CHAPTER XVI.

UNHAPPY LOVERS.

Hersham brought his boat under the wall with a sweep, but before disembarking he looked up to Anne with an anxious expression on his face.

"Did you get my telegram?" he demanded hastily.

"Telegram!" she repeated. "I have received no telegram from you."

"I thought so," said the journalist, and laughed in a savage sort of manner.

"What do you mean?" demanded Anne, noting how haggard he looked. "Is anything wrong?"

"More than I like to say," was his answer.

At that moment it seemed to Anne that her presentiments were about to become true, and she waited with vague terror for his next speech. Ted did not open his mouth for some minutes, being fully occupied in making fast his boat prior to landing. In spite of the importance of the interview, and his desire to prepare Anne for the immediate coming of Fanks, he did not hurry himself, but executed his task with the utmost deliberation. On her part the girl held her peace, and not until her lover had taken her in his arms to kiss her passionately did she speak. Then she led him to the summerhouse--out of sight of Mrs. Colmer at the window--and broached the subject which was uppermost in her mind.

"Ted," she asked in a low voice, "is there any danger?"

"There is a great deal of danger."

"From what quarter?"

"From the worst of all quarters. Fanks has found you out."

"Ah!" she sat back suddenly and her face turned pale with apprehension. "Is he here?"

Hersham nodded. "I sent a telegram to warn you not to answer his questions."

"I did not receive it."

"I guessed you would not," replied her lover, with a nod. "Fanks visited me to-day, and left me with the intention of coming down here to see you. I sent the wire. Then I fancied that he might manage to get it delayed at the office here. I did not dare to go by Waterloo, as I made sure he would have the station watched. In this dilemma there was nothing left for me to do but to come down on my bicycle, which I did. I rode to Warby's boat-house, left my machine there, and came on to warn you."

Anne considered for a few minutes. "How was it that Mr. Fanks found me out?" she asked anxiously.

"He saw your portrait in my rooms."

"What was he doing in your rooms?"

"He came to question me about the cross tattooed on my arm."

"Did you tell him anything?"

"Nothing! What could I tell him? I am quite unaware how the cross came to be there. But with regard to his recognition of you; how was it that you went to the chambers of that dead scoundrel?"

"I went to get a photograph of Emma's that was in the possession of her late husband."

"Why did you wish to get the photograph?"

"It had some writing on the back, which may implicate another person in this trouble of the death. I think," she added, pointedly, "that you can guess the name of that person."

"I think I can," replied Hersham, gloomily, "and the worst of it is that Fanks will certainly find out that name."

"Impossible! I may be able to thwart him on that point."

"I hope so; but you do not know the man as I do. He is the most patient and pertinacious of men. He will stick to this case until he has the assassin of Sir Gregory in jail."

"God forbid!" ejaculated Anne, with a shudder.

"Amen to that!" answered Hersham. "Oh, Anne, my dear Anne," he continued, taking her hand, "how I wish we could end all this and fly to the ends of the earth!"

"My dear," she said gently, "we have others to think of besides ourselves. It would never do to desert them at the present moment. Besides there may not be so much chance of discovery as you think."

"I don't know; I am certain of nothing," said Hersham, with a sigh. "I only dread one thing--lest Fanks should force you into betraying that which you would rather hide."

"Don't trouble about that, Ted," returned Anne, dryly. "I think Mr. Fanks will find me more than his match. You need not have come to prepare me, for I am quite ready for the gentleman as soon as he chooses to call."

"That will be very soon. He is in the village now. I don't want him to see me. For that reason I came here in a boat."

"Do not be foolish, Ted," said Anne, quickly. "You must let him see you, else he will suspect that you know something about this matter. And you must be aware, dear, that you have your own safety to look to."

"Oh!" groaned Hersham, "how are we to extricate ourselves from this mess?"

"I think we will leave that to time; and you have me to comfort you."

"Dearest!" he drew her towards him; "without you I should not be able to move one step. At present all is dark and dreary; but let us hope that there are brighter days in store."

"I am certain that there are," said Anne; "but we have a great deal to endure before peace comes. We must go through the valley of humiliation to reach the promised land."

"Well!" said Ted, emphatically, "when we do reach it I think we must go to America, there to commence a new life. It is no use trying to construct a new one here out of the ruins of the old."

"That we shall see," replied Anne, with a sigh "God knows we have had a great deal to endure since the death of my poor sister. But let us for the moment banish this gloomy subject, and talk of ourselves. How are you getting on with your work?"

Hersham smiled and kissed her. He saw that she was striving to lighten the burden which had been laid upon him; and he was grateful for the kindness. All the same he found it difficult to put his troubles out of sight and memory, seeing that they were so insistent, and that within the next half hour he might be called upon to defend himself from a dangerous charge. Alone as they were in the summerhouse, they were afraid to speak openly, lest the birds of the air should carry to Fanks undesirable news which would please him, but ruin them. Under these circumstances Hersham agreed with Anne that it was best to let affairs connected with the case of Tooley's Alley remain in abeyance, until they were compelled to take action. In the meantime the unhappy pair went hand in hand into a Fool's Paradise of make-believe, and hollow joys. There was something pitiful in this playing with happiness.

