Daisy Ashford: Her Book Part 35

"Have patience" shouted Lawrence, but his words were hardly audible for Mr. Palsey was releiving his feelings by kicking violently at the door.

"The hall door was open, and Mrs. Norton was standing by it waiting for her lodgers to come down.

"Well miss this is short notice" she began in an injured tone.

"I am very sorry" replied Gladys "but I have to leave in a great hurry, I would have let you know before had it been possible," and she handed a few soverigns to the land lady.

"By the by Mrs. Norton" began Lawrance "here is the key of your drawing room, Mr. Palsey is in there for reasons which I dont see fit to mention now, but as I found him a.s.saulting a lady when I arrived I shall see fit to inform the police and no doubt you will be kind enough to take charge of the key until my return."

"Oh yes sir" replied Mrs. Norton, who had no great devotion for that cross-grained Mr. Palsey as she called him "you can trust me fully."

"Thank you" replied Lawrence, noting down Mrs. Norton's name and address in his memoranda as he spoke.

A cab drew up at the door at that moment and the landlady and parlour maid both walked down the steps with their lodgers.

"Am I to expect you back at any particular time sir?" enquired Mrs.

Norton.

"I cant say for certain" answered Lawrence, "but I will probably be back sometime tonight."

"Very well sir, I'll keep the key safe in my pocket till then" and Mrs.

Norton slipped the key into its receptable.

"The old station" cried Lawrence and jumping into the cab he shut the door with a bang.

The journey pa.s.sed off very successfully, Helen and Gladys both taking a doze in the train and waking up quite fresh at Holburn Station.

"I must go to the Police Station at once" said Lawrence "so I will see you both started first; what is your address Miss Winston?"

"I could easily walk" replied Helen blushing, "but if you would rather I drove the address is 132, Cannon Street."

Lawrence hailed two hansoms "now Gladys jump in as you have further to go" he said, "26, Portman Square" he added to the cabman, who touched his hat and drove off in an instant.

The second hansom was waiting and drew close up to the curb as the other drove off. "132, Cannon Street, shouted Lawrence, "goodbye Miss Winston, be sure and write to Gladys if you are in trouble, I am going there myself late tonight as unfortunately I must go back to Richmond to see about Mr. Palsey."

"Thank you very very much" replied Helen the tears gathering in her pretty eyes as she spoke. But she soon wiped them away and leaning back in the comfortable hansom she commenced to hum a little tune as she arranged her ruffled hair at the little looking gla.s.s. Little did she dream how very soon she would have to avail herself of Lawrence's offer.

A dismal sleet had begun to fall and being tired Helen was not sorry when the hansom stopped at the dreary looking office. Lawrence had already paid the man so Helen had only to collect her parcels and get out.

A light was shining in the office room and also in Cyril's bed-room which was just above it.

"How very strange" thought Helen as she mounted the steps. Before she had time to lay her hand on the bell the door was violently opened from within and there stood Netherby, looking very pale and trembling from head to foot.

"Oh come in Miss, do come in" he cried in an agitated voice as Helen stood staring at his strange appearance.

"Why Netherby, what _is_ the matter?" cried Helen entering the pa.s.sage and closing the door behind her.

"Oh dont ask me miss, please dont let me be the first to tell you" cried Netherby and the poor man clung for support to the door handle.

"Very well, dont distress yourself" said Helen kindly and calmly and seeing there was no more information to be got from him, she entered the office.

It seemed to be in a state of utter confusion; papers littered the whole room, Cyril's tea stood untouched by his desk, and Cyril's own private chest was wide open and Wilson the other clerk was cooly reading the papers and doc.u.ments within. He glanced over his shoulder as Helen entered and with an insolent grin returned to the parchment in his hand.

All Helen's pride and dignity was roused in a moment.

"Wilson!" she cried with an impatient movement of her hands, but keeping perfectly cool the while "oblige me by telling me the meaning of this conduct."

"The explanation is there" replied the clerk pointing to a half sheet of paper lying on the desk.

It was a common bit of ruled paper and by the ragged edge had evidently been hastily torn from a note book; a pin was run through the top of the paper showing it had been attached to something.

"Where did you find this" enquired Helen before reading it.

"We found it pinned to Mr. Sheene's desk addressed to you miss," replied Netherby who had entered the room, "it was Mrs. Marshland who told us to open it.

"Very well" said Helen, and she read as follows.

"Darling. When you see this I shall probably be miles away. This is written to bid you goodbye as it is not likely we shall meet again. When you read my story try and forgive me; for in spite of all I always loved you and ever will.

CYRIL SHEENE.

This strange epistle was hastily scrawled in pencil and the signature was very shaky, but Helen knew the writing in a minute, it was undoubtedly Cyril's.

"It is not likely we shall meet again!!"

The words ran through Helen's bewildered head and repeated themselves again and again. Cyril, whom she had loved so dearly and belived in so faithfully had gone away, left her alone in the cruel heartless world; Cyril whom she had never even had course or reason to call dishonourable had written himself to ask her to try and forgive him. What did it mean?

And the story, where was the story?" The room seemed to swim round;" we shall not meet again, "try and forgive me" The story where is the story?

And then all was darkness and Helen remembered no more.

CHAPTER 26

A REMOVAL TO PORTMAN SQUARE

When Helen recovered she found herself lying in a large comfortable bed propped up with pillows. The room was large, cheerful and beautifully furnished. A small table covered with a white cloth was by the bedside with medicine bottles upon it. A bright fire burnt in the grate. The blinds were down and warm red curtains pulled across the large bow window.

A small lamp was carefully placed where no light or glare could reach the bed and the very atmosphere of the room spoke of extreme comfort.

A nurse, in a white cap and ap.r.o.n was gliding noislessly about the room arranging things here and there.

For a moment Helen lay quite still staring about her plerpexedly, but on making a slight movement in the bed the nurse turned round, "So you are awake at last miss?" she said in a slow gentle voice, "do you know you have slept quite quietly for three hours."

"Where are am I?" asked Helen gazing from the kind face of the nurse around the strange room.

"You are in Lord Beaufort's house in Portman Square" replied the nurse.