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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Missioner, by E. Phillips Oppenheim
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Missioner
+
+Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim
+
+Illustrator: Fred Pegram
+
+Release Date: August 27, 2010 [EBook #33546]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MISSIONER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ The Missioner
+
+ BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
+
+ Author of "Anna, the Adventuress," "A Prince of
+ Sinners," "The Master Mummer," etc.
+
+ WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+ BY FRED PEGRAM
+
+ A. L. BURT COMPANY
+
+ PUBLISHERS         NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+ _Copyright, 1907,_
+ BY THE PEARSON PUBLISHING COMPANY.
+
+ _Copyright, 1907,_
+ BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
+
+ _All rights reserved._
+
+ Published January, 1909.
+
+ Fourth Printing
+
+
+
+
+[ Illustration: "DO YOU MIND EXPLAINING YOURSELF?" SHE ASKED.
+ [Page 23.] FRONTISPIECE.]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+BOOK I
+
+
+ CHAPTER                                               PAGE
+
+     I MISTRESS AND AGENT                                1
+    II THE HUNTER AND HIS QUARRY                        13
+   III FIRST BLOOD                                      22
+    IV BEATING HER WINGS                                32
+     V EVICTED                                          41
+    VI CRICKET AND PHILOSOPHY                           52
+   VII AN UNDERNOTE OF MUSIC                            61
+  VIII ROSES                                            70
+    IX SUMMER LIGHTNING                                 78
+     X THE STILL FIGURE IN THE CHAIR                    85
+    XI THE BAYING OF THE HOUNDS                         93
+   XII RETREAT                                         100
+  XIII A CREATURE OF IMPULSE                           105
+   XIV SEARCHING THE PAPERS                            114
+    XV ON THE SPREE                                    121
+   XVI THE NIGHT SIDE OF LONDON                        129
+  XVII THE VICTIMS OF SOCIETY                          138
+ XVIII LETTY'S DILEMMA                                 147
+   XIX A REPORT FROM PARIS                             155
+    XX LIKE A TRAPPED ANIMAL                           162
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+ CHAPTER                                               PAGE
+
+     I RATHER A GHASTLY PART                           172
+    II PLAYING WITH FIRE                               180
+   III MONSIEUR S'AMUSE                                188
+    IV AT THE "DEAD RAT"                               196
+     V THE AWAKENING                                   204
+    VI THE ECHO OF A CRIME                             210
+   VII A COUNTRY WALK                                  218
+  VIII THE MISSING LETTY                               227
+    IX FOILED!                                         235
+     X MYSTERIES IN MAYFAIR                            244
+    XI THE WAY OF SALVATION                            253
+   XII JEAN LE ROI                                     262
+  XIII THE KING OF THE APACHES                         271
+   XIV BEHIND THE PALM TREES                           281
+    XV THE ONLY WAY                                    289
+   XVI MAN TO MAN                                      296
+  XVII LORD AND LADY BOUNTIFUL                         304
+
+
+
+
+THE MISSIONER
+
+BOOK I
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+MISTRESS AND AGENT
+
+
+The lady of Thorpe was bored. These details as to leases and repairs
+were wearisome. The phrases and verbiage confused her. She felt obliged
+to take them in some measure for granted; to accept without question the
+calmly offered advice of the man who stood so respectfully at the right
+hand of her chair.
+
+"This agreement with Philip Crooks," he remarked, "is a somewhat
+important document. With your permission, madam, I will read it to you."
+
+She signified her assent, and leaned wearily back in her chair. The
+agent began to read. His mistress watched him through half closed eyes.
+His voice, notwithstanding its strong country dialect, had a sort of
+sing-song intonation. He read earnestly and without removing his eyes
+from the document. His listener made no attempt to arrive at the sense
+of the string of words which flowed so monotonously from his lips. She
+was occupied in making a study of the man. Sturdy and weather-beaten,
+neatly dressed in country clothes, with a somewhat old-fashioned stock,
+with trim grey side-whiskers, and a mouth which reminded her somehow of
+a well-bred foxhound's, he represented to her, in his clearly cut
+personality, the changeless side of life, the side of life which she
+associated with the mighty oaks in her park, and the prehistoric rocks
+which had become engrafted with the soil of the hills beyond. As she saw
+him now, so had he seemed to her fifteen years ago. Only what a
+difference! A volume to her--a paragraph to him! She had gone out into
+the world--rich, intellectually inquisitive, possessing most of the
+subtler gifts with which her sex is endowed; and wherever the passionate
+current of life had flown the swiftest, she had been there, a leader
+always, seeking ever to satisfy the unquenchable thirst for new
+experiences and new joys. She had passed from girlhood to womanhood with
+every nerve of her body strained to catch the emotion of the moment.
+Always her fingers had been tearing at the cells of life--and one by one
+they had fallen away. This morning, in the bright sunshine which flooded
+the great room, she felt somehow tired--tired and withered. Her maid was
+a fool! The two hours spent at her toilette had been wasted! She felt
+that her eyes were hollow, her cheeks pale! Fifteen years, and the man
+had not changed a jot. She doubted whether he had ever passed the
+confines of her estate. She doubted whether he had even had the desire.
+Wind and sun had tanned his cheeks, his eyes were clear, his slight
+stoop was the stoop of the horseman rather than of age. He had the air
+of a man satisfied with life and his place in it--an attitude which
+puzzled her. No one of her world was like that! Was it some inborn gift,
+she wondered, which he possessed, some antidote to the world's
+restlessness which he carried with him, or was it merely lack of
+intelligence?
+
+He finished reading and folded up the pages, to find her regarding him
+still with that air of careful attention with which she had listened to
+his monotonous flow of words. He found her interest surprising. It did
+not occur to him to invest it with any personal element.
+
+"The agreement upon the whole," he remarked, "is, I believe, a fair one.
+You are perhaps thinking that those clauses----"
+
+"If the agreement is satisfactory to you," she interrupted, "I will
+confirm it."
+
+He bowed slightly and glanced through the pile of papers upon the table.
+
+"I do not think that there is anything else with which I need trouble
+you, madam," he remarked.
+
+She nodded imperiously.
+
+"Sit down for a moment, Mr. Hurd," she said.
+
+If he felt any surprise, he did not show it. He drew one of the
+high-backed chairs away from the table, and with that slight air of
+deliberation which characterized all his movements, seated himself. He
+was in no way disquieted to find her dark, tired eyes still studying
+him.
+
+"How old are you, Mr. Hurd?" she asked.
+
+"I am sixty-three, madam," he answered.
+
+Her eyebrows were gently raised. To her it seemed incredible. She
+thought of the men of sixty-three or thereabouts whom she knew, and her
+lips parted in one of those faint, rare smiles of genuine amusement,
+which smoothed out all the lines of her tired face. Visions of the
+promenade at Marienbad and Carlsbad, the Kursaal at Homburg, floated
+before her. She saw them all, the men whom she knew, with the story of
+their lives written so plainly in their faces, babbling of nerves and
+tonics and cures, the newest physician, the latest fad. Defaulters all
+of them, unwilling to pay the great debt--seeking always a way out!
+Here, at least, this man scored!
+
+"You enjoy good health?" she remarked.
+
+"I never have anything the matter with me," he answered simply. "I
+suppose," he added, as though by an afterthought, "the life is a healthy
+one."
+
+"You find it--satisfying?" she asked.
+
+He seemed puzzled.
+
+"I have never attempted anything else," he answered. "It seems to be
+what I am suited for."
+
+She attempted to abandon the _role_ of questioner--to give a more
+natural turn to the conversation.
+
+"It is always," she remarked, "such a relief to get down into the
+country at the end of the season. I wonder I don't spend more time here.
+I daresay one could amuse oneself?" she added carelessly.
+
+Mr. Hurd considered for a few moments.
+
+"There are croquet and archery and tennis in the neighbourhood," he
+remarked. "The golf course on the Park hills is supposed to be
+excellent. A great many people come over to play."
+
+She affected to be considering the question seriously. An intimate
+friend would not have been deceived by her air of attention. Mr. Hurd
+knew nothing of this. He, on his part, however, was capable of a little
+gentle irony.
+
+"It might amuse you," he remarked, "to make a tour of your estate. There
+are some of the outlying portions which I think that I should have the
+honour of showing you for the first time."
+
+"I might find that interesting," she admitted. "By the bye, Mr. Hurd,
+what sort of a landlord am I? Am I easy, or do I exact my last pound of
+flesh? One likes to know these things."
+
+"It depends upon the tenant," the agent answered. "There is not one of
+your farms upon which, if a man works, he cannot make a living. On the
+other hand, there is not one of them on which a man can make a living
+unless he works. It is upon this principle that your rents have been
+adjusted. The tenants of the home lands have been most carefully chosen,
+and Thorpe itself is spoken of everywhere as a model village."
+
+"It is very charming to look at," its mistress admitted. "The flowers
+and thatched roofs are so picturesque. 'Quite a pastoral idyll,' my
+guests tell me. The people one sees about seem contented and respectful,
+too."
+
+"They should be, madam," Mr. Hurd answered drily. "The villagers have
+had a good many privileges from your family for generations."
+
+The lady inclined her head thoughtfully.
+
+"You think, then," she remarked, "that if anything should happen in
+England, like the French Revolution, I should not find unexpected
+thoughts and discontent smouldering amongst them? You believe that they
+are really contented?"
+
+Mr. Hurd knew nothing about revolutions, and he was utterly unable to
+follow the trend of her thoughts.
+
+"If they were not, madam," he declared, "they would deserve to be in the
+workhouse--and I should feel it my duty to assist them in getting
+there."
+
+The lady of Thorpe laughed softly to herself.
+
+"You, too, then, Mr. Hurd," she said, "you are content with your life?
+You don't mind my being personal, do you? It is such a change down here,
+such a different existence ... and I like to understand everything."
+
+Upon Mr. Hurd the almost pathetic significance of those last words was
+wholly wasted. They were words of a language which he could not
+comprehend. He realized only their direct application--and the woman to
+him seemed like a child.
+
+"If I were not content, madam," he said, "I should deserve to lose my
+place. I should deserve to lose it," he added after a moment's pause,
+"notwithstanding the fact that I have done my duty faithfully for four
+and forty years."
+
+She smiled upon him brilliantly. They were so far apart that she feared
+lest she might have offended him.
+
+"I have always felt myself a very fortunate woman, Mr. Hurd," she said,
+"in having possessed your services."
+
+He rose as though about to go. It was her whim, however, to detain him.
+
+"You lost your wife some years ago, did you not, Mr. Hurd?" she began
+tentatively. As a matter of fact, she was not sure of her ground.
+
+"Seven years back, madam," he answered, with immovable face. "She was,
+unfortunately, never a strong woman."
+
+"And your son?" she asked more confidently. "Is he back from South
+Africa?"
+
+"A year ago, madam," he answered. "He is engaged at present in the
+estate office. He knows the work well----"
+
+"The best place for him, of course," she interrupted. "We ought to do
+all we can for our young men who went out to the war. I should like to
+see your son, Mr. Hurd. Will you tell him to come up some day?"
+
+"Certainly, madam," he answered.
+
+"Perhaps he would like to shoot with my guests on Thursday?" she
+suggested graciously.
+
+Mr. Hurd did not seem altogether pleased.
+
+"It has never been the custom, madam," he remarked, "for either my son
+or myself to be associated with the Thorpe shooting parties."
+
+"Some customs," she remarked pleasantly, "are well changed, even in
+Thorpe. We shall expect him."
+
+Mr. Hurd's mouth reminded her for a moment of a steel trap. She could
+see that he disapproved, but she had no intention of giving way. He
+began to tie up his papers, and she watched him with some continuance of
+that wave of interest which he had somehow contrived to excite in her.
+The signature of one of the letters which he was methodically folding,
+caught her attention.
+
+"What a strange name!" she remarked. "Victor Macheson! Who is he?"
+
+Mr. Hurd unfolded the letter. The ghost of a smile flickered upon his
+lips.
+
+"A preacher, apparently," he answered. "The letter is one asking
+permission to give a series of what he terms religious lectures in
+Harrison's large barn!"
+
+Her eyebrows were gently raised. Her tone was one of genuine surprise.
+
+"What, in Thorpe?" she demanded.
+
+"In Thorpe!" Mr. Hurd acquiesced.
+
+She took the letter and read it. Her perplexity was in no manner
+diminished.
+
+"The man seems in earnest," she remarked. "He must either be a stranger
+to this part of the country, or an extremely impertinent person. I
+presume, Mr. Hurd, that nothing has been going on in the place with
+which I am unacquainted?"
+
+"Certainly not, madam," he answered.
+
+"There has been no drunkenness?" she remarked. "The young people have, I
+presume, been conducting their love-making discreetly?"
+
+The lines of Mr. Hurd's mouth were a trifle severe. One could imagine
+that he found her modern directness of speech indelicate.
+
+"There have been no scandals of any sort connected with the village,
+madam," he assured her. "To the best of my belief, all of our people are
+industrious, sober and pious. They attend church regularly. As you know,
+we have not a public-house or a dissenting place of worship in the
+village."
+
+"The man must be a fool," she said deliberately. "You did not, of
+course, give him permission to hold these services?"
+
+"Certainly not," the agent answered. "I refused it absolutely."
+
+The lady rose, and Mr. Hurd understood that he was dismissed.
+
+"You will tell your son about Thursday?" she reminded him.
+
+"I will deliver your message, madam," he answered.
+
+She nodded her farewell as the footman opened the door.
+
+"Everything seems to be most satisfactory, Mr. Hurd," she said. "I shall
+probably be here for several weeks, so come up again if there is
+anything you want me to sign."
+
+"I am much obliged, madam," the agent answered.
+
+He left the place by a side entrance, and rode slowly down the private
+road, fringed by a magnificent row of elm trees, to the village. The
+latch of the iron gate at the end of the avenue was stiff, and he failed
+to open it with his hunting crop at the first attempt. Just as he was
+preparing to try again, a tall, boyish-looking young man, dressed in
+sombre black, came swiftly across the road and opened the gate. Mr. Hurd
+thanked him curtly, and the young man raised his hat.
+
+"You are Mr. Hurd, I believe?" he remarked. "I was going to call upon
+you this afternoon."
+
+The little man upon the pony frowned. He had no doubt as to his
+questioner.
+
+"My name is Hurd, sir," he answered stiffly. "What can I do for you?"
+
+"You can let me have that barn for my services," the other answered
+smiling. "I wrote you about it, you know. My name is Macheson."
+
+Mr. Hurd's answer was briefly spoken, and did not invite argument.
+
+"I have mentioned the matter to Miss Thorpe-Hatton, sir. She agrees with
+me that your proposed ministrations are altogether unneeded in this
+neighbourhood."
+
+"You won't let me use the barn, then?" the young man remarked
+pleasantly, but with some air of disappointment.
+
+Mr. Hurd gathered up the reins in his hand.
+
+"Certainly not, sir!"
+
+He would have moved on, but his questioner stood in the way. Mr. Hurd
+looked at him from underneath his shaggy eyebrows. The young man was
+remarkably young. His smooth, beardless face was the face of a boy. Only
+the eyes seemed somehow to speak of graver things. They were very bright
+indeed, and they did not falter.
+
+"Mr. Hurd," he begged, "do let me ask you one question! Why do you
+refuse me? What harm can I possibly do by talking to your villagers?"
+
+Mr. Hurd pointed with his whip up and down the country lane.
+
+"This is the village of Thorpe, sir," he answered. "There are no poor,
+there is no public-house, and there, within a few hundred yards of the
+farthest cottage," he added, pointing to the end of the street, "is the
+church. You are not needed here. That is the plain truth."
+
+The young man looked up and down, at the flower-embosomed cottages, with
+their thatched roofs and trim appearance, at the neatly cut hedges, the
+well-kept road, the many signs of prosperity. He looked at the little
+grey church standing in its ancient walled churchyard, where the road
+divided, a very delightful addition to the picturesque beauty of the
+place. He looked at all these things and he sighed.
+
+"Mr. Hurd," he said, "you are a man of experience. You know very well
+that material and spiritual welfare are sometimes things very far
+apart."
+
+Mr. Hurd frowned and turned his pony's head towards home.
+
+"I know nothing of the sort, sir," he snapped. "What I do know is that
+we don't want any Salvation Army tricks here. You should stay in the
+cities. They like that sort of thing there."
+
+"I must come where I am sent, Mr. Hurd," the young man answered. "I
+cannot do your people any harm. I only want to deliver my message--and
+go."
+
+Mr. Hurd wheeled his pony round.
+
+"I submitted your letter to Miss Thorpe-Hatton," he said. "She agrees
+with me that your ministrations are wholly unnecessary here. I wish you
+good evening!"
+
+The young man caught for a moment at the pony's rein.
+
+"One moment, sir," he begged. "You do not object to my appealing to
+Miss Thorpe-Hatton herself?"
+
+A grim, mirthless smile parted the agent's lips.
+
+"By no means!" he answered, as he cantered off.
+
+Victor Macheson stood for a moment watching the retreating figure. Then
+he looked across the park to where, through the great elm avenues, he
+could catch a glimpse of the house. A humorous smile suddenly brightened
+his face.
+
+"It's got to be done!" he said to himself. "Here goes!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE HUNTER AND HIS QUARRY
+
+
+The mistress of Thorpe stooped to pat a black Pomeranian which had
+rushed out to meet her. It was when she indulged in some such movement
+that one realized more thoroughly the wonderful grace of her slim,
+supple figure. She who hated all manner of exercise had the ease of
+carriage and flexibility of one whose life had been spent in athletic
+pursuits.
+
+"How are you all?" she remarked languidly. "Shocking hostess, am I not?"
+
+A fair-haired little woman turned away from the tea-table. She held a
+chocolate eclair in one hand, and a cup of Russian tea in the other. Her
+eyes were very dark, and her hair very yellow--and both were perfectly
+and unexpectedly natural. Her real name was Lady Margaret Penshore, but
+she was known to her intimates, and to the mysterious individuals who
+write under a _nom-de-guerre_ in the society papers, as "Lady Peggy."
+
+"A little casual perhaps, my dear Wilhelmina," she remarked. "Comes from
+your association with Royalty, I suppose. Try one of your own caviare
+sandwiches, if you want anything to eat. They're ripping."
