A Monk of Cruta Read online

  CHAPTER III

  "THE DANCING GIRL"

  "What do you think of it?"

  Paul started. He had been standing, like a man in a dream, withfolded arms, looking across the room with idle eyes, and unconsciouslyignoring many salutations. His brother's tone sounded oddly in hisears, and he looked flushed and a little nervous.

  "What did I think of it!" It was a difficult question to answer. Herepeated it, and was glad when Arthur spared him the necessity ofreplying, by adding his own opinion.

  "It was glorious, magnificent! I'm going to find out more about her!"

  He strolled away, and joined one of the little groups of men who werediscussing the performance. Paul, at first, had made a gesture asthough to detain him, but on second thoughts he had changed his mind.Better let him go and find out what he could.

  He himself watched carefully for his opportunity, and then left theroom. He felt like a man who has received a silent shock. Somethingfresh had come into his life, noiselessly, insidiously, withouteffort. He pressed on his hat, and passed down the steps out into thestreet, scarcely conscious of what he was doing.

  The rush of fresh air somewhat revived him, and he stood still for amoment to collect his thoughts. He felt the need of absolutesolitude for a while, to help him to realize--or at any rate tounderstand--this thing which had happened, and with almost feverishhaste he called a hansom from the other side of the road. The manwhipped up the horse, but hesitated as he reached the pavement.Looking around, Paul saw the cause of his indecision. A woman,standing only a few yards behind, had called him at the same time, andwas waiting also for his approach.

  There was a gas-lamp between them, and as their eyes met, herecognised her. Even in that flickering light, and through herveil, there was no mistaking those wonderful eyes. As a rule, he waspossessed of as much _savoir faire_ as most men of his class, but atthat moment it had deserted him. He stood there on the edge of thepavement, without moving or saying anything, simply looking ather, startled at her sudden appearance, and magnetised by her closepresence. He had heard no footfall behind him, and the fact of herbeing alone seemed so strange to him, that he simply could not realizefor a moment that it was indeed she who stood so close to him. Thecabman, leaving them to decide who had the prior claim upon him, satmotionless, with his eyes discreetly fixed upon his horse's ears. Itwas an odd little tableau, insignificant enough to a spectator, save,perhaps, for the curious look in the woman's face and softly flashingeyes. Yet it left its mark for ever in the lives of the two principalfigures.

  The curious sensation which had kept Paul standing there dazed andtongue-tied, passed away. Yet it did not immediately occur to him toraise his hat and walk on, as in any ordinary case he would have done.He was conscious of the exact nature of the situation, but he felt astrong disinclination to leave the spot; nor, strangely enough, didshe seem to expect it. Yet something had to be done.

  He moved a step nearer her. He was no schoolboy, this tall,grave-looking young Englishman. The lines across his fair, smoothforehead, and by his close-set mouth spoke for themselves. He had seenlife in many aspects, and in a certain Indian jungle village, therewere natives and coolies who still spoke admiringly of the wonderfulnerve and pluck of the English sahib during a terrible and unexpectedtiger rush. But at that moment his nerve seemed to have deserted him.He could almost hear his heart beat as he took that step forward. Hehad intended to have made some trifling apology, and to have handedher into the cab, but the words would not come. Some instinct seemedto revolt at the thought of uttering any such commonplacism. She wasstanding on the edge of the pavement, close to the step, with herskirts in one hand, slightly raised. He held out his hand to her insilence.

  She gave him hers; and yet she did not at once step into the cab.She seemed to be expecting that little speech from him which he foundimpossible to frame, and, seeing that it did not come, recognising,perhaps, his suppressed agitation behind that calm, almost cold,gravity of demeanour, she spoke to him.

  "It is a shame to take your cab, and leave you in the rain! I amsorry."

