She had an appointment with Mr Holland, at the usual place in Regent"s Park, for ten. They were to have a little conversation; then, together, they were to go to church. She was at the rendezvous at nine, though how she managed to do it was a mystery even to herself.
At ten minutes past she began to fidget, at the half-hour she was in a fever, and when ten o"clock struck, and there was no Mr Holland, she was as nearly beside herself as she could conveniently be.
"He"s never been late before--never, never! Oh, what has happened?"
She went a little way along a path by which she thought that he might come; then, fearful that after all he might come another way, tremulously retracing her steps, she returned to the seat. But she could not sit still, nor stand still either. She was up and down, sitting and standing, fidgeting here and there, glancing in every direction, like the frightened creature she was rapidly becoming.
Every nerve in her body was on edge. When the quarter struck, and there were no signs of Mr Holland, she could restrain herself no longer. Tears blinded her eyes; she had to use her handkerchief before she could see. It would have needed very little for her to become hysterical.
She knew her man--his almost uncanny habit of punctuality. She was certain that, if nothing serious had happened to prevent him, he would have been in time to a moment. She was sure, therefore, that something had happened. But what?
As she vainly asked herself this question, a boy came along one of the paths. He was a small child, about nine years of age, evidently attired in his Sunday best. He carried something in his hand. Coming up to her, he said,--
"Are you Miss Broad?" She nodded; she could not speak. "I was told to give you this."
He handed her the envelope. She jumped to the conclusion that it came from him. Her delight at receiving even a message from him about scattered her few remaining senses.
"I"ll give you sixpence." She spoke with a stammer, fumbling with her purse. "I haven"t one; I"ll give you half-a-crown instead."
The boy went off mumbling what might have been meant for thanks, probably too surprised at the magnitude of the gift to be able to make his meaning clear. She tore the envelope open. It contained half a sheet of paper, on which were the words,--
"If you want Mr Guy Holland, inquire of Miss May Bewicke."
CHAPTER XI
THE PURSUIT OF THE GENTLEMAN
That was all.
Miss Broad"s first blundering impression was that somebody was having a joke with her--that she was mistaken, had read the words askew. She looked again.
No; the error, if error there were, was, to that extent, certainly not hers; the words were there as plain as plain could be, and they only.
"If you want Mr Guy Holland, inquire of Miss May Bewicke."
They were typewritten, occupying a couple of lines. The rest of the sheet was blank--no address, no date, no signature; not a hint to show from whom the message could have come. She looked at the envelope. The face of it was blank; there was nothing on it, inside or out. Where was the boy who had brought it? She turned to see. He had gone, was out of sight. So far as she could perceive, she had the immediate neighbourhood entirely to herself. What did it mean?
The disappointment was so acute that, as she sank back upon the seat, the earth seemed to be whirling round in front of her. She never quite knew whether for a second or two she did not lose her senses altogether. When next she began to notice things, she perceived that the envelope had fallen to the ground, and that the half sheet of paper would probably have followed it had it not been detained by a fold in her dress. She examined them both again, this time more closely, without, however, any satisfactory result.
Of the typewritten words she could make neither head nor tail. Were they meant as a hint--a warning--what? Anyhow, from whom could they have come--to her, there, in the Park? Why had she not asked the boy who had instructed him to give the envelope to her? What a simpleton she had been!
""Inquire of Miss May Bewicke." What can it mean? "Inquire of Miss May Bewicke." Unless--"
Unless it meant something she did not care to think of. She left the sentence unfinished, even in her own mind.
She arrived at a sudden resolution. It was too late for church, or she told herself it was, supposing her to have been in a church-going mood, which she most emphatically was not. Instead of church she would go to Mr Holland"s rooms in Craven Street, and inquire for him there.
Under the circ.u.mstances, anything, including loss of dignity--and she flattered herself that dignity, as a rule, was her strong point--was better than suspense.
She had some difficulty in finding a cab. In that district of town, cabs do not ply in numbers on Sunday morning. By the time she discovered one she was hot, dusty and, she feared, dishevelled. As the vehicle bore her towards the Strand, her sense of comfort did not increase. If he was not in Craven Street, what should she do? Ye saints and sinners! if he were in gaol!
He was not in Craven Street.
A matronly, pleasant-faced woman opened the door to her.
"Is Mr Holland in?"
"No, miss, he"s not."
"Has he been long gone out?"
"Well, miss, he hasn"t been in all night."
The young lady shivered. The landlady eyed her with shrewd, yet not unfriendly, eyes. She hazarded a question,--
"Excuse me, miss, but are you Miss Broad?"
"That is my name."
"Would you mind just stepping inside?"
The landlady led the way into a front room. The first thing the young lady saw on entering was her photograph staring at her from the centre of the mantelshelf. A little extra colour tinged her cheeks. The landlady glanced from the original to the likeness, and back again.
"It"s very like you, miss, if you"ll excuse my saying so. You see, Mr Holland has told me all about it. You have my congratulations, if I might make so bold, for a nicer gentleman I never want to see. I was that pleased when I saw him come walking in the other day. Did you expect to see him, miss?"
"I had an appointment with him. He never kept it. As he has never done such a thing before, I scarcely knew what to think."
"Well, miss, the truth is, I hardly know what I ought to say."
"Say everything, please."
"It was only his nonsense, no doubt, but when he was going out last night I asked him if he should be late. "Well, Mrs Pettifer," he said, "if I am late, you"d better make inquiries for me at Westminster Police Station, for that"s where I shall be; they"ll have locked me up." When Matilda told me this morning that he hadn"t been in all night, I thought of his words directly, because he"d ordered his breakfast for eight o"clock this morning, and, as you say, he"s always so dependable--Why, miss, whatever is the matter?"
Miss Broad, who had found refuge in an armchair, was looking very queer indeed.
"Don"t you take on, miss. It was only his fun. Mr Holland"s full of his jokes. Heaps of gentlemen stay out all night; nothing"s happened."
But the young lady was not to be comforted. She had her own reasons for being of a different opinion. That allusion to Westminster Police Station did not sound like a joke to her. When she quitted Craven Street, she directed the cabman to drive her to a certain number in Victoria Street. She was staring as she went at the two typewritten lines which the mysterious boy had brought in the mysterious envelope.
"I will inquire of Miss Bewicke. It will be better to begin there than--at the other place. There will be time enough for that afterwards. If--if she should have locked him up!"
The potentiality was too horrible. She could not bear to contemplate it. Yet, w.i.l.l.y-nilly, it intruded on her fears.
She ascended in the lift to Miss Bewicke"s apartments. She knocked with a trembling hand at Miss Bewicke"s door. She had to knock a second time before an answer came. Then the door was opened by a tall, thin, saturnine-looking woman, to whom the visitor took a dislike upon the spot.
"Is Miss Bewicke at home?"
"Will you walk in?" It was only when Miss Broad had walked in that she learned that her quest was vain. "Miss Bewicke is not at home. She went to Brighton this morning."