CHAPTER XVII.

OLD SINS AWAKENED.

Andria’s heart contracted where she sat in the pleasant, green-shaded room. The three colored women had made nothing of carrying the unconscious man into an unused room in the upper story of the servants’ quarters; Salome’s eyes had told Andria he must not be taken into the big house. And there in the spotless bareness of the darkened chamber Andria had sat ever since, like a woman who sees a ghost, waiting for this man who knew her to come to his senses.

For he knew her quite well. He had been a friend of Raimond Erle’s, had believed like the rest of London that the woman who was called “the lovely Andria” had been the true cause of his financial ruin. When he found what she was doing here, would he warn Beryl what a wicked woman she was who masqueraded as a governess and guardian?

She lifted her bowed head to look at him, and saw he had wakened from the heavy sleep that had come on him after his fainting-fit.

“Mrs. Erle,” he said again stupidly.

She walked over to him swiftly.

“I’m not Mrs. Erle; I never was!” she said, with a kind of passion. “My name is Andria Heathcote, but they call me Holbeach here.”

“But----”

“I know,” she cut him short. “I have begun again. I am Beryl’s governess, the girl who brought you home. She knows my real name, but I told her I called myself Holbeach for reasons of my own.”

“Governess!” he said, staring.

“I’m not fit, you think!” she said bitterly.

“I would not say so,” said the man slowly, and the blood came to his face.

“You think I’m bad--an--adventuress----”

“I think you ruined Raimond Erle,” he answered bluntly.

With a queer gesture she put her hand to her heart as if it hurt her. This man was of the world, would judge as the world; and he could tell.

“I----” She could not finish. A man who did not know her would have been a rock of defense, to whom she could have told everything. This man would never believe she was not in Egerton’s pay, to get rid of Beryl Corselas. He would remember the evil places, the evil company he had seen her in; would think it right to destroy Beryl’s faith in the only soul she trusted.

No! Let him think this was an ordinary house, she masquerading as an ordinary governess. Salome said it would be weeks before he could walk; let him stay here in this secluded room, where no noises would wake him. He was only another burden, not a help.

“Mr. Heriot,” she said quietly, “you will do as you like, of course, about airing what you know of me. But if you will wait you will see perhaps that I’m not all bad--not what you may think. Don’t tell Beryl that I was Andria Erle till you see reason to mistrust me,” and even while she spoke she knew he would see reason enough as soon as Beryl’s careless, indifferent tongue told the queer story of Egerton and the happenings in this evil house. No sane person would believe that if such things were possible in this every-day world the woman Egerton paid was not on his side in them. And what Egerton’s side was did not puzzle Andria, if it did Salome.

“I don’t go about blackmailing people,” said Heriot coldly. “Don’t look so nervous.”

“But you don’t think I ought to be in the house with any girl,” she said quietly, and he could not see the bitterness in her face.

“If you ask me,” unwillingly, “no! But God knows I can’t throw the first stone at you, especially when you take me in and nurse me,” but the old dislike of her and her kind was in his voice as he spoke.

“Then try and think kindly of me,” she broke out, and there were tears in the eyes he had always seen so hard. “I have begun again; I’ve put all that behind me.” With a gesture of loathing he understood.

“My dear lady,” he returned quickly, “don’t plead like that! It is no business of mine what you were. I see you here as Miss Holbeach, and--as for the girl, I am not her keeper.”

“No, but I am!” she retorted, for his tone hurt unbearably. “And keep her I will. I will send your dinner now,” she said, with a change of manner that said more for her self-control than her honesty; “it is nearly six o’clock; you must be starving.”

“Tell me,” said Heriot quickly, “who is the child? What did she mean this morning by saying she was frightened?”

He was not prepared for the look on Mrs. Erle’s face.

“Frightened!” she stammered. “What of--did she say? Not of those horrible cats?”

“If you mean jaguar cubs, she was playing with them. No; some one dumb, she said, who leered and mouthed at her--and I thought I saw a queer face myself, too!”

Involuntarily Andria did the worst thing possible.

“You were hurt and half-senseless,” she returned coolly. “You imagined you saw what the child romanced about.”

But he had seen her dismayed and confounded face, and knew she lied.

“That woman here!” he thought, as she left the room, shutting his eyes and seeing her as he had seen her in Raimond Erle’s house, covered with diamonds, surrounded by the worst men in town. “And with that innocent, fairy-tale sort of child and her queer pets. Why did she lie to me just now? And why are either of them here? This must be Flores or Corvo; one of the Azores, anyhow! And what is she about to let things frighten the girl?”

The whole thing made him thoughtful. Were there only the governess and the girl--where were the master and mistress? Intuitively the man felt there was something wrong. With a resistless impulse to see at least where he was, he managed to drag himself over to the window. Through the half-open jalousy he saw a small, stone courtyard, strong as a prison, shaded by a high building from the sinking sun. And as he stared voices floated up to him.

“Salome, she saw--you know something that jabbered at her! She told him. What shall we do?”

“Why’d she tell him?” The second voice was richer, more guttural. “Oh, my glory, missus! Mr. Egerton----” and the rest was in a whisper.

“I know. This man won’t help us, Salome!”

“No! An’ if Mr. Egerton he come back and find him here, de onliest thing dat’ll happen is de Death Trap.”

“What do you mean?” But the voice was not surprised, only appalled.

“Pray he don’t find out. Best keep Miss Ber’l away from him. If she tells him things, an’ he sees--he’ll go out fur to fight! And you knows, missus,” earnestly, “he might have friends. Dey’d be coming round asking for him. Onless you kin trust him to help us?” with a searching accent that was an entreaty.

“He’ll never help us. He’ll be against us, not for us,” bitterly. “You daren’t tell, Salome?”

“Den if he won’t help us, de sooner he goes de better. I can’t tell. Ain’t nothin’ to me, one white man! An’ if Mr. Egerton finds people spyin’ round here, it’s de end of me, sure!”

“He can’t hear anything up there?”

“No! No more’n ’Melia Jane does. Onless little miss screams!”

“She sha’n’t scream!”

Heriot drew away from the window, but not so far that he did not see Andria Erle cross the courtyard with a light, quick step that went ill with the grim sound in her voice.