CHAPTER IX
They found shelter in one of the big cellars of the Restaurant, and Miss Keane by degrees got back some of her courage. There were about twenty other persons in the same refuge, and she probably derived fortitude from their temporary companionship, and common danger. Tommy Esmond recovered himself very quickly, and hastened to observe the conventions.
"It is a queer time and place in which to make introductions," he remarked genially. "But even in times of peril, one should preserve the usages of good society. I don't suppose you know the name of your gallant rescuer. Let me make you known, in a formal fashion. Mr. Spencer—Miss Keane."
The beautiful Stella bowed her dark head, and the ghost of a smile flitted over her still pale face.
"I know Mr. Spencer very well by sight. When I have recovered my wits, I will thank him properly and prettily. Perhaps he will come and see us at my cousin's flat."
"I was bringing him on there to-night, as a matter of fact," explained Esmond. "But I presume all that is knocked on the head, even supposing we get out of this disgusting hole in reasonable time. Mrs. L'Estrange won't be in a mood to receive visitors, after this disquieting experience, I am sure."
"I am afraid you don't know Mrs. L'Estrange," replied the girl, with a little mocking laugh. Her tones were not yet quite steady, but she was rapidly recovering herself. "The card tables were laid before we started, and we intended to be back early. If we get out safely from this disgusting hole, as you call it, my cousin will resume her ordinary pursuits, as if nothing had occurred to disturb them."
Desultory conversation, the irresponsible chatter of the drawing-room kind, was almost impossible under the circumstances. And although Miss Keane did her best to assume a brave front, it was easy to see that she was inwardly quivering. At every roar of the guns, she shivered all over, and her cheek alternately flushed and then grew deadly pale with her inward terror.