Comedies of Courtship

by Anthony Hope

  CHAPTER XIII

  FAITHFUL TO DEATH

  The ladies looked at one another. Even in that awful moment, thebecoming, the seemly, the dignified had its claims. The window wasnarrow: the ladder--Mary Travers had gone to look at it--was steep: alittle, curious, excited crowd was gathering below. Deane saw theirhesitation. He rushed to the door and cautiously opened it. The thingwas there! Across the very entrance--that villainous oblong case! Andfrom below came a shriek--it was Madame's voice, and a cry of "Quick!quick!"

  "This," said the General firmly (he had been through the Mutiny), "isnot a time for punctilio. Excuse me," and he lifted Lady Deane in hisstalwart arms and bore her toward the window.

  With a distant reminiscence of the ball room, Arthur Laing approachedMiss Bussey, murmuring "May I have the--" and with a mighty effortswung the good lady from the ground. She clutched his cravat wildly,crying "Save me!"

  Mary Travers was calmness itself. With quiet mien and unfalteringvoice, she laid her hand on Charlie's arm and murmured:

  "I am ready, Charlie."

  At the same moment John Ashforth, the light of heroism in his eye,whispered to Dora, "You must trust yourself implicitly to me."

  "Quick, quick!" cried Deane, "or it's all up with you. Quick, Ashforth!Quick, Charlie, quick, man!"

  There was one more pause. Mary's hand pressed a little harder. John'sarm was advancing towards Dora's waist. Sir Roger looked on withapparent impatience.

  "Are you never going?" he called. "Must I----"

  Suddenly a loud cry rang out. It came from Miss Bellairs.

  "Oh, Charlie, save me, save me!" she cried, and then and there flungherself into his arms.

  "My darling!" he whispered loudly, and catching her up made for thewindow. As they disappeared through it, Deane softly and swiftly openedthe door and disappeared in his turn. Mary and John were left alone.Then Mary's composure gave way. Sinking into a chair she cried:

  "And I am left! Nobody cares for me. What shall I do?"

  In an instant John's strong arm was round her. "I care for you!" hecried, and raising her almost senseless form, he rushed to the window.The ladder was gone!

  "Gone!" he shrieked. "Where is it?"

  There was no answer. The little crowd had gone too.

  "We are lost," he said.

  Mary opened her eyes.

  "Lost!" she echoed.

  "Lost! Abandoned--by those who loved--ah, no, no, Mary. In the hour ofdanger--then we see the truth!"

  Mary's arms clasped him closer.

  "Ah, John, John," she said, "we must die together, dear."

  John stooped and kissed her.

  Suddenly the door was opened and Deane entered. He wore a comicallyapologetic look, and carried an oblong metal vessel in his right hand.

  "Excuse me," he said. "There's been--er--slight but very naturalmistake. It wasn't--er--exactly dynamite--it's--er--a preserved-peachtin. That fool Painter----"

  "Then we're safe!" cried Mary.

  "Yes, thank Heaven," answered Deane fervently.

  "Oh, John!" she cried.

  Sir Roger, with a smile, retired and closed the door after him.

  Downstairs Lady Deane and Miss Bussey, forgetful of their sufferings,were restoring Madame Painter to her senses; Painter was uncorking abottle of champagne for Arthur Laing; Sir Roger Deane was talking in alow voice and persuasive tones to an imposing representative of thepolice. "What passed between them is unknown; possibly only words,possibly something else; at any rate, after a time, Deane smiled, thegreat man smiled responsively, saluted, and disappeared, murmuringsomething about Anglais, milords, and droles. The precise purport ofhis reflections could not be distinctly understood by those in thehouse, for civility made him inarticulate, but when he was safelyoutside he looked at a piece of crisp paper in his hand, then, with histhumb pointing over his shoulder, he gave an immense shrug, andexclaimed:

  "Mais voila, un fou!" and to this day he considers Roger Deane the verytype of a maniac.

  Mary and John descended. As soon as they appeared Dora jumped up fromher seat and ran towards John, crying, "Oh, Mr. Ashforth!"

  While Charlie, advancing more timidly to Mary, murmured: "Forgive me,but--"

  Mary with a slight bow, John with a lift of his hat, both without ahalt or a word, passed through the room, arm-in-arm, and vanished fromMr. Painter's establishment.

  Sir Roger had seized on Laing's champagne and was pouring it out. Hestopped now, and looked at Dora. A sudden gleam of intelligence glancedfrom her eyes. Rushing up to him, she whispered, "You did it all? Itwas all a hoax?"

  He nodded.

  "And why?"

  "Ask Charlie Ellerton," he answered.

  "Oh, but Mr. Ashforth and Mary Travers are so angry!"

  "With one another?"

  "No, with us."

  Sir Roger looked her mercilessly full in the face, regardless of herblushes.

  "That," he observed with emphasis, "is exactly what you wanted, MissBellairs."

  Then he turned to the company, holding a full glass in his hand."Ladies and gentlemen," said he, "some of us have had a narrow escape.Whether we shall be glad of it or sorry hereafter, I don't know--doyou, Charlie? But hero's a health to----"

  But Dora, glancing apprehensively at the General, whispered, "Not yet!"

  "To Dynamite!" said Sir Roger Deane.