He shook at the knob, but the door was locked.
Then he rang the bell. No answer.
He rang again — this time harder. Still no answer.
He jangled it fiercely several times in succession, but without avail.
Then he went below.
There was a door which opened under the steps into the kitchen, protected by an iron grating, intended as a safeguard against burglars.
When he reached this he noticed that it also was bolted and that the kitchen windows were down.
What could it mean?
He rang the bell and then waited.
Finally, seeing that no one was coming, he turned and went back to his cab.
“I guess they’ve gone out,” he said apologetically to the individual who was hiding his red face in a loose tarpaulin raincoat.
“I saw a young girl up in that winder,” returned the cabby.
Hurstwood looked, but there was no face there now.
He climbed moodily into the cab, relieved and distressed.
So this was the game, was it?
Shut him out and make him pay.
Well, by the Lord, that did beat all!
Chapter XXV
Ashes of Tinder — The Loosing of Stays
When Hurstwood got back to his office again he was in a greater quandary than ever.
Lord, Lord, he thought, what had he got into?
How could things have taken such a violent turn, and so quickly?
He could hardly realise how it had all come about.
It seemed a monstrous, unnatural, unwarranted condition which had suddenly descended upon him without his let or hindrance.
Meanwhile he gave a thought now and then to Carrie.
What could be the trouble in that quarter?
No letter had come, no word of any kind, and yet here it was late in the evening and she had agreed to meet him that morning.
To-morrow they were to have met and gone off — where?
He saw that in the excitement of recent events he had not formulated a plan upon that score.
He was desperately in love, and would have taken great chances to win her under ordinary circumstances, but now — now what?
Supposing she had found out something?
Supposing she, too, wrote him and told him that she knew all — that she would have nothing more to do with him?
It would be just like this to happen as things were going now.
Meanwhile he had not sent the money.
He strolled up and down the polished floor of the resort, his hands in his pockets, his brow wrinkled, his mouth set.
He was getting some vague comfort out of a good cigar, but it was no panacea for the ill which affected him.
Every once in a while he would clinch his fingers and tap his foot — signs of the stirring mental process he was undergoing.
His whole nature was vigorously and powerfully shaken up, and he was finding what limits the mind has to endurance.
He drank more brandy and soda than he had any evening in months.
He was altogether a fine example of great mental perturbation.
For all his study nothing came of the evening except this — he sent the money.
It was with great opposition, after two or three hours of the most urgent mental affirmation and denial, that at last he got an envelope, placed in it the requested amount, and slowly sealed it up.
Then he called Harry, the boy of all work around the place.
“You take this to this address,” he said, handing him the envelope, “and give it to Mrs. Hurstwood.”
“Yes, sir,” said the boy.
“If she isn’t there bring it back.”
“Yes, sir”
“You’ve seen my wife?” he asked as a precautionary measure as the boy turned to go.
“Oh, yes, sir.
I know her.”