Whither Thou Goest Part 29

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Moreno met Isobel and her maid at the railway station, and drove them to the home of his friends, the G.o.dwins, who lived in a respectable but not particularly fas.h.i.+onable quarter of Madrid.

Mrs G.o.dwin, a buxom and kind-faced woman, received the girl with open arms. Mr G.o.dwin had discreetly absented himself during the first meeting of the two women.

"So delighted to see you, Miss Clandon. I was a very intimate friend of Andres' mother. Any friend of his is very welcome. I shall do my best to make you happy during your stay here. I am afraid the accommodation is not what you have been used to. We are a little cramped for room."

A dear good honest _bourgeoise_ creature. Isobel took to her at once.

She felt the _milieu_ was not quite what she could have desired, but Moreno had done all he could, most probably out of his old friends.h.i.+p for Farquhar. Whatever discomforts she might have to endure, well--she had brought them on herself by embarking on this daring adventure.

Mr G.o.dwin came in presently, a large, heavy man, who greeted her with great gravity. She learned afterwards that he had been connected with the wine trade, and had retired from active business on a respectable competence.

Moreno took his departure as soon as he could. He had several matters on hand, besides looking after a wandering maiden of a romantic turn of mind.

Isobel stayed him at the door. "When am I going to see Guy?" she whispered.

The young journalist looked at her kindly. He remembered his own too short-lived romance. That whisper had come straight from her heart.

"Ah, that is for you," he said. "You know, you confessed you were a little doubtful about how he would look upon it. Will you ask Lady Mary to write him the news, or would you rather that I should?"

Isobel interrupted him eagerly. "Oh, would you? Lady Mary is a darling, and devoted to us both. But if I write to her, and she has to write to Guy, it may be ages before we meet. And, besides," she added with the unconscious guile of a woman, "in certain things, men are so much better diplomatists than women. I am sure you could put everything from a reasonable point of view, present everything in quite a favourable light. I do not want him to think I am a masculine sort of person, an enlightened female who goes tearing about all over the world after a man she loves."

Moreno was a very kind-hearted fellow. He could not resist that wistful look in the beautiful dark eyes. The girl was alone in the world. She had just lost her father; Guy was now her sheet-anchor.

"I say, if you want to see him quickly, why not send a note round to the Emba.s.sy, just giving him your address, and saying simply, `I am here'?"

But Isobel rather shrank from that. It seemed too bold, perhaps a little unmaidenly. She had always been educated in the belief that a woman should never make advances. Advances might be made through a third party, perhaps, if they were made with discretion.

"But you could explain it all so much better than I could, Mr Moreno, how the whole thing was led up to by your letter to Lady Mary."

Moreno looked at his watch. "I was going to leave Madrid in half an hour. Well, I can catch a train three hours later, it won't make much difference. I will be off at once to the Emba.s.sy, and catch Rossett there, if not, at his flat. You, of course, can see him at any time, to-day or to-morrow?"

"A thousand thanks," replied Isobel, with her charming smile. "Yes, I shall not stir out much anyway. But I will keep in the two whole days."

"Mrs G.o.dwin, I warn you, will insist on showing you the sights of Madrid."

"I will resist her," said Isobel firmly.

Moreno smiled, and said good-bye. It was a little pathetic, he thought, the patient, loving woman ready to wait the man's convenience. Ever the way with true love.

A brief drive to the Emba.s.sy in the Calle Fernando el Santo, a hastily pencilled note sent up to Rossett. Half an hour later, the two men were seated at a different rendezvous, for this time Moreno was not in his working-man's dress. He had to be very cautious.

Moreno went to the point at once. "I have news that will startle you, Mr Rossett. Your fiancee Miss Clandon, is in Madrid at this moment."

He named the respectable but unfas.h.i.+onable quarter in which the girl had taken up her abode.

"What?" shouted Guy Rossett in his astonishment. It was just the same e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n he had used when he learned that Violet Hargrave was in Spain. The vocabulary of the average Englishman is very limited when he has to express sudden emotion. And Guy was quite the average type.

"Of course you are very surprised. Well, I am afraid it is all due to me. You remember some time ago I begged you to get out of this place.

You refused. I took it on myself to write to your sister to use your father's influence to get you recalled. That fell through too."

"It was very kind of you to interfere in my private affairs, Mr Moreno," observed Rossett stiffly.

