Daisy Ashford: Her Book Part 20

"Poor thing" thought Mr. Palsey "she cant guess the worst yet," out loud he added "hush Miss Winston, you are over fatigued, that is all, would you like a cup of coffee? the refreshment room is not yet closed."

"I could'nt drink or eat" replied Helen sadly "I'll go and sit by the fire while you look for Cyril.

"Very well" said Mr. Palsey, and he turned round and went off in an opposite direction.

Helen entered the waiting room and sat by the fire her tired eyes covered with her hands. Presently she raised her white face and glanced at the clock. Two old ladies sitting near, noticed her pale frightened face.

"Have you come a long journey" asked one "you look very tired."

"I am very tired, and miserable too" broke forth Helen in the fullness of her heart "oh why am I dragged up here in this cruel fashion, oh what has happened to father?" she burst into heart broken sobbing.

The old ladies looked very much alarmed and after bidding Helen a kind good night, gathered up their wraps and departed.

The time sped on and still nether Cyril nor Mr. Palsey arrived.

Helen grew terrified and was on the point of going out on to the platform when the door opened and the two men appeared.

Mr. Palsey looked much the same, Cyril was clad in a heavy ulster and his face was white and scared.

Cyril was speaking as the two entered and Helen caught the last words, "just as we could have wished" he was saying. "Oh Cyril Cyril" cried Helen and she flung herself into his arms.

"My darling" gasped Cyril and a queer gurgle sounded in his throat.

"What is it Cyril, what has happened?" cried Helen, clutching hold of his coat.

"Hush darling" said Cyril, "come outside.

Helen was quite overcome by now and she allowed herself to be led out by Cyril and Mr. Palsey.

"Shall you tell her tonight" whispered Mr. Palsey.

"It is better to get it over" replied Cyril, "Helen dear, be prepared for bad news."

"Yes yes anything" gasped Helen nervously "father is ill I know very ill, oh Cyril tell me quickly."

"Worse than that" said Cyril and he clasped her tightly to him.

"Not dying moaned Helen, "oh Cyril not dying.

Cyril said nothing, but Mr. Palsey whispered "out with it Sheene, she must know soon."

"He is dead" cried Helen wildly, "say the words Cyril say them."

Cyril bowed his head "yes" he murmured "dead--murd----

"Hush" whispered Mr. Palsey striking him on the arm, "you idiot, keep quiet."

With a shriek, Helen tore herself from Cyril's grasp and ran like the wind, she herself knew not wither; at the station gate her strength failed her, she turned, she tottered, she tried to scream and fell insensible at the feet of the villians.

CHAPTER 9

HELEN'S ACCTIDENT

Cyril and Mr. Palsey lost no time in conveying Helen to a cab which was waiting outside. They placed her on one of the seats and bade the cabman drive directly to number 2 Medina Road, where Cyril was lodging.

"How will you manage about the money Cyril?" presently asked Mr. Palsey.

"Dont speak to me of money?" cried Cyril bitterly, "oh Helen Helen" and he bent over his unconcious sweetheart.

"Pon me word Cyril" cried Mr. Palsey "you're a born idiot, the girl will soon recover, you'll marry her and we'll go halfs with the money, its simply ridiculous the way you mople and mumble over her, let her alone I say and tell me how the murd--the bussiness went off."

"I've told you twice it was very successful" replied Cyril impatiantly.

"You're trying to hide something I can see" cried Mr. Palsey pa.s.sionately, "you'd best tell me, or not a farthing of the money shall be yours."

"I dont see that" said Cyril cooly, "you dont even know where the safe is." Mr. Palsey bit his lips in suppressed anger. Cyril's words were stiningly true and made him boil with pa.s.sion. "Here we are" said Cyril, as the cab stopped at a dimly lighted street corner.

"Hi cabman, get down and open the door" screamed Mr. Palsey.

The man shuffled down from the box and opened the door.

"Any luggage" he asked roughly.

"No" replied Mr. Palsey "there is a young lady fainted and we are going to carry her in to this house."

"Right" responded the man and he stood aside while Cyril and Mr. Palsey came gingerly out carrying Helen between them.

As they were ascending the steps a rough looking man in a torn red shirt and battered hat came up and addressed himself to Cyril.

"Hi sir" he cried out "what about that 10 you promised; I'm a poor starving man and I cant wait much longer.

"Bother" muttered Cyril "here man will a shilling suffice for this evening, I'll pay the rest tomorrow."

"All right" grumbled the man, "unless you pay up tomorrow it'll be the last job I do for you," and with an oath the man departed.

Cyril lead the way into a dimly lighted parlour and with Mr. Palseys help Helen was soon arranged on the sofa.

Some supper consisting of cold mutton, vegitables and a jug of ale was laid out on a round table in the centre of the room, and small parrifin lamp burnt on the mantleshelf. Going over to this last object Cyril screwed it up, so that its glare fell, full on Helen's face.

"Why she's hurt herself terribly" cried Cyril in alarm, pointing to a wound in her forehead from which blood had been streaming down her face.

"Is your landlady up?" enquired Mr. Palsey seriously.

"I should rather doubt it, why?" asked Cyril.

"Because Miss Winston should be taken to her bedroom at once, I'm afraid it is a bad cut" replied Mr. Palsey.