Part 14

"I think I've had that already--quite as horrid," he said grimly. "This is not the moment for compliments--but you have great powers. You are brave, and I never met anyone who could be more 'horrid,' as you call it, in smaller compass, all with one little tiny adjective. My felicitations. You _are_ clever. Come--don't be angry any more--I had to do it--you'll understand some day."

"You wouldn't like it yourself," she said, softening to something in his voice.

"I shouldn't have liked it at your age," he said; "sixteen--fifteen--what is it?"

"I'm nineteen next birthday," she said with dignity.

"And the date?"

"The fifteenth of June--I don't know what you mean by asking me."

"And to-day's the first of July," he said, and sighed. "Well, well!--if your Highness will allow me, I'll go and see whether your aunt's light is out, and if it is, we'll attempt the re-entrance."

He went. She shivered, waiting for what felt like hours. And the resentment against her aunts grew faint in the light of her resentment against her lover's messenger, and this, in its turn, was outshone by her anger against her lover. He had played cricket. He had risked his life--on the very day whose evening should have crowned that life by giving her to his arms. She set her teeth. Then she yawned and shivered again. It was an English July, and very cold. And the slow minutes crept past. What a fool she had been! Why had she not made a fight for her liberty--for her right to see Harry if she chose to see him? The aunts would never have stood up against a well-planned, determined, disagreeable resistance. In the light of this doctor's talk the whole thing did seem cowardly, romantic, and, worst of all, insufferably young. Well--to-morrow everything should change; she would fight for her Love, not merely run away to him. But the promise? Well, Harry was Harry, and a promise was only a promise!

There were footsteps in the lane. The man was coming back to her. She rose.

"It's all right," he said. "Come."

In silence they walked down the lane. Suddenly he stopped.

"You'll thank me some day," he said. "Why should you throw yourself away on Harry? You're worth fifty of him. And I only wish I had time to explain this to you thoroughly, but I haven't!"

She, too, had stopped. Now she stamped her foot.

"Look here," she said, "I'm not going to promise anything at all. You needn't help me if you don't want to--but I take back that promise. Go!--do what you like! I mean to stick to Harry--and I'll write and tell him so to-night. So there!"

He clapped his hands very softly. "Bravo!" he said; "that's the right spirit. Plucky child! Any other girl would have broken the promise without a word to me. Harry's luckier even than I thought. I'll help you, little champion! Come on."

He helped her over the wall; carried the ladder to her window, and steadied it while she mounted it. When she had climbed over the window-ledge she turned and leaned out of the window, to see him slowly mounting the ladder. He threw his head back with a quick gesture that meant "I have something more to say--lean out!"

She leaned out. His face was on a level with hers.

"You've slept soundly all night--don't forget that--it's important," he whispered, "and--you needn't tell Harry--one-sided things are so trivial, but I can't help it. _I_ have the passion for romance too!"

With that he caught her neck in the curve of his arm, and kissed her lightly but fervently.

"Good-bye!" he said; "thank you so much for a very pleasant evening!" He dropped from the ladder and was gone. She drew her curtain with angry suddenness. Then she lighted candles and looked at herself in the looking-glass. She thought she had never looked so pretty. And she was right. Then she went to bed, and slept like a tired baby.

* * * * *

Next morning the suburb was electrified by the discovery, made by the nursing aunt, that all the silver and jewels and valuables from the safe at the top of the stairs had vanished.

"The villains must have come through your room, child," she said to Harry's sweetheart; "the ladder proves that. Slept sound all night, did you? Well, that was a mercy! They might have murdered you in your bed if you'd happened to be awake. You ought to be humbly thankful when you think of what might have happened."

The girl did not think very much of what might have happened. What _had_ happened gave her quite food enough for reflection. Especially when to her side of the night's adventures was added the tale of Harry's.

He had not played cricket, he had not hurt his knee, he had merely confided in his father's valet, and had given that unprincipled villain a five-pound note to be at the Cross Roads--in the orthodox style--with a cab for the flight, a post-chaise being, alas! out of date. Instead of doing this, the valet, with a confederate, had gagged and bound young Harry, and set him in a convenient corner against the local waterworks to await events.

"I never would have believed it of him," added Harry, in an agitated india-rubber-ball note, "he always seemed such a superior person, you'd have thought he was a gentleman if you'd met him in any other position."

"I should. I did," she said to herself. "And, oh, how frightfully clever! And the way he talked! And all the time he was only keeping me out of the way while they stole the silver and things. I wish he hadn't taken the ruby necklace: it does suit me so. And what nerve! He actually talked about the robberies in the neighbourhood. He must have done them all. Oh, what a pity! But he was a dear. And how awfully wicked he was, too--but I'll never tell Harry!"

She never has.

Curiously enough, her Burglar Valet Hero was not caught, though the police most intelligently traced his career, from his being sent down from Oxford to his last best burglary.

She was married to Harry, with the complete consent of everyone concerned, for Harry had money, and so had she, and there had never been the slightest need for an elopement, save in youth's perennial passion for romance. It was on her birthday that she received a registered postal packet. It had a good many queer postmarks on it, and the stamps were those of a South American republic. It was addressed to her by her new name, which was as good as new still. It came at breakfast-time, and it contained the ruby necklace, several gold rings, and a diamond brooch. All were the property of her late aunts. Also there was an india-rubber ball, and in it a letter.

"Here is a birthday present for you," it said. "Try to forgive me. Some temptations are absolutely irresistible. That one was. And it was worth it. It rounded off the whole thing so perfectly. That last indiscretion of mine nearly ruined everything. There was a policeman in the lane. I only escaped by the merest fluke. But even then it would have been worth it. At least, I should like you to believe that I think so."

"His last indiscretion," said Harry, who saw the note but not the india-rubber ball, "that means stealing your aunts' things, of course, unless it was dumping me down by the waterworks, but, of course, that wasn't the last one. But worth it? Why, he'd have had seven years if they'd caught him--worth it? He _must_ have a passion for burglary."

She did not explain to Harry, because he would never have understood. But the burglar would have found it quite easy to understand that or anything. She was so shocked to find herself thinking this that she went over to Harry and kissed him with more affection even than usual.

"Yes, dear," he said, "I don't wonder you're pleased to get something back out of all those things. I quite understand."

"Yes, dear," said she. "I know. You always do!"

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Page 219, repeated word "for" deleted from text. Original read: (it will for for me)