  Afterwards her admirers spoke of her voice as being one of her chiefcharms; to Paul it sounded like a soft strain of very sweet, throbbingmusic, reaching him from some far distant world. Yet, curiouslyenough, it went far to dissolve the spell which her presence seemed tohave laid upon him. He was able to look at her steadily, and standingupon the wet pavement in the cold, grey light of that Novemberafternoon, their eyes met in a long, searching gaze. He was able evento notice trifles. He saw the rich fur which lined her plain, blackcloak, and he could even admire the absolute perfection with whichit followed the lines of her slim, supple, figure. He saw the glowingeyes shining out from her dusky face, and the coils of brown hair, notvery securely fastened under her turban hat. As she put out her footto enter the cab, he could even catch a glimpse of the amber draperiesconcealed by her cloak. A dancer! A public dancer! His eyes swept overher again, taking in every detail of her simple but rich toilette, andhe shivered slightly. Then he answered her, "It is of no consequence,thank you. I can walk."

  "But you will get very wet! Let us make a compromise! You may comewith me. I am going only a very little distance, and then you can takethe cab on to your home, or wherever you want to go to."

  She stepped in, taking it for granted that he would accept her offer,and he followed her at once. He was not in the least surprised. Fromthe first he had not expected to leave her, and her invitation seemedperfectly natural to him. She gave the cabman her address through thetrap-door, and they drove off together.

  At the corner of the square, two men were standing together talking,and as the hansom passed within a yard or two of them both glancedidly in, and then started. Paul, who had been looking straight aheadof him, and seeing nothing, turned round, startled by a familiarexclamation, just in time to see his brother Arthur, and LeslieHorton, gazing after the cab. The incident troubled him, as much forher sake as his own. But, looking into her face, he could not see thatshe was in any way disturbed, although she must have seen the two men,and would probably have recognised them as having been present at LadySwindon's reception. Her face was quite unmoved, but in a moment ortwo she asked a question.

  "Who was the younger and better looking of those two men; the one withviolets in his coat, like yours?"

  "It was my brother," he answered simply. "I am afraid, too, that herecognised you."

  "So far as I am concerned, that is of no consequence at all," sheanswered lightly.

  He turned away with a sudden sinking of the heart. He knew, too well,that her carelessness was not assumed. How was he to interpret it?

  Their drive was finished in silence, and they pulled up before ahandsome, though somewhat sombre-looking house in a back street.

  "My rooms are here," she remarked.

  He stepped on to the pavement, and assisted her to alight. The thoughtof leaving her so abruptly was painful to him, and yet he dreaded tohear her invite him to go in with her; nevertheless, she did so.

  "If you are not in a hurry, perhaps you will come in, and let me giveyou a cup of tea," she said, looking him full in the face.

  His heart sank. What was he to think now? And yet he was absurdly gladthat he was not to leave her.

  "Do you mean it?" he asked.

  "Of course! I should not have asked you else. Are you very muchshocked?" she added, with a mocking gleam in her eyes. "It is notproper, is it! I confess I did not think of that. But do come," sheadded, with a sudden bewitching smile.

  "I shall be delighted," he answered, gravely enough, but truthfully.He turned to pay the cabman, and followed her into the house.

  "My rooms are upstairs," she remarked, leading the way. "The luxury ofa first floor is at present beyond me."

  Her words pleased him, but their effect died away when she opened adoor on the first landing, and ushered him in. Such of the interiorof the house as he had seen was handsomely furnished, but the room inwhich he stood was almost like a fairy chamb
er. Curtains divided it inthe centre, and beyond he could see a table laid for dinner.

  "That half I use for a dining-room," she remarked, pointing towards itwith one of her gloves, which she had just taken off. "It makes thisroom small, but it is a convenient arrangement. Do sit down!"

  He bowed, but remained standing, with his elbow resting upon thedraped mantel-board. She took off her hat and coat, hanging them overthe back of a chair, and advanced towards him.

  She was in her dancing dress, a floating mass of yellow draperies, andthe firelight gleamed strangely upon her dusky, perfect face, with itsolive colouring, and soft, glowing eyes. She came so close to him thata faint odour from the handkerchief in her hand stole up to him.

  He was playing with an ornament on the shelf, and his fingerstightened convulsively around it. It snapped in two in his hand; hedid not notice it. He leaned forward towards her, and his strong voicevibrated with feeling.

  "And it was for this then, Adrea Kiros, that you ran away from theconvent St. Lucile! My God!"