Haskins shot out of the office rapidly, but Macandrew sat soberly at the desk shaking his red poll. It appeared to him that Gerald was about to climb the Hill Difficulty, and might not reach the top.
[CHAPTER IX.]
MRS. CROSBIE.
That same afternoon, when Mr. Haskins was arraying himself in a Bond Street kit to call on the fascinating widow, he was seized with a sudden qualm as to the wisdom of his intention. After all, as Tod very truly observed, Mrs. Crosbie was supposed to be engaged to Major Rebb, although no official announcement had appeared in The Morning Post. If then he related the secret which was connected with the Pixy's House and with a pretty girl, Mrs. Crosbie, inspired by jealousy, might forthwith demand an explanation from Rebb. In that case--vulgarly speaking--the fat would be on the fire and there would be a fine blaze.
On the other hand, Gerald wished to enlist Mrs. Crosbie on his side for two reasons. Firstly, she had been the close friend of his mother, to whom he had been tenderly attached, and as a boy he had flirted with her in the calf-love stage. They now were what Tod would call "pals," and Gerald usually took all his troubles to her, for she was a wise little woman. Of course there were nasty people who called Mrs. Crosbie an adventuress, and who said that she had nagged her late husband to death; but these were in the minority. So far as Haskins could read character--and he prided himself thereon--Mrs. Crosbie was a good woman, who certainly ought not to marry a rascal like Rebb. And that the Major was a rascal Gerald believed--perhaps on insufficient premises. For after all there might be an honest explanation of the Pixy's House mystery.
In the second place Haskins wished to remove Mavis from her prison, and as some time would necessarily have to elapse before he could marry her he desired to place her under the wing of Mrs. Crosbie. Since the widow was connected with Rebb, this seemed rather like putting Mavis into the lion's cage. But Mrs. Crosbie was the sole woman of Haskins acquaintance of whom he could ask the favor of chaperoning a young girl. Also, once Mavis was at the flat and practically beyond Rebb's reach--since he then could not hide her again--there would be no necessity for further concealment, and the Major would have to account to Mrs. Crosbie for the detention of his ward in Devonshire. The explanation--which would have to precede the marriage of Mrs. Crosbie to Rebb--could then be detailed to Haskins, and all things would be made straight. Of course, there was always a chance that they might be too crooked to be straightened. If so, it was the more necessary that Mavis should be placed in Mrs. Crosbie's guardianship, and that the little woman's eyes should be opened.
Bearing these things in mind, Haskins descended into the street to call a hansom, and proceeded to visit Mrs. Crosbie. She dwelt along with her mother in a palatial block of mansions, known as Ladysmith Court, and which had been erected by a financier of South African fame. The mansions were situated near Marylebone Road, and although the address was not ultra-fashionable the rents were high. When Gerald paid his cab at the foot of the marble steps, and surveyed the huge pile of redbrick buildings he reflected that Tod must be wrong about the widow's financial position. Only a rich woman could afford to live here, and there could be no money-grubbing idea in connection with the Rebb marriage, even though the Major had six thousand a year. Nevertheless it was strange that Mrs. Crosbie should marry Rebb, when he was so much disliked by Mrs. Berch, of whom her daughter was extraordinarily fond.
Mrs. Crosbie's flat was on the second floor, and Gerald was shown into a small but smart drawing-room by a neat maid servant. It was a true woman's room, luxuriously furnished, prettily decorated, and filled with all manner of useless knick-knacks and fancy china, and silver-framed photographs, and Japanese draperies, and finally with masses of flowers in many-hued vases. The scent of the blossoms and the perfume of a burning pastille made the atmosphere fragrant, but somewhat heavy, in spite of the rose-curtained French windows which opened on to a tiny balcony. Near one of the windows Mrs. Crosbie was seated, looking somewhat pale and disturbed, and facing her was an overdressed man, with white hair and moustache, who looked like a foreigner.
"How are you, Gerald?" asked Mrs. Crosbie, when Haskins was announced, and addressing him by his Christian name according to custom. "I have not seen you for ages." She shook hands and looked at him. "How brown you are, my dear boy. Allow me to introduce you two men. Signor Venosta, Mr. Haskins. Mr. Haskins, Signor Venosta, who has been amusing me. Do sit down. Tea will be in presently."
"Alas, madam, but I must depart," said Signor Venosta, who was a stout, oily-looking Italian of the tenor type, dressed in too gaudy a style to satisfy Gerald's fastidious taste. "I have been with you one hour."