The Phantom Lover Part 44

It was some moments before the door was opened by a mildly amazed-looking servant; Micky asked for Mr. Ashton.

"My name is Mellowes," he said, as she obviously hesitated. "If you tell him my name he will see me. I know he is in, I saw him at the Comedy Theatre to-night."

He stepped past the girl into the hall, and after a slightly scared glance at him she shut the door and departed upstairs.

A moment later Micky heard Ashton's voice.

"You old night-bird! What an unG.o.dly hour to call on any one! I was just going to bed; come in."

He spoke easily, but there was a slightly anxious look in his eyes; he led the way into the library.

The fire was nearly out there and the room felt chilly; he shivered, and, stooping, tried to rake the cinders into a blaze.

Micky watched him silently; after a moment Ashton turned.

"Lord, man! what's the matter? You look as cheerful as Doomsday."

Micky was standing stiffly against the table.

"I saw you in the theatre to-night," he began without preamble. "I was with Miss Shepstone, and she saw you, too--at least she believes it was you, and I am going to tell her that she was mistaken. How soon can you get out of town and back to Paris?"

Ashton stared; the colour had rushed to his face; after a moment his eyes fell.

"I don't know what the devil you're driving at," he said irritably. "I suppose I can come to London without asking you first, can't I? And, as for Lallie"--he grinned nervously--"well, you know as well as I do that that's all been off for weeks."

Micky stood immovable.

"You haven't answered my question," he said flintily. "How soon can you get out of London?"

Ashton swore under his breath.

"I'm dashed if I know what you're driving at," he said sulkily. "If you like to take Lallie to theatres, that's your business; she's a nice little girl, I admit, but----"

Micky took a step forward.

"If you want to make me forget that this is your mother's house, you're going the right way to do it," he said between his teeth. "And I don't want any of your bluff. Miss Shepstone thinks she saw you at the Comedy to-night; she'll probably write to you or try to see you in the morning, and you've got to be out of London by then--do you hear?"

Ashton laughed; he shrugged his shoulders.

"Must?" he said nastily. "How long have you been Lallie's champion?...

Oh, all right, all right," he broke off hurriedly, as he saw the ugly light in Micky's eyes. "But it's a bit thick, you know," he resumed injuredly. "I've done with her; you know that. You sent my letter on to her yourself. It's absurd if I can't come back home for a few days in case she should see me and get upset. I'm sorry if she's still fond of me, but, dash it all----"

"You haven't answered my question," said Micky again.

He was controlling himself with a mighty effort, but the veins stood out like cords on his forehead and his hands were clenched.

The two men looked at one another, and it was Ashton's eyes that fell.

"If you're going to bullyrag me...." he began bl.u.s.teringly, "I may as well tell you that I'm not going back to Paris till I please, and----"

"Very well," said Micky. He turned on his heel.

Raymond watched him cross the room anxiously. When he reached the door he called to him--

"Micky! What the devil are you going to do?"

And Micky answered without turning--

"I'm going to tell Mrs. Clare the way you've treated Miss Shepstone, and if she's half the decent sort I think she is she'll throw you overboard as you've thrown scores of others...."

Ashton followed and clutched his arm. "Come back; don't be such a firebrand! I'll go--I'll clear out by the first train to-morrow....

I'm sorry if Esther was upset, but...."

Micky cut him short. "The first train leaves Victoria at 9.40; I'll be there to see you off."

Ashton scowled. "It's a nice way to treat a friend," he grumbled. "If there's really anything up with Lallie ..."

Micky stood like a statue.

"It's decent of you to take her out," Ashton went on uneasily. "I'm much obliged to you, I'm sure. She's never had much of a time. If I'd had any money...."

Micky broke out then. "Oh, hold your infernal tongue," he said furiously.

He walked out of the room, shutting the door hard behind him. He pa.s.sed the astonished maid in the hall and let himself out into the night. The blood was pounding in his veins, he felt in actual need of physical violence; he did not know how he had managed to keep his hands off Raymond. He walked on at a furious pace; presently he laughed with a sort of self-pity.

What was the good of what he had done after all? At best he had only succeeded in staving off the inevitable for a little while; Esther would have to know sooner or later.

Such wasted love it was! All for a man who was not worth one thought, or even a tear!

When he got back to his rooms he told Driver to call him early, as he was going to see somebody off by train. He was at Victoria long before Ashton; the greeting between the two men was constrained.

"I was going back to-day, anyway," Ashton said jauntily. "I'm going to be married the day after to-morrow----" He looked at Micky with triumphant eyes. "To Mrs. Clare," he added.

When Micky got back to his rooms, Driver met him; Driver with a spark of unwonted animation in his dull eyes, and who closed the sitting-room door mysteriously behind him as he came forward.

"If you please, sir--there is a lady to see you."

"A lady!" said Micky blankly; then he laughed. "Rubbish! You're dreaming, man."

"No sir," said Driver stolidly.

Micky stared at him for a moment, then he pa.s.sed him, and threw open the door of the sitting-room.

It was Esther who rose from a chair by the fire as he entered.

For an instant Micky was unable to believe his own eyes, then he shut the door and took a step forward.