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Updated: June 5, 2025
The blatant, hated Len Fogarty, always shouting defiance from his father's milk-wagon! Then forward sprang Cecelia Anne. Not for all the riches of the earth would she have beaten Jimmie, but not for all the glory of heaven would she allow any one else to beat him. And so by an easy spectacular ten seconds, she outran Len Fogarty.
Still the sailor guarded the door in that port alleyway; but now it stood wide, and Cecelia Brooke was on its threshold, conversing guardedly with the surgeon. Even as Lanyard caught sight of them, the latter bowed and turned aft, while the girl retreated and refastened the door on its hook.
Looking over the list, he singled out Brutgal, if it were the Cecelia, and Beresford, if it were the Bermudian. Beresford was devoted to the lovely and somewhat severe Mrs. Claigh. He might be more than willing to suppress some event in his patchwork past. Gard threw the lists from him angrily. After all, what right had he to interfere?
I am fortunately able to prove the best of alibis.... So then," said Lanyard, smiling, "it would appear that, though we met ten minutes ago for the first time and I have yet to know mademoiselle by name we are allies in a common cause." "My name is Brooke Cecelia Brooke," she said quietly "if it matters. But why 'allies'?" "It appears we own a common enemy.
Hawtry crossed over into the light and addressed her guest. "I can't have you thinking badly of Jimmie," she began, "or of us, for allowing him to practically spend the baby's income. Every one of the things on that list mark a stage in Cecelia Anne's progress away from priggishness and toward health.
Half inclined to commit the imprudence of sending a name up to Miss Brooke any name but Andre Duchemin, Michael Lanyard, or Anthony Ember together with a message artfully worded to fix her interest without giving comfort to the enemy, should it chance to go astray, the adventurer hesitated by the desk; and of a sudden was satisfied that such a move would be not only injudicious but waste of time; for, now that he paused to think of it, he surmised that the young woman "young and good-looking", on Walker's word who had called to see Colonel Stanistreet was none other than this same Cecelia Brooke.
Aware that Cecelia Brooke was listening all the while she seemed to be enchanted with the patter of Mr. Revel and the less vapid observations of Velasco, Lanyard sought to shunt personalities from himself. "And now a princess!" "Did you not know I had married? Yes, a princess of Spain and with a castle there, if you must know." "Quite a change of atmosphere from Berlin," he remarked.
The car stopped, a narrow-chested door slid open, a gush of hectic light coloured morbidly the faces of alighting passengers, a blare of syncopated noise singularly unmusical saluted the astonished ears of Lanyard and Cecelia Brooke. She met his gaze with a smiling moue and slightly lifted eyebrows. "More than we bargained for?" he laughed.
Tardily Lanyard repented of that impulse which had moved him to bestow his one weapon upon Cecelia Brooke. The night air had a biting edge. A chill rain had begun to drizzle down in minute globules of mist, which both lent each street light its individual nimbus of gold and dulled deceitfully the burnished asphaltum, rendering its surface greasy and treacherous.
How had its bandages come to be unwrapped? Not in struggles before being placed hors de combat, for he had never had a chance to resist. Had his assailant, then, unwrapped it subsequently? If so, with what end in view? Why had this Miss Cecelia Brooke, surprising the thug at his work, joined battle with him so bravely and so madly without calling for help?
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