The Seventh Noon Part 23

With difficulty the old woman hobbled back into the room to her mistress, and for a few moments Donaldson waited impatiently for the next development. It came when he heard her voice asking him to come in. He was in the room in three strides. She was sitting in her chair with her head bandaged, Marie sitting by her side as though liking but little his intrusion. At sight of the white strip across her forehead, he caught his breath.

"What does this mean?" he demanded with quick a.s.sumption of authority.

"You must n't think it is anything serious," she hastened to explain, awed by the fierceness of his manner. "It is only that--that he came back."

"Arsdale?"

"Yes."

"Where is he now?"

"He went away again. Marie and I tried to hold him, but we weren't strong enough."

"It would be easier to hold the devil," interpolated Marie.

"But you," asked the girl,--"I was afraid you had met with an accident."

"I?" he cried. "I was asleep--asleep like a drunken lout."

"All yesterday--all last night?" she asked in astonishment.

"Yes," he admitted, as though it were an accusation.

"Ah, that is good," she replied. "You needed the rest."

"Needed rest, and you in this danger?" he exclaimed contemptuously.

"It was unpardonable of me."

"No! No! Don't say that. You could have done nothing had you been here."

"If ever I get my hands on him again," he cried below his breath.

"Mon Dieu," broke in Marie. "If I, too--"

"Hush," interrupted the girl. "It is quite useless for any of us to attempt more until his money gives out. He came back and found a few dollars in my purse."

She had fought this madman, she and this rheumatic old woman, while he had slept! She had called to him and he had not answered! The blood went hot to his cheeks. It was enough to make a man feel craven.

The wounded girl rested her bandaged head on the back of the chair. At the light in Donaldson's eyes, Marie straightened herself aggressively.

"Are you badly hurt?" he asked quietly.

"Only a b.u.mp," she laughed, remembering how he had stood by the ladder.

"Marie insisted upon this," she added, lightly touching the cloth about her forehead.

"A b.u.mp?" snorted Marie. "It is a miracle that she was not altogether killed. She--"

But a hand upon the old servant's arm checked her indignation.

"You two women cannot remain here any longer alone," he said authoritatively. "Either you must allow me to take you to the shelter of some friend or--"

"There is no one," she interrupted quickly. "No one to whom I would go in this condition. They would not understand."

"Then," he said, "I must secure a nurse for you."

"Am I not able to care for the p't.i.te?" demanded Marie. "A nurse!"

"A nurse is needed to care for you both. I am going downstairs now to summon one."

She protested feebly, and Marie vigorously, but he was insistent.

"I ought to call your family physician--"

"No, Mr. Donaldson, you must not do that."

She was firm upon this point, so he went below to do what else he might.

At the telephone he found the explanation of his inability to get the house in the fact that the receiver was hanging loose. It was another accusation. Doubtless in her weakened condition she had dropped it from her hand and turned away, too dazed to replace it. The hot shame of it dried his tongue so that he could scarcely make himself understood. In spite of this he accomplished many things in a very few minutes. The operator gave him the number of a near-by reliable nurse, and finding her in, he sent off the cab for her. Then through an employment bureau he secured a cook who agreed to reach the house within an hour. He then telephoned the nearest market and ordered everything he could think of from beefsteak to fruit, and to this added everything the marketman could think of. He had no sooner finished than the nurse arrived.

By the greatest good luck Miss Colson proved to be young, cheerful, and capable. She followed Donaldson upstairs and succeeded in winning the confidence of both the girl and Marie at once. Donaldson left them together. A little while later he was allowed to come up again.

"I feel like an unfaithful knight," he said, as he entered. "I deserve to be dismissed without a word."

"Because you slept? It was not your fault. I fear I have left you little time for rest."

"Why did n't you tell them to break down the doors--to _get_ me!"

Her face clouded for a moment.

She saw how chagrined he still felt.

"Don't blame yourself," she pleaded. "It's all over anyway and you 've done everything possible. You 've been very thoughtful."

"I was a fool to leave you here. I should have stayed."

"That was impossible."

Donaldson marveled that she could pa.s.s off the whole episode so generously. He refrained from questioning her further as to what had happened. It was unnecessary, for he knew well enough.

"Let us choose a pleasanter subject," she said. "Tell me how you became a great hero."

"A sorry hero," he answered, not understanding what she meant.

"No. No. It was fine! It was fine!"

He was bewildered.

"You don't mean to say you have n't seen the papers--but then, of course, you have n't, if you were asleep all day Sunday. Please bring me that pile in the corner."