There was an unusually boisterous, quarrelsome crowd congregated in
front of the Poodle-Dog, and she turned aside into the middle of the
street in order to get past undisturbed. Some one called noisily for
her to wait and have a drink, but she never glanced about, or gave
slightest heed. At the curb a drunken woman reeled against her,
peering sneeringly into her face with ribald laugh, but Beth Norvell
pushed silently past, and vanished into the protecting shadows beyond.
The wide doors of the brilliantly illuminated Gayety were flung open,
the bright light from within streaming far across the road. Many of
its patrons, heated with liquor and the dance, had swarmed forth upon
the broad platform outside in search of fresher air. To avoid pushing
her way through this noisy crowd the girl swiftly crossed the street
into the darkness opposite. As she paused there for an instant,
scarcely conscious that the glow of the lamps reflected full upon her
face, there sounded a sudden clatter of horses' hoofs to her right, and
a half-dozen riders swept around the sharp corner, dashing forward into
the glare. She had barely time in which to leap backward out of their
direct path, when one of the horsemen jerked his mount upon its
haunches, and, uttering an oath of astonishment, leaned forward across
his pommel, staring down into her startled face. Then he laughed.
"Go on, boys," he cried, sitting erect, with a wave of his hand to the
others. "I 'll catch up within half a mile. I 've got a word to say
first to this precious dove fluttering here." He struck the flank of
his horse, causing the sensitive beast to quiver, his own lips curling
maliciously. The girl, panting between parted lips, never lowered her
eyes from his face, and the steady look angered him.
"Still hunting for Winston?" he questioned, sneeringly. "Well, I can
inform you where he may very easily be found."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, out at the 'Little Yankee.' It seems you were a trifle late in
getting him word, or else your fascinations failed to move him. You
must be losing your grip."
She neither moved nor spoke, her eyes--dark, unwinking beneath the wide
hat-brim--telling him nothing. Yet her hand closed upon the pearl
handle hidden away in the jacket pocket, and her lips formed a straight
line.
"I 'm damned sorry you did n't land the fellow, Lizzie," he went on
brutally. "He 's about the best catch you 're liable to get, and
besides, it leaves me a rather unpleasant job. Still, I thought I 'd
better tell you, so you would n't feel it necessary to hang around the
streets here any longer. Fact is, I 'm anxious to shield your
reputation, you know." He looked about carelessly, his glance settling
on the open doors of the Gayety. "Don't strike me this is exactly the
sort of place for one of your moral respectability to be discovered in.
Lord! but what would the old man or that infernal prig of a brother of
yours say, if they could only see you now? A monologue artist at the
Gayety was bad enough, but this, this is the limit."