Through the Wall Part 31

"What?"

"Yes, and, Lloyd, she is sorry for the harm she has done and----"

"You have seen her?" he cried, half dazed. "How? Where?"

Then, in as few words as possible, Alice told of her talk with the lady at the church. "And I have this message for you from her and--and _this_." She handed him the note and the folded bank notes.

Lloyd's face clouded. "She sent me money?" he said in a changed voice, and his lips grew white.

"Read the note," she begged, and he did so, frowning.

"No, no," he declared, "it's quite impossible. I cannot take it," and he handed the money back. "You wouldn't have me take it?"

He looked at her gravely, and she thrilled with pride in him.

"But the lawyer?" she protested weakly. "And your safety?"

"Would you want me to owe my safety to _her?_"

"Oh, no," she murmured.

"Besides, they have given me a lawyer. I dare say he is a good one, Mr.

Full-of-Water." He tried to speak lightly.

"Then--then what shall I do with these?" She looked at the bank notes in perplexity.

"Return them."

"Ah, yes," she agreed, s.n.a.t.c.hing at a new idea. "I will return them, I will say that you thank her, that _we_ thank her, Lloyd, but we cannot accept the money. Is that right?"

"Exactly."

"I will go to her apartment in the morning. Let me see, it's on the Avenue--Where did I put her address?" and she went through the form of searching in her pocketbook.

"The Avenue Kleber," he supplied, unsuspecting.

"Of course, the Avenue Kleber. Where _is_ that card? I've forgotten the number, too. Do you remember it, dear?"

Poor child, she tried so hard to speak naturally, but her emotion betrayed her. Indeed, it seemed to Alice, in that moment of suspense, that her lover must hear the loud beating of her heart.

"Ah, I see," he cried, eying her steadily, "she did not give you her address and you are trying to get it from me. Do you even know her name?"

"No," confessed Alice shamefacedly. "Forgive me, I--I wanted to help you."

"By making me do a dishonorable thing?"

"Don't look at me like that. I wouldn't have you do a dishonorable thing; but----"

"Who told you to ask me these questions?"

"M. Coquenil."

"What, the detective?"

"Yes. He believes you innocent, Lloyd, and he's going to prove it."

"I hope he does, but--tell him to leave this woman alone."

"Oh, he won't do that; he says he will find out who she is in a few days, anyway. That's why I thought----"

"I understand," he said comfortingly, "and the Lord knows I want to get out of this hole, but--we've got to play fair, eh? Now let's drop all that and--do you want to make me the happiest man in the world? I'm the happiest man in Paris already, even here, but if you will tell me one thing--why--er--this prison won't cut any ice at all."

"What do you want me to tell you?" she asked uneasily.

"You little darling!" he said tenderly. "You needn't tell me anything if it's going to make you feel badly, but, you see, I've got some lonely hours to get through here and--well, I think of you most of the time and--" He took her hand fondly in his.

"Dear, dear Lloyd!" she murmured.

"And I've sort of got it in my head that--do you want to know?"

"Yes, I want to know," she said anxiously.

"I believe there's some confounded mystery about you, and, if you don't mind, why--er----"

Alice started to her feet, and Lloyd noticed, as she faced him, that the pupils of her eyes widened and then grew small as if from fright or violent emotion.

"Why do you say that? What makes you think there is a mystery about me?"

she demanded, trying vainly to hide her agitation.

"Now don't get upset--please don't!" soothed Kittredge. "If there isn't anything, just say so, and if there is, what's the matter with telling a chap who loves you and wors.h.i.+ps you and whose love wouldn't change for fifty mysteries--what's the matter with telling him all about it?"

"Are you sure your love wouldn't change?" she asked, still trembling.

"Did _yours_ change when they told you things about me? Did it change when they arrested me and put me in prison? Yes, by Jove, it _did_ change, it grew stronger, and that's the way mine would change, that's the only way."

He spoke so earnestly and with such a thrill of fondness that Alice was rea.s.sured, and giving him her hand with a happy little gesture, she said: "I know, dear. You see, I love you so much that--if anything should come between us, why--it would just kill me."

"Nothing will come between us," he said simply, and then after a pause: "So there _is_ a mystery."

"I'm--I'm afraid so."

"Ah, I knew it. I figured it out from a lot of little things. That's all I've had to do here, and--for instance, I said to myself: 'How the devil does she happen to speak English without any accent?' You can't tell me that the cousin of a poor wood carver in Belgium would know English as you do. It's part of the mystery, eh?"

"Why--er," she stammered, "I have always known English."

"Exactly, but how? And I suppose you've always known how to do those corking fine embroideries that the priests are so stuck on? But how did you learn? And how does it come that you look like a dead swell? And where did you get those hands like a saint in a stained-gla.s.s window? And that hair?

I'll bet you anything you like you're a princess in disguise."

"I'm _your_ princess, dear," she smiled.