The throbbing pulse in her throat made it difficult for her to find words. She stammered: "Oh ... I had no idea that you would be back to-night. Mrs. Lavender ..."
"Has not come back to-night. I had business in town to attend to."
"Oh ... I see. I'll move these things."
"There's no need to be in such a hurry."
"You will be wanting ..."
"To have a little talk with you," he said blandly.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Lavender, but I have not the time. I must be getting . . ."
"Oh now," he said, "you don't want to run away. There's no need, is there, with Mrs. Lavender away."
She felt the waves of hysteria rising. Another time, she thought, I should know how to act. But it is too soon after this other matter. It's too incongruous ... too bewildering. I am going to laugh . . . or cry.
290 IT BEGAN IN VAUXHALL GARDENS
She heard herself beginning to laugh.
"That's better," he said. "I flatter myself I arranged this very neatly."
"I have no doubt you arranged it neatly," she said on a rising note of laughter. "I must leave you now."
"Oh no. You must not be so stand-offish. You have been standoffish too long."
"Have I?" she said. "Have I?"
"Yes, far too long. Oh, I understand. You're a nice girl ... a very nice girl. But everything is safe, you see. Mrs. Lavender is in the country."
"I shall soon be safe in my room . . . and you in yours."
She saw the ugly light in his eyes a second before he turned swiftly and locked the door. He put the key in his pocket.
She said: "Unlock the door, Mr. Lavender."
"I certainly shall not," he said. "Not yet. . . at least."
"If you do not, I shall call for help."
"No one would hear. The Gunters and Sarah never would. They're right down in the basement."
"You must have gone mad, Mr. Lavender."
"Well, you have been somewhat maddening, you know."
"I am also strong," she said. "I can bite and kick as well as scream."
He took a step towards her. "I, too, am strong," he said. "Oh come, don't play at this game of reluctance. I know your sort."
"You do not, Mr. Lavender. But I know yours. I loathe you. I despise you. I shall tell Mrs. Lavender how you have behaved."
"She would never believe you."
"But she must know what you are." She was very frightened. He was coming towards her, slowly, stealthily. "Give me the key!" she cried hysterically. "Give me the key!"
He was no longer smiling. She could see the animal lust in his face. She could also see his determination, and she was afraid as she had never before been in the whole of her life. She took a step backward and gripped the table behind her, and as she did so, her fingers touched the drawer. She remembered the pearl-handled pistol. In half a second she had opened the drawer.
She held the pistol firmly.
"Now," she said, "you will stand back."
He gasped and stood still where he was. "Put that down, you little fool!" he cried. "It's loaded."
"I know it is."
"Put it down. Put it down."
"Give me the key."
"Put that down, I said."
"And I said, 'Give me the key.' If you don't, I will shoot you."
"You wouldn't dare."
"I'll give you three seconds."
"By God," he said, "I believe you would. You look wild enough."
"I am wild enough. I am wild enough to kill men like you at this moment. Give me the key."
He brought it out of his pocket.
"Throw it. Here. I give you three seconds, remember."
He threw it, and she kept the pistol pointed at him while she picked it up.
Still covering him, she went to the door and cautiously opened it.
She ran up to the attic and, turning the key in the lock, leaned against the door, looking at the pistol in her hand.
How did she live through that night ? She did not know. Desperately, behind the locked door of the attic, she tried to make plans. She was quite certain that she must not spend another night in this house. She must get away somewhere . . . anywhere.
But first she had to see Thorold. She had to prevent his blackmailing her father. That was the most important thing. He was the greater menace. Archibald Lavender was a lustful brute; she despised him and he terrified her; but Thorold Randall was a criminal, and moreover she had played into his hands. She was involved.
She took out the pearl-handled pistol. It was so small that it looked like a toy. What power! When she thought of how it had saved her, she murmured: "My friend!" And half laughing, half crying: "My dear little friend!"
She knew she could not sleep. She did not even undress. She lay on the bed, watching the door with the pistol in her hand.
She had never before lived through such a night.
But Archibald Lavender did not attempt to come to her room. He was afraid, Melisande knew, afraid of her determination and her dear little friend.
Desperately she planned. She must meet Thorold and do everything in her power to prevent his writing to her father. She believed she could do that. She could not believe that Thorold was, at heart, a wicked man. The man she had agreed to marry was kind and considerate; it was because of those very qualities that she had agreed to marry him. But he was in debt, in difficulties, and because of that he had lost his head.
She would not marry him now. That would be quite impossible; but she would not believe that he was a real criminal. His plans had been made on the spur of the moment. They were not the result of deliberate scheming. She feared and hated all men. The nuns were right. But she believed that some men were weak rather than wicked.
After she had seen him, after she had made him see reason, made him swear that he would not write to her father, what then?
She thought of Fenella, friendly and kind and, above all, tolerant. Perhaps she would go to Fenella and try to explain why she had run away.
This seemed her only course.
At last morning came. She slipped the pistol into the pocket of her dress and cautiously unlocked the door.
There was no sound in the upper part of the house.
She went down to breakfast in the basement room. She tried to act normally; she was most anxious that the Gunters and Sarah should not know how disturbed she was. She could not talk of her fears, and they would not be able to prevent themselves asking questions if they guessed something was wrong.
"He must have come home last night," Mrs. Gunter said, as Melisande sat down at the table. "Come in very quiet, he did. Rang the bell this morning and asked for his breakfast. Sarah said he seemed in a bit of a paddy. Quarrelled with her, I reckon, and come home in a huff."
"Oh!" said Melisande.
"She'll be home this evening, so he said. We ought to make the most of to-day, eh?"
"Oh yes," said Melisande.
It was difficult to eat, but she managed to force down some of the food.
After breakfast she returned to her room and got her things together. There was not very much. After she had seen Thorold she would have to come back for them, slip quietly upstairs and out again.
She touched the pistol in her pocket; she would not let that out of her possession until she felt herself to be safe from Archibald Lavender.
He had gone out, the Gunters told her. He said he would not be back until evening.