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Flaming June

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<h3>Chapter Twenty One.</h3> Mrs Moffatt was standing before the table, tearing up old papers. She looked up with a start, to see Guest and Cornelia standing before her in that eloquent, linked attitude, and over her features there passed that helpless, trapped expression of guilt discovered and brought to bay, which, once seen, can never be forgotten. The blood ebbed from her face, leaving it ashen white, except for two fixed spots of colour on either cheek; her fingers relaxed their hold, and the fragments of paper fluttered downward to the floor. There was a ghastly silence. It was Guest who was the first to speak, standing straight and stern at the opposite side of the table, and at the sound of his opening words the wretched woman trembled violently, and sank on a chair for support. “Mrs Schuter! I have come here with Miss Briskett to ask your explanation of a letter sent in her name to Mr Marchant, the jeweller, this morning. She has seen the letter, with the forged signature at the end, and has heard that the necklace was brought to this hotel, and delivered to you. May I trouble you to hand it over?” Each word was sharp and cutting as an icicle, and Guest’s steel-like eyes were alight with remorseless anger. Cornelia turned her head aside, unable to endure the pitiful spectacle. Mrs Moffatt stammered out a broken subterfuge. “What necklace? I don’t know—I don’t—understand!” Even as she spoke, one trembling hand twitched upward, to be as quickly lowered, but not before Guest had pounced upon the clue with swift intuition. “You understand very well! As a matter of fact, you are wearing it at this moment beneath your dress. Will you kindly take it off, and put it on the table?” He turned aside as he spoke, paying this small tribute to her womanly feelings. A strangled sob broke the silence; the sound of laboured breathing, then a faint, clicking sound, and he looked round to see a dazzle of light on a corner of the table, where the sunbeams had found a plaything. A bauble of green and white stones, for which a woman had sold her soul. Cornelia was leaning against the mantelpiece, her face hidden in her hands. Guest realised that it was her sob which he had heard, and the knowledge did not soften his heart. “Thank you!” he said in the same tone of cutting politeness. “That is so much to the good, but I shall have to trouble you still further. There was two hundred pounds lent to you yesterday, ostensibly to be paid to a furrier, that, of course, was a mere excuse!—and thirty pounds in bank-notes this morning. I fear the first sum is gone beyond recall, since your husband’s cheque is probably not worth the paper on which it is written, but I take it that the notes are still intact. As you prefer someone else to pay your bills, you will have kept them for personal use. They are probably in your pocket at this moment!” “I have not got the cheque—I could not return it if I would,” said Mrs Moffatt, hoarsely. “My husband cashed it as soon as the bank was open, and left London shortly after. He has the money. I have not had a cent of it. The notes are in my purse. He left them so that I should be able to follow.” “Just so. You will please return them to Miss Briskett, and we will deal with the other sum later on. Your intention was to leave the hotel for good this morning, and you provided Miss Briskett with commissions to keep her out of the way while you made your preparations. That is the case, is it not?” The woman did not answer, but looked across the room towards where Cornelia stood; and Cornelia parted her hands and looked back at her in pitiful inquiry. “Did you mean to run away, and leave me here alone?” Mrs Moffatt bent her head in shame. Her face was not white now, but deep, burning red. “We knew—after last night—that the game was up. We had to go, Cornelia—or—” “Be kind enough not to address Miss Briskett by her Christian name!” interrupted Guest, sharply. It seemed to him an impossible humiliation that this woman should still dare to address the girl in the language of friendship. “Let us get to the end of this business. I presume there are other bills, which will come in, in due course; bills for goods ordered in other forged notes. Am I right in supposing this? It is your best plan to speak the truth!” “Y–es!” “There are more bills! Can you give me an approximate idea of their amount? Fifty pounds, one hundred, two hundred? What is the amount?” “About—one hundred.” “And the hotel expenses! Miss Briskett suspects from the manner of the officials that you were thoughtful enough to take these rooms in her name. Again I ask you, is that the case?” A bend of the head gave assent, and Guest wheeled round with a gesture of intense indignation, took a few rapid strides up and down the room, then halted again by Mrs Moffatt’s side. “And, not content with cheating and plotting to desert this young girl, whom you professed to befriend, how many of her personal possessions have you stolen? You had free access to her room—have you