The Golden Web Part 39

Deane was across the landing in a moment. He tapped sharply upon the door. There was no answer. He tried the handle. The door was locked!

"Open the door," he cried out, shaking it vigorously.

There was no answer. To Deane the silence was ominous. He turned to the woman who stood silently by his side, with a fierce little exclamation.

"Where is the telephone?" he demanded.

"Inside there," she answered. "It used to be my sitting-room."

"The door is locked!" he exclaimed.

"I do not understand it," she admitted.

"Have you another key?"

"No!"

He flung himself at the door, tearing it half from its hinges. Another a.s.sault, and with a tearing of splinters it fell inside. Deane stepped over it into the room, and a low cry of anger broke from his lips. The woman at his side fled shrieking downstairs. On the floor lay Winifred Rowan, her limbs bound with cords, a gag in her mouth, her clothing all dishevelled, her eyes shining with an almost painful intensity from her ashen gray face. Deane fell on his knees by her side.

"Winifred!" he exclaimed. "My G.o.d!"

He s.n.a.t.c.hed his knife from his pocket, removed the gag from her mouth, and cut all her bonds. Her hands tried nervously to rearrange her dress over her bosom. He tore off his own coat and threw it over her.

"Are you badly hurt?" he asked anxiously.

"I am not hurt much," she answered weakly, "but--"

"But what?" he demanded.

She commenced to cry softly but insistently. Black fear rose up to torture him. "But what?" he repeated, with sinking heart.

"It has gone!" she murmured, crossing her hands upon her bosom.

"What has gone?" he asked. "Quick!"

"The deed!" she whispered. "Don't look at me like that. I couldn't help it. It was a trap, of course, to get me here, and I was a fool. The letter was from you, but I ought to have known that it was a forgery. I was taken unawares. She was like a madwoman. She would have torn the clothes from my body. I struggled. I called out. It was no use. She has taken it away."

"But you are not hurt?" he exclaimed anxiously.

"I--no!" she answered, a little vacantly. "But it is gone! I was not fit to be trusted with it. I ought to have given it up to you."

She was very pale, and he was afraid of her fainting. He summoned the landlady once more. She was waiting on the stairs close by.

"Something very serious has happened here," he said, sternly. "This young lady has been a.s.saulted and robbed."

"I'm sure I'm very sorry," the woman declared. "You can't blame any of us, though. I never heard a sound, no more did Hilda, and I can't prevent my lodgers having visitors."

"We won't discuss it," Deane said sharply. "But if this is Miss Montague's room,--"

"It isn't," the woman interrupted. "It's my sitting-room. Miss Montague has only an attic, and she came to me and said that she couldn't receive a visitor there, and asked me to lend her my room for a few minutes."

Deane nodded. "The other rooms on this floor are unoccupied, of course,"

he said. "Oh! it's quite easy to understand. I don't need to ask you any more questions. I don't want any more explanations. If you want to keep this out of the police court, you will do exactly as I tell you."

"Yes!" she exclaimed eagerly. "I will do anything."

"Send your servant for a cab," Deane said, "and arrange this young lady's dress so that I can take her home."

"I will fetch her a bodice of my own," declared the woman, hurrying off.

Winifred had risen to her feet, and was sitting in an easy-chair. She was leaning forward, with her face half buried in her hands. Deane turned towards her.

"Winifred--"

She avoided his gaze. "Don't!" she begged. "Please don't talk to me. I can't bear it."

"But I may say--" he began.

"No!" she interrupted, almost fiercely. "Please say nothing. I mean it.

I cannot bear to talk! I cannot bear to be talked to!"

A little throb of anger darkened his face. She had not even common grat.i.tude for her rescue! She had but one thought, one regret,--the loss of that future of luxury to attain which she had bound herself to him. A curious anger burned in his blood,--a pain which he could not a.n.a.lyze shook his heart. Then there came the sound of voices on the stairs, feminine voices raised in anger! The door was burst open. Ruby stood there upon the threshold, looking in upon them, her lips curved in an ugly smile of triumph, her eyes ablaze. Behind her stood the landlady, a black bodice in her hand, her forehead wrinkled in a deprecating frown.

"So you've found her, have you?" Ruby exclaimed, her face turned towards Deane, her finger outstretched to where Winifred sat shrinking back in her chair. "Thieves, both of you! Thieves! Thieves!"

Deane pointed to Winifred's torn clothing. "And that?" he asked.

"It was rest.i.tution," the girl declared fiercely. "The deed was mine!

Your millions are mine! She stole it for you--her brother was a murderer for you! How do you think the story will look in the newspapers, eh?

Inciting to murder and theft! Isn't that a crime? Swindlers, both of you!" she cried pa.s.sionately. "You'd have kept me a beggar, eh," she cried to Winifred, "while you clad your poor body in silks and laces, covered yourself with jewels and made him marry you? And I was to starve!--to starve or worse! Well, we'll see! We'll see!"

"Young lady," Deane said calmly, "you are being led away by your imagination. You have taken a paper away from Miss Rowan which you seem to think is going to turn out a sort of El Dorado. It isn't worth the paper it's written on."

"It's a lie!" the girl shrieked. "I've taken it to the lawyers. It is genuine--they all say so."

Deane almost lifted Winifred from her chair. "That remains to be seen,"

he declared.

"In any case, it was stolen!" she cried. "That young woman there has got to say how it came into her possession, and what she meant by going around with it sewn into her bodice! Oh, you needn't try to dupe me!"

she cried. "I want my money--G.o.d knows how I want it! And I mean to make her suffer, too!" she added, pointing to Winifred. "She's a thief! She's lived in luxury while I've starved;--she's worn the clothes of a princess while I've gone in rags! But she shall pay! My G.o.d, she shall pay!"

Deane, with Winifred by his side, had reached the door. "I am afraid,"

he said turning to the girl, who was still regarding them with breathless anger, "that you have let your imagination run away with you a good deal. A dose of the law courts will do you no harm. If you care for a word of warning from me, you can have it: don't build your hopes too much upon that paper!"

"We shall see!" she cried fiercely. "You can't frighten me! If the paper is of no value, why did she steal it, why did she carry it sewn in her clothes? If you--"

She hesitated for a moment. Her eyes rested upon Deane, her expression softened. "If you want to make terms--" she began.

He turned away. "Come, Winifred," he said.