What a Man Wills Part 5

"Never mind now. You can explain later. Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"That's right! Then listen to me, and give your answers in monosyllables. I will spell any names you miss, if you ask me to repeat. Don't attempt to p.r.o.nounce them yourself, but write them down in a note-book. There must be no mistake. Are you ready?"

"One moment." Juliet had no note-book, but a search in her bag found a pencil and the blank page of a letter. "Ready!"

"You are ready to write instructions? I have been keeping over a case until your arrival, as it seemed in your line. It is urgent. Nice people. Comfortable surroundings. You would stay in the house as a guest. Can you go on first thing to-morrow?"

For one second, barely a second, Juliet hesitated; then the answer came, short and sharp:

"I can!"

"That's good! Go to the station to-day, and look up your route. There will be several changes. Have you your pencil? Write down 'Maplestone--Antony Maplestone.' Have you got it? 'The Low House.'

L-o-w. 'Nunkton.' N-u-n-k-t-o-n. 'Great Morley.' 'Maplestone, The Low House, Nunkton, Great Morley.' Have you got that? Go on to-morrow by the first train. I will wire to Mr Maplestone to expect you. He will explain the case. Are you all right for money? Take your best clothes, as for a country visit. Report to me in the course of a week.

Do your best. Good chance for you. (Yes, I've nearly finished. I've not had my three minutes.) You understand, Miss White? You quite understand?"

"I quite understand," said Juliet, and sat down heavily on the chair beside the receiver.

How had it happened? How much was she to blame? From the moment of that first interruption it seemed as if she had had no chance to explain. Without any preconceived intention of taking the injured girl's place, she had done so, as it were, without volition of her own.

The spirit of adventure, so long nourished, had grasped at the opportunity, before the slower brain had had time to decide on its action.

Juliet drew a deep breath, and stared with dilated eyes at the opposite wall. "How _could_ I?" she asked herself, breathlessly. "How _dared_ I? How _can_ I?" And then, with a bursting laugh, "_But I will_!" she cried, and leaped nimbly to her feet.

"Urgent! Nice people! Good chance! A guest in the house!" Her lips moved in repet.i.tion of the different phrases as she walked rapidly back in the direction of the hospital. She knitted her brows in the effort to understand, to reconcile contradictions. What was this Alice White, and on what mission had she crossed the ocean? And who was Eighty-one, Grosvenor, who issued orders as to a subordinate, and gave instructions as to reports?

Only one thing seemed certain, and that was that it would be many a long day, if ever, before poor Alice White was fit to take up any work, however interesting. Remembering that last choking cry, it seemed probable that even now--Juliet resolutely stifled further questionings until once more she stood within the portals of the hospital, and made her inquiries of the porter. He retired, and returned, after a few minutes' absence, with a face appropriately lengthened.

"Gone, miss! Directly you left. Went off in a moment."

Juliet nodded, and turned back to the street. What exactly had she intended to do had Alice White still been alive? Honestly, she did not know! It seemed as though she would never be able to answer that question. She waved it impatiently aside. Why trouble about might-have-beens? The girl was dead! The only question of importance which now remained was, _what was she herself going to do_?

Juliet thought of the long years of boredom and waiting which had made up her life; she thought of her dull, comfortable home; of her dull, comfortable visits, and longingly, daringly, she thought of the interesting "case" which was "urgent," and a "good chance." She recalled with a tingling of excitement her aunt's morning announcement, which necessitated her own departure on the morrow.

"I could go over to Nunkton, and see what it meant. If there was anything I didn't like I could move on at once to the Blakes. No one need know; no one need guess. Even if I stayed for a few days, it could be arranged!" She stopped short in the middle of the pavement, and drew a deep breath of excitement.

"It's my chance!" she cried to herself. "The chance I've been waiting for! Whatever happens, whatever comes of it--_I shall go_!"

The next day Juliet set forth on her voyage of adventure, with the mingling of elation and nervousness inevitable under the circ.u.mstances.

Remindful of telephone instructions, she attired herself with especial care, and was agreeably conscious that she looked her best. A travelling costume as smart as it was simple, a trig little hat, with just one dash of colour at the side to give the needed _cachet_ and emphasise the tints of the face beneath. "Really quite a creditable face!" she told herself, smiling back at a reflection of grey eyes thickly fringed with black lashes, curling, humorous lips, and the prettiest flush of pink--genuine, washable pink--upon the cheeks. "If I were happy, if I were interested, I might be almost--beautiful," she told herself with a sigh. "Every woman grows plain when she is superfluous and alone."

Seated in the train, drawing near to her destination, Juliet found herself repeating the words over and over, like a child rehearsing a lesson. "Alice White," cried the mental voice, "Alice White," and again, "Alice White. It's my name! I must answer to it. I must give it when asked. I am Alice White, professional _something_--I don't know what. I am obeying a telephone summons meant for someone else, and, if I don't want to be discovered within five minutes of my arrival, I must keep my wits about me, and think seventeen times at least before I utter a word. I'm to be met at the station and treated as one of the family, and to remember that appearance is a strong point, and wear my best clothes..." She knitted her brows, and for the hundredth time endeavoured to reach a solution of the mystery. "I can't be a sick-nurse; the clothes settle that. If it had been that, I should have had to confess at once. But in other capacities I'm intelligent, I'm experienced, I'm willing. I'm _more_ than willing--I'm _eager_!

There's no reason why I should not do as well as the real Alice. After all, it's quite a usual thing to take up work under a professional name.

Writers do it, artists, actors; there can be no harm in using the poor girl's name, if I do my best with her work."

