“But, Addie, you don’t suppose I asked them here? You’ve got to be reasonable about this. The girl was unfortunate; but if we hadn’t picked her up we should have been in a box if these men had come here. It strikes me that we’re in the greatest luck.”
“But why did the men come at all? That man Walsh doesn’t go to people’s houses; he’s a malevolent old fellow; he has the most dreadful eyes I ever saw. And your friend Wingfield, how often does he call here in the course of the year? I doubt if he was ever here before. You told him I was away, didn’t you? Please answer me that!”
“Why, yes, Addie, I believe I did,” and he paused blankly. There was no doubt but that he had told Wingfield of Mrs. Craighill’s absence that morning when he fully believed that she had gone; but that fact only added plausibility to Wingfield’s story that he and Walsh had been driving and had dropped in for a brief respite from the storm. Wingfield did the most unaccountable things; this was undoubtedly one of them. Having said as much, he felt that the matter might be dropped, but the evidence in rebuttal was immediately thrust upon him. Mrs. Craighill picked up four visiting cards and held them out for his inspection.
“They asked for your father and me at the door—I called the maid upstairs to ask. Why do you suppose they did that if they just came in here to get warm or to see you?”
“My dear Addie, it’s as plain as daylight that they were driving; that Wingfield—it’s just like him—got cold, and Walsh suggested that they come into the house to get warm; and Wingfield—well, you simply don’t know Dick—he’s the most formal person alive. And when you come to think of it he did the right thing in asking for everybody. If we were all in Egypt and Dick stopped at the house to warm himself he would leave his cards. He would have a feeling about it; Dick’s a fellow of nice feeling; and besides, it would only be decent to the servants. Please don’t worry over this! You’re attributing motives to those fellows that are beneath them. Do you suppose they would have turned up here to-night if they had thought you and I were just sitting here playing checkers together. Not on your life, Addie! And assuming for an instant the preposterous idea that they came thinking we were alone, why, they must have felt pretty cheap when they found that you had a young lady guest in the house. There’s nothing to trouble over, I tell you.”
“I like your cheerful way of disposing of the whole business! It doesn’t seem to me so easy as you think. Did you ever hear of those men going calling together before? I don’t believe you ever did.”
“Well, there are lots of things I don’t know about Walsh, and Wingfield, too, for that matter. Dick’s always studying somebody. He’s as bad as Fanny for fads, though he chases his in gum shoes; and just now he thinks he’s struck a new type in Walsh. Oh, Lord, but it’s funny! It’s a cinch that Walsh has Dick under the microscope. Those fellows going sleigh-riding is too sweetly pastoral for any use. It’s enough to make Walsh’s thoroughbreds laugh.”
Mrs. Craighill shrugged her shoulders and her eyes brightened with a rekindling of her anger, coloured now by what seemed to be a genuine fear.
“Wayne,” she cried, “what is there about that man? He’s an evil being of some kind. That first time I saw him at Fanny’s he affected me just as he did to-night. I have a feeling of suffocation, of smothering, when he looks at me and those little eyes of his dance like devils.”
“Oh, now, Addie, that’s coming pretty rough! Walsh is a bully old fellow. He can’t help not being handsome, but he’s the real thing; there’s no punk in Tom Walsh. He’s a rare fellow and he’s been mighty kind to me. You’d better forget all this—it’s all right. That girl can be relied on—she isn’t going to blab—why should she? And Walsh and Wingfield are not out on snowy nights looking for a chance to injure anybody. Don’t work yourself into a morbid frame of mind about these things; we all had a good time and let it go at that. Why, old Tom Walsh made a point of talking to you; he isn’t the fellow to bore himself, I can tell you!”