"We will be very poor, my love," said Hersham, somewhat later in the conversation; "and I am afraid that you will miss all the luxuries to which you have been accustomed."

Anne laughed and kissed him. "You silly boy," she said kindly; "my luxuries are of the cheapest kind, as you well know. Besides I can face poverty with a brave heart with you."

"But your mother?"

"I am afraid she will not live long," sighed Anne. "She is growing so weak, and she has long, long fits of silence. Poor mother! she has had a hard life. I do not think she ever got over the death of Emma."

"Does she know anything about these other matters?"

"Very little. I kept as much from her as I could. Indeed, she would never have heard of the death at all had it not been for Herbert Vaud."

"He might as well have held his tongue," said Ted, angrily; "but the fact is, that since Emma's death and his illness he has not been quite right in his head. He returned comparatively well, as you know; but that journey to Paris to inquire after Lady Fellenger unsettled him again."

"Don't talk of Lady Fellenger," said Anne, with a shudder.

"Why not? Your sister was lawfully the wife of Sir Gregory."

"I know that. All the same, I hate to hear the name of the family."

"And yet," said Hersham, meaningly, "you were fond enough of Louis."

Again Anne laughed. "You must not be jealous of my friendship for Louis, Ted. He is a good fellow in his way. I was never in love with him as I am with you, but I liked him."

"And Binjoy, that pompous doctor, did you like him?"

"I hated him. I hate him still," she flashed out. "He is the evil genius of Louis. If these matters only concerned Dr. Binjoy, I should not keep silent and bear the burden I am doing."

"You have me to bear it with you," said. Hersham, softly.

"I know that, my dear. But there are some things which men and women have to face singly. Such a thing is this coming interview with Mr. Fanks. I wanted you to see him so as to disarm any suspicions which he may entertain. Still, I wish you to take no part in the conversation."

"But why?" asked Ted, with a frown. "I can't leave you to fight my battle."

"You must in this case," replied Anne, "you are a dear, good fellow, Ted, but you allow your heart to govern your head."

"That is very true. And it is the reverse with you, Anne."

"Not so far as you are concerned, Ted. I am as weak as water with you. If you see me hard to other people you must set it down to the severe training I have had in the school of adversity. I am only a girl in years, but I am a woman in experience."

"You are the dearest and bravest woman in the whole world," said Hersham fondly, kissing her hand, "and if happiness comes to us in the future, it will be through you. I shall do what you say and hold my tongue. But, my darling, are you sure that you can cope with Fanks."

"I do not know as I have only seen him, but once we cross swords and I shall soon learn my strength. I have a large stake to fight for, and the remembrance of that will make me desperate."

"Well," said Ted, dolefully, "we cannot turn back now. The enemy is within our gates, and we must fight. 'Væ victis.'"

"You may well say that," said Anne, bitterly. "'Woe to the vanquished' indeed. Come let us go to the house and see my mother, but you must say nothing to her about our conversation. She knows as much as is good for her, and her health will not stand any great shock."

"In that case," observed Hersham, as they strolled up the path, "you must not let her see Fanks."

"Trust me, Ted. Forewarned is forearmed."

Mrs. Colmer was delighted to see Ted, for he was a great favourite with the invalid. She had no suspicion of what had brought him down in so unexpected a manner, and chatted to the young man in the most cheerful of spirits. Meanwhile Anne gave her lover a cup of tea, and cut him some sandwiches. All the time she was straining her ears to catch the fall of the knocker on the front door. Every moment she expected to bear the crash which would announce the arrival of the detective, and as the minutes went by her nerves became strained to their utmost pitch. Ted saw what she suffered, but in the presence of Mrs. Colmer he could say nothing, and the old lady went chattering on. There was something cruelly ironical about the situation.

At last, Hersham could bear the suspense no longer, and making some excuse to Mrs. Colmer, he drew Anne out into the passage. There he placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Are you afraid?" he said, anxiously. "Are you afraid of the coming interview with this man?"

"Yes," said Anne, and shivered; the colour had left her cheeks, and she suddenly appeared older, and more haggard.

"Why are you afraid? Because of your visit to those chambers?"

"That and another thing."

"Does the other thing concern yourself."

"Yes. It concerns a visit to London on that night."

"Heavens! Where did you go?"

Before Anne could answer, a sharp knock came to the door, which drove all the blood into their hearts.

They looked at one another, for they now felt that the danger was on them. What would happen within the next hour.

"Where did you go on that night?" asked Hersham, hoarsely.

"To Tooley's Alley--to the Red Star Hotel."

"Anne, Anne. And you saw--"

Anne nodded. "Yes," she said, steadily, "I saw."