+
+Wilhelmina--she was one of the few women of her set with whose Christian
+name no one had ever attempted to take any liberties--approached the
+tea-table and studied its burden. There were a dozen different sorts of
+sandwiches arranged in the most tempting form, hot-water dishes with
+delicately browned tea-cakes simmering gently, thick cream in silver
+jugs, tea and coffee, and in the background old China dishes piled with
+freshly gathered strawberries and peaches and grapes, on which the bloom
+still rested. On a smaller table were flasks of liqueurs and a spirit
+decanter.
+
+"Anyhow," she remarked, pouring herself out some tea, "I do feed you
+people well. And as to being casual, I warned you that I never put in an
+appearance before five."
+
+A man in the background, long and lantern-faced, a man whose age it
+would have been as impossible to guess as his character, opened and
+closed his watch with a clink.
+
+"Twenty minutes past," he remarked. "To be exact, twenty-two minutes
+past."
+
+His hostess turned and regarded him contemplatively.
+
+"How painfully precise!" she remarked. "Somehow, it doesn't sound
+convincing, though. Your watch is probably like your morals."
+
+"What a flattering simile!" he murmured.
+
+"Flattering?"
+
+"It presupposes, at any rate, their existence," he explained. "It is
+years since I was reminded of them."
+
+Wilhelmina seated herself before an open card-table.
+
+"No doubt," she answered. "You see I knew you when you were a boy.
+Seriously," she continued, "I have been engaged with my agent for the
+last half-hour--a most interesting person, I can assure you. There was
+an agreement with one Philip Crooks concerning a farm, which he felt
+compelled to read to me--every word of it! Come along and cut, all of
+you!"
+
+The fourth person, slim, fair-haired, the typical army officer and
+country house habitue, came over to the table, followed by the
+lantern-jawed man. Lady Peggy also turned up a card.
+
+"You and I, Gilbert," Wilhelmina remarked to the elder man. "Here's luck
+to us! What on earth is that you are drinking?"
+
+"Absinthe," he answered calmly. "I have been trying to persuade Austin
+to join me, but it seems they don't drink absinthe in the Army."
+
+"I should think not, indeed," his hostess answered. "And you my partner,
+too! Put the stuff away."
+
+Gilbert Deyes raised his glass and looked thoughtfully into its
+opalescent depths.
+
+"Ah! my dear lady," he said, "you make a great mistake when you
+number absinthe amongst the ordinary intoxicating beverages. I
+tell you that the man who invented it was an epicure in sensations
+and--er--gastronomy. If only De Quincey had realized the possibility
+of absinthe, he would have given us jewelled prose indeed."
+
+Wilhelmina yawned.
+
+"Bother De Quincey!" she declared. "It's your bridge I'm thinking of."
+
+"Dear lady, you need have no anxiety," Deyes answered reassuringly. "One
+does not trifle with one's livelihood. You will find me capable of the
+most daring finesses, the most wonderful coups. I shall not revoke, I
+shall not lead out of the wrong hand. My declarations will be touched
+with genius. The rubber, in fact, is already won. Vive l'absinthe!"
+
+"The rubber will never be begun if you go on talking nonsense much
+longer," Lady Peggy declared, tapping the table impatiently. "I believe
+I hear the motors outside. We shall have the whole crowd here directly."
+
+"They won't find their way here," their hostess assured them calmly. "My
+deal, I believe."
+
+They played the hand in silence. At its conclusion, Wilhelmina leaned
+back in her chair and listened.
+
+"You were right, Peggy," she said, "they are all in the hall. I can hear
+your brother's voice."
+
+Lady Peggy nodded.
+
+"Sounds healthy, doesn't it?"
+
+Gilbert Deyes leaned across to the side table and helped himself to a
+cigarette.
+
+"Healthy! I call it boisterous," he declared. "Where have they all
+been?"
+
+"Motoring somewhere," Wilhelmina answered. "They none of them have any
+idea how to pass the time away until the first run."
+
+"Sport, my dear hostess," Deyes remarked, "is the one thing which makes
+life in a country house almost unendurable."
+
+Wilhelmina shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"That's all very well, Gilbert," she said, "but what should we do if we
+couldn't get rid of some of these lunatics for at least part of the
+day?"
+
+"Reasonable, I admit," Deyes answered, "but think what an intolerable
+nuisance they make of themselves for the other part. I double No Trumps,
+Lady Peggy."
+
+Lady Peggy laid down her cards.
+
+"For goodness' sake, no more digressions," she implored. "Remember,
+please, that I play this game for the peace of mind of my tradespeople!
+I redouble!"
+
+The hand was played almost in silence. Lady Peggy lost the odd trick and
+began to add up the score with a gentle sigh.
+
+"After all," her partner remarked, returning to the subject which they
+had been discussing, "I don't think that we could get on very well in
+this country without sport, of some sort."
+
+"Of course not," Deyes answered. "We are all sportsmen, every one of us.
+We were born so. Only, while some of us are content to wreak our
+instinct for destruction upon birds and animals, others choose the
+nobler game--our fellow-creatures! To hunt or trap a human being is
+finer sport than to shoot a rocketing pheasant, or to come in from
+hunting with mud all over our clothes, smelling of ploughed fields,
+steaming in front of the fire, telling lies about our exploits--all
+undertaken in pursuit of a miserable little animal, which as often as
+not outwits us, and which, in an ordinary way, we wouldn't touch with
+gloves on! What do you say, Lady Peggy?"
+
+"You're getting beyond me," she declared. "It sounds a little savage."
+
+Deyes dealt the cards slowly, talking all the while.
+
+"Sport is savage," he declared. "No one can deny it. Whether the quarry
+be human or animal, the end is death. But of all its varieties, give me
+the hunting of man by man, the brain of the hunter coping with the wiles
+of the hunted, both human, both of the same order. The game's even then,
+for at any moment they may change places--the hunter and his quarry.
+It's finer work than slaughtering birds at the coverside. It gives your
+sex a chance, Lady Peggy."
+
+"It sounds exciting," she admitted.
+
+"It is," he answered.
+
+His hostess looked up at him languidly.
+
+"You speak like one who knows!"
+
+"Why not?" he murmured. "I have been both quarry and hunter. Most of us
+have more or less! I declare Hearts!"
+
+Again there was an interval of silence, broken only by the stock phrases
+of the game, and the soft patter of the cards upon the table. Once more
+the hand was played out and the cards gathered up. Captain Austin
+delivered his quota to the general discussion.
+
+"After all," he said, "if it wasn't for sport, our country houses would
+be useless."
+
+"Not at all!" Deyes declared. "Country houses should exist for----"
+
+"For what, Mr. Deyes? Do tell us," Lady Peggy implored.
+
+"For bridge!" he declared. "For giving weary married people the
+opportunity for divorce, and as an asylum from one's creditors."
+
+Wilhelmina shook her head as she gathered up her cards.
+
+"You are not at your best to-day, Gilbert," she said. "The allusion to
+creditors is prehistoric! No one has them nowadays. Society is such a
+hop-scotch affair that our coffers are never empty."
+
+"What a Utopian sentiment!" Lady Peggy murmured.
+
+"We can't agree, can we?" Deyes whispered in her ear.
+
+"You! Why they say that you are worth a million," she protested.
+
+"If I am I remain poor, for I cannot spend it," he declared.
+
+"Why not?" his hostess asked him from across the table.
+
+"Because," he answered, "I am cursed with a single vice, trailing its
+way through a labyrinth of virtues. I am a miser!"
+
+Lady Peggy laughed incredulously.
+
+"Rubbish!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Dear lady, it is nothing of the sort," he answered, shaking his head
+sadly. "I have felt it growing upon me for years. Besides, it is
+hereditary. My mother opened a post-office savings bank account for me.
+At an early age I engineered a corner in marbles and sold out at a huge
+profit. I am like the starving dyspeptic at the rich man's feast."
+
+Captain Austin intervened.
+
+"I declare Diamonds," he announced, and the hand proceeded.
+
+Wilhelmina leaned back in her chair as the last trick fell. Her eyes
+were turned towards the window. She could just see the avenue of elms
+down which her agent had ridden a short while since. Deyes, through half
+closed eyes, watched her with some curiosity.
+
+"If one dared offer a trifling coin of the realm----" he murmured.
+
+"I was thinking of your theory," she interrupted. "According to you, I
+suppose the whole world is made up of hunters and their quarry. Can you
+tell, I wonder, by looking at people, to which order they belong?"
+
+"It is easy," he answered. "Yet you must remember we are continually
+changing places. The man who cracks the whip to-day is the hunted beast
+to-morrow. The woman who mocks at her lover this afternoon is often the
+slave-bearer when dusk falls. Swift changes like this are like rain upon
+the earth. They keep us, at any rate, out of the asylums."
+
+Wilhelmina was still looking out of the window. Up the great avenue, in
+and out amongst the tree trunks, but moving always with swift buoyant
+footsteps towards the house, came a slim, dark figure, soberly dressed
+in ill-fitting clothes. He walked with the swing of early manhood, his
+head was thrown back, and he carried his hat in his hand. She leaned
+forward to watch him more closely--he seemed to have associated himself
+in some mysterious manner with the mocking words of Gilbert Deyes. Half
+maliciously, she drew his attention to the swiftly approaching figure.
+
+"Come, my friend of theories," she said mockingly. "There is a stranger
+there, the young man who walks so swiftly. To which of your two orders
+does he belong?"
+
+Deyes looked out of the window--a brief, careless glance.
+
+"To neither," he answered. "His time has not come yet. But he has the
+makings of both."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+FIRST BLOOD
+
+
+A footman entered the room a few minutes later, and obedient, without a
+doubt, to some previously given command, waited behind his mistress'
+chair until a hand had been played. When it was over, she spoke to him
+without turning her head.
+
+"What is it, Perkins?" she asked.
+
+He bent forward respectfully.
+
+"There is a young gentleman here, madam, who wishes to see you most
+particularly. He has no card, but he said that his name would not be
+known to you."
+
+"Tell him that I am engaged," Wilhelmina said. "He must give you his
+name, and tell you what business he has come upon."
+
+"Very good, madam!" the man answered, and withdrew.
+
+He was back again before the next hand had been played. Once more he
+stood waiting in respectful silence.
+
+"Well?" his mistress asked.
+
+"His name, madam, is Mr. Victor Macheson. He said that he would wait as
+long as you liked, but he preferred telling you his business himself."
+
+"I fancy that I know it," Wilhelmina answered. "You can show him in
+here."
+
+"Is it the young man, I wonder," Lady Peggy remarked, "who came up the
+avenue as though he were walking on air?"
+
+"Doubtless," Wilhelmina answered. "He is some sort of a missionary.
+I had him shown in here because I thought his coming at all an
+impertinence, and I want to make him understand it. You will probably
+find him amusing, Mr. Deyes."
+
+Gilbert Deyes shook his head quietly.
+
+"There was a time," he murmured, "when the very word missionary was a
+finger-post to the ridiculous. The comic papers rob us, however, of our
+elementary sources of humour."
+
+They all looked curiously towards the door as he entered, all except
+Wilhelmina, who was the last to turn her head, and found him hesitating
+in some embarrassment as to whom to address. He was somewhat above
+medium height, fair, with a mass of wind-tossed hair, and had the smooth
+face of a boy. His eyes were his most noticeable feature. They were
+very bright and very restless. Lady Peggy called them afterwards
+uncomfortable eyes, and the others, without any explanation, understood
+what she meant.
+
+"I am Miss Thorpe-Hatton," Wilhelmina said calmly. "I am told that you
+wished to see me."
+
+She turned only her head towards him. Her words were cold and
+unwelcoming. She saw that he was nervous and she had no pity. It was
+unworthy of her. She knew that. Her eyes questioned him calmly. Sitting
+there in her light muslin dress, with her deep-brown hair arranged in
+the Madonna-like fashion, which chanced to be the caprice of the moment,
+she herself--one of London's most beautiful women--seemed little more
+than a girl.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he began hurriedly. "I understood--I expected----"
+
+"Well?"
+
+The monosyllable was like a drop of ice. A faint spot of colour burned
+in his cheeks. He understood now that for some reason this woman was
+inimical to him. The knowledge seemed to have a bracing effect. His eyes
+flashed with a sudden fire which gave force to his face.
+
+"I expected," he continued with more assurance, "to have found Miss
+Thorpe-Hatton an older lady."
+
+She said nothing. Only her eyebrows were very slightly raised. She
+seemed to be asking him silently what possible concern the age of the
+lady of Thorpe-Hatton could be to him. He was to understand that his
+remark was almost an impertinence.
+
+"I wished," he said, "to hold a service in Thorpe on Sunday afternoon,
+and also one during the week, and I wrote to your agent asking for the
+loan of a barn, which is generally, I believe, used for any gathering of
+the villagers. Mr. Hurd found himself unable to grant my request. I have
+ventured to appeal to you."
+
+"Mr. Hurd," she said calmly, "decided, in my opinion, quite rightly. I
+do not see what possible need my villagers can have of further religious
+services than the Church affords them."
+
+"Madam," he answered, "I have not a word to say against your parish
+church, or against your excellent vicar. Yet I believe, and the
+body to which I am attached believes, that change is stimulating. We
+believe that the great truths of life cannot be presented to our
+fellow-creatures too often, or in too many different ways."
+
+"And what," she asked, with a faint curl of her beautiful lips, "do you
+consider the great truths of life?"
+
+"Madam," he answered, with slightly reddening cheeks, "they vary for
+every one of us, according to our capacity and our circumstances. What
+they may mean," he added, after a moment's hesitation, "to people of
+your social order, I do not know. It has not come within the orbit of my
+experience. It was your villagers to whom I was proposing to talk."
+
+There was a moment's silence. Gilbert Deyes and Lady Peggy exchanged
+swift glances of amused understanding. Wilhelmina bit her lip, but she
+betrayed no other sign of annoyance.
+
+"To what religious body do you belong?" she asked.
+
+"My friends," he answered, "and I, are attached to none of the
+recognized denominations. Our only object is to try to keep alight in
+our fellow-creatures the flame of spirituality. We want to help
+them--not to forget."
+
+"There is no name by which you call yourselves?" she asked.
+
+"None," he answered.
+
+"And your headquarters are where?" she asked.
+
+"In Gloucestershire," he answered--"so far as we can be said to have any
+headquarters at all."
+
+"You have no churches then?" she asked.
+
+"Any building," he answered, "where the people are to whom we desire to
+speak, is our church. We look upon ourselves as missioners only."
+
+"I am afraid," Wilhelmina said quietly, "that I am only wasting your
+time in asking these questions. Still, I should like to know what
+induced you to choose my village as an appropriate sphere for your
+labours."
+
+"We each took a county," he answered. "Leicestershire fell to my lot. I
+selected Thorpe to begin with, because I have heard it spoken of as a
+model village."
+
+Wilhelmina's forehead was gently wrinkled.
+
+"I am afraid," she said, "that I am a somewhat dense person. Your reason
+seems to me scarcely an adequate one."
+
+"Our belief is," he declared, "that where material prosperity is
+assured, especially amongst this class of people, the instincts towards
+spirituality are weakened."
+
+"My people all attend church; we have no public-house; there are never
+any scandals," she said.
+
+"All these things," he admitted, "are excellent. But they do not help
+you to see into the lives of these people. Church-going may become a
+habit, a respectable and praiseworthy thing--and a thing expected of
+them. Morality, too, may become a custom--until temptation comes. One
+must ask oneself what is the force which prompts these people to direct
+their lives in so praiseworthy a manner."
+
+"You forget," she remarked, "that these are simple folk. Their religion
+with them is simply a matter of right or wrong. They need no further
+instruction in this."
+
+"Madam," he said, "so long as they are living here, that may be so.
+Frankly, I do not consider it sufficient that their lives are seemly, so
+long as they live in the shadow of your patronage. What happens to those
+who pass outside its influence is another matter."
+
+"What do you know about that?" she asked coldly.
+
+"What I do know about it," he answered, "decided me to come to Thorpe."
+
+There was a moment's silence. Any of the other three, Gilbert Deyes
+especially, perhaps, would have found it hard to explain, even to
+realize the interest with which they listened to the conversation
+between these two--the somewhat unkempt, ill-attired boy, with the
+nervous, forceful manner and burning eyes, and the woman, so sure of
+herself, so coldly and yet brutally ungracious. It was not so much the
+words themselves that passed between them that attracted as the
+undernote of hostility, more felt than apparent--the beginning of a
+duel, to all appearance so ludicrously onesided, yet destined to endure.
+Deyes turned in his chair uneasily. He was watching this intruder--a
+being outwardly so far removed from their world. The niceties of a
+correct toilet had certainly never troubled him, his clothes were rough
+in material and cut, he wore a flannel shirt, and a collar so low that
+his neck seemed ill-shaped. He had no special gifts of features or
+figure, his manner was nervous, his speech none too ready. Deyes found
+himself engaged in a swift analysis of the subtleties of personality.
+What did this young man possess that he should convey so strong a sense
+of power? There was something about him which told. They were all
+conscious of it, and, more than any of them, the woman who was regarding
+him with such studied ill-favour. To the others, her still beautiful
+face betrayed only some languid irritation. Deyes fancied that he saw
+more there--that underneath the mask which she knew so well how to wear
+there were traces of some deeper disturbance.
+
+"Do you mind explaining yourself?" she asked. "That sounds rather an
+extraordinary statement of yours."
+
+"A few months ago," he said, "I attended regularly one of the police
+courts in London. Day by day I came into contact with the lost souls who
+have drifted on to the great rubbish-heap. There was a girl, Martha
+Gullimore her name was, whose record for her age was as black as sin
+could make it. Her father, I believe, is the blacksmith in your model
+village! I spoke to him of his daughter yesterday, and he cursed me!"
+
+"You mean Samuel Gullimore--my farrier?" she asked.
+
+"That is the man," he answered.
+
+"Have you any other--instances?" she asked.
+
+"More than one, I am sorry to say," he replied. "There were two young
+men who left here only a year ago--one is the son of your gardener,
+the other was brought up by his uncle at your lodge gates. I was
+instrumental in saving them from prison a few months ago. One we have
+shipped to Canada--the other, I am sorry to say, has relapsed. We did
+what we could, but beyond a certain point we cannot go."
