It was Jeff Legge’s turn to be uncomfortable. Not at the menace of Johnny’s vengeance, but at her utter calmness. She might have been discussing the matter impartially with a third person. For a moment he lost his grip of the situation. All that she said was so obviously, so patently logical, and instinctively he looked round as though he expected to find Johnny Gray at his elbow. The absurdity of the situation struck him, and he chuckled nervously.
“Johnny!” he sneered. “What do you expect Johnny to do, eh? He’s just out of ‘bird’—that’s jail; it is sometimes called ‘boob’—I see there’s a whole lot of stuff you’ve got to learn before you get right into the family ways.”
He lounged toward her and dropped his hands on her shoulders.
“Now, old girl,” he said, “there are two things you can do. You can call up Peter and put him wise, or you can make the best of a bad job.”
“I’ll call father,” she said, springing up. Before she could reach the telephone, his arm was round her, and he had swung her back.
“You’ll call nothing,” he said. “There’s no alternative, my little girl. You’re Mrs. Legge, and I lowered myself to marry the daughter of such a squealing old hound! Marney, give me a kiss. You’ve not been very free with your tokens of affection, and I haven’t pressed you, for fear of scaring you off. Always the considerate gentleman—that’s Jeff Legge.”
Suddenly she was in his arms, struggling desperately. He tried to reach her lips, but she buried her face in his coat, until, with a savage jerk that almost dislocated her shoulder, he had flung her at arm’s distance. She looked up at the inflamed face and shuddered.
“I’ve got you, Marney.” His voice was hoarse with triumph. “I’ve got you properly … legally. You’re my wife! You realise that? No man can come between you and me.”
He pulled her toward him, caught her pale face between his hands, and turned it up to his. With all the strength of utter horror and loathing, she tore herself free, fled to the door, flung it open, and stood back, wide-eyed with amazement.
In the doorway stood a tall, broad woman, with vividly red hair and a broad, good-humoured face. From her costume she was evidently one of the chambermaids of the hotel. From her voice she was most obviously Welsh.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Jeff. “Get out, damn you!”
“Why do you talk so at me now, look you? I will not have this bad language. The maid of this suite I am!”
Marney saw her chance of escaping and, running into the bedroom, she slammed the door and locked it.
X
For a moment Jeff Legge stood, helpless with rage. Then he flung all his weight against the door, but it did not yield. He took up the telephone, but changed his mind. He did not want a scandal. Least of all did he wish to be advertised as Jeffrey Legge. Compromise was a blessed word—he knocked at the door.
“Marney, come out and be sensible,” he said, “I was only joking. The whole thing was just to try you—”
She offered no reply. There was probably a telephone in the bedroom, he thought. Would she dare call her father? He heard another door unlocked. The bedroom gave on to the corridor, and he went out, to see the big chambermaid emerging. She was alone, and no sooner was she outside the door than it was locked upon her.
“I’ll report you to the management,” he said furiously. He could have murdered her without compunction. But his rage made no impression upon the phlegmatic Welsh woman.
“A good character I have, look you, from all my employers. To be in the bedroom, it was my business. You shall not use bad language to me, look you, or I will have the law on you!”
Jeffrey thought quickly. He waited in the corridor until the woman had disappeared, then he beckoned from the far end a man who was evidently the floor waiter.
“Go down to the office and ask the manager, with my compliments, if I can have a second set of keys to my rooms,” he said suavely. “My wife wishes to have her own.”
He slipped a bill into the man’s hand, of such magnitude that the waiter was overwhelmed.
“Certainly, sir. I think I can arrange,” he said.
“And perhaps you would lend me your pass key,” said Jeff carelessly.
“I haven’t a pass key, sir. Only the management have that,” replied the man; “but I believe I can get you what you want.”
He came back in a few minutes to the sitting-room with many apologies. There were no duplicate sets of keys.
Jeff closed the sitting-room door on the man and locked it. Then he went over to the bedroom door.
“Marney!” he called, and this time she answered him. “Are you going to be sensible?”
“I think I’m being very sensible,” was her reply.
“Come out and talk to me.”
“Thank you, I would rather remain here.”
There was a pause.
“If you go to your father, I will follow and kill him. I’ve got to shoot first, you know, Marney, after what you’ve told me.”
There was a silence, and he knew that his words had impressed her.
“Think it over,” he suggested. “Take your time about it.”
“Will you promise to leave me alone?” she asked.
“Why, sure, I’ll promise anything,” he said, and meant it. “Come out, Marney,” he wheedled. “You can’t stay there all day. You’ve got to eat.”
“The woman will bring me my dinner,” was the instant reply, and Jeffrey cursed her softly.
“All right, have it your own way,” he said. “But I tell you this, that if you don’t come out tonight, there will be trouble in your happy family.”
He was satisfied, even though she did not answer him, that Marney would make no attempt to communicate with her father—that night, at least. After that night, nothing mattered.
He got on to the telephone, but the