taken advantage of her absence this morning to rob her of her private belongings?” Two exclamations, of denial, of dismay, and reproach, sounded in his ears. Innocent and guilty alike regarded him with indignant eyes. To the mysterious feminine reasoning it appeared there were different degrees in the crime of theft. To pay a debt by means of a worthless cheque was evidently less reprehensible than to pilfer a brooch from a dressing-table. Guest knew himself condemned before he heard the simultaneous replies. “Captain Guest, how can you! She would never do that!” “Indeed, you are mistaken. I’m bad enough, but I have not fallen quite so low. I have not touched a thing.” “You must excuse my denseness. I fail to see how one theft is so much worse than the other. I am sorry to seem intrusive, Miss Briskett, but I have taken a certain responsibility upon myself, and I must be satisfied on this point before we go any further. Will you take Mrs Schuter with you to your room while you carefully check your possessions, and get back your bank-notes. I will wait here till you return.” For a moment Cornelia appeared on the point of refusing, but she changed her mind, and without a word led the way down the corridor towards her own bedroom. Her dressing-case stood on a table by the window; she stood over it uncertainly, as if still debating with herself whether she should or should not obey Guest’s command, and as she did so Mrs Moffatt’s voice broke the silence— “Cornelia!—there’s not a mite of reason why you should take my word, but I tell you straight I haven’t laid a finger on one of your things. You ken look as well as not, but it’s wasting time. The thirty pounds is in my purse, ready for you to take. When it comes to the last Silas takes fright. There’s no need to tell any more lies. We have lived by this sort of thing for years past, but as soon as he scents danger in the air, he makes off to a place of safety, and leaves me to finish up. You won’t find him, however hard you search, but I’m right here. ... What are you going to do with me, Cornelia?” Cornelia drew a sharp, sobbing breath. “Oh, why did you do it?” she cried wildly. “Why did you do it? You laid a plot for me from the start. I was rich, and—and green, so you fussed over me, and acted like a friend, and invited me up here, for nothing but to bleed me—to get as much out of me as you could, and then leave me to face it out alone in a strange place. I was your own countrywoman, and I trusted you. Hadn’t you got a spark of loyalty left, that you could act so—mean?” Mrs Moffatt put her hand to her throat. Her voice seemed paralysed; husky, disjointed, and feeble. “No! It’s all gone; loyalty, faith, everything that matters. There’s nothing left but this! You’d not believe me if I said I was fond of you, Cornelia, but it’s the solid truth, though I robbed you all the same. I plotted to rob you, as you say! You had plenty of money, and we were cleaned out. I meant to get away with that necklace, and sell the stones on the Continent. There are people there who will buy without asking questions. I’ve got to know them pretty well during the last few years. ... Cornelia, what are you going to do? Is Mr Marchant sending to arrest me here?” “He doesn’t know that anything is wrong. I managed to keep quiet, and let him believe I knew all about it. To the last I kept hoping that there was some way out. Captain Guest wanted to bring an officer along, but I wouldn’t do it.” “That was like you! You wanted I should have a chance, but it’s all true; every one thing! There’s more true than you know of—other bills to come in, a big sum run up here. You can give back the necklace, but even so, it is going to be heavy enough. ... Cornelia, what are you going to do? I’m a bad woman—are you going to send me to prison, to have a chance of growing worse, among other bad women like myself?” Cornelia threw out her arms with a sudden, reckless gesture. “No!” she cried strongly, “I’m not! I’m going to let you go; I’m going to help you to go. Captain Guest’s a pretty hard man; I guess you’d better not see him again. Keep those notes—you’ll need some money to help along, and march out of the hotel right now, and lose yourself as fast as ever you can. You can have ten minutes to do it, while I wait here, and as much longer as I can keep him quiet; but you’ve got to be slippy. ... You shall have your chance!” Mrs Moffatt gasped for breath, her face twitched convulsively, and she tottered as she stood. “You mean that? Oh, God bless you, Cornelia Briskett! If there are any blessings going, there’s no one on earth deserves them more than you. You’ve saved me this time. Whatever happens in the future, you’ve given me a chance.” “That’s so, but the question is, are you going to take it? See here! let’s strike a bargain over this before you go! You are a clever woman, or you wouldn’t have escaped so long, but the game is played out. It isn’t safe to go on, when any moment you may be recognised by people you have fooled before. You’re bound to make a fresh start—why shouldn’t you try being straight for a change? You’d find it would