The Zeppelin Destroyer: Being Some Chapters of Secret History

“Bravo! old man!” Teddy said. “And I’ll help you – with every ounce of energy I possess!”

Yet scarcely had he uttered those words, when Theed opened the door and held it back for a visitor to enter.

I started to my feet, pale and speechless! I could not believe my eyes.

There, before us, upon the threshold, dressed cheaply, plain, even shabbily, and utterly unlike her usual self, stood Roseye – my own beloved!

Chapter Thirteen

The Leopard’s Eyes

For a few moments I stood dumbfounded.

I could scarcely believe my own eyes.

The figure before me was pale-faced and wan. She wore an old blue felt hat with wide brim which was most unbecoming, a faded jersey that had once been dark mauve, and an old black skirt, while her boots were cracked and bulging, and she was without gloves.

She smiled at me inanely, as she came across the room and Theed closed the door after her.

“Roseye!” I gasped. “Whatever does this mean?”

“Is it really you!” cried Teddy, equally amazed.

“It is,” she replied in a low, very weary voice.

I saw that she appeared exhausted, for she clutched at the edge of the table, so I led her gently to my chair wherein she sank inertly, with a deep sigh.

“Roseye,” I said. “Where have you been?”

She turned her gaze upon the fire. Her face remained hard-set. The expression upon her white countenance was one of tragedy.

Her chest heaved and fell, and I saw that her ungloved hands, grasping the arms of the chair, were trembling.

“You are cold!” I cried. And dashing to the cupboard I got out some brandy and a siphon.

She sipped a few drops from the glass I offered her, smiling in grateful acknowledgment.

Then, as I stood upon the hearthrug facing her, I repeated my question:

“Tell us, Roseye. Where have you been?”

In her great blue eyes I noticed a strange, vacant expression; a look such as I had never seen there before. She only shook her head mournfully.

“What has happened?” I inquired, bending and placing my hand tenderly upon her shoulder.

But, with a sudden movement, she buried her face in her small hands and burst into a torrent of tears.

“Don’t ask me!” she sobbed. “Don’t ask me, Claude!”

“Look here, old chap,” exclaimed Teddy, who was quite as mystified as myself. “I’ll come back later on. That Miss Lethmere is safe is, after all, the one great consolation.”

And, rising, my friend discreetly left the room.

When he had gone I fell upon my knees before my rediscovered love and, taking her cold hands in mine, covered them with hot, fervent kisses, saying:

“Never mind, darling. You are safe again – and with me!”

All my efforts to calm her, however, proved unavailing, for she still sobbed bitterly – the reaction, no doubt, of finding herself again beside me. With women, in circumstances of great strain, it is the feminine privilege to relieve themselves by emotion.

“Speak!” I urged of her. “Tell me where you’ve been, darling?”

But she only shook her head and, still convulsed by sobs, sat there inert and heedless of all about her.

As I knelt in silence, the quiet of my room remained unbroken save for the low ticking of the clock, and the soft sobs of the woman I so dearly loved.

Tenderly I took my own handkerchief and wiped those tears from her white, hard-set face. Then, for the first time, I saw that her left eyebrow showed a dark red scar. It had not been there on the last occasion when we had been together.

That mark upon her brow set me wondering.

Across her forehead she drew her hand wearily, as at last she sat forward in her chair, an action as though to clear her confused and troubled brain.

“Let me take off your hat,” I said and, with a man’s clumsiness, removed the old felt hat from her head.

As I did so her wealth of soft hair, which I saw had been sadly neglected, fell unkempt about her shoulders.

“That —that woman!” she suddenly ejaculated, half starting from her seat. “Ah! that woman!” she cried.

“What woman, dear?” I asked, much mystified at her words.

“That woman – that awful woman!” she shouted.

“Ah! send her away – save me from her – Oh! save me. Look!”

And she pointed straight before her at some phantom which she had conjured up in her imagination.

At once I realised that she was hysterical, and that some hideous ghost of her past adventure had arisen before her.

“Calm yourself, darling,” I urged softly, my arm around her waist. “There is no one here. You are alone – alone with me – Claude!”

“Claude!” she echoed, turning toward me and gazing blankly into my eyes with an expression which lacked recognition. “Oh – yes!” she added in a tone of surprise. “Why – yes – Claude! Is it you —really you?”

“Yes. I am Claude – and you are alone with me,” I said in great apprehension, for I feared lest she might be demented. No doubt she had been through some terrible experiences since last I had clasped her hand.

Again she sighed deeply. For the next few moments she gazed into my eyes in silence. Their stony stare thrilled and awed me. At last a very faint smile played about her lips, and she exclaimed: “Oh, yes! How awfully silly of me, Claude! How very foolish. Forgive me, won’t you?”

“Forgive you, darling! Why, of course,” I said, pressing her closely to me.

“But – but that terrible woman!” she cried, still terrified. “You won’t let her come near me again – will you?”