"A scene," gasped Sir William.
"Though," she pointed out, "it"s a lot to ask of any one, you know.
Giving up the certain chance of getting my photograph in the papers. I make a good picture, too. Some do and some don"t, but I take well and when you know you"ve got the looks to carry off a scene, it"s asking something of me to give up the idea."
"But you said you"d no desire to make a scene."
"Poor girls have often got to do what they don"t wish to. I wouldn"t make a scene in the usual way. Hysterics and all that. Hysterics means cold water in your face and your dress messed up and no sympathy. But with scenes, the greater the occasion the greater the reward, and there"s no denying this is an occasion, is there? You"re making a big to-do about Tim Martlow and the reward would be according. I don"t know if you"ve noticed that if a girl makes a scene and she"s got the looks for it, she gets offers of marriage, like they do in the police-court when they"ve been wronged and the magistrate pa.s.ses all the men"s letters on to the court missionary and the girl and the missionary go through them and choose the likeliest fellow out of the bunch?"
"But my dear young lady----" Fosdike began.
She silenced him. "Oh, it"s all right. I don"t know that I want to get married."
"Then you ought to," said Sir William virtuously.
"There"s better things in life than getting married," Dolly said. "I"ve weighed up marriage, and I don"t see what there is in it for a girl nowadays."
"In your case, I should have thought there was everything."
Dolly sniffed. "There isn"t liberty," she said. "And we won the fight for liberty, didn"t we? No; if I made that scene it "ud be to get my photograph in the papers where the film people could see it. I"ve the right face for the pictures, and my romantic history will do the rest."
"Good heavens, girl," cried the scandalised Sir William, "have you no reverence at all? The pictures! You"d turn all my disinterested efforts to ridicule. You"d--oh, but there! You"re not going to make a scene?"
"That"s a matter of arrangement, of course," said the cool lady. "I"m only showing you what a big chance I shall miss if I oblige you.
Suppose I pipe up my tale of woe just when you"re on the platform with the Union Jack behind you and the reporters in front of you, and that tablet in there that says Tim is the greatest glory of Calderside----"
Sir William nearly screamed. "Be quiet, girl. Fosdike," he snarled, turning viciously on his secretary, "what the deuce do you mean by pretending to keep an eye on local affairs when you miss a thing like this?"
""Tisn"t his fault," said Dolly. "I"ve been saving this up for you."
"Oh," he groaned, "and I"d felt so happy about to-night." He took out a fountain pen. "Well, I suppose there"s no help for it. Fosdike, what"s the amount of the pension we allow Martlow"s mother?"
"Double it, add a pound a week, and what"s the answer, Mr. Fosdike?"
asked Dolly quickly.
Sir William gasped ludicrously.
"I mean to say," said Dolly, conferring on his gasp the honour of an explanation, "she"s old and didn"t go on munitions, and didn"t get used to w.a.n.gling income tax on her wages, and never had no ambitions to go on the pictures, neither. What"s compensation to her isn"t compensation to me. I"ve got a higher standard."
"The less you say about your standards, the better, my girl," retorted Sir William. "Do you know that this is blackmail?"
"No, it isn"t. Not when I ain"t asked you for nothing. And if I pa.s.s the remark how that three pounds a week is my idea of a minimum wage, it isn"t blackmail to state the fact."
Sir William paused in the act of tearing a page out of Fosdike"s note-book. "Three pounds a week!"
"Well," said Dolly reasonably, "I didn"t depreciate the currency. Three pounds a week is little enough these times for the girl who fell from grace through the chief glory of Calderside."
"But suppose you marry," suggested Mr. Fosdike.
"Then I marry well," she said, "having means of my own. And I ought to, seeing I"m kind of widow to the chief glory of--"
Sir William looked up sharply from the table. "If you use that phrase again," he said, "I"ll tear this paper up."
"Widow to Tim Martlow," she amended it, defiantly. He handed her the doc.u.ment he had drawn up. It was an undertaking in brief, unambiguous terms to pay her three pounds a week for life. As she read it, exulting, the door was kicked open.
The tramp, whose name was Timothy Martlow, came in and turning, spoke through the doorway to the janitor below. "Call out," he said, "and I"ll come back and knock you down again." Then he locked the door.
Fosdike went courageously towards him. "What do you mean by this intrusion? Who are you?"
The tramp a.s.sured himself that his hat was well pulled down over his face. He put his hands in his pockets and looked quizzically at the advancing Mr. Fosdike. "So far," he said, "I"m the man that locked the door."
Fosdike started for the second door, which led directly to the platform. The tramp reached it first, and locked it, shouldering Fosdike from him. "Now," he said, Sir William was searching the wall, "are there no bells?" he asked desperately.
"No."
"No?" jeered the tramp. "No bell. No telephone. No nothing. You"re scotched without your rifle this time."
Fosdike consulted Sir William. "I might shout for the police," he suggested.
"It"s risky," commented the tramp. "They sometimes come when they"re called."
"Then----" began the secretary.
"It"s your risk," emphasised the tramp. "And, I don"t advise it. I"ve gone to a lot of trouble this last week to keep out of sight of the Calderside police. They"d identify me easy, and Sir William wouldn"t like that."
"I wouldn"t like?" said Rumbold. "I? Who are you?"
"Wounded and missing, believed dead," quoted the tramp. "Only there"s been a lot of beliefs upset in this war, and I"m one of them."
"One of what?"
"I"m telling you. One of the strayed sheep that got mislaid and come home at the awkwardest times." He s.n.a.t.c.hed his hat off. "Have a good look at that face, your worship."
"Timothy Martlow," cried Sir William.
Fosdike staggered to a chair while Dolly, who had shown nothing but amus.e.m.e.nt at the tramp, now gave a quick cry and shrank back against the wall, exhibiting every symptom of the liveliest terror. Of the trio, Sir William, for whom surely this inopportune return had the most serious implications, alone stood his ground, and Martlow grimly appreciated his pluck.
"It"s very near made a stretcher-case of him," he said, indicating the prostrated Fosdike. "You"re cooler. Walking wounded."
"I ... really...."
"Shake hands, old c.o.c.k," said Martlow, "I know you"ve got it writ up in there----" he jerked his head towards the hall--"that I"m the chief glory of Calderside, but damme if you"re not the second best yourself, and I"ll condescend to shake your hand if it"s only to show you I"m not a ghost."
Sir William decided that it was politic to humour this visitor. He shook hands. "Then, if you know," he said, "if you know what this building is, it isn"t accident that brings you here to-night."
"The sort of accident you set with a time-fuse," said Martlow grimly.
"I told you I"d been dodging the police for a week lest any of my old pals should recognise me. I was waiting to get you to-night, and sitting tight and listening. The things I heard! Nearly made me take my hat off to myself. But not quite. Not quite. I kept my hat on and I kept my hair on. It"s a mistake to act premature on information received. If I"d sprung this too soon, the wrong thing might have happened to me."
"What wrong thing, Martlow?" asked Sir William with some indignation.