Willy Cameron glanced at his watch.  He had discounted the worst before it came, and unlike the older man, was ready for action.  It was he who took hold of the situation.

“Order a car, Mr. Cardew, and go to the hotels,” he said.  “And if you will drop me downtown—­I’ll tell you where—­I’ll follow up something that has just occurred to me.”

CHAPTER XXIX

In one way Howard had been correct in his surmise.  It had been Lily’s idea to go to a hotel until she had made some definite plan.  She would telephone Louis then, and the rest—­she did not think beyond that.  She called a taxi and took a small bag with her, but in the taxicab she suddenly realized that she could not go to any of the hotels she knew.  She would be recognized at once.

She wanted a little time to herself, time to think.  And before it was discovered that she had left Cardew Way she must see Louis, and judge again if he intended to act in good faith.  While he was with her, reiterating his promises, she believed him, but when he was gone, she always felt, a curious doubt.

She thought then of finding a quiet room somewhere, and stopping the cab, bought a newspaper.  It was when she was searching for the “rooms for rent” column that she saw he had been attacked and slightly injured.

They had got him.  He had said that if they ever suspected him of playing them false they would get him, and now they had done so.  That removed the last doubt of his good faith from her mind.  She felt indignation and dismay, and a sort of aching consciousness that always she brought only trouble to the people who cared for her; she felt that she was going through her life, leaving only unhappiness behind her.

He had suffered, and for her.

She told the chauffeur to go to the Benedict Apartments, and sitting back read the notice again.  He had been attacked by two masked men and badly bruised, after putting up a terrific resistance.  They would wear masks, of course.  They loved the theatrical.  Their very flag was theatrical.  And he had made a hard fight That was like him, too; he was a fighter.

She was a Cardew, and she loved strength.  There were other men, men like Willy Cameron, for instance, who were lovable in many ways, but they were not fighters.  They sat back, and let life beat them, and they took the hurt bravely and stoically.  But they never got life by the throat and shook it until it gave up what they wanted.

She had never been in a bachelors’ apartment house before, and she was both frightened and self-conscious.  The girl at the desk eyed her curiously while she telephoned her message, and watched her as she moved toward the elevator.  “Ever seen her before?” she said to the hall boy.

“No.  She’s a new one.”

“Face’s kind of familiar to me,” said the telephone girl, reflectively.  “Looks worried, doesn’t she?  Two masked men!  Huh!  All Sam took up there last night was a thin fellow with a limp.”