pay better in the end. You’ve got to think, when you leave this to-day, that a girl’s whim is all there is between you and a prison cell. That ought to be a pretty bracing remembrance, I should say. ... Start away with the money you have in hand, and see if you ken’t make some more for yourself. There’s another thing! You can write to me in a year from now, and tell me where you are, and what you have been about. I’ll ferret into every single thing, and if it’s straight, I’ll help you again; I’ll go on helping you! You need never say after this that you cheat because you’re obliged. Live straight, and work hard, and I’ll see to it that you don’t want. You’ve got your chance! ... I guess you’d better scoot!” Mrs Moffatt stood before her, trembling and abject; overcome with a pitiful emotion. “I’m going! Could you, could you kiss me, Cornelia, before I go?” Cornelia drew herself up proudly. “No, I guess not! We’ll leave that over for another time. Some day, perhaps, when you’re straight. ... You’d best not waste any more time...” “I’m going. I can’t thank you. I swear to you—” “No, don’t swear! I don’t want any promises. Promise yourself; that’s the best thing. ... Good-bye.” “Good-bye, Cornelia Briskett!” The door opened, and shut. Cornelia listened with bated breath, but all was silent from the corridor without. She leant her head on the dressing-table, and burst into a passion of tears. <hr> Captain Guest paced up and down the sitting-room for a quarter of an hour, casting impatient glances at the clock, and pausing now and then to lift the emerald necklace from the table and examine it with wondering curiosity. It was a pretty enough plaything, but from his point of view it seemed a preposterous waste of money to sink a cool thousand pounds on its purchase. He mentally ran over the various necessary repairs on his own property, which could be completed for the sum, and shrugged his shoulders expressively. Still, women liked such playthings, and if one were specially interested in a woman (a woman, say, to whom emeralds were specially becoming!), there would be a certain satisfaction in seeing her wearing the pretty things. It was conceivable that the pleasure so given might even be as keen as that derived from a new chimney-stack or a barn! A vision rose before him; a vision of a ruddy head and snowy shoulders, on which the green light flashed and waned. He saw Cornelia, as she had appeared, sitting in the front row of the stalls at the theatre, and mentally clasped the necklace round her throat. The door opened. He thrust the vision aside, and wheeled round quickly, reassuming his sternest expression. A dejected little girl stood on the threshold, with dishevelled locks and tear-stained eyes, and as he stared in amazement, she quietly closed the door, and collapsed in a limp little heap on the corner of the sofa. “I’ve—come back!” “Where’s Mrs Moffatt?” “She’s”—the voice broke in a strangled sob—“gone!” “Gone where?” “Gone away. Ten minutes ago. She’s ever so far off by now!” Guest stood still, transfixed with anger and astonishment. “Do you mean to say that she escaped before your eyes? What happened? Did you leave her alone in your room?” “No; I told her to go. I sent her away. It was my suggestion from the start.” “You—told—her—to go!” Guest’s face was a study of outraged wrath. “After all she has done; after the deliberate way in which she has cheated and deceived you; after the lies she has told; after her thefts,—hundreds of pounds still to pay up! after intending to desert you in this hotel, you mean to tell me seriously that you sent her away!” The tousled head nodded dumbly; two big tears trickled down the reddened cheeks. “Are you aware that you have compounded a felony? If Mr Marchant heard what you had done, he could accuse you of being a partner in the crime. Do you know that you have broken the law of the country, and that I could give you in charge at this moment, if I wished to do so?” “I guess that’s so.—Are you going to do it?” “That’s ridiculous! You know it is, but—” “Then you’re another!” cried Cornelia, laughing through her tears. “You’re as bad as I am, so you can’t preach! She’s gone anyway, and I’m—glad! We got the necklace, and for the rest, I’ll just have to pay up, and look pleasant. Poppar says you’ve got to pay for experience in this world. I’ll tell him I concluded I’d better learn it pretty thoroughly, once I’d started. He won’t mind.” “Your father must be a wealthy man if he can afford to lose four or five hundred pounds without feeling annoyed!” Cornelia looked at him quickly, and replied in a tone of studied indifference. “Oh, he’s flush enough at the moment. Likely enough we shall be paupers next year. Don’t be angry with me, Captain Guest. I simply had to give her a chance! I can afford to pay up, and if I’d sent her to prison it would have killed the last little mite of self-respect. I trusted her instead, and I believe that’s going to help more than any punishment. It would me! She’s had a good old fright, and maybe this will be the turning-point in her life.” Guest’s lips curled in eloquent disbelief. He