creatures. The sooner she said yes the more comfortable it would be for everyone. So she wasn't to be silly, but was to come, and kiss him and sit on his knee, and he'd put a prettier ring on her finger than she had ever dreamed of seeing there. Here it was what did she think of it ? From a small leather case, he took a ring which was set with diamonds holding it out moving it so that as the lights fell on it from different angles the stones sparkled and gleamed luring her with it as an angler tries to lure a fish with the bait which hides the hooks. She sat, her slender body pressed against the back of her chair, gripping the sides of it with both hands, looking at him with staring, hopeless ey<\s. All the strength seemed to have gone from her as if this man had drawn it aJl out of her, as out of a well, and lefi her dry. His vitality was crushing hers in the fight to hold her own she was beaten she knew it, and the knowledge was agony. She felt that presently he would have to hold up his finger, and what he bade her do that she would have to do. He continued to twiddle the diamond ring between his fingers dilat- ing on its various beauties dwelling on all that it would mean when it was in its place upon her hand and each moment she expec- ted that he would order her to go to him, and She sat gripping the sides of her chair both hands looking at him with hopeless eyes. let him brand her with it as with a stigma. which might never be effaced. What would happen if snell an order was given she could not, dared not, think While she still awaited it, there came a tapping at the door a waiter entered. A gentleman, sir, to see you." Mr Emmett turned towards him angrily. A. gentleman ? What gentleman ? I'm not going to see anyone to-night: whoever it is, tell him to go to the devil." The waiter held out to him an envelope which was on a silver tray. Gentleman told me to give you that, sir." Tearing the envelope open Mr Emmett read what was on a half sheet of paper which was within then he crumpled it up,.and swore. Confound him What's the hurry ? Why \von't the morning do ? Tell him I'm coming down to him." I The waiter went. Mr Emmett looked at Dorothy, still sitting as if she were glued to the back of her chair replacing the ring in its I leather case he made as if to return it to his waistcoat pocket: then, suddenly changing his mind, he called out Come here She did not move, but clung tighter to her seat. He laughed, as if amused by her obvious fear of him. You little idiot Of what are you afraid ? There'll come a time when you'll not need any calling and you'll come uninvited, and perhaps when I don't want you. I know you women you're like badly-trained dogs. When you're whistled to heel you'll not come hut when you're not whistled you'll keep messing about a man till he feels like giving you a dose of prussir. acid. Very well, don't come I'll come to you." He went to her, at the other end of tb > table. Give me your hand He took it, her left; she offering no resistance, but looking at him with a great terror in her eyes. 011 the third finger he slipped the ring. There That's in token that you're mine you're a,< much my pro- perty now as if we'd been together to church and don't you forget it. There's a fool down- stairs who wants to see me. and, as he is it fool he shall; but I'm not going to let him keep me, I shall probably be back inside ten minutes, and mind I find you here when I do come back. None of your games, going to bed, or any of that rot if you do, I'll fetch you down again. There are all sorts of things I want to talk to you about before you think of bed. I want you to show me that you can be nice to me, and that you can treat me .is a girl ought to treat the man who's going to be her husband, especially a husband who's going to give her the best time a girl ever did have. So vou understand ? I'm to find you here when I return," He moved a step or two a, way then halted. I ought to have a kiss a man ought to have a kiss from his girl when he gives her the ring,but that sort of thing won't spoil with keeping there'll be interest to collect I'll take a couple when I come back." He went. She sat staring at the door through which he had passed. His last horrid threat ringing in her ears. He would take a couple when he came back, and she was to stay there till he came to take them, with that dreadful ring scarring the flesh on her finger. She felt sure that it was being scarred it certainly burned. Yet she did not dare take it off although he was gone, she was still afraid of him. A curious paralysis seemed to have attacked her limbs. She remained motionless for some seconds after he had left her, her hand stretched out, stal ing at his ring. When she moved it was with an effort when she gained her feet she had to hóld on to the back of the chair to aid her to stand. What was she to do ? She tried to think, as she had tried so often of late her brain, like her muscles,played her false; clear thought was beyond her. One thing she realised—that she must not be there when he came back in spite—because—of what he had said. Yet how was she to avoid being there ? He had told her that if she went to bed he would fetch her back again and she believed him. Once at an hotel in France, he had made a great clatter at her room door, and was only pre- vented hy practically the entire staff of the establishment from breaking it down. Some- how she felt that that night nothing would keep him from having her out of her room again, if she disobeyed his command and fled to it. But, if she did not, what was she to do, where wa." she to go, so that she might not be there when he came back ? Again and again in France, had she meditated fli only the conviction that the lesult would be a fiasco had restrained her. Was she more likely to succeed here in England? Even through her mental haze a feeling was borne in upon her that in that direction lay her only hope. If she could only put a decent distance between herself and him she might escape him altogether. The point was, could she ? An idea occurred to her—the railway. The first time in her life, so far as she remembered, she had that day been in a train. She had, of course, read about trains she had even seen them the probability was that she had been brought in one to the convent. But in those days she was a toddling child; she had cer- tainly not been in one since. Mr Emmett had brought her in one from London. Then why should she not go alone in one, if not back to London, then at least to someplace a, long way off, where she would be beyond his reach ? No sooner had the notion occurred to her than she started to put it into practice, and was already moving towards the door when a second reflection held her back. Mr Em- mett had bought a ticket—with money. She was not so ignorant as not to be aware that railways were not public highways; that one could not travel in a train without a ticket, which had to be paid for in .advance with cash. She had seen Mr Emmett pay for two tickets, one for herself and one for him. They would not let her get into a train with- out a ticket how was she to pay for it ? She was confronted, ;ts before, in the midstof her wild desire to flee, by the eternal lack of pence, that insuperable barrier. She had no regular pocket money at the convent, like other girls, whose parents either sent them cash direct or made arrangements with the Sisters. Occa- sionally, on saints' days. she was given a sou to put in the box, but as a rule she was with- out even that humble coin. Never having known what it was to have money she did not miss it; there were no temptations to spend—her modest warts were supplied. It was only when she set out through the world with her guardian that it began to dawn upon her what an important part money played in the affairs of men and women. She had no idea how much cash would be required to purchase a ticket she took it for granted that the more she paid the farther the ticket would take her. The mischief was that she had no money at all—not even a paltry sou. How was she to get money ? From where ? She looked about her. Dessert was still upon the able; there weire knives and forks; other articles which were possibly of silver, but they were not coin of the realm, though she had a vague idea that they might be turned into it. How the transformation might be effected was a problem which was beyond her alto- gether. She had sense enough to know that it would be no use proffering a handful of silver ware in exchange for a ticket. In that moment ol her desperation, if she had only known where money was to be had, she would have made free with it, if the thing were possible even without the owner's sanction, oblivious of any consequences which her action might entail, being persuaded that no worse fate could befall her than that that man should find her still in the room when he came back. Spurred by this conviction she was about to rush forth and seek for money, she knew not where nor how already her fingers were near the handle, when she heard footsteps aproaching on the other side. He was coming back In the frenzy of her terror it was all she could do to keep herself from screaming. She glanced behind her, as a mouse might do which is caught in a trap and knows that its doom is approaching. There was a recessed window on one side of the room. She had watched the waiter draw the heavy curtains across the recess as he lit the lights.. She went flying towards it, gained it, had just slipped be- hind the curtain as the door of the room was opened. (To be Continued.)