# The Goddess: A Demon/Chapter 20
### CHAPTER XX A JOURNEY TO NOWHERE

It was between three and four o'clock in the afternoon. Already the lamps were lighted. The fog still hung over the city. From the appearance of things it might have been night.
"To her!" I said to myself. I called a cab. "To Hailsham Road—the Boltons!"
I examined my possessions. Time pressed. Return to Imperial Mansions was out of the question. Of what crime I had been guilty I did not know; that there would be a disposition to make me smart for it I felt persuaded. I have lived in places where, as much as possible, a man carries his valuables upon his person, for safety. The habit has clung to me a little. As a rule I carry more money than, I believe, the average Englishman is apt to do. I had in my letter-case over £100 in notes, in my pockets nearly £20 in sovereigns; a sufficiency for my immediate requirements. It was enough to take two people out of reach of the storm.
​As we entered Hailsham Road I saw that a man was standing at the corner. Turning, as we passed, he closely scrutinised both the cab and me. The maidservant answered my knock. Miss Moore was in—Miss Adair out. Miss Moore was better, thank you. She would inquire if I could see her.
She showed me into the sitting-room. A bright fire was blazing. The apartment was redolent of a particular aroma, perceived of my imagination, perhaps, rather than my senses. It was an aroma I loved. I had never seen a room I liked so much. While I was considering that it might turn out unfortunately for the gentleman at the corner, should he show too pertinacious an interest in my movements, she came. With a little flutter, and a little laugh—the sound of which was good—she held out both her hands,
"Oh, I'm so glad you've come. If you'd been much longer, I should have come to you. Where have you been?"
"For some part of last night I was out in the street, watching your window."
"Out in the street! But—why didn't you come in?"
"It was too late to pay a call. Besides—I did make inquiries, and they told me you were in bed, and ill."
​"I was not very well. I believe I was light-headed. But I'm better now; my own proper self—not the person you have known."
"Indeed."
"And—I know." She drew back a little, looking down at her foot, which peeped out from under the hem of her gown, as if it were a curious thing—which it was, for beauty. "I know all that you did for me, how good you were."
"Then you know nothing."
She looked up at me with a sudden flashing in her eyes.
"I know all. I know that I didn't do it. Aren't you glad?"
"I never supposed you had a finger in the matter."
"That is strange. Appearances were all against me; you knew not what I was, or anything at all. I came into your room in—in a most disreputable way, with an impotent tale—which was none at all. My cloak was wet with blood. You have it now."
"I had it."
"You must have suspected me of at least some sort of hand in it; it would have been only natural."
"To me it seems that it would have been most unnatural."
"That's odd. I believe I'm suspected by all ​sorts of people; by some of the very worst. And you never doubted me at all?" She breathed a little quickly as if she sighed. "I am glad. So long as you know that it was not a murderess who came through your window like a thief, I do not seem to care what others think, which is absurd. For I had no hand in it, nor had you; nor had Mr. Lawrence's brother."
"But—who then?"
"That, as yet, I can't quite see. There was something strange about it; something like a conjuring trick, which I am not sure that I understood, even at the time. It was all done by some dreadful creature, the mere horror of whose presence drove me from my senses. I can't think what it can have been."
When, stopping, she stood before me, with shining eyes; her lips parted with a smile, so as to show the small white teeth within, I was at a loss how to enter on the subject of my errand. So, as usual, I blundered.
"Unfortunately, men are mostly fools, and blind."
There my tongue stuck fast. She looked at me a little anxiously.
"How do you mean?"
"There are those of them who cannot see the noses on each other's faces."
"Is that so?"
​"It's a fact. Some of them are idiots enough to believe that—that you knew something about that scoundrel's death."
"I see." Her face lightened as if she began to perceive my drift. "You mean that they suspect me of having murdered him. That's no news."
"But I fear they go beyond suspicion."
"Beyond suspicion? Do you mean that they can prove it?"
"Miss Moore! You are severe. I mean that—they may try to arrest you."
"Arrest me! Arrest me!" She drew herself straight up, her small fists clenched at her sides. "But they mustn't arrest me. You mustn't let them."
"I won't"
"How—how can you stop them?"
"I shall be only too glad to act as your guardian, if you care to try a trip abroad until they perceive their own stupidity."
"A trip abroad—with you."
The suggestion which the words conveyed, as she pronounced them, had not entered my thick skull. I was thunderstruck.
"Or—or I could stay behind; or come on by the next train."
"I don't see what good that would do me."