+
+She leaned her head for a moment upon the slim, white fingers of her
+right hand, innocent of rings save for one great emerald, whose gleam
+of colour was almost barbaric in its momentary splendour. Her face
+had hardened a little, her tone was almost an offence.
+
+"You would have me believe, then," she said, "that my peaceful village
+is a veritable den of iniquity?"
+
+"Not I," he answered brusquely. "Only I would have you realize that
+roses and honeysuckle and regular wages, the appurtenances of material
+prosperity, are after all things of little consequence. They hear the
+song of the world, these people, in their leisure moments; their young
+men and girls are no stronger than their fellows when temptation comes."
+
+Deyes leaned suddenly forward in his chair. He felt that his
+intervention dissipated a dramatic interest, of which he was keenly
+conscious, but he could not keep silence any longer.
+
+"To follow out your argument, sir, to its logical conclusion," he said,
+"why not aim higher still? It is your contention, is it not, that the
+seeds of evil things are sown in indifference, that prosperity might
+even tend towards their propagation. Why not direct your energies, then,
+towards the men and women of Society? There is plenty of scope here for
+your labours."
+
+The young man turned towards him. The lines of his mouth had relaxed
+into a smile of tolerant indifference.
+
+"I have no sympathy, sir," he answered, "with the class you name. On a
+sinking ship, the cry is always, 'Save the women and children.' It is
+the less fortunate in the world's possessions who represent the women
+and children of shipwrecked morality. It is for their betterment that we
+work."
+
+Deyes sighed gently.
+
+"It is a pity," he declared. "I am convinced that there is a magnificent
+opening for mission work amongst the idle classes."
+
+"No doubt," the young man agreed quickly. "The question is whether the
+game is worth the candle."
+
+Deyes made no reply. Lady Peggy was laughing softly to herself.
+
+"I have heard all that you have to say, Mr. Macheson," the mistress of
+Thorpe said calmly, "and I can only repeat that I think your presence
+here as a missioner most unnecessary. I consider it, in fact, an----"
+
+She hesitated. With a sudden flash of humour in his deep-set eyes, he
+supplied the word.
+
+"An impertinence, perhaps!"
+
+"The word is not mine," she answered, "but I accept it willingly. I
+cannot interfere with Mr. Hurd's decision as to the barn."
+
+"I am sorry," he said slowly. "I must hold my meetings out of doors!
+That is all!"
+
+There was a dangerous glitter in her beautiful eyes.
+
+"There is no common land in the neighbourhood," she said, "and you will
+of course understand that I will consider you a trespasser at any time
+you are found upon my property."
+
+He bowed slightly.
+
+"I am here to speak to your people," he said, "and I will do so, if I
+have to stop in these lanes and talk to them one by one. You will pardon
+my reminding you, madam, that the days of feudalism are over."
+
+Wilhelmina carefully shuffled the pack of cards which she had just taken
+up.
+
+"We will finish our rubber, Peggy," she said. "Mr. Deyes, perhaps I may
+trouble you to ring the bell!"
+
+The young man was across the room before Deyes could move.
+
+"You will allow me," he said, with a delightfully humourous smile, "to
+facilitate my own dismissal. I shall doubtless meet your man in the
+hall. May I be allowed to wish you all good afternoon!"
+
+They all returned his farewell save Wilhelmina, who had begun to deal.
+She seemed determined to remember his existence no more. Yet on the
+threshold, with the handle of the door between his fingers, he turned
+back. He said nothing, but his eyes were fixed upon her. Deyes leaned
+forward in his chair, immensely curious. Softly the cards fell into
+their places, there was no sign in her face of any consciousness of his
+presence. Deyes alone knew that she was fighting. He heard her breath
+come quicker, saw the fingers which gathered up her cards shake. Slowly,
+but with obvious unwillingness, she turned her head. She looked straight
+into the eyes of the man who still lingered.
+
+"Good afternoon, Miss Thorpe-Hatton," he said pleasantly. "I am sorry to
+have troubled you."
+
+Her lips moved, but she said nothing. She half inclined her head. The
+door was softly closed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+BEATING HER WINGS
+
+
+Never was a young man more pleased with himself than Stephen Hurd, on
+the night he dined at Thorpe-Hatton. He had shot well all day, and been
+accepted with the utmost cordiality by the rest of the party. At dinner
+time, his hostess had placed him on her left hand, and though it was
+true she had not much to say to him, it was equally obvious that her
+duties were sufficient to account for her divided attention. He was
+quite willing to be ignored by the lady on his other side--a little
+elderly, and noted throughout the country for her husband-hunting
+proclivities. He recognized the fact that, apart from the personal side
+of the question, he could scarcely hope to be of any interest to her.
+The novelty of the situation, Wilhelmina's occasional remarks, and a
+dinner such as he had never tasted before were sufficient to keep him
+interested. For the rest he was content to twirl his moustache, of which
+he was inordinately proud, and lean back in his chair with the
+comfortable reflection that he was the first of his family to be offered
+the complete hospitality of Thorpe-Hatton.
+
+Towards the close of dinner, his hostess leaned towards him.
+
+"Have you seen or heard anything of a young man named Macheson in the
+village?" she asked.
+
+"I have seen him once or twice," he answered. "Here on a missionary
+expedition or something of the sort, I believe."
+
+"Has he made any attempt to hold a meeting?" she asked.
+
+"Not that I have heard of," he replied. "He has been talking to some of
+the people, though. I saw him with old Gullimore yesterday."
+
+"That reminds me," she remarked, "is it true that Gullimore has had
+trouble with his daughter?"
+
+"I believe so," young Hurd admitted, looking downwards at his plate.
+
+"The man was to blame for letting her leave the place," Wilhelmina
+declared, in cold, measured tones. "A pretty girl, I remember, but very
+vain, and a fool, of course. But about this young fellow Macheson. Do
+you know who he is, and where he came from?"
+
+Stephen Hurd shook his head.
+
+"I'm afraid I don't," he said doubtfully. "He belongs to some sort of
+brotherhood, I believe. I can't exactly make out what he's at. Seems a
+queer sort of place for him to come missioning, this!"
+
+"So I told him," she said. "By the bye, do you know where he is
+staying?"
+
+"At Onetree farm," the young man answered.
+
+Wilhelmina frowned.
+
+"Will you execute a commission for me to-morrow?" she asked.
+
+"With pleasure!" he answered eagerly.
+
+"You will go to the woman at Onetree farm, I forget her name, and say
+that I desire to take her rooms myself from to-morrow, or as soon as
+possible. I will pay her for them, but I do not wish that young man to
+be taken in by any of my tenants. You will perhaps make that known."
+
+"I will do so," he declared. "I hope he will have the good sense to
+leave the neighbourhood."
+
+"I trust so," Wilhelmina replied.
+
+She turned away to speak once more to the man on her other side, and did
+not address Stephen Hurd again. He watched her covertly, with tingling
+pulses, as she devoted herself to her neighbour--the Lord-Lieutenant of
+the county. He considered himself a judge of the sex, but he had had few
+opportunities even of admiring such women as the mistress of Thorpe. He
+watched the curve of her white neck with its delicate, satin-like skin,
+the play of her features, the poise of her somewhat small, oval head. He
+admired the slightly wearied air with which she performed her duties and
+accepted the compliments of her neighbour. "A woman of mysteries" some
+one had once called her, and he realized that it was the mouth and the
+dark, tired eyes which puzzled those who attempted to classify her. What
+a triumph--to bring her down to the world of ordinary women, to drive
+the weariness away, to feel the soft touch, perhaps, of those wonderful
+arms! He was a young man of many conquests, and with a sufficiently good
+idea of himself. The thought was like wine in his blood. If only it
+were possible!
+
+He relapsed into a day-dream, from which he was aroused only by the soft
+flutter of gowns and laces as the women rose to go. There was a
+momentary disarrangement of seats. Gilbert Deyes, who was on the other
+side of the table, rose, and carrying his glass in his hand, came
+deliberately round to the vacant seat by the young man's side. In his
+evening clothes, the length and gauntness of his face and figure seemed
+more noticeable than ever. His skin was dry, almost like parchment, and
+his eyes by contrast appeared unnaturally bright. His new neighbour
+noticed, too, that the glass which he carried so carefully contained
+nothing but water.
+
+"I will come and talk to you for a few minutes, if I may," Deyes said.
+"I leave the Church and agriculture to hobnob. Somehow I don't fancy
+that as a buffer I should be a success."
+
+Young Hurd smiled amiably. He was more than a little flattered.
+
+"The Archdeacon," he remarked, "is not an inspiring neighbour."
+
+Deyes lit one of his own cigarettes and passed his case.
+
+"I have found the Archdeacon very dull," he admitted--"a privilege of
+his order, I suppose. By the bye, you are having a dose of religion from
+a new source hereabouts, are you not?"
+
+"You mean this young missioner?" Hurd inquired doubtfully.
+
+Deyes nodded.
+
+"I was with our hostess when he came up to ask for the loan of a barn to
+hold services in. A very queer sort of person, I should think?"
+
+"I haven't spoken to him," Hurd answered, "but I should think he's more
+or less mad. I can understand mission and Salvation Army work and all
+that sort of thing in the cities, but I'm hanged if I can understand any
+one coming to Thorpe with such notions."
+
+"Our hostess is annoyed about it, I imagine," Deyes remarked.
+
+"She seems to have taken a dislike to the fellow," Hurd admitted. "She
+was speaking to me about him just now. He is to be turned out of his
+lodgings here."
+
+Gilbert Deyes smiled. The news interested him.
+
+"Our hostess is practical in her dislikes," he remarked.
+
+"Why not?" his neighbour answered. "The place belongs to her."
+
+Deyes watched for a moment the smoke from his cigarette, curling
+upwards.
+
+"The young man," he said thoughtfully, "impressed me as being a person
+of some determination. I wonder whether he will consent to accept defeat
+so easily."
+
+The agent's son scarcely saw what else there was for him to do.
+
+"There isn't anywhere round here," he remarked, "where they would take
+him in against Miss Thorpe-Hatton's wishes. Besides, he has nowhere to
+preach. His coming here at all was a huge mistake. If he's a sensible
+person he'll admit it."
+
+Deyes nodded as he rose to his feet and lounged towards the door with
+the other men.
+
+"Play bridge?" he asked his companion, as they crossed the hall.
+
+"A little," the young man answered, "for moderate stakes."
+
+They entered the drawing-room, and Deyes made his way to a secluded
+corner, where Lady Peggy sat scribbling alone in a note-book.
+
+"My dear Lady Peggy," he inquired, "whence this exceptional industry?"
+
+She closed the book and looked up at him with twinkling eyes.
+
+"Well, I didn't mean to tell a soul until it was finished," she
+declared, "but you've just caught me. I've had such a brilliant idea.
+I'm going to write a Society Encyclopaedia!"
+
+Deyes looked at her solemnly.
+
+"A Society Encyclopaedia!" he repeated uncertainly. "'Pon my word, I'm
+not quite sure that I understand."
+
+She motioned him to sit down by her side.
+
+"I'll explain," she said. "You know we're all expected to know something
+about everything nowadays, and it's such a bore reading up things. I'm
+going to compile a little volume of definitions. I shall sell it at a
+guinea a copy, pay all my debts, and become quite respectable again."
+
+Deyes shook his head. His attitude was scarcely sympathetic.
+
+"My dear Lady Peggy, what nonsense!" he declared. "Respectable, indeed!
+I call it positively pandering to the middle classes!"
+
+Lady Peggy looked doubtful.
+
+"It is a horrid word, isn't it?" she admitted, "but it would be lovely
+to make some money. Of course, I haven't absolutely decided how to spend
+it yet. It does seem rather a waste, doesn't it, to pay one's debts, but
+think of the luxury of feeling one could do it if one wanted to!"
+
+"There's something in that," Deyes admitted. "But an encyclopaedia! My
+dear Lady Peggy, you don't know what you're talking about. I've got one
+somewhere, I know. It came in a van, and it took two of the men to
+unload it."
+
+Lady Peggy laughed softly.
+
+"Oh! I don't mean that sort, of course," she declared. "I mean just a
+little gilt-edged text book, bound in morocco, you know, with just those
+things in it we're likely to run up against. Radium, for instance. Now
+every one's talking about radium. Do you know what radium is?"
+
+Deyes swung his eyeglass carefully by its black riband.
+
+"Well," he admitted, "I've a sort of idea, but I'm not very good at
+definitions."
+
+"Of course not," Lady Peggy declared triumphantly. "When it comes to the
+point, you see what a good idea mine is. You turn to my textbook," she
+added, turning the pages over rapidly, "and there you are. Radium! 'A
+hard, rare substance, invented by Mr. Gillette to give tone to his
+bachelor parties.' What do you think of that?"
+
+"Wonderful!" Deyes declared solemnly. "Where do you get your information
+from?"
+
+"Oh! I poke about in dictionaries and things, and ask every one
+questions," Lady Peggy declared airily. "Would you like to hear some
+more?"
+
+"Our hostess is beckoning to me," Deyes answered, rising. "I expect she
+wants some bridge."
+
+"I'm on," Lady Peggy declared cheerfully. "Whom shall we get for a
+fourth?"
+
+"Wilhelmina has found him already," Deyes declared. "It's the new young
+man, I think."
+
+Lady Peggy shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"The agent's son?" she remarked. "I shouldn't have thought that he would
+have cared about our points."
+
+"He can afford it for once in a way, I should imagine," Deyes answered.
+"I can't understand, though----"
+
+He stopped short. She looked at him curiously.
+
+"Is it possible," she murmured, "that there exists anything which
+Gilbert Deyes does not understand?"
+
+"Many things," he answered; "amongst them, why does Wilhelmina patronize
+this young man? He is well enough, of course, but----" he shrugged his
+shoulders expressively; "the thing needs an explanation, doesn't it?"
+
+"If Wilhelmina--were not Wilhelmina, it certainly would," Lady Peggy
+answered. "I call her craving for new things and new people positively
+morbid. All the time she beats her wings against the bars. There are no
+new things. There are no new experiences. The sooner one makes up one's
+mind to it the better."
+
+Gilbert Deyes laughed softly.
+
+"If my memory serves me," he said, "you are repeating a cry many
+thousand years old. Wasn't there a prophet----"
+
+"There was," she interrupted, "but they are beckoning us. I hope I don't
+cut with the young man. I don't believe he has a bridge face."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+EVICTED
+
+
+Victor Macheson smoked his after-breakfast pipe with the lazy enjoyment
+of one who is thoroughly at peace with himself and his surroundings. The
+tiny strip of lawn on to which he had dragged his chair was surrounded
+with straggling bushes of cottage flowers, and flanked by a hedge thick
+with honeysuckle. Straight to heaven, as the flight of a bird, the thin
+line of blue smoke curled upwards to the summer sky; the very air seemed
+full of sweet scents and soothing sounds. A few yards away, a procession
+of lazy cows moved leisurely along the grass-bordered lane; from the
+other side of the hedge came the cheerful sound of a reaping-machine,
+driven slowly through the field of golden corn.
+
+The man, through half closed eyes, looked out upon these things, and
+every line in his face spelt contentment. In repose, the artistic
+temperament with which he was deeply imbued, asserted itself more
+clearly--the almost fanatical light in his eyes was softened; one
+saw there was something of the wistfulness of those who seek to
+raise but a corner of the veil that hangs before the world of
+hidden things--something, too, of the subdued joy which even the
+effort brings. The lines of his forceful mouth were less firm, more
+sensitive--a greater sense of humanity seemed somehow to have descended
+upon him as he lounged there in the warmth of the sun, with the full joy
+of his beautiful environment creeping through his blood.
+
+"If you please, Mr. Macheson," some one said in his ear.
+
+He turned his head at once. A tall, fair girl had stepped out of the
+room where he had been breakfasting, and was standing by his elbow. She
+was neatly dressed, pretty in a somewhat insipid fashion, and her hands
+and hair showed signs of a refinement superior to her station. Just now
+she was apparently nervous. Macheson smiled at her encouragingly.
+
+"Well, Letty," he said, "what is it?"
+
+"I wanted--can I say something to you, Mr. Macheson?" she began.
+
+"Why not?" he answered kindly. "Is it anything very serious? Out with
+it!"
+
+"I was thinking, Mr. Macheson," she said, "that I should like to leave
+home--if I could--if there was anything which I could do. I wanted to
+ask your advice."
+
+He laid down his pipe and looked at her seriously.
+
+"Why, Letty," he said, "how long have you been thinking of this?"
+
+"Oh! ever so long, sir," she exclaimed, speaking with more confidence.
+"You see there's nothing for me to do here except when there's any one
+staying, like you, sir, and that's not often. Mother won't let me help
+with the rough work, and Ruth's growing up now, she's ever such a strong
+girl. And I should like to go away if I could, and learn to be a little
+more--more ladylike," she added, with reddening cheeks.
+
+Macheson was puzzled. The girl was not looking him in the face. He felt
+there was something at the back of it all.
+
+"My dear girl," he said, "you can't learn to be ladylike. That's one of
+the things that's born with you or it isn't. You can be just as much a
+lady helping your mother here as practising grimaces in a London
+drawing-room."
+
+"But I want to improve myself," she persisted.
+
+"Go for a long walk every day, and look about you," he said. "Read. I'll
+lend you some books--the right sort. You'll do better here than away."
+
+She was frankly dissatisfied.
+
+"But I want to go away," she declared. "I want to leave Thorpe for a
+time. I should like to go to London. Couldn't I get a situation as
+lady's help or companion or something of that sort? I shouldn't want any
+money."
+
+He was silent for a moment.
+
+"Does your mother know of this, Letty?" he asked.
+
+"She wouldn't object," the girl answered eagerly. "She lets me do what I
+like."
+
+"Hadn't you better tell me--the rest?" Macheson asked quietly.
+
+The girl looked away uneasily.
+
+"There is no rest," she protested weakly.
+
+Macheson shook his head.
+
+"Letty," he said, "if you have formed any ideas of a definite future for
+yourself, different from any you see before you here, tell me what they
+are, and I will do my best to help you. But if you simply want to go
+away because you are dissatisfied with the life here, because you fancy
+yourself superior to it, well, I'm sorry, but I'd sooner prevent your
+going than help you."
