Confessions of a Young Lady Part 14

"Mr Miller," I cried, "where's mother's will, and father's jewels, and all our money?"

He stared at me as if I were the last person he expected--or desired--to see; and I daresay I was. I thought at first that he was going to turn on his heel and run. But that was only for a moment.

After he had recovered from the sudden shock--and the sight of me must have been a shock to him--he glared with his horrid bloodshot eyes as if he would have liked to devour me, bones and all.

"I fancy there must be some mistake. I have not the pleasure of knowing who you are."

His wicked untruthfulness took me aback.

"You don't know who I am?--You do!--I'm Molly Boyes!"

"Unfortunately I have not the honour of knowing who Molly Boyes may be. And as I have a pressing appointment, I am afraid you must excuse me."

He put out his arm and, thrusting me on one side, dashed through the swing door into the building in front of which we were standing. He gave me such a push that it was a wonder I did not fall right over. By the time I had recovered myself sufficiently to rush after him there was nothing of him to be seen. He had either vanished into air, or into one of the innumerable offices which apparently the place contained. In front of me was a staircase; beyond it was a pa.s.sage; on my right was a second pa.s.sage; on my left a third. In which direction he had gone there was nothing to show. While I was standing there, feeling rather silly, a gentleman came out of one of the doors towards me. He was not bad looking; but he wore a green tie with pink spots which I did not like at all.

"Can you tell me," I asked, "where Mr Miller has gone?"

"Mr Miller? I'm afraid I don't know the name. Has he offices here?"

"He just came in!"

I described him as well as I could. The stranger seemed interested. He even smiled.

"Your description sounds like Mr Kenrick, of The People's Stock Exchange. The offices are on the fourth floor. You will see the name on a tablet against the wall."

It did not seem very promising. Kenrick did not sound like Miller. And I could not conceive of his having any connection with such an inst.i.tution as The People's Stock Exchange. I was sorry for it if he had. Still up the stairs I went--it was a long way up to the fourth floor; and there, in black letters on a white tablet, amidst lots of other names, was "No. 169. The People's Stock Exchange. Mr George Kenrick." I went first round one corner, then round another--there was not a soul to be seen from whom to ask the way--and I was commencing to wonder if I should have to keep on chasing myself round corners for the rest of the afternoon when all of a sudden I heard someone shouting at the top of his voice. A door opened at the end of the pa.s.sage in which I was and someone came out, addressing to someone within remarks which were uttered in such stentorian tones that it was quite impossible to avoid hearing what he said--

"I'll tell you what you are, Mr Kenrick--you're a scoundrel and a thief! And clever though you are, you'll find yourself at the Old Bailey yet before you've done--you dirty rascal!"

He shut the door with a bang which thundered through the place. He was very tall, with a long grey beard, and his hat crammed over his eyes; and as he strode past me he did look so very angry that I did not dare ask who he had been speaking to. But the language he had used was so extremely applicable to the Ogre, that I felt convinced it must be he.

So I went to the room out of which he had come. Sure enough, on the gla.s.s door was "The People's Stock Exchange." I entered, and there, on the other side of a polished counter, was Mr Stephen Miller.

"I have found you again," I remarked.

He was talking to a young man--quite a boy, in fact--who was moving towards the door as I went in.

"You'll be here at the usual time on Monday?"

"Yes, sir."

The youth regarded me with what I almost felt was a twinkle in his eye; though I had not the remotest notion what he meant by such behaviour. And the Ogre and I were left alone. I repeated my previous observation.

"You perceive that I have found you again."

"It would seem so." He stood rubbing his chin and regarding me with a contemplative kind of air. He was ever so much better dressed than he ever was in our part of the world; but, in spite of it, he looked just the same disreputable, untrustworthy object. If anything, his face was fatter and redder than it used to be; and his eyes more bloodshot.

"Come into my private office."

He led the way into a room beyond, and I followed. When we were in he stared at me again; and this time he grinned.

"You're quite a beauty--that's a pretty frock of yours. Perhaps it's the frock that does it--you never know." His manner made my cheeks burn. "Well, and how are they all at The Chase?"

Fancy his having the impudence to ask such a question!

"Thank you; they are all quite well. I want my mother's will--and father's jewels--and the securities which were in the brown despatch-box."

"You do, do you? Are they missing?"

"You know very well that they are missing--since you took them."

"Took them, did I? Odd what things one sometimes does by accident."

"It was no accident, as you are perfectly aware. Will you give them to me, please, as I am in a hurry?"

"Give them to you? Do you expect me to hand them over now--at once?"

"Most certainly. I don't intend to leave until I have them."

"Suppose I leave?"

"Then I shall follow you until we come to a policeman, to whom I shall give you in charge."

He laughed; though what there was to laugh at in the notion of being locked up was beyond my comprehension.

"So that's the idea. Well, I shouldn't like being sent to prison--it's not to be expected--"

"You will have brought it upon yourself."

"So I'll tell you what I'll do; you give me a kiss and I'll hand over."

I flamed up.

"How dare you say such a thing!"

"All right! all right!--you look spiteful; and it seems you are. Sorry I asked for what isn't to be had. I keep what you want outside; if you wait here I'll go and fetch it."

His insolent suggestion had made me so furious that, without stopping to think, supposing he meant what he said, I let him go. The door closed behind him as he went; but as there was a spring which made it close, I saw nothing strange in that. And I waited. His horrible proposal--and something, too, about his words, looks and manner made me conscious of a distinct sense of discomfort. I half wished that I had allowed him to escape, and made no attempt to follow. I glanced at my watch. It was past half-past two! What would the cabman think of me outside--and I had left three parcels in his cab!--and Hetty and her mother waiting for me at St James' Hall. I went to the door and turned the handle. It declined to yield. Imagining that there might be some trick in opening it, perhaps connected with the spring--because I knew that they had all sorts of queer inventions in the city--I rapped at the panel.

"Mr Miller!" I cried. "Mr Miller! Will you open this door, please, and be quick, because I'm late already!"

No answer. I rapped again--and called again. Then--at last!--I suspected. I stooped down and saw that the door was locked. I banged at it with both my fists.

"Mr Miller! How dare you lock the door. Open it at once and let me out!"

But not a bit of it. That was not his intention at all. Whether he was or was not on the other side I could not tell. It was a great, strong, heavy door, and so long as he chose to keep it locked, it was impossible for me to find out.

Suppose he was not there? if it was all a trick? and if he had imposed on my simplicity and made a fool of me? The mere possibility of such a thing made me so mad that tears of rage came into my eyes. There must be a bell somewhere. There was; an electric bell, represented by an ivory b.u.t.ton. I pressed it: kept on pressing it. No result seemed to follow. I could hear no sound. Was it ringing? If so, where?

As I listened, I was struck by the curious silence. I had no idea that in London it could be so still. Considering the hugeness of the buildings, and the clatter of the great thoroughfare through which I had come, it seemed so odd. Could I be alone in that great place? The prospect did not appear agreeable. I turned to the window. It was quite narrow, though tremendously high, and filled with frosted gla.s.s, or whatever they call it, so that I could not see through. I had to stand on a chair to reach the top of the sash. Then I could not see out.

I seemed to have got myself into a thoroughly delightful position.