Mrs Ford rose. Half-way to the telephone she stopped suddenly.
‘My dear child! It has only just struck me! We must leave here at once. He will have followed you. He will guess that Ogden has been kidnapped.’
Cynthia smiled.
‘Believe me, it takes Reggie quite a long time to guess anything. Besides, there are no trains for hours. We are quite safe.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely. I made certain of that before I left.’
Mrs Ford kissed her impulsively.
‘Oh, Cynthia, you really are wonderful!’
She started back with a cry as the bell rang sharply.
‘For goodness’ sake, Nesta,’ said Cynthia, with irritation, ‘do keep control of yourself. There’s nothing to be frightened about. I tell you Mr Broster can’t possibly have got here in the time, even if he knew where to go to, which I don’t see how he could. It’s probably Ogden.’
The colour came back into Mrs Ford’s cheeks.
‘Why, of course.’
Cynthia opened the door.
‘Come in, darling,’ said Mrs Ford fondly. And a wiry little man with grey hair and spectacles entered.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Ford,’ he said. ‘I have come to take Ogden back.’
II
There are some situations in life so unexpected, so trying, that, as far as concerns our opinion of those subjected to them, we agree, as it were, not to count them; we refuse to allow the victim’s behaviour in circumstances so exacting to weigh with us in our estimate of his or her character. We permit the great general, confronted suddenly with a mad bull, to turn and run, without forfeiting his reputation for courage. The bishop who, stepping on a concealed slide in winter, entertains passers-by with momentary rag-time steps, loses none of his dignity once the performance is concluded.
In the same way we must condone the behaviour of Cynthia Drassilis on opening the door of Mrs Ford’s sitting-room and admitting, not Ogden, but this total stranger, who accompanied his entry with the remarkable speech recorded at the close of the last section.
She was a girl who prided herself on her carefully blase’ and supercilious attitude towards life; but this changeling was too much for her. She released the handle, tottered back, and, having uttered a discordant squeak of amazement, stood staring, eyes and mouth wide open.
On Mrs Ford the apparition had a different effect. The rather foolish smile of welcome vanished from her face as if wiped away with a sponge. Her eyes, fixed and frightened like those of a trapped animal, glared at the intruder. She took a step forward, choking.
‘What–what do you mean by daring to enter my room?’ she cried.
The man held his ground, unmoved. His bearing was a curious blend of diffidence and aggressiveness. He was determined, but apologetic. A hired assassin of the Middle Ages, resolved to do his job loyally, yet conscious of causing inconvenience to his victim, might have looked the same.
‘I am sorry,’ he said, ‘but I must ask you to let me have the boy, Mrs Ford.’
Cynthia was herself again now. She raked the intruder with the cool stare which had so disconcerted Lord Mountry.
‘Who is this gentleman?’ she asked languidly.
The intruder was made of tougher stuff than his lordship. He met her eye with quiet firmness.
‘My name is Mennick,’ he said. ‘I am Mr Elmer Ford’s private secretary.’
‘What do you want?’ said Mrs Ford.
‘I have already explained what I want, Mrs Ford. I want Ogden.’
Cynthia raised her eyebrows.
‘What -does- he mean, Nesta? Ogden is not here.’
Mr Mennick produced from his breast-pocket a telegraph form, and in his quiet, business-like way proceeded to straighten it out.
‘I have here,’ he said, ‘a telegram from Mr Broster, Ogden’s tutor. It was one of the conditions of his engagement that if ever he was not certain of Ogden’s whereabouts he should let me know at once. He tells me that early this afternoon he left Ogden in the company of a strange young lady’–Mr Mennick’s spectacles flashed for a moment at Cynthia–‘and that, when he returned, both of them had disappeared. He made inquiries and discovered that this young lady caught the 1.15 express to London, Ogden with her. On receipt of this information I at once wired to Mr Ford for instructions. I have his reply’–he fished for and produced a second telegram–‘here.’