Leaning over the balcony, a little later, Alan heard the rattle of a typewriting machine at one of the windows immediately below. This, he knew, was Elizabeth beginning her day’s work in Sir Richard Templeton’s suite. He was eager to have a few words with her, but this would have to be achieved without Sir Richard’s knowledge. He decided not to telephone in case the barrister happened to be in her room, so he scribbled a note, which he sent down by the floor-valet, asking when the coast might be clear for a few minutes’ talk.
Word came back immediately that Sir Richard Templeton was out, but it would be better if Mr. Gilmour did not see her that day. At this Alan smiled, and, knocking out the ashes of his pipe, strolled downstairs and tapped on Elizabeth’s door.
‘I asked you not to come,’ she said reproachfully.
‘I’m sorry you can’t always have it your own way,’ he remarked genially. ‘In any case, I’ve got something to tell you. I had rather a dust-up last night with Templeton.’
‘Last night? But I don’t understand.’ For some reason she seemed completely at sea.
‘Templeton and I had words—harsh words.’ He nodded towards the door that led into the barrister’s private room. ‘In there.’
‘But—but Sir Richard is out of town! He went down to his country-place yesterday afternoon, and said he wouldn’t be back until lunch-time to-day. You must be mistaken.’
‘He was back here last night,’ said Alan, ‘for he gave me a thundering good dressing down. He may have gone back to the country again, but he was certainly in this hotel at half-past eleven last night.’
Elizabeth was still looking puzzled, and Alan broke out with a laugh.
‘You aren’t asking me what the row was about! Shall I tell you? He ticked me off for leading unprotected young women astray. In other words, taking you out to dinner. More than that, he said if you went with me again, he’d sack you on the spot. Scarcely sounds like a ray of sunshine, does he? But that isn’t all. He tried to make me promise that I’d never see you again.’
‘And you promised?’
‘I promised all right—that is, to see you as often as I possibly could!’
Alan sat on the arm of a chair and looked across at Elizabeth. He had mentioned the interview to her only because he felt confident that Templeton himself would do so; and he had deliberately made light of it, hoping that Elizabeth would not take it too deeply to heart. But her expression had not altered with his flippant talk: she sat staring gloomily at the keys of her typewriting machine.
‘I think it will be better if we do as Sir Richard asks,’ she said quietly.
‘Do you mean that?’
‘Yes.’ She drew in a quick breath.
‘And why should I never see you again?’ he pressed.
‘Because—— Not if Sir Richard doesn’t wish it. I daren’t!’
Alan looked at her steadily. For an instant, before the long lashes veiled her eyes, he could see the lurking fear in them.
‘Daren’t?’ He couldn’t repress a chuckle of laughter. ‘My dear good soul——’ Then he broke off. The exact relations between Sir Richard Templeton and his secretary had been a puzzle to him, and her obvious terror at going against his wishes did not tend to clarify the position. But it was a delicate matter to probe. He got to his feet.
‘Elizabeth, I want to make this perfectly plain. All the Templetons in the world won’t prevent me from seeing you as often as I can. There’s only one thing that can stop me from doing that!’
She did not look up; the long lashes were again over her brown eyes.
‘Only one thing,’ he repeated. ‘And that is when you tell me you’ve got no more use for my friendship!’
But still she made no reply.
‘Say the word and I’ll clear out,’ he added gently.
For the first time she met his glance, and during the fraction of a second her lips trembled.
‘But why should you want my—friendship? Can anything but trouble come of it—for us both?’
‘You believe that?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘I don’t! I don’t believe in looking for trouble—though somehow I think your hands are full enough of it already!’ He drew nearer to her. ‘More than that, I have an idea you may need all the friends you’ve got—one day very soon.’
She looked away quickly, and then her face went down between her hands. ‘What can be your interest in me? You know nothing about me—nothing!’
‘My interest in you——’ Alan faltered. He found his reply difficult to put into words. He knew without any doubt that he was in love with her. He had half-acknowledged it to himself during his long tramp through London streets the previous afternoon, and now he was certain; but could he be certain of her? Until he knew her feelings towards him he could not trust himself to speak. He paced quickly up and down the room; then suddenly he stopped and held out his hand to her.
‘I’ve already offered you my friendship for what it’s worth, Elizabeth.’
Her answer, when it came, was a quick, impulsive movement. She put her hand in his, and her fingers lay within his strong grasp. Her nearness and sweet fragrance, her exquisite beauty, sent his heart to his throat, and his resolution weakened. In another moment his arms would have been around her; but, rising quickly, she drew back.
Alan turned away.
‘You haven’t asked me about the letter you gave me yesterday evening,’ he remarked, breaking an awkward silence.
‘Yes?’ Her tone was noncommittal.
‘I’m sorry I forgot all about it until late in the evening, and I had to deliver it myself.’
He glanced at her over his shoulder, and her expression made him start. She knew! She had already been informed that he had personally taken the letter last night to ‘The Green Lantern’! She must have heard from the man to whom she’d written—Mr. Julius Brown.
‘You promised not to mention it to any one,’ she said in a dull voice.
‘Naturally! You told me it was a private matter.’
And he could not help reading the relief in her eyes.
After Alan had gone Elizabeth scarcely raised her head from her typewriter until she was interrupted by the arrival of Sir Richard Templeton. She listened to his firm step as he went along the passage to his own room; then his bell trilled out; and, taking up a pile of correspondence, she opened the communicating door and entered.
His ‘good morning’ was distant. The lines of anxiety which in recent days had been gathering on his face seemed to be etched even deeper. He made an abrupt gesture, and she placed the letters on the desk beside him. Still he sat staring into vacancy, and she was about to leave the room when he addressed her:
‘One moment, Elizabeth.’
He motioned to her to close the door, and she returned and stood before his desk.
‘I want to talk to you about yesterday morning.’ There was a hard edge to his voice that made her glance at him apprehensively. ‘You admitted to Inspector Tripp, in this room, that you are acquainted with a man called Gilmour. I intend to be frank with you, Elizabeth. You astounded me by saying you went out for the evening with this man—a perfect stranger.’
‘It is true,’ returned Elizabeth.
‘I know it,’ said Templeton sharply. ‘I was compelled to come back from the country for an hour or two last night, and I met this Mr. Gilmour. I protested to him in the strongest terms. I repeat my protest to you. Is it possible that you have not realized the confidential nature of your work with me here?’