+
+Her eyes filled with tears.
+
+"Oh! Mr. Macheson, it isn't that," she declared, "I--I don't want to
+tell any one, but I'm very--very fond of some one who's--quite
+different. I think he's fond of me, too," she added softly, "but he's
+always used to being with ladies, and I wanted to improve myself so
+much! I thought if I went to London," she added wistfully, "I might
+learn?"
+
+Macheson laughed cheerfully. He laid his hand for a moment upon her arm.
+
+"Oh! Letty, Letty," he declared, "you're a foolish little girl! Now,
+listen to me. If he's a good sort, and I'm sure he is, or you wouldn't
+be fond of him, he'll like you just exactly as you are. Do you know what
+it means to be a lady, the supreme test of good manners? It means to be
+natural. Take my advice! Go on helping your mother, enter into the
+village life, make friends with the other girls, don't imagine yourself
+a bit superior to anybody else. Read when you have time--I'll manage the
+books for you, and spend all the time you can out of doors. It's sound
+advice, Letty. Take my word for it. Hullo, who's this?"
+
+A new sound in the lane made them both turn their heads. Young Hurd had
+just ridden up and was fastening his pony to the fence. He looked
+across at them curiously, and Letty retreated precipitately into the
+house. A moment or two later he came up the narrow path, frowning at
+Macheson over the low hedge of foxgloves and cottage roses, and barely
+returning his courteous greeting. For a moment he hesitated, however, as
+though about to speak. Then, changing his mind, he passed on and entered
+the farmhouse.
+
+He met Mrs. Foulton herself in the passage, and she welcomed him with a
+smiling face.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Hurd, sir!" she exclaimed, plucking at her apron.
+"Won't you come inside, sir, and sit down? The parlour's let to Mr.
+Macheson there, but he's out in the garden, and he won't mind your
+stepping in for a moment. And how's your father, Mr. Hurd? Wonderful
+well he was looking when I saw him last."
+
+The young man followed her inside, but declined a chair.
+
+"Oh! the governor's all right, Mrs. Foulton," he answered. "Never knew
+him anything else. Good weather for the harvest, eh?"
+
+"Beautiful, sir!" Mrs. Foulton answered.
+
+"Were you wanting to speak to John, Mr. Stephen? He's about the home
+meadow somewhere, or in the orchard. I can send a boy for him, or
+perhaps you'd step out."
+
+"It's you I came to see, Mrs. Foulton," the young man said, "and 'pon my
+word, I don't like my errand much."
+
+Mrs. Foulton was visibly anxious.
+
+"There's no trouble like, I hope, sir?" she began.
+
+"Oh! it's nothing serious," he declared reassuringly. "To tell you the
+truth, it's about your lodger."
+
+"About Mr. Macheson, sir!" the woman exclaimed.
+
+"Yes! Do you know how long he was proposing to stay with you?"
+
+"He's just took the rooms for another week, sir," she answered, "and a
+nicer lodger, or one more quiet and regular in his habits, I never had
+or wish to have. There's nothing against him, sir--surely?"
+
+"Nothing personal--that I know of," Hurd answered, tapping his boots
+with his riding-whip. "The fact of it is, he has offended Miss
+Thorpe-Hatton, and she wants him out of the place."
+
+"Well, I never did!" Mrs. Foulton exclaimed in amazement. "Him offend
+Miss Thorpe-Hatton! So nice-spoken he is, too. I'm sure I can't imagine
+his saying a wry word to anybody."
+
+"He has come to Thorpe," Hurd explained, "on an errand of which Miss
+Thorpe-Hatton disapproves, and she does not wish to have him in the
+place. She knows that he is staying here, and she wishes you to send him
+away at once."
+
+Mrs. Foulton's face fell.
+
+"Well, I'm fair sorry to hear this, sir," she declared. "It's only this
+morning that he spoke for the rooms for another week, and I was glad and
+willing enough to let them to him. Well I never did! It does sound all
+anyhow, don't it, sir, to be telling him to pack up and go sudden-like!"
+
+"I will speak to him myself, if you like, Mrs. Foulton," Stephen said.
+"Of course, Miss Thorpe-Hatton does not wish you to lose anything, and I
+am to pay you the rent of the rooms for the time he engaged them. I will
+do so at once, if you will let me know how much it is."
+
+He thrust his hand into his pocket, but Mrs. Foulton drew back. The
+corners of her mouth were drawn tightly together.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Stephen," she said, "I'll obey Miss Thorpe-Hatton's
+wishes, of course, as in duty bound, but I'll not take any money for the
+rooms. Thank you all the same."
+
+"Don't be foolish, Mrs. Foulton," the young man said pleasantly. "It
+will annoy Miss Thorpe-Hatton if she knows you have refused, and you may
+just as well have the money. Let me see. Shall we say a couple of
+sovereigns for the week?"
+
+Mrs. Foulton shook her head.
+
+"I'll not take anything, sir, thank you all the same, and if you'd say a
+word to Mr. Macheson, I'd be much obliged. I'd rather any one spoke to
+him than me."
+
+Stephen Hurd pocketed the money with a shrug of the shoulders.
+
+"Just as you like, of course, Mrs. Foulton," he said. "I'll go out and
+speak to the young gentleman at once."
+
+He strolled out and looked over the hedge.
+
+"Mr. Macheson, I believe?" he remarked interrogatively.
+
+Macheson nodded as he rose from his chair.
+
+"And you are Mr. Hurd's son, are you not?" he said pleasantly.
+"Wonderful morning, isn't it?"
+
+Young Hurd stepped over the rose bushes. The two men stood side by side,
+something of a height, only that the better cut of Hurd's clothes showed
+his figure to greater advantage.
+
+"I'm sorry to say that I've come on rather a disagreeable errand," the
+agent's son began. "I've been talking to Mrs. Foulton about it."
+
+"Indeed?" Macheson remarked interrogatively.
+
+"The fact is you seem to have rubbed up against our great lady here,"
+young Hurd continued. "She's very down on these services you were going
+to hold, and she wants to see you out of the place."
+
+"I am sorry to hear this," Macheson said--and once more waited.
+
+"It isn't a pleasant task," Stephen continued, liking his errand less as
+he proceeded; "but I've had to tell Mrs. Foulton that--that, in short,
+Miss Thorpe-Hatton does not wish her tenants to accept you as a lodger."
+
+"Miss Thorpe-Hatton makes war on a wide scale," Macheson remarked,
+smiling faintly.
+
+"Well, after all, you see," Hurd explained, "the whole place belongs to
+her, and there is no particular reason, is there, why she should
+tolerate any one in it of whom she disapproves?"
+
+"None whatever," Macheson assented gravely.
+
+"I promised Mrs. Foulton I would speak to you," Stephen continued,
+stepping backwards. "I'm sure, for her sake, you won't make any trouble.
+Good morning!"
+
+Macheson bowed slightly.
+
+"Good morning!" he answered.
+
+Stephen Hurd lingered even then upon the garden path. Somehow he was
+not satisfied with his interview--with his own position at the end of
+it. He had an uncomfortable sense of belittlement, of having played a
+small part in a not altogether worthy game. The indifference of the
+other's manner nettled him. He tried a parting shaft.
+
+"Mrs. Foulton said something about your having engaged the rooms for
+another week," he said, turning back. "Of course, if you insist upon
+staying, it will place the woman in a very awkward position."
+
+Macheson had resumed his seat.
+
+"I should not dream," he said coolly, "of resisting--your mistress'
+decree! I shall leave here in half an hour."
+
+Young Hurd walked angrily down the path and slammed the gate. The sense
+of having been worsted was strong upon him. He recognized his own
+limitations too accurately not to be aware that he had been in conflict
+with a stronger personality.
+
+"D---- the fellow!" he muttered, as he cantered down the lane. "I wish
+he were out of the place."
+
+A genuine wish, and one which betrayed at least a glimmering of a
+prophetic instinct. In some dim way he seemed to understand, even before
+the first move on the board, that the coming of Victor Macheson to
+Thorpe was inimical to himself. He was conscious of his weakness, of a
+marked inferiority, and the consciousness was galling. The fellow had no
+right to be a gentleman, he told himself angrily--a gentleman and a
+missioner!
+
+Macheson re-lit his pipe and called to Mrs. Foulton.
+
+"Mrs. Foulton," he said pleasantly, "I'll have to go! Your great lady
+doesn't like me on the estate. I dare say she's right."
+
+"I'm sure I'm very sorry, sir," Mrs. Foulton declared shamefacedly.
+"You've seen young Mr. Hurd?"
+
+"He was kind enough to explain the situation to me," Macheson answered.
+"I'm afraid I am rather a nuisance to everybody. If I am, it's because
+they don't quite understand!"
+
+"I'm sure, sir," Mrs. Foulton affirmed, "a nicer lodger no one ever had.
+And as for them services, and the Vicar objecting to them, I can't see
+what harm they'd do! We're none of us so good but we might be a bit
+better!"
+
+"A very sound remark, Mrs. Foulton," Macheson said, smiling. "And now
+you must make out my bill, please, and what about a few sandwiches? You
+could manage that? I'm going to play in a cricket match this afternoon."
+
+"Why you've just paid the bill, sir! There's only breakfast, and the
+sandwiches you're welcome to, and very sorry I am to part with you,
+sir."
+
+"Better luck another time, I hope, Mrs. Foulton," he answered, smiling.
+"I must go upstairs and pack my bag. I shan't forget your garden with
+its delicious flowers."
+
+"It's a shame as you've got to leave it, sir," Mrs. Foulton said
+heartily. "If my Richard were alive he'd never have let you go for all
+the Miss Thorpe-Hattons in the world. But John--he's little more than a
+lad--he'd be frightened to death for fear of losing the farm, if I so
+much as said a word to him."
+
+Macheson laughed softly.
+
+"John's a good son," he said. "Don't you worry him."
+
+He went up to his tiny bedroom and changed his clothes for a suit of
+flannels. Then he packed his few belongings and walked out into the
+world. He lit a pipe and shouldered his portmanteau.
+
+"There is a flavour of martyrdom about this affair," he said to himself,
+as he strolled along, "which appeals to me. I don't think that young man
+has any sense of humour."
+
+He paused every now and then to listen to the birds and admire the view.
+He had the air of one thoroughly enjoying his walk. Presently he turned
+off the main road, and wandered along a steep green lane, which was
+little more than a cart-track. Here he met no one. The country on either
+side was common land, sown with rocks and the poorest soil, picturesque,
+but almost impossible of cultivation. A few sheep were grazing upon the
+hills, but other sign of life there was none. Not a farmhouse--scarcely
+a keeper's cottage in sight! It was a forgotten corner of a not
+unpopulous county--the farthest portion of a belt of primeval forest
+land, older than history itself. Macheson laughed softly as he reached
+the spot he had had in his mind, and threw his bag over the grey stone
+wall into the cool shade of a dense fragment of wood.
+
+"So much," he murmured softly, "for the lady of Thorpe!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+CRICKET AND PHILOSOPHY
+
+
+"The instinct for games," Wilhelmina remarked, "is one which I never
+possessed. Let us see whether we can learn something."
+
+In obedience to her gesture, the horses were checked, and the footman
+clambered down and stood at their heads. Deyes, from his somewhat
+uncomfortable back seat in the victoria, leaned forward, and, adjusting
+his eyeglass, studied the scene with interest.
+
+"Here," he remarked, "we have the 'flannelled fool' upon his native
+heath. They are playing a game which my memory tells me is cricket.
+Everyone seems very hot and very excited."
+
+Wilhelmina beckoned to the footman to come round to the side of the
+carriage.
+
+"James," she said, "do you know what all this means?"
+
+She waved her hand towards the cricket pitch, the umpires with their
+white coats, the tent and the crowd of spectators. The man touched his
+hat.
+
+"It is a cricket match, madam," he answered, "between Thorpe and
+Nesborough."
+
+Wilhelmina looked once more towards the field, and recognized Mr. Hurd
+upon his stout little cob.
+
+"Go and tell Mr. Hurd to come and speak to me," she ordered.
+
+The man hastened off. Mr. Hurd had not once turned his head. His eyes
+were riveted upon the game. The groom found it necessary to touch him on
+the arm before he could attract his attention. Even when he had
+delivered his message, the agent waited until the finish of the over
+before he moved. Then he cantered his pony up to the waiting carriage.
+Wilhelmina greeted him graciously.
+
+"I want to know about the cricket match, Mr. Hurd," she asked, smiling.
+
+Mr. Hurd wheeled his pony round so that he could still watch the game.
+
+"I am afraid that we are going to be beaten, madam," he said dolefully.
+"Nesborough made a hundred and ninety-eight, and we have six wickets
+down for fifty."
+
+Wilhelmina seemed scarcely to realize the tragedy which his words
+unfolded.
+
+"I suppose they are the stronger team, aren't they?" she remarked. "They
+ought to be. Nesborough is quite a large town."
+
+"We have beaten them regularly until the last two years," Mr. Hurd
+answered. "We should beat them now but for their fast bowler, Mills. I
+don't know how it is, but our men will not stand up to him."
+
+"Perhaps they are afraid of being hurt," Wilhelmina suggested
+innocently. "If that is he bowling now, I'm sure I don't wonder at it."
+
+Mr. Hurd frowned.
+
+"We don't have men in the eleven who are afraid of getting hurt," he
+remarked stiffly.
+
+A shout of dismay from the onlookers, a smothered exclamation from Mr.
+Hurd, and a man was seen on his way to the pavilion. His wickets were
+spreadeagled, and the ball was being tossed about the field.
+
+"Another wicket!" the agent exclaimed testily. "Crooks played all round
+that ball!"
+
+"Isn't that your son going in, Mr. Hurd?" Wilhelmina asked.
+
+"Yes! Stephen is in now," his father answered. "If he gets out, the
+match is over."
+
+"Who is the other batsman?" Deyes asked.
+
+"Antill, the second bailiff," Mr. Hurd answered. "He's captain, and he
+can stay in all day, but he can't make runs."
+
+They all leaned forward to witness the continuation of the match.
+Stephen Hurd's career was brief and inglorious. He took guard and looked
+carefully round the field with the air of a man who is going to give
+trouble. Then he saw the victoria, with its vision of parasols and
+fluttering laces, and the sight was fatal to him. He slogged wildly at
+the first ball, missed it, and paid the penalty. The lady in the
+carriage frowned, and Mr. Hurd muttered something under his breath as he
+watched his son on the way back to the tent.
+
+"I'm afraid it's all up with us now," he remarked. "We have only three
+more men to go in."
+
+"Then we are going to be beaten," Wilhelmina remarked.
+
+"I'm afraid so," Mr. Hurd assented gloomily.
+
+The next batsman had issued from the tent and was on his way to the
+wicket. Wilhelmina, who had been about to give an order to the footman,
+watched him curiously.
+
+"Who is that going in?" she asked abruptly.
+
+Mr. Hurd was looking not altogether comfortable.
+
+"It is the young man who wanted to preach," he answered.
+
+Wilhelmina frowned.
+
+"Why is he playing?" she asked. "He has nothing to do with Thorpe."
+
+"He came down to see them practise a few evenings ago, and Antill asked
+him," the agent answered. "If I had known earlier I would have stopped
+it."
+
+Wilhelmina did not immediately reply. She was watching the young man who
+stood now at the wicket, bat in hand. In his flannels, he seemed a very
+different person from the missioner whose request a few days ago had so
+much offended her. Nevertheless, her lip curled as she saw the terrible
+Mills prepare to deliver his first ball.
+
+"That sort of person," she remarked, "is scarcely likely to be much good
+at games. Oh!"
+
+Her exclamation was repeated in various forms from all over the field.
+Macheson had hit his first ball high over their heads, and a storm of
+applause broke from the bystanders. The batsman made no attempt to run.
+
+"What is that?" Wilhelmina asked.
+
+"A boundary--magnificent drive," Mr. Hurd answered excitedly. "By Jove,
+another!"
+
+The agent dropped his reins and led the applause. Along the ground this
+time the ball had come at such a pace that the fieldsman made a very
+half-hearted attempt to stop it. It passed the horses' feet by only a
+few yards. The coachman turned round and touched his hat.
+
+"Shall I move farther back, madam?" he asked.
+
+"Stay where you are," Wilhelmina answered shortly. Her eyes were fixed
+upon the tall, lithe figure once more facing the bowler. The next ball
+was the last of the over. Macheson played it carefully for a single, and
+stood prepared for the bowling at the other end. He began by a graceful
+cut for two, and followed it up by a square leg hit clean out of the
+ground. For the next half an hour, the Thorpe villagers thoroughly
+enjoyed themselves. Never since the days of one Foulds, a former
+blacksmith, had they seen such an exhibition of hurricane hitting. The
+fast bowler, knocked clean off his length, became wild and erratic. Once
+he only missed Macheson's head by an inch, but his next ball was driven
+fair and square out of the ground for six. The applause became frantic.
+
+Wilhelmina was leaning back amongst the cushions of her carriage,
+watching the game through half closed eyes, and with some apparent
+return of her usual graceful languor. Nevertheless, she remained there,
+and her eyes seldom wandered for a moment from the scene of play.
+Beneath her apparent indifference, she was watching this young man with
+an interest for which she would have found it hard to account, and which
+instinct alone prompted her to conceal. It was a very ordinary scene,
+after all, of which he was the dominant figure. She had seen so much of
+life on a larger scale--of men playing heroic parts in the limelight of
+a stage as mighty as this was insignificant. Yet, without stopping to
+reason about it, she was conscious of a curious sense of pleasure in
+watching the doings of this forceful young giant. With an easy
+good-humoured smile, replaced every now and then with a grim look of
+determination as he jumped out from the crease to hit, he continued his
+victorious career, until a more frantic burst of applause than usual
+announced that the match was won. Then Wilhelmina turned towards Stephen
+Hurd, who was standing by the side of the carriage.
+
+"You executed my commission," she asked, "respecting that young man?"
+
+"The first thing this morning," he answered. "I went up to see Mrs.
+Foulton, and I also spoke to him."
+
+"Did he make any difficulty?"
+
+"None at all!" the young man answered.