"You are a bit of responsibility to me, Mr Rossett," replied the journalist in his usual imperturbable fas.h.i.+on. "I will tell you frankly I should be very glad to see the back of you to-morrow, for your own sake--" He added in a lower voice, "Still more for the sake of the girl who loves you as much as you love her."

"Forgive me," cried Rossett hastily. "I quite appreciate that you mean very well to both of us."

"Thank you," said Moreno. "Well, to get on with my story. I have a very old chum, one Maurice Farquhar who happens to be a cousin of your fiancee. One night, in his chambers, I hinted that danger was threatening you here. It seems he told Miss Clandon. As I have stated, I wrote to your sister. The two women put their heads together. Miss Clandon's father died. She had no longer any ties binding her to England. She was mad to come out here to be near you. As men of the world, we might say, the unreasoning caprice of a very loving woman."

"It was very sweet and dear of her," said Guy. There was a little break in his voice as he spoke. "But I am interrupting you in your story.

Please go on."

"There is not much more to tell. As I have said, the two women put their heads together. Lady Mary sent for Farquhar to consult him as to how Miss Clandon could get to Spain. She felt if she consulted you, you would, under the circ.u.mstances, have vetoed the project altogether."

"I don't think there is the slightest doubt I should," said Rossett, quite frankly.

"I agree. Well, they were not going to give you the chance. They took matters into their own hands. Farquhar knew nothing about Spain; he wrote to me to ask me if I could help them. Well, I helped them. I went over to London, saw your sister and Miss Clandon, and arranged for the journey. I met her at the station to-day, took her to the house of some very respectable English people whom I have known from my boyhood, not people of your cla.s.s, nor of Miss Clandon's. But I think there she will be very quiet and comfortable."

Guy Rossett leaned across the table and held out his hand.

"A thousand thanks, Mr Moreno. After this, we must be firm friends.

My brave little Isobel, how plucky and daring of her. And you took all this trouble!"

There was no suspicion in his frank tones, but Moreno liked to clear up everything as he went on.

"Yes, it took up a good deal of my time, but I didn't grudge it. I saw your fiancee and sister dining one night with you at the Savoy, but had never spoken to them in my life. But Farquhar is an old chum of mine; he has done me some very good turns. I was pleased to return the compliment."

There was a brief pause, before Moreno spoke again. "I left Miss Clandon a little time ago. She is longing to see you. I suggested she should send round a note to you. She seemed a little fearful of what you might think of her hasty action. She begged me to come round and explain matters. That is why I am here. Here is her address."

"Again a thousand thanks." Rossett looked at his watch.

"Unfortunately, I have to dine at the Emba.s.sy to-night, and there is no getting out of that. We are the slaves of duty. I have only just time to get back and dress. I will leave as soon after dinner as I decently can, and go round to her."

"Away with you, duty calls," said Moreno, rising briskly. "I will send a note round to her saying I have seen you, and that you will be there to-night." It was late when Rossett, hurrying as fast as he could, entered the small drawing-room of the flat tenanted by the respectable G.o.dwins. Isobel was alone; the worthy couple, with commendable tact, had absented themselves. Moreno had told them just as much as it was well for them to know, and they were not very inquisitive people.

It was a very delightful meeting. They had been longing for each other since they last parted. They exchanged their vows of love all over again.

"And you are sure you are not angry with me, Guy?" asked Isobel, as they sat hand in hand on the rather hard sofa.

"Angry, my brave little darling. Why should I be? But I say, this is not the sort of place for you, you know. Have you brought a maid with you?"

"Yes, our old parlourmaid, Ethel. I don't suppose you remember her."

"Yes, I do. Well, you must go the Ritz, or one of the good hotels."

"Oh, please no, dearest. I have no chaperon, you see, and it might look queer. Besides, I don't want to meet a lot of people, and have to explain things. I would much prefer to stay here _incognita_. Dear Mrs G.o.dwin is quite a motherly old soul, and knows nothing of what is going on in the great world except what she learns from the newspapers.

And I am not so far off, after all. You can come and see me sometimes."

"Every day, darling," cried Rossett. On reflection, he was inclined to think that, under the very peculiar circ.u.mstances, Isobel's course of action was the right one. If she blossomed forth at a fas.h.i.+onable hotel, a great deal would have to be explained. In a censorious and conventional world, young women, however pure in heart, cannot afford to be adventurous.