Ennison stood by her side. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile pa.s.sed from her lips. She had made her way since then a little further into the heart of life. Yet even now there were so many things untouched, so much to be learned. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. The great untrodden world was before her still, into which no one can pa.s.s alone. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her. Sorrows and danger and disappointment she had known.

Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand. She glanced into her companion's face, and she saw there strange things. For a moment her heart seemed to stop beating. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano.

"I am sure," she said, "that you mean to stay until you are turned out. Do you see the time?"

"I may come and see you?" Ennison asked, as his hand touched hers.

"Yes," she answered, looking away. "Some afternoon."

_Chapter XIX_

"THIS IS NOT THE END"

"I said some afternoon," she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, "but I certainly did not mean to-day."

"I met you accidentally," he reminded her. "Our ways happened to lie together."

"And our destinations also, it seems," she added, smiling.

"You asked me in to tea," he protested.

"In self-defence I had to," she answered. "It is a delightful day for walking, but a great deal too cold to be standing on the pavement."

"Of course," he said, reaching out his hand tentatively for his hat, "I could go away even now. Your reputation for hospitality would remain under a cloud though, for tea was distinctly mentioned."

"Then you had better ring the bell," she declared, laughing. "The walk has given me an appet.i.te, and I do not feel like waiting till five o'clock. I wonder why on earth the curtains are drawn. It is quite light yet, and I want to have one more look at that angry red sun.

Would you mind drawing them back?"

Ennison sprang up, but he never reached the curtains. They were suddenly thrown aside, and a man stepped out from his hiding-place. A little exclamation of surprise escaped Ennison. Anna sprang to her feet with a startled cry.

"You!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here? How dare you come to my rooms!"

The man stepped into the middle of the room. The last few months had not dealt kindly with Mr. Montague Hill. He was still flashily dressed, with much obvious jewellery and the shiniest of patent boots, but his general bearing and appearance had altered for the worse. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. He had the appearance of a man who has known no rest for many nights. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely a.s.sertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness.

"Why not?" he exclaimed. "I have the right to be here. I hid because there was no other way of seeing you. I did not reckon upon--him."

He pointed to Ennison, who in his turn looked across at Anna.

"You wish me to stay?" he asked, in a low tone.

"I would not have you go for anything," she answered.

"Nevertheless," Hill said doggedly, "I am here to speak to you alone."

"If you do not leave the room at once," Anna answered calmly, "I shall ring the bell for a policeman."

He raised his hand, and they saw that he was holding a small revolver.

"You need not be alarmed," he said. "I do not wish to use this. I came here peaceably, and I only ask for a few words with you. But I mean to have them. No, you don't!"

Ennison had moved stealthily a little nearer to him, and looked suddenly into the dark muzzle of the revolver.

"If you interfere between us," the man said, "it will go hardly with you. This lady is my wife, and I have a right to be here. I have the right also to throw you out."

Ennison obeyed Anna's gesture, and was silent.

"You can say what you have to say before Mr. Ennison, if at all," Anna declared calmly. "In any case, I decline to see you alone."

"Very well," the man answered. "I have come to tell you this. You are my wife, and I am determined to claim you. We were properly married, and the certificate is at my lawyer's. I am not a madman, or a pauper, or even an unreasonable person. I know that you were disappointed because I did not turn out to be the millionaire. Perhaps I deceived you about it. However, that's over and done with. I'll make any reasonable arrangement you like. I don't want to stop your singing.

You can live just about how you like. But you belong to me--and I want you."

He paused for a moment, and then suddenly continued. His voice had broken. He spoke in quick nervous sentences.

"You did your best to kill me," he said. "You might have given me a chance, anyway. I'm not such a bad sort. You know--I worship you. I have done from the first moment I saw you. I can't rest or work or settle down to anything while things are like this between you and me.

I want you. I've got to have you, and by G.o.d I will."

He took a quick step forward. Anna held out her hand, and he paused.

There was something which chilled even him in the cold impa.s.sivity of her features.

"Listen," she said. "I have heard these things from you before, and you have had my answer. Understand once and for all that that answer is final. I do not admit the truth of a word which you have said. I will not be persecuted in this way by you."

"You do not deny that you are my wife," he asked hoa.r.s.ely. "You cannot! Oh, you cannot."

"I have denied it," she answered. "Why will you not be sensible? Go back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris and this absurd delusion of yours."

"Delusion!" he muttered, glaring at her. "Delusion!"

"You can call it what you like," she said. "In any case you will never receive any different sort of answer from me. Stay where you are, Mr.

Ennison."

With a swift movement she gained the bell and rang it. The man's hand flashed out, but immediately afterwards an oath and a cry of pain broke from his lips. The pistol fell to the floor. Ennison kicked it away with his foot.

"I shall send for a policeman," Anna said, "directly my maid answers the bell--unless you choose to go before."

The man made no attempt to recover the revolver. He walked unsteadily towards the door.

"Very well," he said, "I will go. But," and he faced them both with a still expressionless glance, "this is not the end!"

Anna recovered her spirits with marvellous facility. It was Ennison who for the rest of his visit was quiet and subdued.

"You are absurd," she declared. "It was unpleasant while it lasted, but it is over--and my toasted scones are delicious. Do have another."

"It is over for now," he answered, "but I cannot bear to think that you are subject to this sort of thing."