The Unsuspected

promptly. 'A terrible liar, Grandy. I don't know the man! I never saw him before! The story about my having met him and got married to him—it's not true! Every bit of it is just made up. Because I remember exactly what I did in New York those three days. And he wasn't in it. So it's all a big elaborate he!'

Grandy's black eyes narrowed.

Mathilda felt her temper rising. 'Just about the biggest mess of lies I ever heard!' she cried. 'Why, he had the bellhops and the hotel people all primed to say they knew about it. Even the minister, Grandy. And that letter to you! I never wrote any such letter. I

couldn't have. Because it didn't happen. And that license business in the wrong name. It's just a fake! It must be!'

'Hush,' he said.

'But you believe me? You do? Don't you?'

'Of course I believe you, Tyl,' he said. 'Of course, darling. Hush

She sagged forward, put her arms on his knees and her head down. 'But did you ever hear of such a thing? Why it's—' She wanted to cry.

'Extraordinary,' said Grandy. 'It's perfectly wild, Tyl.'

“I know!' she cried. 'I couldn't make a fuss! I had to get home! Grandy, what in the world can we do about it?'

'To think he fooled me,' Grandy said sadly. 'To think he fooled us all.'

'Oh, darling, I suppose you couldn't help that,' she soothed. 'The letter was so well done. I know. But it's a fake, just the same. Grandy, what I can't understand is, what's he doing all this for? And what shall we do? You'll throw him out, won't you?'

Grandy said nothing.

'What do you think?' she cried.

'Oh, poor child,' he said. 'I was thinking what a dreadful day you've had. Poor darling, it's a wonder you didn't begin to think you were out of your mind.'

'I pretty near did,' she confessed.

'It was wicked.'

'Yes, it was,' she agreed, her eyes smarting with a rush of self-pity. 'You don't know how confusing it was. I had to keep telling myself to hold everything and wait, because you'd fix him! And you will, won't you, Grandy?'

'Oh, yes, I'll fix him,' said Grandy. She made a little satisfied sigh. 'You see, duck, we did feel so dreadfully sad. And he seemed to feel the same. Quite as if he'd known you. I want you to understand—'

'Darling, I don't blame you.'

'But I blame myself,' said Grandy. 'To think we pitied him and let him stay! Of course, he must have supposed you would never turn up.'

'He thought I was dead. He thought I'd never come back to tell you he was lying.' She nodded.

'We must ask ourselves,' said Grandy, 'what he wants here.'

A car roared out the drive and off down the road. Grandy's pince-nez fell and dangled on the cord. 'Dear me, what was that?'

'A car,' said Mathilda impatiently. 'Grandy, what is it about Althea? Why did they go off together?'

Grandy said, almost absent-mindedly, 'You see, Tyl, Francis told me that you couldn't remember him.'

She was amazed. 'He told you? When?'

'As soon as you came. While you were upstairs.'

'Before dinner?' her voice squeaked.

'Yes, right away.'

'Then— Oh, Grandy, you guessed it was all a he. You did know.'

'Why, yes. I knew.'

Mathilda sank back, puzzled, bothered.

'What I assumed was that his disappearing with Althea was a part of his act,' said Grandy, shifting in the chair. 'He was your poor, flouted, forgotten lover, and of course he had to be comforted. Althea's done a good deal of that sort of tiling,' he mused—'comforting Francis.'

'I imagine,' said Tyl faintly. She thought, Althea would. Faint

color came to her face.

'Althea s impulse was to be kind,' said Grandy, 'and it was kind.'

She thought. But Althea's impulse isn't to be kind. That's not so. She said, 'Jane has impulses too. She climbed out her window just now to meet him in the garden.'

'Eh?'

'Oh, yes, I saw them.'

'Jane?'

Mathilda nodded. She thought, How many women does he need to comfort him? Her cheeks were hot. 'More part of his act,' she said.

'But what's the act designed for, eh, Tyl?' Grandy looked both shrewd and stern. 'I think we must know that. We must find out Yes. You see, I told Francis we'd—er—wait.'

