The Man Without a Memory Part 57

"Have you succeeded in forcing me, you mean?"

"I told you no more than the plain truth. The position's bad enough as it is, without anything more. For me I mean."

"As if I didn't know that! And as if it isn't that which is driving me distracted!"

"There's no time to go into things again, dear. I said it should rest with you to decide."

"Yes, and then used threats to force me!"

"I haven't threatened you, Nessa."

"It doesn't matter what you call it. The change of a word doesn't change the act. It's what you're doing, not what you're saying, that I care about."

"Are you going? That's what I care about."

"Shall you go to the police if I don't?"

"Certainly."

"Do you understand that it's just breaking my heart to go--unless you wish to break it?"

"Will you give me a chance of mending it when we meet at Rotterdam?"

She leant back in her chair, elbow on knee, and rested her chin on her hand. "We shan't meet there."

"Nessa!"

"You will never get there. I shouldn't care so much if----" She dropped her eyes to the floor and left the sentence unfinished.

I knelt by her side and took her hand. "You must go, dearest," I urged.

She flung her arms round my neck and clung to me. "Don't make me go, Jack! Don't, if you love me," she pleaded. "I--I can't bear the thought of leaving you."

"It's because I do love you with all my heart that I wish you to go.

It's the only way in which our love can ever end as we wish." I pressed my lips to hers. She was trembling like an aspen.

"Bulich! Bulich! Are you ready?" It was the farmer's voice, and Nessa shuddered convulsively at the sound.

"You'll do this for me, dearest?"

"Oh, G.o.d, if there were only some other way!" she moaned.

"There isn't, sweetheart. It's the only one in which you can really help me. We shall meet again in a day or two. That's all."

"I shall never see you again."

"You may not unless you go. You're ready?"

Her grasp tightened on me and she did not answer.

"Bulich! Bulich!" came Glocken's voice again, more insistently.

"In a minute now," I called in reply.

"How shall I ever know what happens to you?"

"I'll tell you all about it myself in Rotterdam; we shall just laugh over it together."

"Laugh!" she echoed. "I shall never laugh again. I shan't be able to bear the suspense, Jack. I know I shan't. I shall come back."

"Well, give me a week's grace, before you do."

"I may come back then?" she asked, looking up quickly.

I knew that she would not be allowed to recross the frontier; but it seemed a case where the truth would do no good. "Yes," I said.

"Promise?"

"If you won't come earlier."

"Oh, what a week of suspense it will be!" she moaned.

"Come along, Bulich. Vandervelt's getting restless," called Glocken.

"I'll go, Jack." It was no more than a whisper, but it meant so much.

Of her own dear will she kissed me again and again with more pa.s.sion than she had ever shown, and then made a desperate effort for composure. "What an end to our picnic, Jack!" she said, trying to smile. A brave effort, but a failure; and she began to tremble again, closing her eyes and clenching her hands tightly under the searching strain of it, and turned away.

For a full minute she stood in this tense silence, until Glocken called again. The sound of his voice roused her, and when she faced me again, she had regained self-control.

"I'm ready, Jack," she said steadily.

I pushed some notes into her pocket.

"What's that?"

"Money. You must have it, dearest," I said, as she seemed about to protest. "And now, good-bye, for a day or two."

"Good-bye. Don't kiss me, or I shall break down again;" and with that we went down to the two men who were impatiently waiting for us.

"You've been a long time," said Glocken in a surly tone. "There's something gone wrong with the machine."

"How do you know?"

"I tried to start," said Vandervelt. "Glocken told me your sister had decided not to go with me."

"That was a misunderstanding. I forgot I had this in my pocket;" and I showed them the little part I had brought away. "Rather lucky, wasn't it, Glocken?"

He looked as if he would gladly have struck me, and muttered something about being sorry for the mistake.