Back Aa

Black Bag, The

<h2 align="center">XV</h2> <h3 align="center">REFUGEES</h3> Now, if Kirkwood's emotion was poignant, Mrs. Hallam's astonishment paralleled, and her relief transcended it. In order to understand this it must be remembered that while Mr. Kirkwood was aware of the lady's presence in Antwerp, on her part she had known nothing of him since he had so ungallantly fled her company in Sheerness. She seemed to anticipate that either Calendar or one of his fellows would be discovered at the door,&#8212to have surmised it without any excessive degree of pleasure. Only briefly she hesitated, while her surprise swayed her; then with a hardening of the eyes and a curt little nod, "I'm sorry," she said with decision, "but I am busy and can't see you now, Mr. Kirkwood"; and attempted to shut the door in his face. Deftly Kirkwood forestalled her intention by inserting both a foot and a corner of the newly purchased hand-bag between the door and the jamb. He had dared too greatly to be thus dismissed. "Pardon me," he countered, unabashed, "but I wish to speak with Miss Calendar." "Dorothy," returned the lady with spirit, "is engaged...." She compressed her lips, knitted her brows, and with disconcerting suddenness thrust one knee against the obstructing hand-bag; Kirkwood, happily, anticipated the movement just in time to reinforce the bag with his own knee; it remained in place, the door standing open. The woman flushed angrily; their glances crossed, her eyes flashing with indignation; but Kirkwood's held them with a level and unyielding stare. "I intend," he told her quietly, "to see Miss Calendar. It's useless your trying to hinder me. We may as well understand each other, Madam, and I'll tell you now that if you wish to avoid a scene&#8212" "Dorothy!" the woman called over her shoulder; "ring for the porter." "By all means," assented Kirkwood agreeably. "I'll send him for a gendarme." "You insolent puppy!" "Madam, your wit disarms me&#8212" "What is the matter, Mrs. Hallam?" interrupted a voice from the other side of the door. "Who is it?" v"Miss Calendar!" cried Kirkwood hastily, raising his voice. v"Mr. Kirkwood!" the reply came on the instant. She knew his voice! "Please, Mrs. Hallam, I will see Mr. Kirkwood." "You have no time to waste with him, Dorothy," said the woman coldly. "I must insist&#8212" "But you don't seem to understand; it is Mr. Kirkwood!" argued the girl,&#8212as if he were ample excuse for any imprudence! Kirkwood's scant store of patience was by this time rapidly becoming exhausted. "I should advise you not to interfere any further, Mrs. Hallam," he told her in a tone low, but charged with meaning. How much did he know? She eyed him an instant longer, in sullen suspicion, then swung open the door, yielding with what grace she could. "Won't you come in, Mr. Kirkwood?" she inquired with acidulated courtesy. v"If you press me," he returned winningly, "how can I refuse? You are too good!" His impertinence disconcerted even himself; he wondered that she did not slap him as he passed her, entering the room; and felt that he deserved it, despite her attitude. But such thoughts could not long trouble one whose eyes were enchanted by the sight of Dorothy, confronting him in the middle of the dingy room, her hands, bristling dangerously with hat pins, busy with the adjustment of a small gray toque atop the wonder that was her hair. So vivacious and charming she seemed, so spirited and bright her welcoming smile, so foreign was she altogether to the picture of her, worn and distraught, that he had mentally conjured up, that he stopped in an extreme of disconcertion; and dropped the hand-bag, smiling sheepishly enough under her ready laugh&#8212mirth irresistibly incited by the plainly-read play of expression on his mobile countenance. "You must forgive the unconventionally, Mr. Kirkwood," she apologized, needlessly enough, but to cover his embarrassment. "I am on the point of going out with Mrs. Hallam&#8212and of course you are the last person on earth I expected to meet here!" "It's good to see you, Miss Calendar," he said simply, remarking with much satisfaction that her trim walking costume bore witness to her statement that she was prepared for the street. The girl glanced into a mirror, patted the small, bewitching hat an infinitesimal fraction of an inch to one side, and turned to him again, her hands free. One of them, small but cordial, rested in his grasp for an instant all too brief, the while he gazed earnestly into her face, noting with concern what the first glance had not shown him,&#8212the almost imperceptible shadows beneath her eyes and cheek-bones, pathetic records of the hours the girl had spent, since last he had seen her, in company with his own grim familiar, Care. Not a little of care and distress of mind had seasoned her portion in those two weary days. He saw and knew it; and his throat tightened inexplicably, again, as it had out there in the corridor. Possibly the change in her had passed unchallenged by any eyes other than his, but even in the little time that he had spent in her society, the image of her had become fixed so indelibly on his memory, that he could