The Silent Barrier Part 34

"For yesterday's fright, and its sequel."

"But I enjoyed it thoroughly. Please don't think I am only a fair weather mountaineer."

"No. I am not likely to commit that mistake. It was feminine spite, not elemental, that I fancied might have troubled you. Now I am going to face the enemy alone. Pity me, and please drink to my success."

He favored Spencer and the de la Veres with a comprehensive nod, and turned away, well satisfied that he had claimed a condition of confidence, of mutual trust, between Helen and himself.

Millicent was reading the menu when she heard Bower's voice at her shoulder. "Good morning, Millicent," he said. "Shall we declare a truce? May I eat at your table? That, at least, will be original.

Picture the amazement of the mob if the lion and the lamb split a small bottle."

He was bold; but chance had fenced her with triple bra.s.s. "I really don't feel inclined to forgive you," she said, with a quite forgiving smile.

He sat down. The two were watched with discreet stupefaction by many.

"Never give rein to your emotions, Millicent. You did so last night, and blundered badly in consequence. Artifice is the truest art, you know. Let us, then, be unreal, and act as though we were the dearest friends."

"We are, I imagine. Self interest should keep us solid."

Bower affected a momentary absorption in the wine list. He gave his order, and the waiter left them.

"Now, I want you to be good," he said. "Put your cards on the table, and I will do the same. Let us discuss matters without prejudice, as the lawyers say. And, in the first instance, tell me exactly what you imply by the statement that Mr. Charles K. Spencer, of Denver, Colorado, as he appears in the hotel register, is responsible for Helen Wynton's presence here to-day."

CHAPTER XV

A COWARD'S VICTORY

"It is a queer story," said Bower.

"Because it is true," retorted Millicent.

"Yet she never set eyes on the man until she met him here."

"That is rather impossible, isn't it?"

"It is a fact, nevertheless. On the day I arrived in Maloja, a letter came from the editor of 'The Firefly,' telling her that he had written to Spencer, whom he knew, and suggested that they should become acquainted."

"These things are easily managed," said Millicent airily.

"I accept Miss Wynton's version." Bower spoke with brutal frankness.

The morning's tribulation had worn away some of the veneer. He fully expected the girl to flare into ill suppressed rage. Then he could deal with her as he liked. He had not earned his repute in the city of London without revealing at times the innate savagery of his nature. As soon as he had taunted his adversaries into a pa.s.sion, he found the weak joints in their armor. He was surprised now that Millicent should laugh. If she was acting, she was acting well.

"It is too funny for words to see you playing the trustful swain," she said.

"One necessarily believes the best of one's future wife."

"So you still keep up that pretense? It was a good line in last night's situation; but it becomes farcical when applied to light comedy."

"I give you credit for sufficient wit to understand why I joined you here. We can avoid unpleasant explanations. I am prepared to bury the hatchet--on terms."

"Terms?"

"Yes. You are a blackmailer, a somewhat dangerous one. You tempt me to revise the wisest of La Rochefoucauld's maxims, and say that every woman is at heart a snake. You owe everything to me; yet you are not content. Without my help you would still be carrying a banner in the chorus. Unless I continue my patronage, that is what you must go back to. Don't imagine that I am treating with you out of sentiment. For Helen's sake, for her sake only, I offer a settlement."

Millicent's eyes narrowed a little; but she affected to admire the gleaming beads in a gla.s.s of champagne. "Pray continue," she said.

"Your views are interesting."

There was some danger lest Bower should reverse his wonted procedure, and lose his own temper in this unequal duel. They both spoke in low tones. Anyone watching them would find the smiles of conventionality on their lips. To all outward seeming, they were indulging in a friendly gossip.

"Of course, you want money," he said. "That is the be-all and end-all of your existence. Very well. Write a letter to Miss Wynton apologizing for your conduct, take yourself away from here at three o'clock, and from St. Moritz by the next train, and I not only withdraw my threat to bar you in the profession but shall hand you a check for a thousand pounds."

Millicent pretended to consider his proposal. She shook her head. "Not nearly enough," she said, with a sweetly deprecatory moue.

"It is all you will get. I repeat that I am doing this to spare Helen's feelings. Perhaps I am ill advised. You have done your worst already, and it only remains for me to crush you. But I stick to the bargain--for five minutes."

"Dear, dear!" she sighed. "Only five minutes? Do you get rid of your troubles so quickly? How nice to be a man, and to be able to settle matters with such prompt.i.tude."

Bower was undeniably perplexed; but he held to his line. Unwavering tenacity of purpose was his chief characteristic. "Meanwhile," he said, "let us talk of the weather."

"A most seasonable topic. It was altogether novel this morning to wake and find the world covered with snow."

"If the Maloja is your world, you must have thought it rather chilling," he laughed.

"Yes, cold, perhaps, but fascinating. I went for a walk. You see, I wanted to be alone, to think what I should do for the best. A woman is so helpless when she has to fight a big, strong man like you. Chance led me to the cemetery. What an odd little place it is? Wouldn't you hate to be buried there?"

It was now Millicent's turn to be surprised. Not by the slightest tremor did Bower betray the shock caused by her innuendo. His nerves were proof against further a.s.sault that day. Fear had conquered him for an instant when he looked into the gate of darkness. With its pa.s.sing from before his eyes, his intellect resumed its sway, and he weighed events by that nicely adjusted balance. None but a man who greatly dared would be sitting opposite Millicent at that moment. None but a fool would have failed to understand her. But he gave no sign that he understood. He refilled his gla.s.s, and emptied it with the gusto of a connoisseur.

"That is a good wine," he said. "Sometimes pints are better than quarts, although of the same vintage. Waiter, another half bottle, please."

"No more for me, of course," murmured Millicent. "I must keep my head clear,--so much depends on the next five minutes."

"Three, to be exact."

"Ah, then, I must use them to advantage. Shall I tell you more about my early stroll?"

"What time did you go out?"

"Soon after ten o'clock."

"You saw--what?"

"A most exciting struggle--and--what shall I call it?--a ceremony."

Bower was silent for an appreciable time. He watched a waiter uncorking the champagne. When the bottle was placed on the table he pretended to read the label. He was thinking that Stampa's marriage service was not so futile, after all. It had soon erected its first barrier. Millicent, who had qualities rare in a woman, turned and looked at a clock. Incidentally, she discovered that Spencer was devoting some attention to the proceedings at her table. Still Bower remained silent. She stole a glance at him. She was conscious that an abiding dread was stealing into her heart; but her stage training came to her aid, and she managed to say evenly: