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Updated: June 3, 2025
He's been working too hard, and run away by himself for a little holiday to a place near here, Hammam R'rirha. He'll be sorry to miss you. I know how busy you always are, so I suppose you'll only stay a day or two." Crayford's keen eyes suddenly fastened upon her. "Yes, I haven't too much time," he remarked drily.
By the look in his eyes as he glanced around him Charmian saw that he was under the spell of Djenan-el-Maqui. "You must have tea, iced drinks, whatever you like," she said. "I'm all alone as you see." "What's that?" said Crayford. "My husband is away." Crayford's lips pursed themselves. For a moment he looked like a man who finds he has been "had."
Crayford's warning words are still in her mind. She never opens her lips. Her lover moves a little closer, and asks another favor. Men are all alike on these occasions. Silence invariably encourages them to try again. "Clara! have you forgotten what I said at the concert yesterday? May I say it again?" "No!" "We sail to-morrow for the Arctic seas. I may not return for years.
Frank, remembering the friendly reproof which he had just received, passed over the other officers of the Wanderer, and made a special effort to be civil to Crayford's friend. "Good-morning, Mr. Wardour," he said. "We may congratulate each other on the chance of leaving this horrible place." "You may think it horrible," Wardour retorted; "I like it." "Like it? Good Heavens! why?"
"If they do half of them will think you worth while." "Yes, but the other half?" "As long as you get there it's all right." The cab stopped at the stage door of Crayford's opera house. As they went in two or three journalists spoke to them, asking for information about the libretto. Claude hurried on as if he did not hear them.
She offered her arm to Clara as she spoke. Clara refused it. She took Crayford's arm, and clung to him. "I'm frightened, dreadfully frightened!" she said to him, faintly. "You keep with me a woman is no protection; I want to be with you." She looked round again at the boat-house doorway. "Oh!" she whispered, "I'm cold all over I'm frozen with fear of this place. Come into the yard!
But he was a sharp man and a man on the look-out for talent. Apparently this Claude Heath had some talent, not much developed perhaps as yet. But then he was young. In Claude's appearance and personality there was something arresting. "Looks as if there might be something there," was Crayford's silent comment. And then he admired Charmian and thought her "darned cute."
He stopped, trembling, body and soul, under the hold that his own terrible superstition had fastened on him. Crayford drew back in silent horror. Wardour noticed the action he resented it he appealed, in defense of his one cherished conviction, to Crayford's own experience of him. "Look at me!" he cried.
It would have been plain, only too plain, to far less observant eyes than Mrs. Crayford's that no salutary impression had been produced on her. She had ceased to defend her own way of thinking, she spoke of it no more but there was the terrible conviction of Frank's death at Wardour's hands rooted as firmly as ever in her mind! Discouraged and distressed, Mrs.
Crayford's face, and suddenly became dimmed with tears. "If I only dared tell you!" she murmured. "I hold so to your good opinion of me, Lucy and I am so afraid of losing it." Mrs. Crayford's manner changed. Her eyes rested gravely and anxiously on Clara's face. "You know as well as I do that nothing can shake my affection for you," she said. "Do justice, my child, to your old friend.
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