A Duel Part 36

MARGARET SETTLES THE QUESTION

Harry Talfourd hurried Margaret Wallace into the street as fast as circ.u.mstances permitted, while the guests at Mrs. Lamb's were looking at each other, exchanging whispers, asking what had happened, what the thing which had happened meant. A few seconds after the hostess' departure the crowded rooms were filled with the buzz of voices, which rose higher and higher until it became a pandemonium of noise. Mrs. Lamb's "At Home" had resolved itself into chaos.

Outside in the street Mr. Talfourd did not find it easy to get a cab; the chaos within was already beginning to make itself felt without. The whole roadway was a confusion of vehicles.

Perceiving that it was inadvisable to stand still, since they immediately became the cynosure of curious, and even impertinent, eyes, Harry marched resolutely onward, holding the girl tightly by the arm. They had to go some little distance before they could find a four-wheeled cab which would condescend to give them shelter.

So soon as they were in, Margaret drew back into the corner of her seat with a movement so eloquent that Harry seemed to hear her s.h.i.+ver. He was silent, trying to collect his thoughts. He was as much at a loss as any of the excited people they were leaving behind. When he spoke it was lightly, as if he desired to make as little of the matter as might be. He was conscious that in the farther corner, as far away from him as she could get, was the girl he loved, in a mood wholly unlike any that he had known before. He was fearful of what might be coming next.

So he endeavoured not to be serious.

"This promises to be a night of adventure. Did you ever see such a scramble for cabs? People were rus.h.i.+ng out of the house as if it were on fire. We'll hope there'll be no accident before they've finished. What did you think of Mrs. Gregory Lamb?

Something must have occurred to upset her equilibrium; she showed quite a new side of her character." Margaret was still.

He seemed to hear her breathe; he wondered if it were possible that she was crying. He put out his hand, touching hers gently with his finger-tips. Although she did not repulse him she remained impa.s.sive, not in any way acknowledging his caress.

"Meg, I hope you're not worrying yourself about that woman's behaviour. She's not quite responsible, I fancy. She certainly wasn't to-night, but there was nothing that need trouble you."

"I am wondering what she meant."

"Meant? My dear child, she meant nothing, absolutely nothing.

She's a trifle mad, that's all."

"I'm not so sure. I believe she did mean something."

"What on earth makes you think that? What could she mean?"

"I can't explain. At present I don't understand myself; but I shall--I know I shall. Only I'm afraid."

"Afraid! Sweetheart, don't talk like that! You make me feel as if I had done something I oughtn't to have done."

"You have done nothing. Still I wish you hadn't introduced me. I asked you not to."

"But, Meg! the whole thing was your own proposition; the whole idea was yours from first to last."

"Yes, I know; but then I didn't understand."

"What didn't you understand?"

"I hadn't seen her."

"You hadn't seen her? Meg, have you ever seen Mrs. Lamb before?"

"Never."

"Has she ever seen you?"

"That's what I'm wondering; that's what I'm trying to make out."

"It's a very mysterious business altogether; and the way you're taking it seems to me to be not the least mysterious part of the whole affair--and I can't say that I'm fond of mysteries.

However, as some one or other says in a play, though I'm afraid I can't tell you what play, 'Time will show'."

When they reached Margaret's rooms they found that Frank Staines and Mr. Winton had arrived already, and were waiting for them at the street door. They all went up together. So soon as they were in the room Mr. Winton asked his question--

"Well, Miss Wallace, is Mrs. Lamb to create Lady Glover?"

Had he put to her an inquiry on the answer to which the whole happiness of her life was dependent, it could hardly have moved her more.

"Never! never! never!"

She repeated the word three times over, with each time an additional emphasis. Mr. Winton, probably accustomed to strenuous utterances on the part of ladies to whom the theatre was the chief end and aim of their existence, appeared to be entertained by her intensity. Putting his hands behind his back he regarded her with smiling face.

"And isn't she to produce the play?--that is, if she's willing to do so if she's not to be allowed to play in it?"

"She is to have nothing to do with it--nothing."

"You appear to have arrived, Miss Wallace, at a decision which is final and conclusive, and to have done so in a very short s.p.a.ce of time."

"I have."

"The matter is placed beyond the pale of my discussion?"

"It is."

Mr. Winton turned to Harry with a little gesture of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Then, Talfourd, we shall have to seek for another capitalist, and as that is not a bird which is easy to find, 'The Gordian Knot' will have to be shelved for a still further indefinite period. Let's trust that some of us will live to see it produced."

In her turn Margaret faced Harry with an air of penitence.

"I'm so sorry, but I would rather that it were never produced at all than that it should owe anything to that woman--and you know how I have set my heart on its success."

He tried to comfort her, as if the loss were hers.

"'The Gordian Knot' won't spoil by keeping; don't let it trouble you a little bit; dismiss Mrs. Lamb from your mind as if she had never been. She's nothing to you, or to me, or to any of us; she's just--like that!"

He snapped his fingers in the air, as if by the action he expressed her valuation. Margaret answered with an enigmatic smile.

"Like that? I don't think she'll be to me like that--ever."

"But, my dear girl, why not? why not?"

"Ah! that I cannot tell you, because I don't know. But I shall know, and, when I do, I daresay I shall wish I didn't."

Harry threw up his hands in the air as if it were a case which baffled him. Frank Staines, who had been listening with a twinkle in his eyes, observed--

"I understand, Miss Wallace, that your appearance at Mrs. Lamb's furnished the occasion for quite a dramatic interlude".

Margaret moved her shoulders, as if the recollection made her shudder.

"I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind--thank you very much. I'm awfully sorry to turn you people out, but--I think I'd like to go to bed, if I may."