There is always love (22 page)

"It wasn't, Keith, and something tells me I shouldn't have told you now that they hold the jewels. What's so funny about that?"

"I laughed at your superactive conscience. Miss New England. Don't you realize that the contents of those lacquer 126

cabinets is no more a secret than is the location of the gold the U. S. has cached in Kentucky? Some towns have their Stone Face, their Continental Tavern, or their Biggest Manufacturing Plant in the State to boast about; this has Madam Steele's jewels. I heard of them the first time I stopped at the village garage. It's the ninth wonder of the world that they haven't been stolen long before this."

"Thanks a million for relieving my mind. I would hate to betray a confidence." She thought of Greg Merton's belief that she had repeated his sister's news about the sale of The Castle. Why think of it? That hadn't been a confidence. It had been a conversation and she hadn't repeated it. "Now that my conscience has been polished till it shines, let's join the others," she suggested lightly.

"Mewry Chwirstmas," a high childish voice shouted.

Startled, the group by the fire turned to watch the sturdy little figure in a one-piece nightie approaching. His short yellow curls were tousled; his eyes were like rounds of sapphire sky at its clearest; his cheeks were as rosy as the cheeks of a Delicious apple; his teeth between parted Ups were as softly white as his mother's pearls. Under one arm he clutched a timewom Teddy bear. From the other hand trailed a rope of green leaves. He laughed gleefully.

"I guess I su'pwized you, I guess."

"You guessed right, young Mr. Colton." Janet caught him in her arms. Snuggled her nose into his neck tiQ he squirmed and giggled. "Now, we'll surprise you. BUI, carry him back to bed, will you?"

"Just a minute, William. Let him come to me." Madam Steele held out her hand. "Come here, Billy Boy."

He leaned against her knee and smiled enchantingly up into the stern face.

*'Where are dose big dogs, Aunt Jane."

"Shut up in the kennel. Cash and Carry go to bed early. They're sleepyheads. Are you happy tonight?"

The child's dark brows drew together in a puzsded frown.

•'What's happy?"

"Oh, liking to be where you are and—and the people you're with and—"

"I know. I know.^' He wriggled with eagerness. "It's what nurse an' Libby were talking about. Nurse said she 'posed dat Miss Lindy would make Mr. Sanders happy tonight and Libby said dat 'twas time she made somebody happy, she'd kep' twee fellas danglin', long enough. What's danglin'?'*

His imitation of the voices of the nurse and Libby Hull, which had been perfect, set Linda's face on fire, started a ripple of laughter. Bill Colton seized his son.

"That's enough from you, young man. I can see your fin-

ish. You'll be one of those chaps who do 'imitations' at night clubs. Say good night."

With an arm about his father's neck, with the bear clutched under the other, the rope of green trailing from his hand, young Bill looked appealingly at Janet.

"Comin' to tuck me in, Muwer?" he cajoled.

"Of course I am, ducky," she said with a break in her voice.

Madam Steele's eyes followed them, came back after they left the room.

"I always think of the Holy Family when I see Mother, Father and Child together." She cleared her throat. "Ring for Buff to set out the card tables, Linda."

Keith Sanders joined Linda as she crossed the room:

"Who are the three 'fellas' you're keeping dangling, Lindy? I thought I was the only one with whom you stepped out now."

The autocratic demand, his assumption that she had given up all other men friends for him, set off a little flare of anger which she' camouflaged with a laugh.

"Really, Keith, you're not the only man in my life. Buff, the card tables, please." She was glad that the entrance of the butler prevented Keith's reply. Buff waited till Sanders had stalked away before he confided in a voice more suited to a conspirator than a butler:

"Mr. Greg phoned that no one was to wait up for him. Miss. Said he wouldn't get here till midnight. Will you tell the Madam, please? She might be prowling when he comes in and shoot at him. You know her Uttle ways, Miss."

"Yes. I know her little ways, Buff, I'll tell her."

She returned to the group by the fire. Madam Steele was talking while she impatiently tapped a book on the small table beside her chair.

"I liked the story very much indeed. The author has written to entertain, not to educate. That's what I want when I pick up a novel in the middle of a sleepless night."

Mrs. Bourne turned the pages and nodded approval.