'Wait?' Mathilda looked at him, surprised. 'Wait?' she cried again, indignantly. Yet she wasn't as indignant as she might have been.

Grandy said, 'Because I wonder what he's after, and I'd like to know. Yes. I'd like very much to know.'

'So would I.' Mathilda felt a little flustered, a little lost.

'You see, duck'—Grandy leaned toward her; his voice took on its old persuasive richness—'the thing's so delicate. We don't want it to be spread around. What fun the newspapers would have if you swear one thing and he continues to swear another. And to do with love and marriage. Oh, Tyl.' She looked at him doubtfully. 'And yet'— he changed his voice, watching her face—'I should adore to kick him out of here very fast and very hard in a spot where a kick would take the best effect, eh? Perhaps we will do just that. Yes, I think so.' Then he said crossly, 'What does the fellow want? Did he say anything at all, duck? Any little thing?'

She shook her head. 'I haven't the slightest idea,' she said. 'At first I thought he must have wanted to get in here to get close to you. Because he wanted something from you, Grandy. But I—' She shook her head again. She remembered Francis had said he was jealous. 'I don't think so any more. I just don't know.'

'A very mysterious article, our Francis,' mused Grandy. 'Now, what could he want of me?'

Mathilda moved her hands, pulling her robe together nervously. Tomorrow they would lack him out like a dog, and he would deserve it. She lifted her chin. Serve him right. She said aloud, 'Maybe you're right'

“Eh?”

'Maybe, if we waited, we could find out what he's after,' she said weakly. She thought, What am I saying this for?

'Let us go slowly,' said Grandy thoughtfully. She had a sensation of relief. They both relaxed, as if a decision had been taken. But Grandy had another thought. 'Naturally, duck, you dislike him. I could see, at the table —'

'Naturally,' she said.

“Therefore , if he annoys you in any way, if even his being here or anything he does—”

 Mathilda tossed her head. She thought, I won't let myself be annoyed.

 

Grandy said, with sudden, almost boyish pleasure, “But isn't it the damnedest thing!” and Mathilda looked at his twinkling black eyes and she laughed.

“It certainly is,” she agreed. “Oh Grandy, I feel so much better now.”

“Don't you let him make you think you've had amnesia,” scolded Grandy fondly. “Don't you let him shake you, duck. Or undermine your confidence. No. He shan't do that. Not if I know it!”

Grandy kissed her. He went out. The door fell softly closed. She stood quite still a moment. It's all right. It's all right. Of course, it's all right. She slipped off the rosy robe. Grandy believes me. Mathilda brushed her teeth very thoroughly and vigorously. She put herself to bed with great decision and firmness. It was almost as if she had to prove she was firm and unshaken.

Grandy's beautiful bathroom, a bubble of glass and luxury, had been designed and built for him by one of his famous friends, an architect of the modern school. It had been installed for some four years. Before that, Grandy had for his own the bath between his room and the garden room, which bath now served the garden room alone. The connecting door to Grandy's room had been locked and forgotten.

So it was that Jane, sitting in the dark with her eye to the faintest crack at the edge of her own door,k where she had just not quite closed it, saw Grandy come out of Mathilda's room, the gray room, go up toward the front of the house and enter his own place. She did not see him come out again, as indeed he did not, for she watched until dawn.

But Althea, gargling her throat, heard his tapping on the locked and bolted door.

“Grandy?”

“Slip the latch, chickabiddy. Are you decent?”

Althea slipped the latch. “I'm decent,” she said sulkily.

He stood in the half-open door, looking at her with a worried frown. “Oliver?”

“Oh.” Althea slashed at the rack with her towel. She had a white satin negligee pulled tight around her hips. The wide sleeves were embroidered in silver. 'We had a fight. A regular knock-down, drag-out.'

Tm so sorry' said Grandy. 'So sorry, dear.'

'Hell get over it,' she said. She looked angry to the point of tears.

'Was it because of Francis?'

'Such stupid nonsense!' cried Althea.

'He thought-'

'I don't know what he thought, but I can guess. Just because I wouldn't tell him what we were talking about.'