"Yes. I want--perhaps you could help me. I know no one here--"
"Where are you living?"
"Nowhere. I only arrived here early this morning, and I have--I have no
money."
He was shivering from standing in the cold during this short dialogue,
and seemed to shrink into himself, almost fawning, like a cowed dog.
"Come in with me," said Frank, greatly astonished, but full of sympathy
and of the affectionate reminiscences of his boyhood. "Come and spend
the night with me."
"Oh, gladly!" was the reply, eager and tremulous, as if he feared that
the heaven-inspired words might be retracted.
They went together a few steps further; then Frank took a key out of his
pocket, the key of White-Rose Cottage. He opened the door; a hexagonal
Moorish lantern was burning low, and shed a soft light in the hall.
"Go in," said Frank; And he locked the door and bolted it behind them.
It was half-past twelve.
The maid had not yet gone to bed.
"That gentleman called here a little while ago, two or three times," she
murmured; with a look of suspicion at Bertie, "And I have seen him
hanging about all the evening, as if he was on the watch. I was
frightened, do you know; it is so lonely in these parts."
Frank shook his head reassuringly.
"Make the fire up as quickly as possible, Annie. Is your husband still
up?"
"The fire, sir?"
"Yes. Bertie, will you have something to eat?"
"Gladly, if it gives you no trouble," replied Bertie in English, for the
benefit of the maid, and he looked with an insinuating expression to
meet the surprised, cold blue eyes of the neat, brisk young woman. His
voice was persuasive and low; he tried to take as little room as
possible in the small hall; and to avoid her gaze, he seemed to shrink,
to efface himself in a corner where the shadow fell.
Frank led the way into a large back room, cold and dark when they
entered, but soon lighted up, and before long genially warmed by the
huge fire which blazed up in the grate. Annie laid the table.
"Supper for one, sir?"
"Lay for two; I will eat something," said Frank, thinking that Bertie
would feel more at his ease.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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