"I was thinking,"he said,"how oddly things turn out.So you have been down to interview Mr.Scarlett Trent for a newspaper,and he was civil to you!""Well,I don't see anything odd about that,"she exclaimed impatiently."Don't be so enigmatical.If you've anything to say,say it!Don't look at me like an owl!""I have a good deal to say to you,"he answered gravely."How long shall you be at the office?""About an hour -perhaps longer.""I will wait for you!""I'd rather you didn't.I don't want them to think that I go trailing about with an escort.""Then may I come down to your flat?I have something really important to say to you,Ernestine.It does not concern myself at all.It is wholly about you.It is something which you ought to know.""You are trading upon my curiosity for the sake of a tea,"she laughed."Very well,about five o'clock."He bowed and walked back westwards with a graver look than usual upon his boyish face,for he had a task before him which was very little to his liking.Ernestine swung open the entrance door to the "Hour",and passed down the rows of desks until she reached the door at the further end marked "Sub-Editor."She knocked and was admitted at once.
A thin,dark young man,wearing a pince-nez and smoking a cigarette,looked up from his writing as she entered.He waved her to a seat,but his pen never stopped for a second.
"Back,Miss Wendermott!Very good!What did you get?""Interview and sketch of the house,"she responded briskly.
"Interview by Jove!That's good!Was he very difficult?""Ridiculously easy!Told me everything I asked and a lot more.If I could have got it all down in his own language it would have been positively thrilling."The sub-editor scribbled in silence for a moment or two.He had reached an important point in his own work.His pen went slower,hesitated for a moment,and then dashed on with renewed vigour.
"Read the first few sentences of what you've got,"he remarked.
Ernestine obeyed.To all appearance the man was engrossed in his own work,but when she paused he nodded his head appreciatively.
"It'll do!"he said."Don't try to polish it.Give it down,and see that the proofs are submitted to me.Where's the sketch?"She held it out to him.For a moment he looked away from his own work and took the opportunity to light a fresh cigarette.Then he nodded,hastily scrawled some dimensions on the margin of the little drawing and settled down again to work.
"It'll do,"he said."Give it to Smith.Come back at eight to look at your proofs after I've done with them.Good interview!
Good sketch!You'll do,Miss Wendermott."She went out laughing softly.This was quite the longest conversation she had ever had with the chief.She made her way to the side of the first disengaged typist,and sitting in an easy-chair gave down her copy,here and there adding a little but leaving it mainly in the rough.She knew whose hand,with a few vigorous touches would bring the whole thing into the form which the readers of the "Hour",delighted in,and she was quite content to have it so.The work was interesting and more than an hour had passed before she rose and put on her gloves.
"I am coming back at eight,"she said."but the proofs are to go in to Mr.Darrel!Nothing come in for me,I suppose?"The girl shook her head,so Ernestine walked out into the street.
Then she remembered Cecil Davenant and his strange manner -the story which he was even now waiting to tell her.She looked at her watch and after a moment's hesitation called a hansom.
81,Culpole Street,she told him."This is a little extravagant,"she said to herself as the man wheeled his horse round,"but to-day I think that I have earned it."