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+Stephen hesitated, but Wilhelmina waited for his reply. She had the air
+of one remotely interested, yet she waited obviously to hear what this
+young man had said.
+
+"I think he said something about your making war upon a large scale,"
+Stephen explained diffidently.
+
+She sat still for a moment. She was looking towards the deserted cricket
+pitch.
+
+"Where is he staying now?" she asked.
+
+"I do not know," he answered. "I have warned all the likely people not
+to receive him, and I have told him, too, that he will only get your
+tenants into trouble if he tries to get lodgings here."
+
+"I should like," she said, "to speak to him. Perhaps you would be so
+good as to ask him to step this way for a moment."
+
+Stephen departed, wondering. Deyes was watching his hostess with an air
+of covert amusement.
+
+"Do you continue the warfare," he asked, "or has the young man's prowess
+softened your heart?"
+
+Wilhelmina raised her parasol and looked steadily at her questioner.
+
+"Warfare is scarcely the word, is it?" she remarked carelessly. "I have
+no personal objection to the young man."
+
+They watched him crossing the field towards them. Notwithstanding his
+recent exertions, he walked lightly, and without any sign of fatigue.
+Deyes looked curiously at the crest upon the cap which he was carrying
+in his hand.
+
+"Magdalen," he muttered. "Your missioner grows more interesting."
+
+Wilhelmina leaned forwards. Her face was inscrutable, and her greeting
+devoid of cordiality.
+
+"So you have decided to teach my people cricket instead of morals, Mr.
+Macheson," she remarked.
+
+"The two," he answered pleasantly, "are not incompatible."
+
+Wilhelmina frowned.
+
+"I hope," she said, "that you have abandoned your idea of holding
+meetings in the village."
+
+"Certainly not," he answered. "I will begin next week."
+
+"You understand," she said calmly, "that I consider you--as a
+missioner--an intruder--here! Those of my people who attend your
+services will incur my displeasure!"
+
+"Madam," he answered, "I do not believe that you will visit it upon
+them."
+
+"But I will," she interrupted ruthlessly. "You are young and know little
+of the world. You have not yet learnt the truth of one of the oldest of
+proverbs--that it is well to let well alone!"
+
+"It is a sop for the idle, that proverb," he answered. "It is the motto
+for the great army of those who drift."
+
+"I have been making inquiries," she said. "I find that my villagers are
+contented and prosperous. There are no signs of vice in the place."
+
+"There is such a thing," he answered, "as being too prosperous,
+over-contented. The person in such a state takes life for granted.
+Religion is a thing he hears about, but fails to realize. He has no need
+of it. He becomes like the prize cattle in your park! He has a mind, but
+has forgotten how to use it."
+
+She looked at him steadily, perhaps a trifle insolently.
+
+"How old are you, Mr. Macheson?" she asked.
+
+"Twenty-eight," he answered, with a slight flush.
+
+"Twenty-eight! You are young to make yourself the judge of such things
+as these. You will do a great deal of mischief, I am afraid, before you
+are old enough to realize it."
+
+"To awaken those who sleep in the daytime--is that mischief?" he asked.
+
+"It is," she answered deliberately. "When you are older you will realize
+it. Sleep is the best."
+
+He bent towards her. The light in his eyes had blazed out.
+
+"You know in your heart," he said, "that it is not true. You have
+brains, and you are as much of an artist as your fettered life permits
+you to be. You know very well that knowledge is best."
+
+"Do you believe," she answered, "that I--I take myself not personally
+but as a type--am as happy as they are?"
+
+She moved her parasol to where the village lay beyond the trees. He
+hesitated.
+
+"Madam," he answered gravely, "I know too little of your life to answer
+your question."
+
+She shrugged her shoulders. For a moment her parasol hid her face.
+
+"We are quite _a la mode_, are we not, my dear Peggy?" she remarked,
+with a curious little laugh. "Philosophy upon the village green.
+Gilbert, tell them to drive on."
+
+She turned deliberately to Macheson.
+
+"Come and convert us instead," she said. "We need it more."
+
+"I do not doubt it, madam," he answered. "Good afternoon!"
+
+The carriage drove off. Macheson, obeying an impulse which he did not
+recognize, watched it till it was out of sight. At the bend, Wilhelmina
+deliberately turned in her seat and saw him standing there. She waved
+her parasol in ironical farewell, and Macheson walked back to the tent
+with burning cheeks.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+AN UNDERNOTE OF MUSIC
+
+
+A great dinner party had come to an end, and the Lord-Lieutenant of the
+county bowed low over the cold hand of his departing guest, in whose
+honour it had been given. A distant relationship gave Lord Westerdean
+privileges upon which he would willingly have improved.
+
+"You are leaving us early, Wilhelmina," he murmured reproachfully. "How
+can I expect to keep my other guests if you desert us?"
+
+Wilhelmina withdrew the hand and nodded her other farewells. The heat of
+the summer evening had brought every one out from the drawing-room. The
+hall doors stood open. Those of the guests who were not playing bridge
+or billiards were outside upon the terrace--some had wandered into the
+gardens.
+
+"My dear Leslie," she said, as she stood upon the broad steps, "you are
+losing your habit of gallantry. A year ago you would not have ventured
+to suggest that in my absence the coming or going of your other guests
+could matter a straw."
+
+"You know very well that it doesn't," he answered, dropping his voice.
+"You know very well----"
+
+"To-night," she interrupted calmly, "I will not be made love to! I am
+not in the humour for it."
+
+He looked down at her curiously. He was a man of exceptional height,
+thin, grey, still handsome, an ex-diplomat, whose career, had he chosen
+to follow it, would have been a brilliant one. Wealth and immense
+estates had thrust their burdens upon him, however, and he was content
+to be the most popular man in his county.
+
+"There is nothing the matter?" he asked anxiously.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"You are well?" he persisted, dropping his voice.
+
+"Absolutely," she answered. "It is not that. It is a mood. I used to
+welcome moods as an escape from the ruts. I suppose I am getting too old
+for them now."
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"I wonder," he said, "if the world really knows how young you are."
+
+"Don't," she interrupted, with a shudder, "I have outlived my years."
+
+A motor omnibus and a small victoria came round from the stables. The
+party from Thorpe began slowly to assemble upon the steps.
+
+"I am going in the victoria--alone," she said, resting her fingers upon
+his arm. "Don't you envy me?"
+
+"I envy the vacant place," he answered sadly. "Isn't this desire for
+solitude somewhat of a new departure, though?"
+
+"Perhaps," she admitted. "I am rather looking forward to my drive.
+To-night, as we came here, the whole country seemed like a great garden
+of perfumes and beautiful places. That is why I had them telephone for a
+carriage. There are times when I hate motoring!"
+
+He broke off a cluster of pink roses and placed them in her hands.
+
+"If your thoughts must needs fill the empty seat," he whispered, as he
+bent over her for his final adieux, "remember my claims, I beg. Perhaps
+my thoughts might even meet yours!"
+
+She laughed under her breath, but the light in his eyes was unanswered.
+
+"Perhaps!" she answered. "It is a night for thoughts and dreams, this.
+Even I may drift into sentiment. Good night! Such a charming evening."
+
+The carriage rolled smoothly down the avenue from the great house, over
+which she might so easily have reigned, and turned into the road. A few
+minutes later the motor-car flashed by. Afterwards there was solitude,
+for it was already past midnight. Gilbert Deyes looked thoughtfully out
+at the carriage from his place in the car. He had begged--very hard for
+him--for that empty seat.
+
+"Of what is it a sign," he asked, "when a woman seeks solitude?"
+
+Lady Peggy shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"Wilhelmina is tired of us all, I suppose," she remarked. "She gets like
+that sometimes."
+
+"Then of what is it a sign," he persisted, "when a woman tires of
+people--like us?"
+
+Lady Peggy yawned.
+
+"In a woman of more primitive instincts," she said, "it would mean an
+affair. But Wilhelmina has outgrown all that. She is the only woman of
+our acquaintance of whom one would dare to say it, but I honestly
+believe that to Wilhelmina men are like puppets. Was she born, I wonder,
+with ice in her veins?"
+
+"One wonders," Deyes remarked softly. "A woman like that is always
+something of a mystery. By the bye, wasn't there a whisper of something
+the year she lived in Florence?"
+
+"People have talked of her, of course," Lady Peggy answered. "In
+Florence, a woman without a lover is like a child without toys. To be
+virtuous there is the one offence which Society does not pardon."
+
+"I believe," Deyes said, "that a lover would bore Wilhelmina terribly."
+
+"Why the dickens doesn't she marry Leslie?" Austin asked, opening his
+eyes for a moment.
+
+"Too obvious," Deyes murmured. "Some day I can't help fancying that she
+will give us all a shock."
+
+A mile or more behind, the lady with ice in her veins, leaned back
+amongst the cushions of her carriage, drinking in, with a keenness of
+appreciation which surprised even herself, the beauties of the still,
+hot night. The moon was as yet barely risen. In the half light, the
+country and the hills beyond, with their tumbled masses of rock, seemed
+unreal--of strange and mysterious outline. More than anything, she was
+conscious of a sense of softness. The angles were gone from all the
+crude places, it was peace itself which had settled upon the land.
+Peace, and a wonderful silence! The birds had long ago ceased to sing,
+no breath of wind was abroad to stir the leaves of the trees. All the
+cheerful chorus of country sounds which make music throughout the long
+summer day had ceased. Once, when a watch-dog barked in the valley far
+below, she started. The sound seemed unreal--as though, indeed, it came
+from a different world!
+
+The woman in the carriage looked out with steady tireless eyes upon this
+visionary land. The breath of the honeysuckle and the pleasant odour of
+warm hay seemed to give life to the sensuous joy of the wonderful night.
+She herself was a strange being to be abroad in these quiet lanes. Her
+only wrap was a long robe of filmy lace, which she had thrown back, so
+that her shoulders and neck, with its collar of lustrous pearls, were
+bare to the faint breeze, which only their own progress made. Her
+gleaming dress of white satin, undecorated, unadorned, fell in delicate
+lines about her limbs. No wonder that the only person whom they passed,
+a belated farmer, rubbed his eyes and stared at her as at a ghost!
+
+It seemed to her that something of the confusion of this delightful,
+half-seen world, had stolen, too, into her thoughts. All day long she
+had been conscious of it. There was something alien there, something
+wholly unrecognizable. She felt a new light falling upon her life. From
+where? She could not tell. Only she knew that its pitiless routine, its
+littleness, its frantic struggle for the front place in the great
+pleasure-house, seemed suddenly to stand revealed in pitiful colours.
+Surely it belonged to some other woman! It could not be she who did
+those things and called them life. She, who scarcely knew what nerves
+were, was suddenly afraid. Some change was coming upon her; she felt
+herself caught in a silent, swift-flowing current. She was being carried
+away, and she had not strength to resist. And all the time there was an
+undernote of music. That was what made it so strange. The light that was
+falling was like summer rain upon the bare, dry places. She was
+conscious of a new vitality, a new life, and she feared it. Fancy being
+endowed with a new sense, in the midst of an ordinary work-a-day
+existence! She felt like that. It was unbelievable, and yet its tumult
+was stirring in her heart, was rushing through her veins. Often before,
+her tired eyes had rested unmoved upon a country as beautiful as this,
+even the mystery of this half light was no new thing. To-night she saw
+farther--she felt the throbbing, half-mad delight of the wanderer in the
+enchanted land, the pilgrim who hears suddenly the Angelus bell from the
+shrine he has journeyed so far to visit. What it meant she could not,
+she dared not ask herself. She was content to sit there, her eyes wide
+open now, the tired lines smoothed from her forehead, her face like the
+face of an eager and beautiful child. No one of her world would have
+recognized her, as she travelled that night through the perfumed lanes.
+
+It was when they were within a mile or two of home that an awakening
+came. They had turned into a lonely lane leading to one of the back
+entrances to Thorpe, and were climbing a somewhat steep hill. Suddenly
+the horses plunged and almost stopped. She leaned forward.
+
+"What is it, Johnson?" she asked.
+
+The man touched his hat.
+
+"The 'osses shied, madam, at the light in the trees there. Enough to
+frighten 'em, too."
+
+Her eyes followed his pointing finger. A few yards back from the
+roadside, a small, steady light was burning amongst the trees.
+
+"What is it?" she asked quickly.
+
+"I can't say, madam," the man answered. "It looks like a lantern or a
+candle, or something of that sort."
+
+"There is no cottage there?" she asked.
+
+The man shook his head.
+
+"There's none nearer than the first lodge, madam," he answered. "There's
+a bit of a shelter there--Higgs, the keeper, built it for a watchman."
+
+"Can I take care of the horses for a moment, while you go and see what
+it is?" she asked.
+
+"They take a bit of holding, madam," the man answered doubtfully. "We
+got your message so late at the stables, or I should have had a second
+man."
+
+Wilhelmina stepped softly out into the road.
+
+"I will go myself," she said. "I daresay it is nothing. If I call,
+though, you must leave the horses and come to me."
+
+She opened the gate, and raising her skirts with both hands, stepped
+into the plantation. Her small, white-shod feet fell noiselessly upon
+the thick undergrowth; she reached the entrance of the shelter without
+making any sound. Cautiously she peeped in. Her eyes grew round with
+surprise, her bosom began rapidly to rise and fall. It was Macheson who
+lay there, fast asleep! He had fallen asleep evidently whilst reading.
+A book was lying by his side, and a covered lantern was burning by his
+left shoulder. He was dressed in trousers and shirt; the latter was open
+at the throat, showing its outline firm and white, and his regular
+breathing. She drew a step nearer, and leaned over him. Curiously
+enough, in sleep the boyishness of his face was less apparent. The
+straight, firm mouth, rigidly closed, was the mouth of a man; his limbs,
+in repose, seemed heavy, even massive, especially the bare arm upon
+which his head was resting. His shirt was old, but spotlessly clean; his
+socks were neatly darned in many places. He occupied nearly the whole of
+the shelter, in fact one foot was protruding through the opening. In the
+corner a looking-glass was hanging from a stick, and a few simple toilet
+articles were spread upon the ground.
+
+She bent more closely over him, holding her breath, although he showed
+no signs of waking. Her senses were in confusion, and there was a mist
+before her eyes. An unaccountable impulse was urging her on, driving
+her, as it seemed, into incredible folly. Lower and lower she bent, till
+her hot breath fell almost upon his cheek. Suddenly he stirred. She
+started back. After all he did not open his eyes, but the moment was
+gone. She moved backwards towards the opening. She was seized now with
+sudden fright. She desired to escape. She was breathless with fear, the
+fear of what she might not have escaped. Yet in the midst of it, with
+hot trembling fingers she loosened the roses from her dress and dropped
+them by his side. Then she fled into the semi-darkness.
+
+The habits of a lifetime die hard. They are proof, as a rule, against
+these fits of temporary madness.
+
+Wilhelmina stepped languidly into her carriage, and commanded her
+coachman's attention.
+
+"Johnson," she said, "I found a poor man sleeping there. There is no
+necessity for him to be disturbed. It is my wish that you do not mention
+the occurrence to any one--to any one at all. You understand?"
+
+The man touched his hat. He would have been dull-witted, indeed, if he
+had not appreciated the note of finality in his mistress' tone. His
+horses sprang forward, and a few minutes later turned into the dark
+avenue which led to the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+ROSES
+
+
+Macheson woke with the daylight, stiff, a little tired, and haunted with
+the consciousness of disturbing dreams. He sprang to his feet and
+stretched himself. Then he saw the roses.
+
+For a moment or two he stared at them incredulously. Then his thoughts
+flashed backwards--where or how had he become possessed of them? A few
+seconds were sufficient. Some one had been there in the night--most
+likely a woman.
+
+His cheeks burned at the thought. He stooped and took them hesitatingly,
+reverently, into his hand. To him they represented part of the mystery
+of life, the mystery of which he knew so little. Soft and fragrant, the
+touch of the drooping blossoms was like fire to his fingers. Had he been
+like those predecessors of his in the days of the Puritans, he would
+have cast them away, trampled them underfoot; he would have seen in them
+only the snare of the Evil One. But to Macheson this would have seemed
+almost like sacrilege. They were beautiful and he loved beautiful
+things.
+
+He made his way farther into the plantation, to where the trees,
+suddenly opening, disclosed a small, disused slate quarry, the water in
+which was kept fresh by many streams. Stripping off his clothes, he
+plunged into the deep cool depths, swimming round for several minutes on
+his back, his face upturned to the dim blue sky. Then he dressed--in the
+ugly black suit, for it was Sunday, and made a frugal breakfast, boiling
+the water for his coffee over a small spirit-lamp. And all the time he
+kept looking at the roses, now fresh with the water which he had
+carefully sprinkled over them. Their coming seemed to him to whisper of
+beautiful things, they turned his thoughts so easily into that world of
+poetry and sentiment in which he was a habitual wanderer. Yet, every now
+and then, their direct significance startled, almost alarmed. Some one
+had actually been in the place while he slept, and had retreated without
+disturbing him. Roses do not drop from the sky, and of gardens there
+were none close at hand. Was it one of the village girls, who had seen
+him that afternoon? His cheeks reddened at the thought. Perhaps he had
+better leave his shelter. Another time if she came she might not steal
+away so quietly. Scandal would injure his work. He must run no risks.
+Deep down in his heart he thrust that other, that impossibly sweet
+thought. He would not suffer his mind to dwell upon it.
+
+After breakfast he walked for an hour or so across the hills, watching
+the early mists roll away in the valleys, and the sunlight settle down
+upon the land. It was a morning of silence, this--that peculiar,
+mysterious silence which only the first day of the week seems to bring.
+The fields were empty of toilers, the harvest was stayed. From its
+far-away nest amongst the hills, he could just hear, carried on the
+bosom of a favouring breeze, the single note of a monastery bell, whose
+harshness not even distance, or its pleasant journey across the open
+country, could modify. Macheson listened to it for a moment, and sat
+down upon a rock on the topmost pinnacle of the hills he was climbing.
+
+Below him, the country stretched like a piece of brilliant patchwork.
+Thorpe, with its many chimneys and stately avenues, and the village
+hidden by a grove of elms, was like a cool oasis in the midst of the
+landscape. Behind, the hills ran rockier and wilder, culminating in a
+bleak stretch of country, in the middle of which was the monastery.