not now be deceived. She was changed&#8212a little, but changed; she had suffered, and was suffering and, forced by suffering, her nascent womanhood was stirring in the bud. The child that he had met in London, in Antwerp he found grown to woman's stature and slowly coming to comprehension of the nature of the change in herself,&#8212the wonder of it glowing softly in her eyes.... The clear understanding of mankind that is an appanage of woman's estate, was now added to the intuitions of a girl's untroubled heart. She could not be blind to the mute adoration of his gaze; nor could she resent it. Beneath it she colored and lowered her lashes. "I was about to go out," she repeated in confusion. "I&#8212it's pleasant to see you, too." "Thank you," he stammered ineptly; "I&#8212I&#8212" "If Mr. Kirkwood will excuse us, Dorothy," Mrs. Hallam's sharp tones struck in discordantly, "we shall be glad to see him when we return to London." "I am infinitely complimented, Mrs. Hallam," Kirkwood assured her; and of the girl quickly: "You're going back home?" he asked. She nodded, with a faint, puzzled smile that included the woman. "After a little&#8212not immediately. Mrs. Hallam is so kind&#8212" "Pardon me," he interrupted; "but tell me one thing, please: have you any one in England to whom you can go without invitation and be welcomed and cared for&#8212any friends or relations?" "Dorothy will be with me," Mrs. Hallam answered for her, with cold defiance. Deliberately insolent, Kirkwood turned his back to the woman. "Miss Calendar, will you answer my question for yourself?" he asked the girl pointedly. "Why&#8212yes; several friends; none in London, but&#8212" "Dorothy&#8212" "One moment, Mrs. Hallam," Kirkwood flung crisply over his shoulder. "I'm going to ask you something rather odd, Miss Calendar," he continued, seeking the girl's eyes. "I hope&#8212" "Dorothy, I&#8212" "If you please, Mrs. Hallam," suggested the girl, with just the right shade of independence. "I wish to listen to Mr. Kirkwood. He has been very kind to me and has every right...." She turned to him again, leaving the woman breathless and speechless with anger. "You told me once," Kirkwood continued quickly, and, he felt, brazenly, "that you considered me kind, thoughtful and considerate. You know me no better to-day than you did then, but I want to beg you to trust me a little. Can you trust yourself to my protection until we reach your friends in England?" "Why, I&#8212" the girl faltered, taken by surprise. "Mr. Kirkwood!" cried Mrs. Hallam angrily, finding her voice. Kirkwood turned to meet her onslaught with a mien grave, determined, unflinching. "Please do not interfere, Madam," he said quietly. "You are impertinent, sir! Dorothy, I forbid you to listen to this person!" The girl flushed, lifting her chin a trifle. "Forbid?" she repeated wonderingly. Kirkwood was quick to take advantage of her resentment. "Mrs. Hallam is not fitted to advise you," he insisted, "nor can she control your actions. It must already have occurred to you that you're rather out of place in the present circumstances. The men who have brought you hither, I believe you already see through, to some extent. Forgive my speaking plainly ... But that is why you have accepted Mrs. Hallam's offer of protection. Will you take my word for it, when I tell you she has not your right interests at heart, but the reverse? I happen to know, Miss Calendar, and I&#8212" "How dare you, sir?" Flaming with rage, Mrs. Hallam put herself bodily between them, confronting Kirkwood in white-lipped desperation, her small, gloved hands clenched and quivering at her sides, her green eyes dangerous. But Kirkwood could silence her; and he did. "Do you wish me to speak frankly, Madam? Do you wish me to tell what I know&#8212and all I know&#8212," with rising emphasis,&#8212"of your social status and your relations with Calendar and Mulready? I promise you that if you wish it, or force me to it...." But he had need to say nothing further; the woman's eyes wavered before his and a little sob of terror forced itself between her shut teeth. Kirkwood smiled grimly, with a face of brass, impenetrable, inflexible. And suddenly she turned from him with indifferent bravado. v"As Mr. Kirkwood says, Dorothy," she said in her high, metallic voice, "I have no authority over you. But if you're silly enough to consider for a moment this fellow's insulting suggestion, if you're fool enough to go with him, unchaperoned through Europe and imperil your&#8212" "Mrs. Hallam!" Kirkwood cut her short with a menacing tone. "Why, then, I wash my hands of you," concluded the woman defiantly. "Make your choice, my child," she added with a meaning laugh and moved away, humming a snatch from a French chanson which brought the hot blood to Kirkwood's face. But the girl did not understand; and he was glad of that. "You may judge between us," he appealed to her directly, once more. "I can only offer you my word of honor as an American gentleman that you shall be landed in England, safe and sound, by the first available steamer&#8212" "There's no need to say more, Mr. Kirkwood," Dorothy informed him quietly. "I have already decided. I think I begin to understand some things clearly, now.... If you're ready, we will go." From the window, where she stood, holding the curtains back and staring out, Mrs. Hallam turned with a curling lip.   <ANTIMG src="images/illp314s.jpg" width="528" height="800" border="0" alt= "From the window, Mrs. Hallam turned with a curling lip."> "'The honor of an American gentleman,'" she quoted with a stinging sneer; "I'm sure I wish you comfort of it, child!" "We must make haste, Miss Calendar," said Kirkwood, ignoring the implication. "Have you a traveling-bag?" She silently indicated a small valise, closed and strapped, on a table by the bed, and immediately passed out into the hall. Kirkwood took the case containing the gladstone bag in one hand, the girl's valise in the other, and followed. As he turned the head of the stairs he looked back. Mrs. Hallam was still at the window, her back turned. From her very passiveness he received an impression of something ominous and forbidding; if she had lost a trick or two of the game she played, she still held cards, was not at the end of her resources. She stuck in his imagination for many an hour as a force to be reckoned with. For the present he understood that she was waiting to apprise Calendar and Mulready of their flight. With the more haste, then, he followed Dorothy down the three flights, through the tiny office, where Madam sat sound asleep at her over-burdened desk, and out. Opposite the door they were fortunate enough to find a fiacre drawn up in waiting at the curb. Kirkwood opened the door for the girl to enter. "Gare du Sud," he directed the driver. "Drive your fastest&#8212double fare for quick time!" The driver awoke with a start from profound reverie, looked Kirkwood over, and bowed with gesticulative palms. "M'sieu', I am desolated, but engaged!" he protested. "Precisely." Kirkwood deposited the two bags on the forward seat of the conveyance, and stood back to convince the man. "Precisely," said he, undismayed. "The lady who engaged you is remaining for a time; I will settle her bill." "Very well, M'sieu'!" The driver disclaimed responsibility and accepted the favor of the gods with a speaking shrug. "M'sieu' said the Gare du Sud? En voiture!" Kirkwood jumped in and shut the door; the vehicle drew slowly away from the curb, then with gratifying speed hammered up-stream on the embankment. Bending forward, elbows on knees, Kirkwood watched the sidewalks narrowly, partly to cover the girl's constraint, due to Mrs. Hallam's attitude, partly on the lookout for Calendar and his confederates. In a few moments they passed a public clock. "We've missed the Flushing boat," he announced. "I'm making a try for the Hoek van Holland line. We may possibly make it. I know that it leaves by the Sud Quai, and that's all I do know," he concluded with an apologetic laugh. "And if we miss that?" asked the girl, breaking silence for the first time since they had left the hotel. "We'll take the first train out of Antwerp." "Where to?" "Wherever the first train goes, Miss Calendar.... The main point is to get away to-night. That we must do, no matter where we land, or how we get there. To-morrow we can plan with more certainty." "Yes..." Her assent was more a sigh than a word. The cab, dashing down the Rue Leopold de Wael, swung into the Place du Sud, before the station. Kirkwood, acutely watchful, suddenly thrust head and shoulders out of his window (fortunately it was the one away from the depot), and called up to the driver. "Don't stop! Gare Centrale now&#8212and treble fare!" "Oui, M'sieu'! Allons!" The whip cracked and the horse swerved sharply round the corner into the Avenue du Sud. The young man, with a hushed exclamation, turned in his seat, lifting the flap over the little peephole in the back of the carriage. He had not been mistaken. Calendar was standing in front of the station; and it was plain to be seen, from his pose, that the madly careering fiacre interested him more than slightly. Irresolute, perturbed, the man took a step or two after it, changed his mind, and returned to his post of observation. Kirkwood dropped the flap and turned back to find the girl's wide eyes searching his face. He said nothing. "What was that?" she asked after a patient moment. "Your father, Miss Calendar," he returned uncomfortably. There fell a short pause; then: "Why&#8212will you tell me&#8212is it necessary to run away from my father, Mr. Kirkwood?" she demanded, with a moving little break in her voice. Kirkwood hesitated. It were unfeeling to tell her why; yet it was essential that she should know, however painful the knowledge might prove to her. And she was insistent; he might not dodge the issue. "Why?" she repeated as he paused. "I wish you wouldn't press me for an answer just now, Miss Calendar." "Don't you think I had better know?" Instinctively he inclined his head in assent. "Then why&#8212?" Kirkwood bent forward and patted the flank of the satchel that held the gladstone bag. "What does that mean, Mr. Kirkwood?" "That I have the jewels," he told her tersely, looking straight ahead. At his shoulder he heard a low gasp of amazement and incredulity commingled. "But&#8212! How did you get them? My father deposited them in bank this morning?" "He must have taken them out again.... I got them on board the Alethea, where your father was conferring with Mulready and Captain Stryker." "The Alethea!" "Yes." "You took them from those men?