"From Ida--I mean from Miss Dimsdale?"
"Yes, and from Miss Corsoon. Come into the pinacotheca and smoke."
The two conspirators went there and discussed the matter further. As Vernon had confessed, he had no clear idea in his mind as to why he advised the Colonel to wait. But, in some vague way, he fancied that this business of The Spider might occupy Maunders' time and prevent his paying his usual attentions to Lucy and Ida. In that case both the girls would probably feel offended. Then Vernon intended to bring them together in some as yet unthought-of way, so that they might mutually discover how Maunders was courting both of them indiscriminately. Lucy, of course, in any case would have nothing to do with the young man; but Ida's pride, taking fire, might induce her, on making this discovery, to listen to the Colonel's wooing. Everything in Vernon's brain was vague and undecided, but he faintly felt that if events happened in some such way Maunders might be eliminated as a stumbling block. All these possibilities, however, being still in the clouds, he did not reveal them to Towton. The conversation in the pinacotheca resolved itself into the two men consoling one another regarding their doubtful love affairs. Arranging to meet at the masked ball, they parted on more than friendly terms and with quite a feeling of intimacy. This was natural, considering what they had been discussing.
But the proposed meeting at "Rangoon" never came off. The unexpected happened, as Vernon might have guessed it would. But, with all his experience of life, he was never so much astonished as when a telegram was handed in at his rooms with the name of Lucy Corsoon attached. "Come to No. 34, Waller Street, West Kensington," ran the wire, "at nine o'clock. Trouble with M.----L. Corsoon."
"Now what the deuce does this mean?" Vernon asked himself.
Undoubtedly the letter "M." referred to Maunders, since there was no one else with that initial to cause trouble. But what the trouble might be, or why carefully-guarded Lucy Corsoon should be in West Kensington it was hard to say. Lady Corsoon rarely let her daughter out of her sight, and on this night both were due at "Rangoon" to enjoy the masked ball. But, as Vernon rapidly reflected, there could be only one reply to so urgent a wire, and that was to stand on the doorstep of No. 34, Waller Street, West Kensington, at the appointed hour. He glanced at his watch. It was after eight, so he had only time to drive from Bloomsbury to his destination. Vernon, for obvious reasons connected with his income, lived in old-fashioned rooms in that middle-class district, and was more comfortable than if he had lived in Mayfair, both as regards space and rent.
His domino and mask were lying on a chair, ready to be slipped into a brown leather bag. He had intended to drive in a taxi to Hampstead, because of the bag, as it was too much trouble to carry it by train, since in that case his journey would be broken. As he was thinking what was best to be done, the landlady's husband, who acted as his valet, came with the information that the cab was at the door. Vernon made up his mind at once to act the part of a knight-errant, in spite of being due at the ball, and, without troubling about the domino and mask, put on his overcoat. Unless something serious was wrong--and the telegram gave little information--he could return, get the bag and drive on to the ball. But if Lucy was in dire trouble he would not go at all to "Rangoon." Mr. Dimsdale would have to manage with The Spider as best he could. Always provided that that astute individual walked into the trap, which was doubtful.
All the way to West Kensington Vernon puzzled his brains as to what could be the matter, and why Lucy Corsoon should be in a West Kensington house. Ridiculous as it seemed, he entertained the idea that she might have been kidnapped by Maunders, and had contrived to send the wire to the lover upon whom she could rely. But then Maunders--as he had said--always kept on the right side of the law, and kidnapping was an indictable offence. But if he had acted thus rashly, as Vernon reflected with a thrill, he was simply playing into his rival's hands. "If I rescue Lucy, Lady Corsoon will certainly let me marry her out of gratitude," thought the young man.
However, the whole affair was so mysterious that until he saw Lucy there was little chance of a reasonable explanation. He therefore possessed his soul in patience until he arrived in Waller Street. Here he sprang out, and telling the cabman to wait, ran up the steps of a semi-detached house of the suburban villa residence style. The night was brilliant with moonlight, so he easily saw the number on the glass over the door, and also the long, dull street of similar houses. It was some minutes before the appointed time, but that mattered very little. There seemed to be no light in the house, and Vernon wondered more than ever why Lucy should be in so unusual a locality.
Shortly the sound of light footsteps was heard, and a light appeared, against which the numerals on the glass above the door stood out black and distinct. Then the door itself was opened cautiously, and the white face of a woman looked out. "Is Miss Corsoon here?" asked Vernon abruptly.