+Macheson looked downwards at Thorpe, with the faint clang of that single
+bell in his ears. The frown on his forehead deepened as the rush of
+thoughts took insistent hold of him.
+
+For a young man blessed with vigorous health, free from all material
+anxieties, and with the world before him, Macheson found life an
+uncommonly serious matter. Only a few years ago, he had left the
+University with a brilliant degree, a splendid athletic record, and a
+host of friends. What to do with his life! That was the problem which
+pressingly confronted him. He recognized in himself certain gifts
+inevitably to be considered in this choice. He was possessed of a deep
+religious sense, an immense sympathy for his fellows, and a passion for
+the beautiful in life, from which the physical side was by no means
+absent.
+
+How to find a career which would satisfy such varying qualities! A life
+of pleasure, unless it were shared by his fellows, did not appeal to him
+at all; personal ambition he was destitute of; his religion, he was very
+well aware, was not the sort which would enable him to enter with any
+prospect of happiness any of the established churches. For a time he had
+travelled, and had come back with only one definite idea in his mind.
+Chance had brought him, on his return, into contact with two young men
+of somewhat similar tastes. A conversation between them one night had
+given a certain definiteness to his aims. He recalled it to himself as
+he sat looking down at the thin blue line of smoke rising from the
+chimneys of Thorpe.
+
+"To use one's life for others," he had repeated thoughtfully--it was the
+enthusiast of the party who had spoken--"but how?"
+
+"Teach them to avoid like filth the ugly things of life--help them in
+their search for the things beautiful."
+
+"What are the things beautiful?" he had asked. "Don't they mean
+something different to every man?"
+
+Holderness had lifted his beautiful head--the boy with whom he had
+played at school--the friend of his younger life.
+
+"The Christian morality," he had answered.
+
+Macheson had been surprised.
+
+"But you----" he said, "you don't believe anything."
+
+"It is not necessary," Holderness had answered. "It is a matter of the
+intelligence. As an artist, if I might dare to call myself one, I say
+that the Christian life, if honestly lived, is the most beautiful thing
+of all the ages."
+
+Macheson walked down to the village with the memory of those words still
+in his brain. The bell was ringing for service from the queer,
+ivy-covered church, the villagers were coming down the lane in little
+groups. Macheson found himself one of a small knot of people, who stood
+reverently on one side, with doffed hats, just by the wooden porch. He
+looked up, suddenly realizing the cause.
+
+A small vehicle, something between a bath-chair and a miniature
+carriage, drawn by a fat, sleek pony, was turning into the lane from one
+of the splendid avenues which led to the house. A boy led the pony, a
+footman marched behind. Wilhelmina, in a plain white muslin dress and a
+black hat, was slowly preparing to descend. She smiled languidly, but
+pleasantly enough, at the line of curtseying women and men with doffed
+hats. The note of feudalism which their almost reverential attitudes
+suggested appealed irresistibly to Macheson's sense of humour. He, too,
+formed one of them; he, too, doffed his hat. His greeting, however, was
+different. Her eyes swept by him unseeing, his pleasant "Good morning"
+was unheeded. She even touched her skirt with her fingers, as though
+afraid lest it might brush against him in passing. With tired, graceful
+footsteps, she passed into the cool church, leaving him to admire
+against his will the slim perfection of her figure, the wonderful
+carriage of her small but perfect head.
+
+He followed with the others presently, and found a single seat close to
+the door. The service began almost at once, a very beautiful service in
+its way, for the organ, a present from the lady of the manor, was
+perfectly played, and the preacher's voice was clear and as sweet as a
+boy's. Macheson, however, was nervous and ill at ease. From the open
+door he heard the soft whispering of the west wind--for the first time
+in his life he found the simple but dignified ritual unconvincing. He
+was haunted by the sense of some impending disaster. When the prayers
+came, he fell on his knees and remained there! Even then he could not
+collect himself! He was praying to an unknown God for protection against
+some nameless evil! He knew quite well that the words he muttered were
+vain words. Through the stained glass windows, the sunlight fell in a
+subdued golden stream upon the glowing hair, the gracefully bent head of
+the woman who sat alone in the deep square pew. She, too, seemed to be
+praying. Macheson got up and softly, but abruptly, stole from the
+church.
+
+Up into the hills, as far away, as high up as possible! A day of sabbath
+calm, this! Macheson, with the fire in his veins and a sharp pain in his
+side, climbed as a man possessed. He, too, was fleeing from the unknown.
+He was many miles away when down in the valley at Thorpe some one spoke
+of him.
+
+"By the bye," Gilbert Deyes remarked, looking across the luncheon table
+at his hostess, "when does this athletic young missioner of yours begin
+his work of regeneration?"
+
+Wilhelmina raised her eyebrows.
+
+"To-morrow evening, I believe," she answered. "He is going to speak at
+the cross-roads. I fancy that his audience will consist chiefly of the
+children, and Mrs. Adnith's chickens."
+
+"Can't understand," Austin remarked, "why a chap who can play cricket
+like that--he did lay on to 'em, too--can be such a crank!"
+
+"He is very young," Wilhelmina remarked composedly, "and I fancy that he
+must be a little mad. I hope that Thorpe will teach him a lesson. He
+needs it."
+
+"You do not anticipate then," Deyes remarked, "that his labours here
+will be crowned with success?"
+
+"He won't get a soul to hear him," Stephen Hurd replied confidently.
+"The villagers all know what Miss Thorpe-Hatton thinks of his coming
+here. It will be quite sufficient."
+
+Wilhelmina lit a cigarette and rose to her feet.
+
+"Let us hope so," she remarked drily. "Please remember, all of you, that
+this is the Palace of Ease! Do exactly what you like, all of you, till
+five o'clock. I shall be ready for bridge then."
+
+Lady Peggy rose briskly.
+
+"No doubt about what I shall do," she remarked. "I'm going to bed."
+
+Deyes smiled.
+
+"I," he said, "shall spend the afternoon in the rose garden. I
+need--development."
+
+Wilhelmina looked at him questioningly.
+
+"Please don't be inexplicable," she begged. "It is too hot."
+
+"Roses and sentiment," he declared, "are supposed to go together. I want
+to grow into accord with my surroundings."
+
+Wilhelmina was silent for a moment.
+
+"If you have found sentiment here," she said carelessly, "you must have
+dug deep."
+
+"On the contrary," he answered, "I have scarcely scratched the surface!"
+
+Stephen Hurd looked uneasily from Deyes to his hostess. Never altogether
+comfortable, although eager to accept the most casually offered
+invitation to Thorpe, he had always the idea that the most commonplace
+remark contained an innuendo purposely concealed from him.
+
+"Mr. Deyes," he remarked, "looks mysterious."
+
+Deyes glanced at him through his eyeglass.
+
+"It is a subtle neighbourhood," he said. "By the bye, Mr. Hurd, have you
+ever seen the rose gardens at Carrow?"
+
+"Never," Hurd replied enviously. "I have heard that they are very
+beautiful."
+
+Wilhelmina passed out.
+
+"The gardens are beautiful," she said, looking back, "but the roses are
+like all other roses, they fade quickly. Till five o'clock, all of you!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+SUMMER LIGHTNING
+
+
+Stephen Hurd walked into the room which he and his father shared as a
+sanctum, half office, half study. Mr. Hurd, senior, was attired in his
+conventional Sabbath garb, the same black coat of hard, dull material,
+and dark grey trousers, in which he had attended church for more years
+than many of the villagers could remember. Stephen, on the other hand,
+was attired in evening clothes of the latest cut. His white waistcoat
+had come from a London tailor, and his white tie had cost him
+considerable pains. His father looked him over with expressionless face.
+
+"You are going to the House again, Stephen?" he asked calmly.
+
+"I am asked to dine there, father," he answered. "Sorry to leave you
+alone."
+
+"I have no objection to being alone," Mr. Hurd answered. "I think that
+you know that. You lunched there, didn't you?"
+
+Stephen nodded.
+
+"Miss Thorpe-Hatton asked me as we came out of church," he answered.
+
+"You play cards?"
+
+The directness of the question allowed of no evasion. Stephen flushed as
+he answered.
+
+"They play bridge. I may be asked to join. It--is a sort of whist, you
+know."
+
+"So I understand," the older man remarked. "I have no remark to make
+concerning that. Manners change, I suppose, with the generations. You
+are young and I am old. I have never sought to impose my prejudices upon
+you. You have seen more of the world than I ever did. Perhaps you have
+found wisdom there."
+
+Stephen was not at his ease.
+
+"I don't know about that, sir," he answered. "Of course, Sunday isn't
+kept so strictly as it used to be. I like a quiet day myself, but it's
+pretty dull here usually, and I didn't think it would be wise to refuse
+an invitation from Miss Thorpe-Hatton."
+
+"Perhaps not," Mr. Hurd answered. "On the other hand, I might remind you
+that during the forty years during which I have been agent to this
+estate I have never accepted--beyond a glass of wine--the hospitality
+offered to me by Miss Thorpe-Hatton's father and grandfather, and by the
+young lady herself. It is not according to my idea of the fitness of
+things. I am a servant of the owner of these estates. I prefer to
+discharge my duties honestly and capably--as a servant."
+
+Stephen frowned at his reflection in the glass. He did not feel in the
+least like a servant.
+
+"That's rather an old-fashioned view, dad," he declared.
+
+"It may be," his father answered. "In any case, I do not seek to impose
+it upon you. You are free to come and go according to your judgment.
+But you are young, and I cannot see you expose yourself to trouble
+without some warning. Miss Thorpe-Hatton is not a lady whom it is wise
+for you to see too much of."
+
+The directness of this speech took the young man aback.
+
+"I--she seems very pleasant and gracious," he faltered.
+
+"Not even to you," his father continued gravely, "can I betray
+the knowledge of such things as have come under my notice as the
+servant of these estates and this young lady. Her father was a fine,
+self-respecting gentleman, as all the Thorpe-Hattons have been; her
+mother came from a noble, but degenerate, French family. I, who live
+here a life without change, who mark time for the years and watch the
+striplings become old men, see many things, and see them truthfully. The
+evil seed of her mother's family is in this young woman's blood. She
+lives without a chaperon, without companionship, as she pleases--and to
+please herself only."
+
+Stephen frowned irritably. His father's cold, measured words were like
+drops of ice.
+
+"But, father," he protested, "she is a leader of Society, she goes to
+Court and you see her name at the very best places. If there was
+anything wrong about her, she wouldn't be received like that."
+
+"I know nothing about Society or its requirements," his father answered.
+"She has brains and wealth, and she is a woman. Therefore, I suppose the
+world is on her side. I have said all that I wish to say. You can
+perhaps conjecture the reason of my speaking at all."
+
+"She wouldn't take the trouble to make a fool of me," Stephen answered
+bitterly. "I just happen to make up a number, that's all."
+
+"I am glad that you understand the young lady so well," his father
+answered. "Before you go, will you be good enough to pass me the Bible
+and my spectacles, and let Mary know that Mr. Stuart will be in to
+supper with me."
+
+Stephen obeyed in silence. He remembered the time, not so long ago, when
+he would have been required to seat himself on the opposite side of the
+fireplace, with a smaller Bible in his hand, and read word for word with
+his father. His mind went back to those days as he walked slowly up the
+great grass-grown avenue to the house, picking his steps carefully, lest
+he should mar the brilliancy of his well-polished patent-leather boots.
+He compared that old time curiously with the evening which was now
+before him; the round table drawn into the midst of the splendid
+dining-room, an oasis of exquisitely shaded light and colour; Lady
+Peggy with her daring toilette and beautiful white shoulders; Deyes
+with his world-worn face and flippant tongue; the mistress of Thorpe
+herself, more subdued, perhaps, in dress and speech, and yet with the
+ever-present mystery of eyes and lips wherein was always the fascination
+of the unknown. More than ever that night Stephen Hurd felt himself to
+be her helpless slave. All his former amours seemed suddenly empty and
+vulgar things. She came late into the drawing-room, her greeting was as
+carelessly kind as usual, there was no perceptible difference in her
+manner of speech. Yet his observation of her was so intense that he
+found readily the signs of some subtle, indefinable change, a change
+which began with her toilette, and ended--ah! as yet there was no
+ending. Her gown of soft white silk was daring as a French modiste could
+make it, but its simplicity was almost nun-like. She wore a string of
+pearls, no earrings, no rings, and her hair was arranged low down,
+almost like a schoolgirl's. She had more colour than usual, a temporary
+restlessness seemed to have taken the place of her customary easy
+languor. What did it mean? he asked himself breathlessly. Was it Deyes?
+Impossible, for Deyes himself was a watcher, a thin smile parting
+sometimes the close set lips of his white, mask-like face. After all,
+how hopelessly at sea he was! He knew nothing of her life, of which
+these few days at Thorpe were merely an interlude. She might have lovers
+by the score of whom he knew nothing. He was vain, but he was not wholly
+a fool.
+
+She talked more than usual at dinner-time, but afterwards she spoke of a
+headache, and sat on the window-seat of the library, a cigarette between
+her lips, her eyes half closed. When the bridge table was laid out, she
+turned her head languidly.
+
+"I will come in in the next rubber," she said. "You four can start."
+
+They obeyed her, of course, but Lady Peggy shrugged her shoulders
+slightly. She had no fancy for Stephen's bridge, and they cut together.
+Wilhelmina waited until the soft fall of the cards had ceased, and the
+hands were being examined. Then, with a graceful movement, she slipped
+out of the window and away into the shadows. No signs of her headache
+were left. She passed swiftly along a narrow path, bordered by gigantic
+shrubs, until she reached a small iron gate. Here for the first time she
+paused.
+
+For several moments she listened. There was no sound from the great
+house, whose outline she could barely see but whose long row of lights
+stretched out behind her. She turned her head and looked along the
+grass-grown lane beyond the gate. There was no one in sight--no sound.
+She lifted the latch and passed through.
+
+For a summer night it was unusually dark. All day the heat had been
+almost tropical, and now the sky was clouded over, and a south wind, dry
+and unrefreshing, was moving against the tall elms. Every few seconds
+the heavens were ablaze with summer lightning; once the breathless
+silence was broken by a low rumble of distant thunder.
+
+She reached the end of the lane. Before her, another gate led out on to
+a grass-covered hill, strewn with fragments of rocks. She paused for a
+moment and looked backwards. She was suddenly conscious that her heart
+was beating fast; the piquant sense of adventure with which she had
+started had given place to a rarer and more exciting turmoil of the
+senses. Her breath was coming short, as though she had been running.
+
+The silence seemed more complete than ever. She lifted her foot and felt
+the white satin slipper. It was perfectly dry, there was no dew, and as
+yet no rain had fallen. She lifted the latch of the gate and passed
+through.
+
+The footpath skirted the side of a plantation, and she followed it
+closely, keeping under the shelter of the hedge. Every now and then a
+rabbit started up almost from under her feet, and rushed into the hedge.
+The spinney itself seemed alive with birds and animals, startled by her
+light footsteps in the shelter which they had sought, disturbed too by
+their instinct of the coming storm. Her footsteps grew swifter. She was
+committed now to her enterprise, vague though it had seemed to her. She
+passed through a second gate into a ragged wood, and along a winding
+path into a country road. She turned slowly up the hill. Her breath was
+coming faster than ever now. What folly!--transcendental!--exquisite!
+Her footsteps grew slower. She kept to the side of the hedge, raising
+her skirts a little, for the grass was long. A few yards farther was the
+gate. The soft swish of her silken draperies as she stole along, became
+a clearly recognizable sound against the background of intense silence.
+Macheson had been leaning against a tree just inside. He opened the
+gate. She stepped almost into his arms. Her white face was suddenly
+illuminated by the soft blaze of summer lightning which poured from the
+sky. He had no time to move, to realize. He felt her hands upon his
+cheek, his face drawn downwards, her lips, soft and burning, pressed
+against his for one long, exquisite second. And then--the darkness once
+more and his arms were empty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE STILL FIGURE IN THE CHAIR
+
+
+With upraised skirts, and feet that flashed like silver across the turf
+and amongst the bracken, Wilhelmina flew homewards. Once more her heart
+was like the heart of a girl. Her breath came in little sobs mingled
+with laughter, the ground beneath her feet was buoyant as the clouds.
+She had no fear of being pursued--least of anything in the world did she
+desire it. The passion of a woman is controlled always by her sentiment.
+It seemed to her that that breathless episode was in itself an epic, she
+would not for worlds have added to it, have altered it in any shape or
+form. A moment's lingering might so easily have spoilt everything. Had
+he attempted to play either the prude or the Lothario, the delicate
+flavour would have passed away from the adventure, which had set her
+heart beating once more, and sent the blood singing so sweetly through
+her veins. So she sped through the darkness, leaving fragments of lace
+upon the thorns, like some beautiful bird, escaped from long captivity,
+rushing through a strange world.
+
+Before she reached the grounds the storm came. There was a crash of
+thunder, which seemed to tear apart the heavens above, and then the big
+raindrops began to fall upon her bare shoulders and her clothes as light
+and airy as butterfly's wings. She abandoned herself to the ruin of a
+Paquin gown without a thought of regret; she even laughed softly with
+pleasure as she lifted her burning face to the cool sweet deluge, and
+lessened her pace in the avenue, walking with her hands behind her and
+her head still upraised. It was a wonderful night, this. She had found
+something of her lost girlhood.
+
+She reached the house at last, and stole through the hall like a truant
+schoolgirl. Her shoes were nothing but pulp; her dress clung to her
+limbs like a grey, sea-soaked bathing-costume; everywhere on the oak
+floor and splendid rugs she left a trail of wet. On tiptoe she stole up
+the stairs, looking guiltily around, yet with demure laughter in her
+glowing eyes. She met only one amazed servant, whom she dispatched at
+once for her own maid. In the bath-room she began to strip off her
+clothes, even before Hortense, who loved her, could effect a breathless
+entrance.
+
+"Eh! Madame, Madame!" the girl exclaimed, with uplifted hands.
+
+Wilhelmina stopped her, laughing.
+
+"It's all right, Hortense," she exclaimed gaily. "I was out in the
+grounds, and got caught in the storm. Turn on the hot water and cut
+these laces--so!"