The train drew up at the station, a small, flowery country station, and, opening the door, Juliet stepped lightly to the ground. Her carriage had been at the end of the train, and the length of platform stretched before her. A glance showed a solitary porter approaching the luggage van; one commanding figure of an unusually big man, in a tweed knickerbocker suit; and, farther off still, by the door of the booking-office, two ladies in navy-blue costumes, apparently awaiting the arrival of friends. At the extreme end of the train another door opened, and an elderly man carrying a bag made a heavy descent to the platform. The ladies stood motionless; the man in tweeds hurried towards where Juliet stood. She looked at him anxiously, met the glance of a pair of level brown eyes, and was instantly conscious of two things concerning his state of mind. He was embarra.s.sed; he was also agreeably relieved. The next moment he was facing her, and was holding out his hand.

"Miss White?"

"Yes."

"I am Antony Maplestone."

"Oh!"

Juliet was conscious that her own sensations exactly duplicated those of her companion. She was embarra.s.sed; she was also agreeably relieved, for if adventure were to be her portion, no girl could have wished for a more attractive stage manager to initiate her into her part. She stood blushing and smiling, wondering what to say next, subconsciously aware the while that, by placing his tall form between her and the end of the platform, Maplestone was designedly screening her from the scrutiny of the blue-robed dames.

"I have a dog-cart waiting," he said hastily. "I'm going to drive you home, and explain things _en route_; my man will look after your boxes.

Er--there's just one thing--" The air of embarra.s.sment grew more marked; a flush showed in his cheeks. "It's a nuisance; there are two women over there--neighbours; I'm afraid I'll be obliged to introduce you. Do you think, for a few minutes, until we can escape, you could manage to look a little--_intimate_?" His voice, his look, were so full of apology at the suggestion, that Juliet's surprise gave way to amus.e.m.e.nt.

She laughed, a bright girlish laugh, and said, "Certainly!" in crisp, matter-of-fact tones which were evidently a vast relief to her companion. He stepped quickly to one side, as if anxious that her smiling face should be seen by others besides himself, and led the way down the platform, inclining his head towards her with an air of deepest solicitude. "You have had a comfortable journey?"

"Oh, yes," Juliet nodded gaily, responding readily to his cue. He wished her to talk, he wished the watching women to believe that this was no first meeting, but a reunion of friends. For some unknown reason it was necessary to his interests that they should receive this impression. Very well, then, it should be done. "Alice White" was not going to fail in the first call upon her.

"Oh, yes, quite comfy. I had a tea basket. _China_ tea. Did you know you could get _China_ tea in baskets? And a ducky little pot of jam, all to myself. Isn't this station pretty? Such sweet flowers!"

They were close to the ticket office by this time. The man's eyes flashed a look of grat.i.tude and appreciation. He laid a light touch on her arm, and brought her to a stand before the waiting women.

"Here she is! I'm not disappointed, you see. I want to introduce you to each other while I have a chance. Miss Clare Lawson, Lady Lorrima, Miss Bridges."

Juliet bowed and smiled, her senses momentarily stunned by the responsibility of yet another cognomen. Now she would have to begin all over again and train herself to be "Clare."

The eyes of the two women were keenly critical; their words were cordial, if somewhat mysterious.

"_So_ pleased to meet you! Quite an honour to be the first to welcome you. The Squire _will_ be delighted!"

"I shall be delighted to see him," Juliet declared smiling. She disliked the att.i.tude of these women as much as she was attracted by that of the man by her side. Despite their a.s.surances, she had a conviction that they were _not_ pleased at her arrival; that it was a disappointment to them to find her appearance beyond criticism. The big man stood silent by her side; she divined also that he was nervous and troubled, momentarily dreading a slip on her part. She was determined to make no slip. Already she had ranked herself on his side, and felt the stirring of the true actor's joy in making the best of his part.

The younger of the two women gave a difficult, unmirthful laugh. She was a thin, elegant-looking creature, rather over thirty, whose good looks were marred by an expression of discontent.

"Really, you know," she cried in affected tones, "we were beginning to think that your name was Harris, and that Antony had invented you for his own convenience. It seemed so strange that he had never spoken of you before."

Juliet's little laugh of response was quite sweet and unruffled. "Oh, I'm very real, I a.s.sure you. A most substantial person. I'm so glad he didn't bore you with descriptions; they lead to so much disappointment."

She held out her hand with a charming a.s.surance. "Good-bye! Perhaps we may meet again."

The next moment they were pa.s.sing through the office, out of view of the curious eyes, and a low-toned "Bravo!" acclaimed the success of her effort. Juliet laughed in involuntary self-congratulation, and Maplestone laughed in sympathy. The two women, catching a sight of the dog-cart as it wheeled down the lane, saw the two laughing faces turned towards each other in mutual enjoyment, and the sight was not good in their eyes.

"It's true, then; an absolute fact. And quite presentable, too. Well, Honoria, I'm sorry!"

Meanwhile Juliet was putting her first question to her companion.

"Please--why am I Clare Lawson?"

His face fell. Amus.e.m.e.nt gave place to embarra.s.sment. "Do you object?

I'm sorry to have sprung it upon you so suddenly, but--well, you had to have some name, hadn't you? I suppose one is as good as another."

"Perhaps so, but it's just a trifle confusing, because--" Juliet drew herself up on the verge of an incriminating confession. "As you say, it doesn't really matter, but I am naturally interested. Who _is_ Clare Lawson?"

"Er--as a matter of fact, there is no such person. I invented a fict.i.tious girl, then, suddenly, was called upon for her name, so had to christen her on the spur of the moment. Clare happened to be the name of the heroine in a novel I'd just finished reading, and Lawson was the first surname which came to my mind. It's not such a _bad_ name, is it?"