It was four days later, the following Thursday, that she saw Lewis’s coupé turn in at the driveway, and then, looking through the dining-room window, stood stupefied at the sight of Pete Halliday’s white bony face and tangled brown hair as he descended at one side of the car while Lewis got out at the other.
XVI
Two hours after Lewis Kane left in his coupé that afternoon, with Pete Halliday incredibly seated beside him, having been informed by Panther that her mother had gone to Anne Leaver’s to stay the night, Lora got ready to go down and help Lillian put the dinner on the table. She was more vexed with herself than she had ever been in her life. Funk was the word for it, she said to herself, plain unmitigated funk. What had done it was the preposterous combination of those two men; Pete, alone, however unexpected, would have been a manageable apparition. That explained it, but assuredly did not excuse it. In her shame and vexation she would have given anything for the chance to do it over again. She was reminded of an occasion many years before when she had ignored the prolonged ringing of a doorbell and let the telephone go unanswered; she had felt somewhat the same today as on that distant day, and that astonished her and added to her vexation. It was an insane idea, since the two situations were in no respect similar. However, she had then, as again today, been not only cowardly, but stupid. She could not forgive herself.
The opportunity of re-establishing her self-esteem came that very evening. At the dinner table she withdrew her instructions to Roy regarding the telephone; and the meal had not long been over — she was coming downstairs again after telling Julian and Morris goodnight — when it rang. It was Lewis, talking from New York, She would have liked to see his face while she was explaining to him that she had been at home all day and had been in the next room while Panther was delivering the message regarding Anne Seaver. She offered no apologies, and his only reply was that he wished to see her at once and would start for Maidstone immediately; she could expect him in an hour and a half. She asked him, would the other man be with him? Yes, he said, he would.
Well, Lora thought after she had hung up, he certainly is in a terrible hurry about something.
She was no longer in a funk, but was nevertheless too disturbed and restless to read or even to help Roy and Panther with their lessons. She sent them upstairs earlier than usual, so as to have them out of the way; when she explained that Lewis was returning with the strange man who had come that afternoon they accepted the premature banishment without a murmur. Their mother’s remarkable conduct in the afternoon and something in her manner now evidently impressed the gravity of the situation upon them; Panther’s goodnight kiss was unusually prolonged, and Roy before turning to go assured her solemnly:
“They won’t hurt you.”
“Hurt me!” Lora laughed. “It’s Lewis, you silly.”
“That other man looked funny,” said Panther.
After they had gone, Lora, seated before the fire, waiting, found herself entertaining the echo of an old regret. She wished she had the wristwatch she had found on her pillow that day twelve years before. She had once spent a good deal of time, with the help of Max Kadish, trying to trace it, but it had long since been disposed of by the jeweler to whom she had sold it in the necessity created by Steve Adams’s departure, and the man who had bought it from him could not be found. The one she now wore, given to her by Lewis on Julian’s first anniversary, was an altogether different sort of affair — it was much smaller, with a platinum case, and was engraved with her initials. She had another one too, a large silver one, which she wore when working in the garden or generally out of doors. She had not thought of that old one for a long while, not for years; now she wished she had it, but frowned the wish away.
When finally around half-past nine she heard the car turn in at the driveway and pass the house on its way to the back yard, she did not move from her chair. She could not keep her heart from beating faster, but she could sit still. Her ears waited for the sound of the back door opening, but it did not come. Instead, after an interval there was the faint shuffle of footsteps on the flagstone terrace in front, and the doorbell rang. Ha, she thought, as she crossed to open the door, everything is to be proper tonight, one uses the front door and rings the bell; I should have had Lillian down, with a clean cap and apron, to let them in. Or Stan in a uniform — that would have been swell. She swung the door open.
Lewis stood back to let the other precede him. “Hello,” Lora said, with a smile, without any pretense of surprise, and gave her hand to Pete. Then she took Lewis in completely with a glance, as he took her hand in turn. They left their overcoats, and Lewis his hat, in the vestibule, and followed her into the living room. She had resumed her chair, and as they entered she invited them to two other chairs nearby, facing the fire. Lewis took the one nearest her; Pete stood close to the fire, warming his hands.
“I suppose I ought to get some gloves,” he said, “but I hate the damn things.” His eyes were on Lora. “You must be your own daughter,” he declared. “You can’t be a day over nineteen. That was it, wasn’t it? Nearly twenty; I remember you said you’d be twenty before — by a certain day.”
“You haven’t changed much yourself,” said Lora. “Yes, you have though, you’re a good deal older, but you look just the same.”
Lewis Kane had been silent since his first greeting. Now he looked at Lora and said briefly:
“You do know him then.”
Lora took hold of herself. Had she already made a misstep? There was nothing to be afraid of, nothing she had any reason to conceal, and yet... With men it was best to let them do the talking. Both of these men could be depended on for that. What did they think they were going to do to her? Bah, of course she knew Pete Halliday, why shouldn’t she say so? Did she know Pete Halliday!
She smiled not at Lewis, but at Pete.
“I think we’ve been introduced, haven’t we?”
“Never to my knowledge,” he replied promptly. “I forget who it was told me your name that night.”
“Stubby Mallinson.”
“Sure!” he grinned. “So it was. Thirteen years ago; I’ll bet he’s a stinking millionaire.” He nodded affably at Lewis, “No offense.”
“Not at all,” said Lewis drily. He turned to Lora. “You haven’t seen him for thirteen years?”
She nodded. “Thirteen... twelve...”
“I don’t suppose he had already entered the profession of blackmailer?”
Pete intervened. “Come, no use forgetting our manners,” he protested. “I’m here, ask me.” He bowed ironically, with so perfect a reproduction of the well-remembered blending of clumsiness and grace that Lora caught her breath. “At the time of my previous acquaintanceship with Miss Winter I was a student of philosophy; and having just discovered that all optimism comes from arrested development and all pessimism from a belly-ache, I was in the act of joining the Canadian army on the off chance that I might get a crack at a few descendants of Kant or Hegel or— Oh, you know.”