He held her, spoke to her, shouldered away an over-officious bystander or so, and stopped an empty four-wheeler, all with that comprehensiveness of resource which characterizes the London policeman. In another minute Gilead was rolling away, in charge of his poor little capture.
He did not address her for some time, not until, cowered into her corner, she suddenly gave a moan, and put her hands before her face. And then he spoke, in the voice that was like his name:—
“You mustn’t be frightened; you mustn’t mistrust me. I had come to answer your advertisement, to offer you help, when you were pointed out to me and I followed you. Now the help is very near—as near as the end of your trouble, I am sure.”
She appeared to listen; but no power was yet hers to answer.
“I know,” said Gilead, “I know. Some misery; someone’s wickedness—we have many such cases, and I know. I am going to take you where you will find rest, and sympathy, and strong wills to back you. You must just believe me, and not speak a word.”
He had his intention formed, and drove straight to the luxurious little flat, situated in the neighbourhood of Victoria Street, which his princely liberality had enabled Miss Halifax to take and furnish. He desired to retort upon that young lady with the fruits of her own scepticism, and to make her good-humouredly answer for it by succumbing to the bait which she had erstwhile depreciated. Arrived there, he delivered his charge, now partly recovered, but dazed and inclined to tears, to the lift-porter, with orders that he was to convey her to Miss Halifax’s rooms, and there keep her under unobtrusive observation until his return; having done which, he returned to his office, and confided the whole business to his fair amanuensis.
“Now,” said he, “I know nothing personally about the attractiveness of the bait; but I am very sure that no appeal is necessary to you to swallow it with a perfect grace. I have asked no questions, and penetrated no secrets. Why should I, when, in the loving sympathy and understanding of one of her own sex, she could seek the confidence which it would have been only an unjustified impertinence in me to offer.”
She looked at him, with her eyes shining.
“I think, Mr Balm,” she said softly, “that the Quest of the Holy Grail is still inspiring some Knightly spirits in the world”—a cryptic utterance which he could not quite interpret.
They lost no time in returning to the flat. She addressed her lovely face to him on the threshold.