“I was twenty when I came here, ten years ago. I hadn’t a farthing. My father was an Austrian, but he died when I was fifteen. Since then I lived with my mother who had an annuity. She died suddenly, when I was twenty. I had no money and knew nothing. Then an artist who admired my figure said he’d pay me to sit for him. So I became an artist’s model.”
“And that was the position just before you met Trent?”
“Yes. I took a box of a room here. Ivor stayed here for a year, writing
After a pause she added:
“I knew nothing about men—then. I’d never met anyone in the least like him, in appearance, personality, or anything else. I was crazy about him. It was I who suggested he should write
“You mean, you didn’t see him again?”
“No, hardly ever.”
“But why did he leave you like that?”
“That’s a long story. But it wasn’t very surprising, do you think? Nearly every artist, when he becomes successful, is irritated by the people he mixed with when he was unknown. Still, there were special reasons in Ivor’s case. But that doesn’t matter.”
“And what happened to you?” Rendell asked as she remained silent.
She rose slowly, then leaned against the mantelpiece and looked down at him with an odd expression.
“What do you suppose happened? I was twenty-one, and an artist’s model. Times were bad, and got worse and worse. I starved sometimes—I’d have starved altogether if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Frazer. The world just knocked me about, rolled me in and out of the gutter. I got used to watching things happen to me—pretty grim things, some of them.”
“And you never even saw Trent?”
“I’d run into him in the street sometimes, but he avoided me. Anyway, I didn’t want to meet him.”
“All I can say is this,” Rendell said slowly, “the more I hear about him, the less I understand him. In fact I gave up trying to make him out long ago. But I would like to know this. How is he now?”
Elsa looked at him enigmatically.
“You’ll have to ask Mrs. Frazer.”
“But I never see her nowadays.”
“You will—soon.”
“What makes you think that?”
Elsa laughed.
“You’ll see her—soon. I suppose you wonder why I’ve told you all this.”
“Yes, in a way. But I feel you’ve a reason, though I’m damned if I know what it is.”
“Perhaps well meet again one day.”
“Are you going away then?”
“I only came to help Mrs. Frazer while she was looking after Ivor. I’m not here permanently. I’d better go now. I’ve a good deal to arrange.”
Rendell rose then stood looking at her intently.
“Well?” she asked.
“Rosalie said she felt she had always known you. I know what she meant.”
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad. She’s very lovely.”
They stood facing each other for nearly a minute.
“There’s something very odd about all this,” Rendell said at last.
“About what?”
“You—this conversation—everything!”
Elsa laughed.
“I’ll have to go now.”
Rendell held out his hand.
“Very well. Good night.”
“Good-bye.”
He went to the door with her, then began to pace slowly up and down the room.
A Sunday, three days later. . . .
Mrs. Frazer glanced upward through the basement window, then—seeing no one—she hurried into the passage and called up the stairs:
“Lily!”
She waited, then called again.
This time a voice from the top of the stairs answered her.
“Didn’t you hear me the first time! Is Mr. Rendell back yet?”
“No, Mum.”
“Have you been into his room to see?”
“He wasn’t there a few minutes ago——”
“See if he is now.”
A moment later Lily informed her that Rendell had not returned.
“Well, mind you tell me directly he does. I want to know the moment he comes in.”
“Yes, Mum.”
“What’s the time now?”
“Nearly twelve o’clock, Mum.”
With minor variations, this dialogue was repeated every hour till six o’clock—Mrs. Frazer’s agitation becoming more apparent with each repetition. Finally, at five o’clock, Lily was ordered to stand sentinel in the hall so that she could report Rendell’s return directly that event occurred.
Just before six, Lily hurried to the top of the basement stairs and called into the depths below.
“Mr. Rendell’s just come in, Mum!”
Mrs. Frazer ran up the stairs, pushed past Lily, then rushed into Renders room without pausing to knock.
“Mr. Rendell!”
“Hullo! Haven’t seen you for a long time.” Then, after a glance at her, he added: “What’s wrong?”
“He’s gone!”
“Who’s gone?”
“Mr. Trent!”
He turned to her quickly.
“Do you mean he’s gone without saying he was going?”
“Yes.”
“Well I’m damned!”
“But that’s not all. I’ve never had such a day! She’s gone, too—Elsa!”
Rendell stared at her.
“With him, do you mean?”
“I don’t
“Tell me what happened—exactly.”