Her Forbidden Knight Read Online Free PDF Page A

He himself had introduced Knowlton to the Lamartine, and he knew nothing whatever about him, having picked him up in a Broadway café by accident. But, as was quite right for a palmist and clairvoyant, he trusted to Providence for justification of his action.
    From that day forth Knowlton took his place and held it. In spite of his superior education and breeding, he seemed exactly to fit, and within a week had earned quite a reputation as a good fellow. He always had money, and leisure and willingness to spend it.
    Nothing came of the encounter with Sherman. A day or two afterward they had met in the billiard room. Dumain and Knowlton were playing.
    “Take a cue, Sherman?” Dumain had said.
    “If Knowlton doesn’t object,” Sherman replied.
    “Not I,” laughed Knowlton. “You can’t bluff in billiards, you know. It’s either hit or miss.”
    The significance of this remark was not lost on Sherman.
    No one knew anything of the nature of Knowlton’s occupation, or even if he had any. He was in the Lamartine at all hours of the day, and he always had leisure to perform any favor or meet any engagement.
    He had one habit that aroused some comment. Two or three times each week he sent a telegram at Lila’s desk. It always bore the same address.
    Laughingly alluding to their first meeting, he always insisted on paying with a ten-dollar bill, and the state of Lila’s cash drawer became a standing joke between them. Lila wondered a little about the mysterious telegrams; in fact, she wondered about everything connected with him—and knew nothing.
    She even wondered why she was interested in him; why she looked forward to the sight of his face and the sound of his voice. For her innocence was that of inexperience and ignorance—the purest if not the best. It led her into a score of charming deceptions, of which, however, she herself was always the victim.
    One of these had to do with the bouquet of roses.
    In the first place, no girl likes to receive flowers unless she knows who gives them to her. So, on the first appearance of the glorious vase, Lila had set about discovering its source.
    Let us not be too harsh on the poor little messenger boy. It is true that he had promised Dougherty not to tell, but if you blame him severely for his betrayal of the confidence it merely proves that you know nothing of the charm of Lila’s smile.
    It would have coaxed a secret from the Sphinx herself. Thus she became aware that the roses were the gift of the Erring Knights, furnished by each in his turn.
    Then one morning, about a week after the first appearance of Knowlton, she decided that her information was not sufficiently definite. Observe the effect of love! Ordinarily Lila was the most open and straightforward creature in the world. But see the cunning of her procedure!
    “Jimmie,” she said to the messenger boy, “the roses yesterday were the most beautiful shade I have ever seen. Do you know who got them?”
    “What’s today—Saturday?” Jimmie asked.
    “Yes. Yesterday was Friday.”
    “Then it was Mr. Driscoll.”
    “Oh!” Lila hesitated. “And who—who gets them on Thursday?”
    “Mr Dumain—Frenchy.”
    “And on Wednesday?”
    Jimmie remained silent and eyed her keenly.
    “Mr. Knowlton’s day is Saturday,” he said finally. “That’s today.”
    Lila blushed a rosy pink.
    “Jimmie!” she exclaimed.
    “Aw, come off! Don’t you think I know nothin’?” said the boy. Only a boy—or a woman—could have guessed it.
    Lila was silent. But that evening she took the bouquet of roses home with her. As to what she did with them after she got them there, you must guess for yourself. Unlike Jimmie, I can keep a secret.
    A month passed uneventfully.
    Dumain improved his play at billiards till he threatened to take part in a tournament; Jennings reported daily concerning his contract with Charles Frohman; Knowlton continued to spend his ten-dollar bills on telegrams at Lila’s desk, and Driscoll spouted the