"It looks entertaining. I'm like Alice in Wonderland. I like plenty of conversation. Is it a love story?"

"Yes. I like them. They are based on an invincible truth. The world may be convulsed with war and hate; the earth may tremble from the onward march of army tanks and heavy guns; our economic caldron may boil violently; empires may rise and fall, yet there is always love. Love between husband and wife, between parent and child, between friends, between boy and girl, love for the Church. There's been such a lot said about the modern angle for the writing of the so-called love interest that I've been doing a little research. I can't see that the expression of a lover's eyes, or the ca-128

ressing inflection of his voice, is an iota more casual than when I was young. The way of depicting it in print may have changed, but the way of a man with a maid hasn't."

"Lady, you've said it," Skid Grant agreed. ^The modem method can't give the old-fashioned one any serious competition. So help me, though, now that you have gone in for research and have the human heart under your microscope, I'll have to watch my eyes. Duchess."

Linda caught his swift glance at Ruth, saw her color rise in response. Skid and Ruth would be a perfect combination; she would bring out the best in him and he would add gaiety to her life, which had been rather colorless.

"One can see a lot of the game of Life from the sidelines, Skidmore. William, we've been waiting for you," Madam Steele announced as Colton and his wife entered the room. "I want you to play with me."

"Where's your white-haked boy, Greg, Aunt Jane? You scorn me as a rummy partner when he's around."

"Don't be foolish, William. Where is Gregory? Isn't it time for him, Linda?"

Linda delivered the message.

"Buff told me to warn you not to prowl tonight with your trusty gun."

"Does she prowl? With a gun?"

"One might think from your startled voice that you did some midnight prowling yourself, Sanders." Skid Grant's voice was edged with suggestion.

"Not while I'm in this house. When I'm once in my room tonight I'll not leave it. I wouldn't dare. With the two dozen doors in the upper hall identical, I'd be afraid I would stumble into the wrong room."

"You're right, Mr. Sanders. I've often thought they should be numbered," Madam Steele agreed with surprising affability, "but numbers smack so of an hotel. I couldn't do it."

"The planets in their stations list'ning stood"—^how often she had heard her father quote that lovely bit from "Paradise Lost," Linda thought, as from her bed at midnight she watched the sector of star-powdered sky she could see through the open window.

Listening to what? Certainly not to the perplexities and heart throbs of an atom like herself. Throbs was too tame a word to describe her feelings when she thought of Greg Merton. "There is always love," Madam Steele had said. Did it always bring this unbearable heartache with it? She had said, also, that the way of a man with a maid had not changed. She remembered Keith's voice when he had said, "I'd much rather you would adore me." She had sensed a

lack in it, had attributed the feeling to her old-fashioned ideas of what love should be. After all, perhaps it wasn't love he felt for her. She remembered Greg's gruff voice as he had declared that afternoon at the Inn:

"I wanted you, all right. But not for a secretary.*' After that, all had gone smash between them. Did he still believe she was here to influence Madam Steele in Keith's favor? Where was he now? Hie bells. The carillon Madam Steele had presented to the village church as a War Memorial was chiming on this Christmas eve;

**It came upon a midnight clear."

She listened with tear-wet eyes imtil the final rich chord died away. How still the world seemed after it. Not a sound outside or in. What was that? The boudoir door opening. It couldn't be—

If only her heart wouldn't pound so deafeningly. If she couldn't hear she could see, see a faint light in the other room. Was it Madam Steele's burglar back again?

Holding her breath in fear of making a sound, she swung her feet to the floor and waited. If someone were looking for jewelry he would have the setback of his life when he saw her collection of rhinestones. The light went out. Silence. Was the intruder waiting to be sure he had not been heard?

Straining her ears, clamping her lips between her teeth to steady them, inch by cautious inch she opened the drawer of the bedside table, drew out a revolver. In bare feet she stole to the threshold. She could see a dark shape moving toward the door. The sight drained her of fear. She touched an electric switch. Light flooded the room. The figure, back to her, stiffened.

"Did you knock? It's still being done, you know," she suggested jauntily. The man wheeled.

"Keith! KeithI" she whispered incredulously.

