THE TUNNEL
VOLUMES IN THIS SERIES
POINTED ROOFS
BACKWATER
HONEYCOMB
THE TUNNEL
In preparation
INTERIM
THE TUNNEL
BY
DOROTHY M. RICHARDSON
AUTHOR OF “POINTED ROOFS,” ETC.
LONDON
DUCKWORTH & CO.
3 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN
First Published February, 1919
Second Impression March, 1919
All rights reserved
TO
M. K.
CHAPTER I
1
Miriam paused with her heavy bag dragging at herarm. It was a disaster. But it was the last ofMornington Road. To explain about it would be to bringMornington Road here.
“It doesn’t matter now” said Mrs. Bailey as she droppedher bag and fumbled for her purse.
“Oh, I’d better settle it at once or I shall forget aboutit. I’m so glad the things have come so soon.”
When Mrs. Bailey had taken the half-crown they stoodsmiling at each other. Mrs. Bailey looked exactly as she haddone the first time. It was exactly the same; there wasno disappointment. The light coming through the glassabove the front door made her look more shabby and worn.Her hair was more metallic. But it was the same girlishfigure and the same smile triumphing over the badly fittingteeth. Miriam felt like an inmate returning after anabsence. The smeariness of the marble-topped hall tabledid not offend her. She held herself in. It was better tobegin as she meant to go on. Behind Mrs. Bailey the staircasewas beckoning. There was something waiting upstairsthat would be gone if she stayed talking to Mrs.Bailey.
Assuring Mrs. Bailey that she remembered the way to theroom she started at last on the journey up the many flightsof stairs. The feeling of confidence that had come thefirst time she mounted them with Mrs. Bailey returned now.She could not remember noticing anything then but a largebrown dinginess, one rich warm even tone everywhere in thehouse; a sharp contrast to the cold harshly lit little bedroomin Mornington Road. The day was cold. But thishouse did not seem cold and when she rounded the firstflight and Mrs. Bailey was out of sight the welcome of theplace fell upon her. She knew it well, better than any placeshe had known in all her wanderings—the faded umbers andbrowns of the stair carpet, the gloomy heights of wall, apatternless sheen where the staircase lights fell upon it andin the shadowed parts a blurred scrolling pattern in dullmadder on a brown background; the dark landings withlofty ceilings and high dark polished doors surmountedby classical reliefs in grimed plaster, the high staircasewindows screened by long smoke grimed lace curtains. Onthe top landing the ceiling came down nearly level with thetops of the doors. The light from above made the