The Phantom Lover Part 48

"Yes," he said.

She laid her cheek to the big, soft collar.

"It's something I have wanted all my life," she told him.

Micky put out his hand and took it from her. He hated to see her standing there looking so happy because she believed it had come from Ashton; he threw it down on the couch.

"I shall have to be going," he said abruptly. He shook hands with June, but he walked out of the room without speaking to Esther.

"I don't want any dinner," he told Driver when he got in. "I'm going to bed."

Driver opened his mouth to say something and closed it again; he brought the evening papers and his master's slippers and turned to leave the room. At the door he stopped and looked back.

"Have you seen the evening paper, sir?" he asked deprecatingly.

"No," said Micky. Something in the man's voice arrested his attention; he turned in his chair. "Why?" he asked curtly.

Driver came back a step.

"There's a notice of Mr. Ashton's marriage in it, that's all, sir," he said woodenly. "I thought that you'd be interested."

CHAPTER XXII

So it had come at last. Micky sat staring down at the small paragraph which briefly announced the marriage of Tubby Clare's wealthy widow to Mr. Raymond Ashton.

The ceremony, so the paper declared, which had taken place quietly in Paris would be a complete surprise to everybody. Mrs. Clare, as all the world knew, inherited something like 90,000 under the will of her late husband.

Micky whistled softly. Raymond had done well for himself. He would be able to live in luxury for the rest of his life; to discharge all his debts, if his wife chose to allow him to do so; all but one debt--the greatest of them all, and one which he could never hope to liquidate--a woman's broken heart.

Esther--what would she say if she knew? And supposing she knew now----! It was quite likely that a copy of this same paper had fallen into her hands. The thought turned Micky cold; he looked up hurriedly at the clock--not yet eight! On what pretext could he go back to Elphinstone Road?

He threw the paper down and rose to his feet. His gloves! He would make them the excuse--he could go back for his gloves. He taxied down the whole way; he sent his name up to June and waited in the hall.

After a moment she came flying down the stairs.

"Micky! Is anything the matter? What in the world...."

He explained in stammering haste.

"Have you seen the evening paper? No, well, take care not to let Miss Shepstone see it. I had to come back and tell you. Ashton--the d.a.m.ned outsider...." He ground his teeth.

"Not dead!" said June with a gasp.

"No--he was married yesterday in Paris."

June sat down on the bottom stair; she felt as if all the strength had gone out of her.

"It can't be true," she said at last. "Why, she had a letter from him only yesterday. Are you sure? It must be another Ashton."

"It isn't--I knew it was coming. He's married Tubby Clare's widow--for her money, of course. If Esther knows...."

"It will break her heart," said June.

There were footsteps on the landing above; Micky glanced up hurriedly.

"Can't we go somewhere and talk? Everybody will hear if we stay here.

Where is Miss Shepstone?"

"She's in my room; she's writing to him at this minute----" She broke off, drawing in her breath hard. "Oh, Micky, are you quite, quite sure? I can't believe it." She stared at him for a moment, then she laughed incredulously. "Why, it's only three days ago he sent her that fur coat--and the collar for Charlie. Oh, I'm sure it's a mistake!"

"It's not a mistake," said Micky fiercely; he looked away from her.

"Confound it, isn't there a room where we can go and talk?" he broke out again.

She got up from the stairs and led the way across the hall.

"There's the drawing-room. n.o.body uses it now because it's so cold."

She opened the door and peeped in. "There's n.o.body there."

Micky followed her, shutting the door behind him. The room was chilly and uninviting, with a lofty ceiling and a hideous wallpaper. There was a gas stove at the far end of the room, turned very low, and hissing softly as if in protest.

June knelt down and turned the tap on to its fullest extent.

"The thing is," Micky said hurriedly, "what are we going to do?

If she stays in London, she's bound to hear about it. All the papers will be full of it to-morrow. They'll probably publish his confounded portrait. Can't you get her out of London? We've got to do something."

June did not look at him. The odd little twinge of jealousy tore her heart again. Even though she did not love Micky, she quite realised what she was losing. After all it must be a very beautiful thing to be cared for as Micky cared for Esther.

She raised her eyes with a little ghost of a smile.

"I'll do anything I can, Micky. If you've got anything to suggest----"

"I thought out crowds of plans coming along in the cab, but they're all rotten," Micky admitted dolefully. "I thought you'd be able to help me. Can't you be called off to a relative in the country or something, and ask Miss Shepstone to go with you?"

June started up.

"Of course I can. I've got an aunt down at Enmore. She's always asking me to go and see her. I'll send her a wire. It's too late to-night, but in the morning...."

Micky felt in his pocket for a pencil.

"Give me the address and I'll send it first thing." He paused.

"Supposing Miss Shepstone won't go, though?"

"Oh, she'll go," said June quickly. "I'll tell her it means business for me. I'll do the pathetic. I wonder what time there's a train."

"I'll look up all the trains, and arrange everything. Does Miss Shepstone know I'm here now?"