I said not a word to Joyce of Jim and his mission. So far as she knew I'd abandoned hope—as she had. We heard nothing from Robert, or concerning him, and each day that built itself up was a gloomier cul de sac than the last.
Bye and bye there came the end of Miss Reardon's fortnight in London. "Now Robert will be turned over to Opal," I groaned to myself. And I was sure that the same thought was in the mind of Joyce. Just one or two days more, and after that a long monotony of bondage for him, year in and year out!
As I waked in the morning with these words on my lips, Joyce herself knocked, playing nurse, with a tray of coffee and toast.
"I would have let you sleep on," she said, "but a note has come by messenger for you, with 'Urgent' on the envelope in such a nice handwriting I felt you'd want to have it. So I brought your breakfast at the same time."
The nice handwriting was Jim's. He had vowed not to write till there was "news, good or bad." My fingers trembled as I tore open the letter. I read:
Make Lorillard invite you and Miss Arnold and your fiancé to a séance before Miss Reardon goes. It will have to be to-day or to-morrow. Don't take "no" for an answer. Manage it somehow. If you insist, Lorillard will force Reardon to consent. When the stunt's fixed up, let me hear at once.
Yours, Jim.
L—— is at his flat. You know the address.
By Jove! This was a facer! Could I bring the thing off? But I simply must. I knew Jim well enough to be sure that the clock of fate had been wound up by him, ready to strike, and that it wouldn't strike if I didn't obey orders.
I pondered for a minute whether or no to tell Joyce, but quickly decided no. The request must first come from Robert.
I braced myself with hot coffee, and thought hard. Then I asked Joyce for writing materials, and scribbled a note to Robert. I wrote:
There is a reason why you must get us invited by Miss Reardon to the last séance she gives before leaving. When I say "us," I mean Joyce as well as myself, and the man I've just promised to marry. I know this will seem shocking to you, perhaps impossible, as you agreed not to see Joyce again, "voluntarily." But oh, Robert, trust me, and make it possible for the sake of a brave girl who once saved your life at the risk of her own. Seeing her this time won't count as "voluntary" on your part. It is necessary.