&#8212you!... But didn't my father&#8212?" "I had to persuade him," said Kirkwood simply. "But there were three of them against you!" "Mulready wasn't&#8212ah&#8212feeling very well, and Stryker's a coward. They gave me no trouble. I locked them in Stryker's room, lifted the bag of jewels, and came away.... I ought to tell you that they were discussing the advisability of sailing away without you&#8212leaving you here, friendless and without means. That's why I considered it my duty to take a hand.... I don't like to tell you this so brutally, but you ought to know, and I can't see how to tone it down," he concluded awkwardly. "I understand...." But for some moments she did not speak. He avoided looking at her. The fiacre, rolling at top speed but smoothly on the broad avenues that encircle the ancient city, turned into the Avenue de Keyser, bringing into sight the Gare Centrale. "You don't&#8212k-know&#8212" began the girl without warning, in a voice gusty with sobs. "Steady on!" said Kirkwood gently. "I do know, but don't let's talk about it now. We'll be at the station in a minute, and I'll get out and see what's to be done about a train, if neither Mulready or Stryker are about. You stay in the carriage.... No!" He changed his mind suddenly. "I'll not risk losing you again. It's a risk we'll have to run in company." "Please!" she agreed brokenly. The fiacre slowed up and stopped. "Are you all right, Miss Calendar?" Kirkwood asked. The girl sat up, lifting her head proudly. "I am quite ready," she said, steadying her voice. Kirkwood reconnoitered through the window, while the driver was descending. "Gare Centrale, M'sieu'," he said, opening the door. "No one in sight," Kirkwood told the girl. "Come, please." He got out and gave her his hand, then paid the driver, picked up the two bags, and hurried with Dorothy into the station, to find in waiting a string of cars into which people were moving at leisurely rate. His inquiries at the ticket-window developed the fact that it was the 22:26 for Brussels, the last train leaving the Gare Centrale that night, and due to start in ten minutes. The information settled their plans for once and all; Kirkwood promptly secured through tickets, also purchasing "Reserve" supplementary tickets which entitled them to the use of those modern corridor coaches which take the place of first-class compartments on the Belgian state railways. "It's a pleasure," said Kirkwood lightly, as he followed the girl into one of these, "to find one's self in a common-sense sort of a train again. 'Feels like home." He put their luggage in one of the racks and sat down beside her, chattering with simulated cheerfulness in a vain endeavor to lighten her evident depression of spirit. "I always feel like a traveling anachronism in one of your English trains," he said. "You can't appreciate&#8212" The girl smiled bravely.... "And after Brussels?" she inquired. "First train for the coast," he said promptly. "Dover, Ostend, Boulogne,&#8212whichever proves handiest, no matter which, so long as it gets us on English soil without undue delay." She said "Yes" abstractedly, resting an elbow on the window-sill and her chin in her palm, to stare with serious, sweet brown eyes out into the arc-smitten night that hung beneath the echoing roof. Kirkwood fidgeted in despite of the constraint he placed himself under, to be still and not disturb her needlessly. Impatience and apprehension of misfortune obsessed his mental processes in equal degree. The ten minutes seemed interminable that elapsed ere the grinding couplings advertised the imminence of their start. The guards began to bawl, the doors to slam, belated travelers to dash madly for the coaches. The train gave a preliminary lurch ere settling down to its league-long inland dash. Kirkwood, in a fever of hope and an ague of fear, saw a man sprint furiously across the platform and throw himself on the forward steps of their coach, on the very instant of the start. Presently he entered by the forward door and walked slowly through, narrowly inspecting the various passengers. As he approached the seats occupied by Kirkwood and Dorothy Calendar, his eyes encountered the young man's, and he leered evilly. Kirkwood met the look with one that was like a kick, and the fellow passed with some haste into the car behind. "Who was that?" demanded the girl, without moving her head. "How did you know?" he asked, astonished. "You didn't look&#8212" "I saw your knuckles whiten beneath the skin.... Who was it?" "Hobbs," he acknowledged bitterly; "the mate of the Alethea." "I know.... And you think&#8212?" "Yes. He must have been ashore when I was on board the brigantine; he certainly wasn't in the cabin. Evidently they hunted him up, or ran across him, and pressed him into service.... You see, they're watching every outlet.... But we'll win through, never fear!" <center> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.