Juggernaut Part 30

"But, my dear, I couldn't! It seemed so--so cold-blooded, so calculating. I couldn't let you think of me as calculating, could I?

You might not care for me so much."

He scarcely heard her. A change had come over him, he was apparently filled with a nervous elation, moving jerkily around the room, snapping his fingers, whistling softly under his breath, picking up small objects and examining them unseeingly, then setting them down again.

Therese watched him narrowly, suspicion deepening in her eyes. At last she spoke.

"Arthur, come to me."

He approached her mechanically, engrossed in his own thoughts.

"No, closer. I want to look at you."

He met her gaze without interest, looking through her at some vision beyond.

"Arthur, all you are thinking about is the money. The thought of that makes you happy. Is not that so?"

He gave a forced laugh.

"Good G.o.d, what makes you think that? If you do think it."

"It's the way you look. You are not thinking of me one little bit.

Arthur, if for one moment I thought you no longer cared for me..."

"What on earth are you taking about?" he retorted with a touch of irritation. "Why are you for ever harping on that theme? Naturally I care for you."

"Ah, but you torment me so! If I could only be sure, only for one little minute! How do I know it is me you want, and not what you will get with me?"

She spoke with a certain fierceness. He looked at her silently, then with a shrug of his shoulders turned away, moving towards the door.

"Where are you going?" she demanded quickly.

"What difference does it make to you where I go? Since that's the opinion you have of me, South America isn't a bad idea. The sooner the better."

"No, no, Arthur, come back; you don't understand..."

"Oh, I understand all right. You don't trust me; after a year and a half that's all you think of me. It doesn't matter, it's better not to see me again."

His hand was on the k.n.o.b.

"Don't say such a stupid thing, Arthur! Come here."

"Why should I come? You don't want me really."

"Arthur, you know I want you--always."

Without replying, he opened the door and stepped outside. He was really going, his foot sounded on the flags. With a smothered cry she reached his side, clutched at him, half sobbing, drawing him back with all her strength. He resisted stonily.

"Don't make a scene, Therese, someone will hear you."

"Then come back. If you don't, I don't mind what happens, or who hears!"

Sulkily he took a step inside the door, then raised his head, listening. A car had come into the drive, was crunching around the gravel to the garage on the far side of the house.

"S'sh--it's Roger. Close the door quietly."

With a quick movement, Therese switched off the lamp.

"d.a.m.ned silly, that," he whispered. "Why did you do that?"

"No, it is best. Wait--they will soon go upstairs."

They stood silent, listening. After a few moments they heard the front door close, then footsteps mounting the stairs, after which no sound whatever. Five minutes went by, while Therese pressed tightly against the unresponsive young man, clinging to his hand. At the end of that time he drew away from her.

"Now I'll slip out."

"No, not yet. I sha'n't let you!"

She sank down on the chaise-longue in the darkness, trying to draw him with her.

"I shall not stay, I promise you."

His voice was cold and indifferent. For all that she drew him to her, by main force, and pressed her mouth to his, her perfumed arms about his stubborn neck.

"If you do love me, Arthur, make me know that you do! Show me it is myself that you care for, show me, show me! You can if you want to."

After a brief struggle she felt his muscles relax.

"Ah ... _Tu m'aimes encore! Tu m'aimes encore!_"

"Sh-sh--let me go, Therese ..."

"No, no ..."

A moment later, in the gloom, Therese's wide chiffon sleeve caught on something.

"Be careful--what is that?"

The little table toppled over with a crash. At almost the same instant, it seemed, the door to the dining-room was flung open and dazzling light poured down upon them from the central chandelier. In the doorway Roger stood regarding them.

It was one of those moments when there is simply nothing to say.

Explanations would only aggravate a situation already impossible.

Utterly confused, Holliday automatically straightened his tie, while Therese, seated, smoothed her tumbled hair and stared at the intruder with horror-stricken eyes. For several seconds no one spoke.

Roger, indeed, felt powerless to make any comment. After the first shock of discovery he was dumb from sheer fury. Indignant beyond words at what seemed to him a rank insult to his father, the emotion he felt struck to the very root of his being. For the moment he saw red. At last he addressed Holliday.

"Get out!" he commanded, and pointed to the door.

The young man had by now recovered a slight degree of his usual poise.

His eyebrows lifted with a touch of arrogance.