CHAPTER XIV

When Mr Harris walked away he went on walking until he reached the Square. Varley Street runs into it at the right-hand corner. Mr Harris turned to the right, which took him out of the Square into Little Banham Street. Almost at once he turned to the right again, and entered Barnabas Row, which runs parallel with Varley Street.

Barnabas Row is one of those odd streets which are to be found here and there in London. They contain a little of everything, like a village street, and are in fact survivals from an earlier day when a great deal of what is now London clustered about the city as village or hamlet.

Barnabas Row begins with a modern house or two, dwindles into a line of old mews, part of which has been turned into a garage, and continues by way of some small shops, a rickety warehouse, and a row of very archaic cottages to its lower end, where it breaks into shops again. The garage is on the right, backing upon Varley Street. Mr Harris entered it.

A little later he was in conversation with Nurse Long in that L-shaped drawing-room with the wine-coloured velvet curtains, the Victorian furniture, and the handsomely framed mirror so faithfully described by Flossie Palmer. Mr Harris was leaning against the mantelpiece, and Nurse Long was sitting in a very unprofessional attitude on the arm of one of the rather uncomfortable easy chairs. Her cap was pushed back to show a line of reddish hair. Her rather pale and indeterminate features wore a decidedly unamiable expression. She was smoking a cigarette in a series of short angry puffs, and between each puff and the next she had something to say.

“You would do it.… I told you it wouldn’t come off.… She’s not that sort of girl … I told you she wasn’t.”

Mr Harris spoke in a cold, displeased voice.

“That’ll be enough about that! You make me tired!”

Nurse Long laughed.

“And what about me? I told you you were going to muff it. I didn’t want her here, but you would have it. It’s dangerous—I’ve said so all along. If anyone’s looking for her, you don’t want them coming here, do you?”

“They won’t come here,” said Mr Harris.

“Says you!” said Nurse Long.

“Why should they?” said Mr Harris. “That trail’s lost—years ago.”

She finished her cigarette and lit another.

“Lost trails can be found again,” she said. “Besides, how do you know that it’s lost? If we could keep track of her, so could other people. I never did trust Rhoda Moore.”

Mr Harris looked as if this amused him.

“Do you know, I seem to have heard that before.”

A little colour came into her pale face.

“And you’ll hear it again if I feel like it. Rhoda’d got her own game, and she’d only play yours as long as it suited her. I’ve always said so, and I’ve never come across anything to make me change my mind. What did she go dodging about all over the map for if it wasn’t to cover her tracks? You told me yourself there were years when she’d given you the slip and you didn’t know where she was.”

Mr Harris laughed. It was not an attractive laugh.

“You needn’t get excited. I knew all I wanted to know. If I’d wanted Rhoda or the girl, I could have found them—but I didn’t happen to want them—then.”

“Well, whether you wanted her or not, for all you know, Rhoda was double-crossing you. That’s my point—she didn’t go hiding like that for nothing.”

“She wanted to keep the girl. She was crazy about her. Queer how it gets people. Of course she’s a taking little thing—always was. But that’s neither here nor there. She’s a good business proposition, and that’s what interests me.”

Her voice was sharp with sudden anger.

“What’s the good of talking to me like that? If you think it takes me in, it doesn’t—so there! The beginning and end of it is that you’ve taken one of your fancies, and I’m telling you straight out that you’re asking for trouble. Go after any girl in London you like, but leave this one alone! Don’t try and mix business and pleasure, or you’ll come a most almighty smash. I don’t care who you take up with, but we don’t want any more girls running out of the house in a fright.”

“Chuck it!” said Mr Harris. “We’ve had all this out before! I’m not doing anything in the house, am I? No, my next move will be to write her a charming little note. Apologies for having startled her, reminiscences of dear Rhoda—and what do you think of a reference to her mother?—a hint perhaps of an old romance. That always goes down with a good girl—and you say she’s a good girl.”

Nurse Long nodded.

“Then she ought to be easy,” said Mr Harris. “As a matter of fact, Addie, you’re wrong about my fancy. She’s all right, and I’d sooner she was pretty than plain, but I’ve not gone off the deep end about her.” He laughed a little. “Is it likely? No, this is business—big business, Addie. In certain circumstances, my dear, my intentions will be strictly honourable. Meanwhile, I’m not committing myself. But I want her here, and I’m going to get friendly.”

Nurse Long laughed, a short disagreeable laugh. Then quite suddenly she shivered, knocked the ash off her cigarette, and jumped up.

“I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that!” she said.

Mr Harris did not remove his pale stare.

“You know, Addie,” he said, “some day you’ll vex me. I shouldn’t wonder if it wasn’t some day soon.” He shrugged his shoulders very slightly. “I shouldn’t if I were you. No, I shouldn’t.”