"I'd take care that they didn't lay their sacrilegious hands upon you."
​"I don't see how—if you weren't there."
I began to stamp about the room. I had forgotten that the fact of her being a woman made a difference in all sorts of ways. The situation was more complicated than I had allowed for.
"Miss Moore, I'm an idiot."
"Yes?"
There was something in the way in which she laid emphasis on the note of interrogation which robbed the word of its sting.
"But I'm not, in some respects, such an idiot as you might suppose."
"Oh."
This was said with a twinkle of laughter.
"Can you trust me?"
"With my life; with what is dearer."
"Will you do as I tell you?"
"Implicitly."
"Go upstairs, put your hat and coat on, and some things in a bag."
"How many things? In what sized bag?"
"Enough to take you to Paris."
"To Paris? Am I going to Paris? Oh, but I'm wanted at the theatre; they're clamouring for me."
"Let them clamour. Will you be so kind as to do what I tell you? Excuse me, Miss Moore, one moment! Do you mind my bringing a man ​in here, and making him comfortable, till after we are gone?"
"Please explain."
"Well, there's a man in the street who, I believe, is watching the house."
"Is he going to try to arrest me? Has he a warrant in his pocket?"
"Nothing of the kind. Only he might try to follow us to see where we went, and that wouldn't be convenient."
"Do you propose to hurt him?"
"Not a hair of his head! I promise you."
"Are you going to try on him the effect of a little reasoning? You certainly have, beyond other men, the persuasive manner. You might induce him to see things in a proper light. If you think it necessary, you can try."
Her words reminded me of what old Morley had said. I thought the sarcasm was a little hard. I winced.
"There is one other thing, Miss Moore. How many servants have you in the house?"
"One at present. The cook is out."
"Could you send that one out on an errand which would detain her, say, an hour. We don't want her to know that we left the house together—or indeed anything."
"You have an eye for details. I perceive that I'm entering on another adventure. If you ​will take a stroll for a quarter of an hour, when you return you will find her gone. I shall have my hat and coat on, and some things in a bag."
"Good. When you are ready, go out as softly as you can, without coming in here, and without taking any notice of me at all. Leave your bag in the passage; I'll carry it. Go into the Fulham Road, and stroll towards Walham Green. I'll come to you as soon as I'm able."
"You won't hurt him?"
"I'll not do him the slightest damage."
I opened the door for her to leave the room. She passed upstairs; I went out into the street. The man was still at the corner; he eyed me intently as I passed. I paid no attention to him whatever. Strolling leisurely, I crossed the Fulham Road, and, through some devious and dirty by-streets, I gained the King's Road. At an oilman's shop I purchased a dozen yards of stout clothes line. Looking at my watch, I found that I had been absent nearly ten minutes. With the same leisurely gait I retraced my steps. The man was still at his corner.
He was an out-size in policemen; all of five foot ten, well set up, with a carriage which denoted muscle. Fortunately for my purpose, his face did not point to a surplus of brains; he struck me as being as stupid as I was. I ​marched straight up to him with an air of brusqueness.
"You're from the Yard. Why on earth didn't you give me the tip when I drove past you at first? You saw me staring at you hard enough. I've been on a wild goose chase, all because of your stupidity; you shall hear of it again!" He touched his hat. "I've just come from the court; Inspector Symonds is detained; I'm on this job at present. Has anybody come out of 22 since I did?"
"A young woman, sir."
"A young woman. And you let her go?"
"It was only the servant."
"Only the servant! Which way did she go?"
"She came out into the road here, and then got on to a Piccadilly 'bus. My instructions were to keep an eye on the young lady. I wasn't told anything about the servant."
"Oh, weren't you? Then a pretty mess you seem to be making. Come into the house; I may want you. So keep your eyes and ears well open."
I started off at a smart pace. He hesitated, then fell in at my side.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but do you mind telling me your name? I don't seem to remember your face."
​I strode on, unheeding.
"Now, in you come. And mind what I told you about keeping your eyes and ears wide open."
I pushed him through the gate. The lady's wits had been on the alert; she had left the door open.
"Hallo! the door's open," I cried. "That looks suspicious. I shouldn't be surprised if the bird had flown. Servant-girl you thought she was. That'll be a bit of all right for you. Come into this room."
I led the way into the sitting-room. So soon as we were in, I began to undo the packet of rope.
"Just look out of the window and see if that's any one coming in."
