grace cameron was making a pretence of breakfast when mary and connie arrived. her pallid face was more flushed than usual, her cough very distressing. but she had no thought for herself directly the story came to be told.
"you poor dears!" she cried. "what a cruel misfortune! to have lost everything in this way is doubly terrible. oh, if it were only possible for you to stay here! the house is almost full up, and my landlady is independent accordingly. i am expecting every day that she will ask me to go--the breakfast in bed and my late rising give a great deal of trouble. there seems to be nothing that i can do."
"oh, yes, there is," connie said cheerfully. "you can help us wonderfully. for the moment we are absolutely penniless. our idea is to take a bed sitting-room together, for a few shillings a week, and restore confidence, in lieu of personal belongings, by paying the rent in advance. i want you to lend me a sovereign for about a week."
"but my dear, i haven't got it," grace said in deep distress. "i only kept a few shillings out of the money you gave me yesterday, the rest i posted to my mother not an hour ago. if i had only known! and i suppose you can't possibly draw any more money from the wheezer till the end of the week!"
"i might have done so," connie said. "i had the week's drawings finished. they must be in tomorrow or i shall certainly do no more work in that quarter. they were all lying ready on my table when i came round here last night."
"oh, this is dreadful," grace cried, with the tears in her eyes. "if you had not returned here then, this dreadful thing would never have happened. to think that your kindness and goodness to me should have produced a result like this! oh, connie, what are you going to do, what can you do?"
"oh, please don't," connie said unsteadily. "it was no fault of yours. i daresay we shall manage to muddle through some way or another. it is a great pity that so many of our circle are so hard up just at present."
"and miss dashwood is as badly off?" grace asked.
"please don't call me miss dashwood," mary said. "it makes me feel as if i were not one of you. yes, i am in the same boat. still, i dare say----"
mary's voice trailed off into a whisper. an idea had come to her. she was quite ready to humble her pride now; she no longer shrank from the idea with a pain that was almost physical. if the worst came to the worst, she could telegraph to lady dashwood and ask for a few pounds by wire. and yet that seemed a weak thing to do, seeing that she had left the dower house so short a time before, determined to make her way in the world. but that would have to be done before nightfall, unless----
unless! there was yet another way out of it. the recollection of the dramatic scene between the so-called sir vincent dashwood and mrs. speed came with vivid force to mary. the man had come for some important letter. what the letter was and what it had to do with the dashwood succession mattered nothing at that moment. at any rate the letter was needed, and vincent dashwood had promised to come back for it. and mary did not fail to remember now what mrs. speed had had to say about the trouble she was in over her rent. that trouble had culminated with disastrous swiftness, and to save her furniture the woman had vanished in the night.
with a mind full of her own troubles, she had probably given no heed to vincent dashwood. but it was necessary to his success that he should find her.
no doubt he was hanging about now somewhere in the locality of keppel terrace waiting for a sign. and here was the desperate chance that mary needed.
she, too, would spend the next few hours in the neighbourhood of keppel terrace. her mind was made up and she resolved to act without delay. she rose to her feet with a smile and made her way towards the door.
"where are you going?" connie asked.
"i have a little idea of my own," mary said. "i can't tell you everything, because it is in a way mixed up with my private affairs. but i think that i shall be able to get everything back before we sleep tonight. i am not going to be a helpless burden on you two poor dear things. i want you to feel that you have been entertaining the proverbial angel unawares. i may not be back till late, but you need not be anxious. after my experience of last night, i am not afraid of anything."
"let her go," grace said, as connie would have detained the speaker. "she is anxious to do something, and i feel that she will succeed."
mary went down stairs with a firm, steady tread. she was not in the least afraid now. whatever she lacked, there was no question of her courage. and she was going off now on an errand of mercy and relief. the knowledge thrilled her, she was conscious of emotions and feelings now that she had never felt before. the warm hot blood was coursing through her veins; there was a gladness about her heart that made her feel strangely young and buoyant. she would have liked to meet ralph darnley now and tell him many things that had not occurred to her before. she was ashamed of the way that she had treated that man. and he was good enough for her; as connie had said, he was good enough for any girl. what did birth matter, what did anything matter, so long as the man was good and true and the woman sweet and tender? it came to mary with a crushing force that the dashwood pride was a poor and feeble thing by comparison.
she was still turning these new sensations over in her mind when she arrived at keppel terrace. the empty house seemed to look at her with blank, mocking eyes. for a long time she walked up and down before the house. an hour, two hours, passed before mary noted anything to attract her attention. then she thrilled as she saw vincent dashwood come swaggering along the terrace. he paused at the step of no. 16, and looked up at the house. mary could see his gesture of passion. as he stood there, evidently nonplussed by his discovery, a boy came up to him and handed him a card, which he read and then tore up.
greatly daring, mary came along the pathway. she pulled her veil down and pretended to ring the bell at no. 17. her back was to dashwood; she calculated that he would not notice her, that she would be the last person in the world he was likely to meet. but mary was trembling from head to foot.
"all right," she heard dashwood say. "i suppose the lady told you what i was like?"
"that's it sir," the boy said. "the lady knew as you would come. she gave me a shilling for this job. i've been hanging about here since dinner time."
"well, here's another shilling for you," dashwood said in great good humour. "tell the lady that you delivered the card properly and that i'll call after dark. as it happens, i know the address on the card you gave me."
the boy went whistling off down the road and dashwood swaggered away. here was a piece of luck that mary had not expected. she had made up her mind to loiter about the street till she saw dashwood, provided that he had not come and gone already. but she knew perfectly well that dashwood and early hours did not go together, and upon that fact she had acted. her idea was to follow the man, knowing that sooner or later he was certain to look for mrs. speed. but here was a piece of real good fortune on which she had not reckoned at all. dashwood had read the address, and then, with his usual carelessness, had torn up the card. mary was off the doorstep as soon as it was safe, and the pieces of torn card were in her hand. she had only to put them together and the address was here.
this was splendid! here was a way of proving to connie and grace cameron that she was a friend to be relied upon. mary's heart warmed at the idea of it. her fingers trembled as she pieced the fragments of the card together and read the address. it was clearly set out in a neat handwriting.
no. 24 hamerton gardens, n.w.--surely the new house was some distance away. mary had yet to learn that these midnight flittings necessitated a change of neighbourhood at a considerable distance as to locality. a friendly policeman directed mary into the strand, and another told her which 'bus to take. by the time the girl arrived at her destination she had fourpence in her possession.
but she did not care about that. she was on the right track now, and if luck were dead against her she could walk home. here was hamerton gardens at length, and the litter of straw and refuse before the house testified to the fact that somebody had recently occupied the house or left it. with a courage that was all her own, mary walked up the steps and rang the bell. as nobody responded to the summons, she opened the door and walked in. she had made no mistake, she recognised the umbrella stand at a glance. there was no linoleum down in the hall as yet and the stair carpets were rolled up on the floor.
somebody crossed the hall and entered a little room on the right. mary fairly gasped as she noted the tall figure in the grey silk. she wondered if she could credit her eyes. for the tall figure in the grey silk was lady dashwood!
