The Lion's Mouse

								

Minutes passed: fifteen minutes; twenty; thirty. The girl was white as
ashes, and dark shadows lay under her eyes. "All hope is over!" she
said, as Sands glanced at his watch, when they had stood for
three-quarters of an hour. "Some terrible thing has prevented him from
meeting me. I don't know what's going to become of me now!"

II
THE NET

"You made no plan what to do if your friend didn't turn up?" Roger
enquired. "Have you any other friends in Chicago?"
"Not one."
"Have you ever lived here, or stayed here?"
"No."
If he had now been capable of suspecting her, all his first suspicions
of Miss Beverley White would have marshalled themselves in his brain.
Nothing had happened during the whole journey to justify her fantastic
story of mysterious danger. As for the wonderful envelope, who could
tell that it didn't contain blank paper? But Sands had got beyond this
stage. If he were a fool, he asked to be nothing better.
"Is that friend you talk of more than a friend?"
"No, only a person I trusted for reasons I can't tell you."
"I see. And you don't know what will become of you since he's failed
you, and you're turned adrift in a strange town?"
"I don't know at all. I feel stunned--as if it didn't matter."
"It does matter to a girl like you, left alone without friends in a big
city where you're a stranger. Have you money?"
"I had enough and more than enough for my journey here, enough to pay
you back for all you've done. I expected to get more money, and to be
looked after in Chicago. Perhaps I can find work."
"Do you think after all that's passed I can go coolly on my way leaving
you alone in Chicago? I may be a fool, but I have another proposal to
make." He paused.
She looked up as if startled.
"What do you say to marrying me and going on to New York as my wife?"
For a minute he thought she was going to faint. She seemed suddenly to
become limp. She swayed a little on her feet, and he caught her arm.
"You're tired out, standing so long," he exclaimed.
"No, it's not that. Forgive me. It was almost too much, finding out the
height of your goodness. Yet, 'height' is the word!"
"You'll marry me, then!" he cried.
"No," the girl answered, "I thank you with my whole heart, but I can't."
"Why ... why?" he stammered. "Unless you're married already."
"I'm not married. No man has ever been anything to me. I swear that to
you! But I can't tell you any more about myself."
Roger did not speak for a minute. At last he said:
"See here, you and I have got to talk. We can't do that where we are,
with people jostling us this way and that. There's one thing certain.
However this ends, I'm not going to leave you alone in Chicago. We've
got plenty of time. Will you let me take you to a quiet restaurant? We
can thrash matters out across the table."
"Very well," she agreed.
Roger knew Chicago. When he had arranged to have his luggage put in safe