He seemed as if he could not quite make me out, or the whole proceeding. But, after a moment's delay, he did as he was told. He went to the window. In buying the clothes line, I had tied a slip-knot at one end, so as to form a rudimentary lasso. So soon as his back was turned I had this over his head, tightening the knot: his arms were pinioned to his sides. He struggled fiercely.
"It is a plant, is it? —— if I didn't think it was! So this is your little game!"
"This is my little game; and, if you take my ​advice, my lad, you'll own you're beaten. Because you are."
He was. I ran the rope about him, pulling him off his feet with a jerk. As he lay on the floor, I trussed him hand and foot. I have had some experience in the handling of ropes, and can tie a knot or two. I was prepared to guarantee that, unaided, he would never move again.
"What are you going to do to me?" he asked.
"Nothing, my good man. It's surely more comfortable in here than out in the street in such weather as this? The unfortunate part of the business is that I am so anxious that you should not make a noise that I'm afraid I shall have to take measures to keep you still."
"You are not going to gag me?"
"I fear I must. But, to prove that I regret having to subject you to inconvenience, I am going to slip two five-pound notes into the breast pocket of your coat. When you're untied you will be able to drink my health with them."
"Drink your health! My God, I will!"
"Just so. But not with so much strenuosity. Such language should not be used."
I had bought, at the same shop as the clothes-line, some cotton wadding. I thrust as large a piece of this into his mouth as it could conveniently hold. Then, lifting him, I laid him ​carefully on the floor in a corner of the room behind a couch. As the couch hid him, and he could neither move nor utter a sound, it was possible that he might remain there for some considerable time without his presence being discovered.
I went out of the room. In the passage was a bag. Picking it up, I passed out of the house. On the pavement, just outside the door, was the lady. She was full of concern about the gentleman I had left behind.
"Have you—have you hurt him?"
"Not in the least. I have simply tied him up, so as to prevent him following us to see where we go."
I did not think it was necessary to say anything about the gagging.
"Have you tied him very tight?"
"Not I."
"Is he strong?"
"I never asked."
"But you could see. How big is he?" I told her. We were moving towards the Fulham Road. She repeated her little trick of drawing a hurried breath. "I wish I were a strong man!"
"You are stronger than any man I ever knew."
"How can you say such a thing? Am I as strong as you?"
​I sighed—in earnest.
"Are you as strong as I?"
"You choose to talk in riddles. You know very well that in your hands I should be like a baby. Where are you taking me?"
"I hardly know. I hope out of the shadow into the sunshine."
"Suppose a policeman—see, there is one over the road—were to come up now, and say I was his prisoner. What should you do?"
"I should explain that he was mistaken."
"Explain!" She laughed. "But you can't explain to every one, in the same fashion, for ever."
I was startled. Her question had a little startled me. To tell the truth, I was wondering myself where I was taking her. The Paris boat train did not start till nine. It was barely five. To stay in London for another four hours would be to run a risk. By that time, too, a watch might have been set upon the boat express.
We were walking towards the Brompton Road. I was just thinking of calling a cab, being only restrained from doing so by the doubt as to where I should tell him to drive us, when my attention was diverted by an exclamation from the lady,
"Mr. Ferguson! Look! There's Mr. Lawrence!"
​I glanced in the direction she was pointing. In front, just far enough off to cause the outlines to be a little obscured by the mist, was a figure I seemed to recognise. I quickened my steps.
"Lawrence! Philip Lawrence!"
Although his back was turned to us, I could not but suspect that he had seen us first. Because, scarcely had I spoken, than, darting into the road, he sprang into a passing cab without troubling to stop it, shouted some direction to the driver, which I could not catch, and in an instant was away. To pursue and leave the lady there was out of the question. I waited till she came up.
"Are you sure that it was Lawrence?" I inquired.
"Certain! I have only seen him once, but then under circumstances which make it impossible that I ever could mistake him. There is a portrait of the man upon my brain—life-size. Wherever and whenever I see him I shall know that it is he."
"It is odd that he should have run away."
I was puzzled; not only by his flight, but by the rapidity with which it had been performed.
"Yes, it is odd. What's that?"
A note of fear was in her voice. She came closer to me. I saw that her face had suddenly ​grown white. The hand which she had placed on my arm was trembling.
Through the mist, out there in the Fulham Road, there came the sound of a woman's laughter. It was that curious laughter which I had heard in Edwin Lawrence's room—soft, low, musical; yet within it, indefinable, yet not to be mistaken, a quality which was pregnant with horrible suggestion.
At the sound, for some cause, my heart stood still.