XXV

THE SUDDEN brilliance revealed the startled whiteness of the man's face; set agleam the silver ribbon around Linda's hair, the rosy polish of the nails on her bare feet; lighted the blue of her satin pajamas, picked out the steel of the revolver she had dropped to the floor.

"Keith!" she whispered. "Keithr

The color swept back to his face. He set his shoulders with a swagger, chuckled, whispered: 130

"Good lord, Linda, you frightened me out of a year's growth. I thought I was in my own room, discovered my mistake and was pussyfooting out when you flashed that light. I told them downstairs I bet I'd mistake the door, didn't I? And here I am."

"Is it your custom to enter a room, when you're a guest, with an electric torch?"

"Never go without one, anywhere." He laid his hand on her shoulder. "You're a knockout in that rig and you were lovely enough before to set a man crazy."

She shook off his hand. His lips were smiling but his eyes were rapier keen.

"Cut out the compliments, Keith. Leave the room at—" Her voice caught in her throat as through the open window in the bedroom drifted the scrunch of feet on snow. Gregl Greg arriving! Suppose he met Keith coming out of her room? "At oncel" The final word was a whisper. "Get outi Quick!"

"And if I don't get out?" He smiled with the superb assurance which always maddened her.

"Then I will." She opened the door. Someone was crossing the flagged floor downstairs, someone stepping lightly. Greg! She drew back quickly and closed it.

"Wait!" she whispered. "Don't go yet."

"But now I want to go." His smile was sardonic. He put his hand over hers on the knob, slipped out and closed the door behind him. Ear close against the keyhole Linda heard him say in a low tone:

"Confound it! I've done it, Merton."

"Done what?"

"Blundered into the wrong room. I don't know whose. Fortunately I didn't wake the occupant."

"if I find in the morning you've been lying, Sanders, I'll break every bone in your body. Get going. I'll wait here to be sure you make no mistake in the room this time."

"You're screwy, Merton. Had too much to drink, what? Oh, I'm going."

"Make it quick!"

Linda hadn't known that whispered words could be so savage. Greg knew it was her room into which Keith had "blundered." Would he hear if she moved? Could he see the Hght?

She tiptoed to the revolver, swooped it up. Switched out the hght. Crept into bed and shut her eyes. Held her breath. Listened. Heard only the snap of frosty twigs, the hiss of a meteor as it shot across the heavens. What was Greg thinking? That Keith had been here at her invitation? He couldn't, he wouldn't believe that, he—

A tap at the boudoir door. Who would knock at this time of night? No one. Her imagination had seized the bit in its teeth. Not surprising that the last few minutes had set it galloping. The sound again. Could it be Greg? He had said he would stand at the door till Keith found his own roonu Did he expect her to answer? She wouldn't. She was asleep. If questions were asked in the morning she would be wide-eyed with surprise, she had slept like a top all night. Why not, had she missed some excitement? That was her story. She wouldn't be questioned by anyone but Greg. He was the only person—

"Linda. Linda!" The low call came from the boudou*. He was there. Thank heaven, the revolver was tucked under her pillow. No dang:er of its going off. She never had loaded it. She was too afraid of the dam thing.

"Lindy." The voice came from the threshold. She lay motionless. Breathed softly. One uncovered foot was freezing in the cold air blowing in from the window, but she didn't dare move it. Someone looked down at her. She heard a hard-drawn breath. An insane urge to laugh possessed her. Good heavens, had her lips twitched?

The down puff was pulled over her bare foot.

"Good night my—" the husky voice broke abruptly.

From under her lashes she saw a figure on the threshold of the boudoir. Blackout. A door closed. Exit Mr. Gregory Merton.

She sat up. Snapped on the bedside light. Lived over the instant when Keith Sanders had faced her in the next room. Of course he had entered by mistake. There was no other believable explanation. That he had come because she was there was inconceivable. He wasn't that kind. She wouldn't have put it past fat Sim Cove—^her inner self had shrunk away from htm whenever he came near—^but she never had had that feeling about Keith Sanders, never until he laid his hand on her shoulder a few minutes ago—^then her heart had gone dead with fright. What reason could he have had for entering her room if he hadn't mistaken the door?

The question popped up at intervals during a day packed with hilarity, outdoor sports—a day all green and white and turquoise outside, all glitter and tinsel, all spruce-scented and poinsettia-crimson inside.