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Page 75

After that he listened. He heard that Dr. Jennings was
contemplating taking Anna's place at the lodge, and he
comprehended after a moment that Anna was already gone. Even then
the significance of the situation was a little time in dawning on
him. When it did, however, he rose with a stifled oath.

Mrs. Boyer was speaking.

"It is exactly as I tell you," she was saying. "If Peter Byrne is
trying to protect her reputation he is late doing it. Personally
I have been there twice. I never saw Anna Gates. And she is
registered here at the club as living in the Pension Schwarz.
Whatever the facts may be, one thing remains, she is not there
now."

McLean waited to hear no more. He was beside himself with rage.
He found a "comfortable" at the curb. The driver was asleep
inside the carriage. McLean dragged him out by the shoulder and
shouted an address to him. The cab bumped along over the rough
streets to an accompaniment of protests from its frantic
passenger.

The boy was white-lipped with wrath and fear. Peter's silence
that afternoon as to the state of affairs loomed large and
significant. He had thought once or twice that Peter was in love
with Harmony; he knew it now in the clearer vision of the moment.
He recalled things that maddened him: the dozen intimacies of the
little menage, the caress in Peter's voice when he spoke to the
girl, Peter's steady eyes in the semi-gloom of the salon while
Harmony played.

At a corner they must pause for the inevitable regiment. McLean
cursed, bending out to see how long the delay would be. Peter had
been gone for half an hour, perhaps, but Peter would walk. If he
could only see the girl first, talk to her, tell her what she
would be doing by remaining--

He was there at last, flinging across the courtyard like a
madman. Peter was already there; his footprints were fresh in the
slush of the path. The house door was closed but not locked.
McLean ran up the stairs. It was barely twilight outside, but the
staircase well was dark. At the upper landing he was compelled to
fumble for the bell.

Peter admitted him. The corridor was unlighted, but from the
salon came a glow of lamplight. McLean, out of breath and
furious, faced Peter.

"I want to see Harmony," he said without preface.

Peter eyed him. He knew what had happened, had expected it when
the bell rang, had anticipated it when Harmony told him of Mrs.
Boyer's visit. In the second between the peal of the bell and his
opening the door he had decided what to do.

"Come in."

McLean stepped inside. He was smaller than Peter, not so much
shorter as slenderer. Even Peter winced before the look in his
eyes.

"Where is she?"

"In the kitchen, I think. Come into the salon."

McLean flung off his coat. Peter closed the door behind him and
stood just inside. He had his pipe as usual. "I came to see her,
not you, Byrne."

"So I gather. I'll let you see her, of course, but don't you want
to see me first?"

"I want to take her away from here."

"Why? Are you better able to care for her than I am?"

McLean stood rigid. He had thrust his clenched hands into his
pockets.

"You're a scoundrel, Byrne," he said steadily. "Why didn't you
tell me this this afternoon?"

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Thu 25th Dec 2025, 23:49

The Street of Seven Stars by Mary Roberts Rinehart