paced slowly up and down the room, then stationed himself once more in front of the sofa. “Did you look over your things to see that they were all right?” “No! ... She said she hadn’t touched them.” “Did you make her return the notes?” “No, I—I guessed she’d need them herself!” “How extremely considerate! Didn’t you feel it necessary to offer her a little more, while you were about it? To give her another twenty pounds, say, to make up the full change for the cheque?” The face that peered up at him was at once so abashed, so discomfited, so childlike in its humility, that his anger melted before it, and gave place to a wave of tenderness. “You ridiculous, high-flown, little girl! Who would have believed that all your shrewd commonsense would collapse like this! No! I’m not angry, I shan’t scold any more. The thing’s done now, and you’ve had enough worry. I’m going to ring the bell, and order some luncheon. We will have it here together, and comfort ourselves after all this excitement. I’m hungry enough, whatever you are! What shall it be? You are going to treat me, you know, so it must be something good. Roast chicken! That’s what ladies generally prefer, and some sweets, and fruit. Claret for me, and what for you? Is it to be—‘corfee’—once more?” He went to the door to give the order to the waiter, accompanied by a tip which had the effect of producing the meal in an extraordinarily short space of time. Cornelia’s appearance being still distinctly dishevelled, Guest dismissed the waiter and himself took the head of the table, carving the chicken, handing the vegetable dishes, and even pouring out the coffee. If they had been a honeymoon couple the intimacy of the scene could not have been greater, but in that case he would have taken his wife in his arms and kissed away her tears. Poor, little, red-eyed girl! There was precious little beauty about her at the moment, yet she had never appeared more attractive. “I ken’t eat a bite!” was Cornelia’s first melancholy statement, but when one wing of the chicken had disappeared from her plate—“It’s mighty good!” she said, and promptly set to work on a second. She drank copious draughts of coffee, began to revive in spirits, and experience qualms concerning her appearance. “Say! do I look a perfect freak?” “You look much better than you did ten minutes since. In another ten minutes you will look quite like yourself, if you obey my orders, and eat a good meal.” Cornelia shrugged expressively. “I know what that means! I guess I’m ugly enough to kill. That’s why I hate to cry—it musses one up so for hours after. ... Captain Guest, what am I going to do next? Can I settle up, and get away to Norton this afternoon, do you suppose?” “I am afraid not. The last train leaves at three o’clock, and that does not give enough time for all that has to be done. I was wondering whether my aunt—whether you would consent to sleep at her house to-night.” “Suttenly not! Why should I? It won’t be the first time by a good many that I’ve stayed a night by myself in a hotel, and there’s no reason why I should move. I’ll have my meals up in this room, if it will ease you any, but I won’t leave this place till to-morrow morning. Then I’ll go back,” she laughed feebly, “to The Nook, and humble pie!” “You need not tell your aunt what has happened, if you don’t choose to do so!” “Oh, yes; I’ll own up! Aunt Soph will be pleased to feel she was right. Maybe she’ll like me better when I’m down on my luck. ... What must I set about first?” <ANTIMG src="images/fjune279.jpg" alt=""> “I shall interview the hotel manager, and tell him the whole story—that’s due to him, you know, or there might be a repetition of the offence. Then there’s the jeweller—he must be warned in the same way, and the necklace returned. I presume you don’t want to keep it.” Cornelia shuddered. “Oh, no. I could never wear it. But when Poppar comes over I’ll make him buy me something else instead. Mr Marchant shan’t lose! I guess I’d better drive there straight away, and then to the bank. I’ll have to arrange for a pretty big draft. ... You never know how things are going to pan out in this world, do you? I thought I was going to spend this afternoon on the river, gliding about so sweet and peaceful!” Guest flushed, hesitated, and—plunged! “Why shouldn’t we go all the same? We can finish our business and still have time. If you will allow me, I’ll take great care of you and bring you home before it’s dark. It would be too dreary sitting up here by yourself, all the evening.” Cornelia sprang to her feet, clapping her hands with delight. “How lovely! How lovely! You’re just the nicest thing! It’s sweet of you to think of it! Go right away now, and get through with your interview, and I’ll join you in the lounge as soon as I’ve prinked, and gotten my face into order. I’ll hang my head out of the window, and massage my nose. ... Let’s go and be happy, and forget all our woes!” She ran to the door, waved her hand gaily over her shoulder, and disappeared from sight. <hr></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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