+
+To Hortense the affair was a tragedy. Her mistress' indifference could
+not lessen it.
+
+"Madame," she declared, "the gown is ruined--a divine creation. Madame
+has never looked so well in anything else."
+
+"Then I am glad I wore it to-night," was the astonishing reply. "Quick,
+quick, quick, Hortense! Get me into the bath, and bring me some wine and
+biscuits. I am hungry. I don't think I could have eaten any dinner."
+
+Hortense worked with nimble fingers, but her eyes at every opportunity
+were studying her mistress' face. Was it the English rain which could
+soften and beautify like this? Madame was brilliant--and so young! Such
+a colour! Such a fire in the eyes! Madame laughed as she thrust her from
+the room.
+
+"The wine, Hortense, and the biscuits--no sandwiches! I die of hunger.
+And send word to the library that I have been caught in the storm, and
+must change my clothes, but shall be down presently. So!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She found them, an hour later, just finishing a rubber. Their languid
+post-mortem upon a curiously played hand was broken off upon her
+entrance. They made remarks about the storm and her ill-luck--had she
+been far from shelter? was she not terrified by the lightning? Lady
+Peggy remembered her gown. Deyes alone was silent. She felt him watching
+her all the time, taking cold note of her brilliant colour, the softer
+light in her eyes. She felt that he saw her as she was--a woman suddenly
+set free, even though for a few short hours. She had broken away from
+them all, and she gloried in it.
+
+She played bridge later--brilliantly as usual, and with success. Then
+she leaned back in her chair and faced them all.
+
+"Dear guests," she murmured, "you remember the condition, the only
+condition upon which we bestowed our company upon one another in this
+benighted place. You remember it was agreed that when you were bored,
+you left without excuse or any foolish apologies. The same to apply to
+your hostess."
+
+"My dear Wilhelmina," Lady Peggy exclaimed, "I know what you're going to
+say, and I won't go! I'm not due anywhere till the thirteenth. I won't
+be stranded."
+
+Wilhelmina laughed.
+
+"You foolish woman!" she exclaimed. "Who wants you to go? You shall be
+chatelaine--play hostess and fill the place if you like. Only you
+mustn't have Leslie over more than twice a week."
+
+"You are going to desert us?" Deyes asked coolly.
+
+"It was in the bond, wasn't it?" she answered. "Peggy will look after
+you all, I am sure."
+
+"You mean that you are going away, to leave Thorpe?" Stephen Hurd asked
+abruptly.
+
+She turned her head to look at him. He was sitting a little outside the
+circle--an attitude typical, perhaps, of his position there. The change
+in her tone was slight indeed, but it was sufficient.
+
+"I am thinking of it," she answered. "You, Gilbert, and Captain Austin
+can find some men to shoot, no doubt. Ask any one you like. Peggy will
+see about some women for you. I draw the line at that red-haired
+Egremont woman. Anybody else!"
+
+"This is a blow," Deyes remarked, "but it was in the bond. Nothing will
+move me from here till the seventeenth--unless your _chef_ should leave.
+Do we meet in Marienbad?"
+
+"I am not sure," Wilhelmina answered, playing idly with the cards. "I
+feel that my system requires something more soothing."
+
+"I hate them all--those German baths," Lady Peggy declared. "Ridiculous
+places every one of them."
+
+"After all, you see," Wilhelmina declared, "illness of any sort is a
+species of uncleanliness. I think I should like to go somewhere where
+people are healthy, or at least not so disgustingly frank about their
+livers."
+
+"Why not stay here?" Stephen ventured to suggest. "I doubt whether any
+one in Thorpe knows what a liver is."
+
+"'Inutile!'" Lady Peggy exclaimed. "Wilhelmina has the 'wander fever.' I
+can see it in her face. Is it the thunder, I wonder?"
+
+Deyes walked to the window and threw it open. The storm was over, but
+the rain was still falling, a soft steady downpour. The cooler air which
+swept into the room was almost faint with the delicious perfume of
+flowers and shrubs bathed in the refreshing downpour.
+
+"I think," he said, "that there is some magic abroad to-night. Did you
+meet Lucifer walking in the rose garden?" he asked, turning slightly
+towards his hostess. "The storm may have brought him--even here!"
+
+"Neither Lucifer nor any other of his princely fellows," she answered.
+"The only demon is here,"--she touched her bosom lightly--"the demon of
+unrest. It is not I alone who am born with the wanderer's curse! There
+are many of us, you know."
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"You have not the writing in your face," he said. "I do not believe that
+you are one of the accursed at all. To-night----"
+
+She was standing by his side now, looking out into the velvety darkness.
+Her eyes challenged his.
+
+"Well! To-night?"
+
+"To-night you have the look of one who has found what she has sought for
+for a long time. This sounds bald, but it is as near to truth as I can
+get."
+
+She was silent for a moment. She stood by his side listening to the soft
+constant patter of the rain, the far-away rumblings of the dying storm.
+
+"One has moods," she murmured.
+
+"Heaven forbid that a woman should be without them!" he answered.
+
+"Do you ever feel as though something were going to happen?" she asked
+suddenly.
+
+"Often," he answered; "but nothing ever does!"
+
+Lady Peggy came yawning over to them.
+
+"My dear," she said, "I feel it in my very bones. I firmly believe that
+something is going to happen to every one of us. I have a most
+mysterious pricking about my left elbow!"
+
+"To every one of us?" Stephen Hurd asked, idly enough.
+
+"To every one of us!" she answered. "To you, even, who live in Thorpe.
+Remember my words when you get home to-night, or when you wake in the
+morning. As for you, Wilhelmina, I am not at all sure that you have not
+already met with your adventure."
+
+Deyes lit a cigarette.
+
+"Let us remember this," he declared. "In a week's time we will compare
+notes."
+
+Stephen Hurd stood up to take his leave.
+
+"You are really going--soon?" he asked, as he bent over her carelessly
+offered hand.
+
+"As soon as I can decide where to go to," she answered.
+
+"Can I give my father any message? Would you care to see him to-morrow
+morning?" he asked.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"It is not necessary," she answered.
+
+He made his adieux reluctantly. Somehow he felt that the night had not
+been a success. She was going away. Very likely he would not see her
+again. The great house and all its glories would be closed to him. To do
+him justice, he thought of that less than the casual manner of her
+farewell. His vanity was deeply wounded. She had begun by being so
+gracious--no wonder that he had lost his head a little. He thought over
+the events of the last few days. Something had occurred to alter her.
+Could he have offended in any way?
+
+He walked dejectedly home, heedless of the sodden path and wet grass. A
+light was still burning in the study. He hesitated for a moment, and
+then, turning the handle, entered.
+
+"You're late, father," he remarked, going towards the cupboard to select
+a pipe.
+
+There was no answer. The still figure in the chair never moved.
+Something in the silence struck Stephen as ominous. He turned abruptly
+round, and for the first time noticed the condition of the room. A chair
+was overturned, a vase of flowers spilt upon the table, the low window,
+from which one stepped almost into the village street, was wide open.
+The desk in front of the motionless figure was littered all over with
+papers in wild confusion. Stephen, with a low cry of horror, crossed the
+room and laid his hand upon his father's shoulder. He tried to speak to
+him, but the words stuck in his throat. He knew very well that there
+could be no reply. His father was sitting dead in his chair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE BAYING OF THE HOUNDS
+
+
+Out amongst the broken fragments of the storm, on the hill-top and down
+the rain-drenched lane, Macheson sought in vain by physical exertion to
+still the fever which burned in his veins. Nothing he could do was able
+to disturb that wonderful memory, to lessen for an instant the
+significance of those few amazing seconds. The world of women, all the
+lighter and quieter joys of life, he had, with the fierce asceticism of
+the young reformer, thrust so resolutely behind him. But he had never
+imagined anything like this! Its unexpectedness had swept him off his
+feet. The memory of it was most delicious torture!
+
+Sleep?--he dared not think of it. Who could sleep with such a fire in
+his blood as this? He heard the storm die away, thunder and wind and
+rain melted into the deep stillness of midnight. A dim moon shone behind
+a veil of mist. The dripping of rain from the trees alone remained. Then
+he heard a footstep coming down the lane. His first wild thought was
+that she had returned. His eyes burned their way through the darkness.
+Soon he saw that it was a man who came unsteadily, but swiftly, down
+the roadway.
+
+Macheson leaned over the gate. He would have preferred not to disclose
+himself, but as the man passed, he was stricken with a sudden
+consciousness that for him the events of the night were not yet over.
+This was no villager; he had not even the appearance of an Englishman.
+He was short and inclined to be thick-set, his coat collar was turned
+up, and a tweed cap was drawn down to his eyes. He walked with uneven
+footsteps and muttered to himself words that sounded like words of
+prayer, only they were in some foreign language. Macheson accosted him.
+
+"Hullo!" he said. "Have you lost your way?"
+
+The man cried out and then stood still, trembling on the roadside. He
+turned a white, scared face to where Macheson was leaning against the
+gate.
+
+"Who is that?" he cried. "What do you want with me?"
+
+Macheson stepped into the lane.
+
+"Nothing at all," he answered reassuringly. "I simply thought that you
+might have lost your way. These are lonely parts."
+
+The newcomer drew a step nearer. He displayed a small ragged beard, a
+terror-stricken face, and narrow, very bright eyes. His black clothes
+were soaked and splashed with mud.
+
+"I want a railway station," he said rapidly. "Where is the nearest?"
+
+Macheson pointed into the valley.
+
+"Just where you see that light burning," he answered, "but there will
+be no trains till the morning."
+
+"Then I must walk," the man declared feverishly. "How far is it to
+Nottingham?"
+
+"Twenty-five miles," Macheson answered.
+
+"Too far! And Leicester?"
+
+"Twelve, perhaps! But you are walking in the wrong direction."
+
+The man turned swiftly round.
+
+"Point towards Leicester," he said. "I shall find my way."
+
+Macheson pointed across the trees.
+
+"You can't miss it," he declared. "Climb the hill till you get to a road
+with telegraph wires. Turn to the left, and you will walk into
+Leicester."
+
+For some reason the stranger seemed to be occupied in looking earnestly
+into Macheson's face.
+
+"What are you doing here?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"I am close to where I am staying," Macheson answered. "Just in the wood
+there."
+
+The man took a quick step forwards and then reeled. His hand flew to his
+side. He was attacked by sudden faintness and would have fallen, but for
+Macheson's outstretched arm.
+
+"God!" he muttered, "it is finished."
+
+He was obviously on the verge of a collapse. Macheson dragged him into
+the shelter and poured brandy between his teeth. He revived a little and
+tried to rise.
+
+"I must go on," he cried. "I dare not stay here."
+
+The terror in his face was unmistakable. Macheson looked at him gravely.
+
+"You had better stay where you are till morning," he said. "You are not
+in a fit state to travel."
+
+The man had raised himself upon one arm. He looked wildly about him.
+
+"Where am I?" he demanded. "What is this place?"
+
+"It is a gamekeeper's shelter," Macheson answered, "which I am making
+use of for a few days. You are welcome to stay here until the morning."
+
+"I must go on," the man moaned. "I am afraid."
+
+Almost as he uttered the words he fell back, and went off immediately
+into an uneasy doze. Macheson threw his remaining rug over the prostrate
+figure, and, lighting his pipe, strolled out into the spinney. The man's
+coming filled him with a vague sense of trouble. He seemed so utterly
+out of keeping with the place, he represented an alien and undesirable
+note--a note almost of tragedy. All the time in his broken sleep he was
+muttering to himself. Once or twice he cried out in terror, once
+especially--Macheson turned round to find him sitting up on the rug, his
+brown eyes full of wild fear, and the perspiration running down his
+face. A stream of broken words flowed from his lips. Macheson thrust him
+back on the rug.
+
+"Go to sleep," he said. "There is nothing to be afraid of."
+
+After that the man slept more soundly. Macheson himself dozed for an
+hour until he was awakened by the calling of the birds. Directly he
+opened his eyes he knew that something had happened to him. It was not
+only the music of the birds--there was a strange new music stirring in
+his heart. The pearly light in the eastern sky had never seemed so
+beautiful; never, surely, had the sunlight streamed down upon so perfect
+a corner of the earth. And then, with a quick rush of blood to his
+cheeks, he remembered what it was that had so changed the world. He
+lived again through that bewildering moment, again he felt the delicious
+warmth of her presence, the touch of her hair as it had brushed his
+cheek, the soft passionate pressure of her lips against his. It was
+like an episode from a fairy story, there was something so delicate,
+so altogether fanciful in that flying visit. Something, too, so
+unbelievable when he thought of her as the mistress of Thorpe, the
+languid, insolent woman of the world who had treated him so coldly.
+
+Then a movement behind reminded him of his strange visitor. He turned
+round. The man was already on his feet. He looked better for his sleep,
+but the wild look was still in his eyes.
+
+"I must go," he said. "I ought to have started before. Thank you for
+your shelter."
+
+Macheson reached out for his spirit lamp.
+
+"Wait a few minutes," he said, "and I will have some coffee ready."
+
+The man hesitated. He looked sorely in need of something of the sort. As
+he came to the opening of the shelter, the trembling seized him again.
+He looked furtively out as though he feared the daylight. The sunshine
+and the bright open day seemed to terrify him.
+
+"I ought to have gone on last night," he muttered. "I must----"
+
+He broke off his sentence. Macheson, too, had turned his head to listen.
+
+"What is that?" he asked sharply.
+
+"The baying of dogs," Macheson answered.
+
+"Dogs! What dogs?" he demanded.
+
+"Colonel Harvey's bloodhounds!"
+
+The man's face was ashen now to the lips. He clutched Macheson's arm
+frantically.
+
+"They are after me!" he exclaimed. "Where can I hide? Tell me quick!"
+
+Macheson looked at him gravely.
+
+"What have you been doing?" he asked. "They do not bring bloodhounds out
+for nothing."
+
+"I have hurt a man down in the village," was the terrified answer. "I
+didn't mean to--no! I swear that I did not mean to. I went to his house
+and I asked him for money. I had a right to it! And I asked him to tell
+me where--but oh! you would not understand. Listen! I swear to you that
+I did not mean to hurt him. Why should I? He was old, and I think he
+fainted. God! do you hear that?"
+
+He clung to Macheson in a frenzy. The deep baying of the dogs was coming
+nearer and nearer.
+
+"Listen," Macheson said, "the dogs will not be allowed to hurt you, but
+if you are loose I promise that I will protect you from them. You had
+better wait here with me."
+
+The man fell upon his knees.
+
+"Sir," he begged, "I am innocent of everything except a blow struck in
+anger. Help me to escape, I implore you. There are others who will
+suffer--if anything happens to me."
+
+"The law is just," Macheson answered. "You will suffer nothing except
+justice."
+
+"I want mercy, not justice," the man sobbed. "For the love of God, help
+me!"
+
+Macheson hesitated. Again the early morning stillness was broken by that
+hoarse, terrifying sound. His sporting instincts were aroused. He had
+small sympathy with the use of such means against human beings.
+
+"I will give you a chance," he said. "Remember it is nothing more.
+Follow me!"
+
+He led the way to the slate pit.
+
+"Can you swim?" he asked.
+
+"Yes!" the man answered.
+
+"This is where I take my morning bath," Macheson said. "You will see
+that though you can scramble down and dive in, it is too precipitous to
+get out. Therefore, I have fixed up a rope on the other side--it goes
+through those bushes, and is attached to the trunk of a tree beneath the
+bracken. If you swim across, you can pull yourself out of the water and
+hide just above the water in the bushes. There is just a chance that you
+may escape observation."
+
+Already he was on his way down, but Macheson stopped him.
+
+"I shall leave a suit of dry clothes in the shelter," he said. "If they
+should give up the chase you are welcome to them. Now you had better
+dive. They are in the spinney."
+
+The man went in, after the fashion of a practised diver. Macheson turned
+round and retraced his steps towards his temporary dwelling-house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+RETREAT
+
+
+Out in the lane a motley little group of men were standing. Stephen Hurd
+was in the act of springing off his brown cob. The dogs were already in
+the shelter.
+
+"What the devil are you doing here?" Hurd asked, as Macheson strode
+through the undergrowth.
+
+Macheson pointed to the shelter.
+
+"I could find no other lodging," he answered, "thanks to circumstances
+of which you are aware."
+
+Stephen Hurd kicked the gate open. He was pale and there were deep lines
+under his eyes. He was still in his evening clothes, except for a rough
+tweed coat, but his white tie was hanging loose, and his patent-leather
+shoes were splashed with mud.
+
+"We are chasing a man," he said. "Have you seen him?"
+
+"I have," Macheson answered. "What has he done?"
+
+There was a momentary silence. Hurd spoke with a sob.
+
+"Murdered--my father!"
+
+Macheson was shocked.
+
+"You mean--that Mr. Hurd is dead?" he asked, in an awe-stricken tone.
+
+"Dead!" the young man answered with a sob. "Killed in his chair!"
+
+The dogs came out of the shelter. They turned towards the interior of
+the spinney. The little crowd came streaming through the gate.
+
+"I gave shelter to a man who admitted that he was in trouble," he said
+gravely. "He heard the dogs and he was terrified. He has jumped into the
+slate quarry."
+
+The dogs were on the trail now. They followed them to the edge of the
+quarry. Here the bushes were trodden down, a man's cap was hanging on
+one close to the bottom. They all peered over into the still water,
+unnaturally black. Amies, the head keeper, raised his head.
+
+"It's twenty-five feet deep--some say forty, and a sheer drop," he
+declared impressively. "We'll have to drag it for the body."
+
+"Best take the dogs round the other side, and make sure he ain't got out
+again," one of the crowd suggested.
+
+Amies pointed scornfully to the precipitous side. Such a feat was
+clearly impossible. Nevertheless the dogs were taken round. For a few
+minutes they were uneasy, but eventually they returned to the spot from
+which their intended victim had dived. Every one was peering down into
+the dark water as though fascinated.
+
+"I thought as they come up once or twice before they were drownded,"
+somebody remarked.
+
+"Not unless they want to," another answered. "This chap wasn't too
+anxious. He knew his goose was cooked."
+
+The dogs were muzzled and led away. One by one the labourers and
+servants dispersed. Two of them started off to telegraph for a drag.
+Stephen Hurd was one of the last to depart.
+
+"I hope you will allow me to say how sorry I am for you," Macheson
+declared earnestly. "Such a tragedy in a village like Thorpe seems
+almost incredible. I suppose it was a case of attempted robbery?"
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure," Hurd answered. "There was plenty of money left
+untouched, and I can't find that there is any short. The man arrived
+after the maids had gone to bed, but they heard him knock at the door,
+and heard my father let him in."
+
+"They didn't hear any struggle then?" Macheson asked.
+
+Hurd shook his head.
+
+"There was only one blow upon his head," he answered. "Graikson says
+that death was probably through shock."
+
+Macheson felt curiously relieved.
+
+"The man did not go there as a murderer then," he remarked. "Perhaps not
+even as a thief. There may have been a quarrel."
+
+"He killed him, anyhow," Hurd said brokenly. "What time was it when you
+first saw him?"
+
+"About midnight, I should think," Macheson answered. "He came down the
+lane like a drunken man."
+
+"What was he like?" Hurd asked.
+
+"Small, and I should say a foreigner," Macheson answered. "He spoke
+English perfectly, but there was an accent, and when he was asleep he
+talked to himself in a language which, to the best of my belief, I have
+never heard before in my life."
+
+"A foreigner?" Hurd muttered. "You are sure of that?"
+
+"Quite," Macheson answered. "There could be no mistake about it."
+
+Stephen Hurd mounted his cob and turned its head towards home. He asked
+no more questions; he seemed, if possible, graver than ever. Before he
+started, however, he pointed with his whip towards the shelter.
+
+"You've no right there, you know," he said. "We can't allow it. You must
+clear out at once."
+
+"Very well," Macheson answered. "I'm trespassing, of course, but one
+must sleep somewhere."
+
+"There is no necessity for you to remain in Thorpe at all," Hurd said.
+"I think, in the circumstances, the best thing you can do is to go."
+
+"In the circumstances!" The irony of the phrase struck home. What did
+this young man know of the circumstances? There were reasons now,
+indeed, why he should fly from Thorpe as from a place stricken with the
+pestilence. But no other soul in this world could know of those reasons
+save himself--and she.
+
+"I should not, of course, think of holding my services at present,"
+Macheson said gravely. "If you think it would be better, I will go
+away."
+
+Stephen Hurd nodded as he cantered off.
+
+"I am glad to hear you say so," he declared shortly. "Go and preach in
+the towns where this scum is reared. There's plenty of work for
+missioners there."
+
+Macheson stood still until the young man on his pony had disappeared.
+Then he turned round and walked slowly back towards the slate quarry.
+The black waters remained smooth and unrippled; there was no sound of
+human movement anywhere. In the adjoining field a harvesting-machine was
+at work; in the spinney itself the rabbits, disturbed last night by the
+storm, were scurrying about more frolicsome than usual; a solitary
+thrush was whistling in the background. The sunlight lay in crooked
+beams about the undergrowth, a gentle west breeze was just stirring the
+foliage overhead. There was nothing in the air to suggest in any way the
+strange note of tragedy which the coming of this hunted man had
+nevertheless brought.
+
+Macheson was turning away when a slight disturbance in the undergrowth
+on the other side of the quarry attracted his notice. He stood still and
+watched the spot. The bracken was shaking slightly--then the sound of a
+dry twig, suddenly snapped! For a moment he hesitated. Then he turned on
+his heel and walked abruptly away. With almost feverish haste, he flung
+his few belongings into his portmanteau, leaving in the shelter his
+flask, a suit of clothes, and several trifles. Five minutes later he was
+on his way down the hill, with his bag upon his shoulder and his face
+set southwards.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A CREATURE OF IMPULSE
+
+
+Up the broad avenue to the great house of Thorpe, Stephen Hurd slowly
+made his way, his hands clasped behind him, his eyes fixed upon the
+ground. But his appearance was not altogether the appearance of a man
+overcome with grief. The events of the last few days had told upon him,
+and his deep mourning had a sombre look. Yet there were thoughts working
+even then in his brain which battled hard with his natural depression.
+Strange things had happened--stranger things than he was able all at
+once to digest. He could not see the end, but there were possibilities
+upon which he scarcely dared to brood.
+
+He was shown into the library and left alone for nearly twenty minutes.
+Then Wilhelmina came, languid, and moving as though with tired feet. Yet
+her manner was gentler and kinder than usual. She leaned back in one of
+the vast easy-chairs, and murmured a few graceful words of sympathy.
+
+"We were all so sorry for you, Mr. Hurd," she said. "It was a most
+shocking affair."
+
+"I thank you very much--madam," he replied, after a moment's pause. It
+was better, perhaps, for the present, to assume that their relations
+were to continue those of employer and employed.
+
+"I do not know," she continued, "whether you care to speak about this
+shocking affair. Perhaps you would prefer that we did not allude to it
+for the present."
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"I am not sure," he answered, "that it is not rather a relief to have it
+spoken of. One can't get it out of one's mind, of course."
+
+"There is no news of the man--no fresh capture?"
+
+"None," he answered. "They are dragging the slate quarry again to-day. I
+believe there are some very deep holes where the body may have drifted."
+
+"Do you believe that that is the case?" she asked; "or do you think that
+he got clean away?"
+
+"I cannot tell," he answered. "It seems impossible that he should have
+escaped altogether without help."
+
+"And that he could not have had, could he?" she asked.
+
+He looked across at her thoughtfully, watching her face, curious to see
+whether his words might have any effect.
+
+"Only from one person," he said.
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"From Macheson, the fellow who came here to convert us all," he said
+deliberately.
+
+Beyond a slight elevation of the eyebrows, his scrutiny was in vain, for
+she made no sign.
+
+"He scarcely seems a likely person, does he, to aid a criminal?" she
+asked in measured tones.
+
+Stephen Hurd shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Perhaps not," he admitted, "but at any rate he sheltered him."
+
+"As he doubtless would have done any passer-by on such a night," she
+remarked. "By the bye, what has become of that young man?"
+
+"He has left the neighbourhood," Hurd answered shortly.
+
+"Left altogether?" she inquired.
+
+"I imagine so," Hurd answered. "I had the shelter destroyed, and I gave
+him to understand pretty clearly what your wishes were. There really
+wasn't much else for him to do."
+
+Her eyelids drooped over her half closed eyes. For a moment she was
+silent.
+
+"If you hear of him again," she said quietly, "be so good as to let me
+know."
+
+Her indifference seemed too complete to be assumed. Yet somehow or other
+Hurd felt that she was displeased with him.
+
+"I will do so," he said, "if I hear anything about him. It scarcely
+seems likely."
+
+Wilhelmina sat quite still. Her head, resting slightly upon the long
+delicate fingers of her right hand, was turned away from the young man
+who was daring to watch her. She was apparently gazing across the park,
+down the magnificent avenue of elms which led to the village. So he was
+gone--without a word! How else? On the whole she could not but approve!
+And yet!--and yet!
+
+She turned once more to Hurd.
+
+"I read the account of the inquest on your father's death," she said,
+speaking very slowly, with her usual drawl, yet with a softer note in
+her voice, as though out of respect for the dead man. "Does it not seem
+very strange that the money was left untouched?"
+
+"Yes!" he answered. "Yet, after all, I don't know. You see, the governor
+must have closed with the fellow and shown fight before he got that
+knock on the head. If the thief was really only an ordinary tramp, he'd
+be scared to death at what he'd done, and probably bolt for his life
+without stopping to take anything with him."
+
+"Isn't it rather surprising to have tramps--in Thorpe?" she asked.
+
+"I have scarcely ever seen one," he answered.
+
+Wilhelmina turned her head slightly, so that she was now directly facing
+him. She looked him steadily in the eyes.
+
+"Has it occurred to you, Mr. Hurd," she asked, "that this young man may
+not have been a tramp at all, and that his visit to your father may have
+been on other business than that of robbery?"
+
+He hesitated for a moment.
+
+"My father's connexions with the outside world," he said slowly, "were
+so slight."
+
+"Yet it has occurred to you?"
+
+"Yes!" he admitted.
+
+"And have you come to any conclusion?"
+
+"None," he declared.
+
+"You carried out my instructions with regard to the papers and documents
+belonging to the estate?"
+
+"Certainly, madam," he answered. "Within five minutes of receiving your
+message, they were all locked up in the safe and the key handed to your
+messenger."
+
+"You did not go through them yourself?" she asked.
+
+"I did not," he answered, lying with admirable steadiness. "I scarcely
+felt that I was entitled to do so."
+
+"So that you could not tell if any were missing?" she continued.
+
+"I could not," he admitted.
+
+"Your father never spoke, then, of any connexions with people--outside
+Thorpe--likely to prove of a dangerous character?"
+
+The young man smiled. "My father," he said, "had not been farther than
+Loughborough for twenty years."
+
+There was a short silence. Wilhelmina, deliberately, and without any
+attempt at concealment, was meditatively watching the young man,
+studying his features with a half-contemptuous and yet searching
+interest. Perhaps the slightly curving lips, the hard intentness of her
+gaze, suggested that he was disbelieved. He lost colour and fidgeted
+about. It was a scrutiny not easy to bear, and he felt that it was going
+against him. Already she had written him down a liar.
+
+She spoke to him at last. If the silence had not ended soon, he would
+have made some blundering attempt to retrieve his position. She spoke
+just in time to avert such ignominy.
+
+"Mr. Hurd," she said, "the question of your father's successor is one
+that has doubtless occurred to you as it has to me. I trust that you
+will, at any rate, remain here. As to whether I can offer you your
+father's position in its entirety, I am not for the present assured."
+
+He glanced up at her furtively. He was certain now that he had played
+his cards ill. She had read through him easily. He cursed himself for a
+lout.
+
+"You see," she continued, "the post is one of great responsibility,
+because it entails the management of the whole estates. It is necessary
+for me to feel absolute confidence in the person who undertakes it. I
+have not known you very long, Mr. Hurd."
+
+He bowed. He could not trust himself to words.
+
+"I have instructed them to send some one down from my solicitor's office
+for a week or so," she continued, "to assist you. In the meantime, I
+must think the matter over."
+
+"I am very much obliged to you, madam," he said. "You will find me, I
+think, quite as trustworthy and devoted to your interests as my father."
+
+She smiled slightly. She recognized exactly his quandary, and it amused
+her. The slightest suggestion of menace in his manner would be to give
+the lie to himself.
+
+"I am coming down this afternoon," she said, "to go through the safes.
+Please be there in case I want you. You will not forget, in case you
+should hear anything of Mr. Macheson, that I desire to be informed."
+
+He took his leave humiliated and angry. He had started the game with a
+wrong move--retrievable, perhaps, but annoying. Wilhelmina passed into
+the library, where Lady Peggy, in a wonderful morning robe, was leaning
+back in an easy-chair dictating letters to Captain Austin.
+
+"You dear woman!" she exclaimed, "don't interrupt us, will you? I have
+found an ideal secretary, writes everything I tell him, and spells quite
+decently considering his profession. My conscience is getting lighter
+every moment."
+
+"And my heart heavier," Austin grumbled. "A most flirtatious
+correspondence yours."
+
+She laughed softly.
+
+"My next shall be to my dressmaker," she declared. "Such a charming
+woman, and so trustful. Behave yourself nicely, and you shall go with me
+to call on her next week, and see her mannikins. By the bye, Wilhelmina,
+am I hostess or are you?"
+
+"You, by all means," Wilhelmina answered. "I shall go to-morrow or the
+next day. Is any one coming to lunch?"
+
+"His Grace, I fancy--no one else."
+
+Wilhelmina yawned.
+
+"Where is Gilbert?" she asked.
+
+"Asleep on the lawn last time I saw him."
+
+"No one shooting, then?"
+
+"We're going to beat up the home turnips after lunch," Captain Austin
+answered. "It's rather an off day with us. Gilbert is nursing his
+leg--fancies he has rheumatism coming."
+
+She strolled out into the garden, but she avoided the spot where Gilbert
+Deyes lounged in an easy-chair, reading the paper and smoking
+cigarettes, with his leg carefully arranged on a garden chair in front
+of him. She took the winding path which skirted the kitchen gardens and
+led to the green lane, along which the carts passed to the home farm.
+She felt that what she was doing was in the nature of an experiment,
+she was yielding again to that most astonishing impulse which once
+before had taken her so completely by surprise. She passed out of the
+gate and along the lane. She began to climb the hill. About the success
+of her experiment she no longer had any doubt. Her heart was beating
+with pleasant insistence, a feeling of suppressed excitement sent the
+blood gliding through her veins with delicious softness. All the time
+she mocked at herself--that this should be Wilhelmina Thorpe-Hatton, to
+whom the most distinguished men, not only in one capital, but in Europe,
+had paid court, whom the most ardent wooer had failed to move, who had
+found, indeed, in all the professions of love-making something
+insufferably tedious. She was at once amused and annoyed at herself, but
+an instinctive habit of truthfulness forbade even self-deception. Her
+cheeks were aflame, and her heart was beating like a girl's as she
+reached the spinney. She recognized the fact that she was experiencing a
+new and delightful pleasure, an emotion as unexpected and ridiculous as
+it was inexplicable. But she hugged it to herself. It pleased her
+immensely to feel that the impossible had happened. What all this army
+of men, experienced in the wiles of love-making, had failed to do, a
+crazy boy had accomplished without an effort. Absolutely bizarre, of
+course, but not so wonderful after all! She was so secure against any
+ordinary assault. She felt herself like the heroine of one of Gautier's
+novels. If he had been there himself, she would have taken him into her
+arms with all the passionate simplicity of a child.
+
+But he was not there. On the contrary, the place was looking forlorn and
+deserted. The shelter had been razed to the ground--she felt that she
+hated Stephen Hurd as she contemplated its ruin--the hedge was broken
+down by the inrush of people a few days ago. In the absence of any
+sunshine, the country around seemed bleak and colourless. She leaned
+over the gate and half closed her eyes. Memory came more easily like
+that!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+SEARCHING THE PAPERS
+
+
+The late Stephen Hurd had been a methodical man. Every one of those many
+packets of foolscap and parchment bore in the left-hand corner near the
+top a few carefully written words summarizing their contents. It was
+clear from the first that Wilhelmina had undertaken not an examination
+but a search. Mortgages, leases, agreements, she left unopened and
+untouched. One by one she passed them back to the young man who handed
+them out to her, for replacement. In the end she had retained one small
+packet of letters only, on the outside of which were simply the initials
+P. N. These she held for a moment thoughtfully in her hand.
+
+"Do you happen to remember, Mr. Hurd," she said, "whether this small
+packet which I have here was amongst the papers which you found had been
+disturbed after the attack upon your father?"
+
+"I am sorry," the young man answered, "but it is quite impossible for me
+to say. I do not remember it particularly."
+
+Wilhelmina turned it over thoughtfully. It was an insignificant packet
+to hold the tragedy of a woman's life.
+
+"You see," she continued, "that it has the appearance of having been
+tampered with. There are marks of sealing wax upon the tape and upon the
+paper here. Then, too," she continued, turning it over, "it has been
+tied up hastily, unlike any of the other packets. The tape, too, is much
+too long. It looks almost as though some letters or papers had been
+withdrawn."
+
+"I am afraid I cannot help you at all," he admitted regretfully. "My
+father never allowed any one but himself to open that safe. Mine was the
+out-of-door share of the work--and the rent-book, of course. I kept
+that."
+
+She slowly undid the tape. The contents of the packet consisted of
+several letters, which she smoothed out with her fingers before
+beginning to read. Stephen Hurd stood with his back towards her,
+rearranging the bundles of documents in the safe.
+
+"You have no idea then," she asked softly, "of the contents of this
+packet?"
+
+He turned deliberately round. He was not in the least comfortable. It
+was almost as though she could see through his tweed shooting-jacket
+into that inner pocket.
+
+"May I see which packet you refer to?" he asked.
+
+She showed it to him without placing it in his hand. He shook his head.
+
+"No!" he said, "I have not noticed them before."
+
+She sighed--or was it a yawn? At any rate, her eyes left his face, for
+which he was immediately grateful. She began to read the papers, and,
+having finished his task, he walked towards the window and stood there
+looking out. He stood there minute after minute, hearing only the sound
+of rustling paper behind. When at last it ceased he turned around.
+
+She had risen to her feet and was slowly drawing on her gloves. The
+letters had disappeared, presumably into her pocket, but she made no
+reference to them. When she spoke, her voice was smooth and deliberate
+as usual. Somehow or other he was at once conscious, however, that she
+had received a shock.
+
+"I presume, Mr. Hurd," she said quietly, "that amongst your father's
+private papers you did not discover anything--unexpected?"
+
+"I am afraid I scarcely follow you, madam," he answered.
+
+"I am asking you," she repeated deliberately, "whether amongst your
+father's private papers, which I presume you have looked through, you
+found anything of a surprising nature?"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"I found scarcely any," he answered, "only his will and a memorandum of
+a few investments. May I ask----"
+
+She turned towards the door.
+
+"No!" she said, "do not ask me any questions. To tell you the truth, I
+am not yet fully persuaded that the necessity exists."
+
+"I do not understand," he protested.
+
+[Illustration: "FORGIVE ME," HE SAID, WITH HIS HAND UPON THE GATE. Page
+117]
+
+She shrugged her shoulders. She did not trouble to explain her words.
+He followed her along the cool, white-flagged hall, hung with old prints
+and trophies of sport, into the few yards of garden outside, brilliant
+with cottage flowers. Beyond the little iron gate her carriage was
+waiting--a low victoria, drawn by a pair of great horses, whose sleek
+coats and dark crimson rosettes suggested rather a turn in the Park
+than these country lanes. The young man was becoming desperate. She was
+leaving him altogether mystified. Somewhere or other he had missed his
+cue: he had meant to have conducted the interview so differently. And
+never had she looked so provokingly well! He recognized, with hopeless
+admiration, the perfection of her toilette--the trim white flannel
+dress, shaped by the hand of an artist to reveal in its simple lines
+the peculiar grace of her slim figure; the patent shoes with their
+suggestion of open-work silk stockings; the black picture hat and veil,
+a delicate recognition of her visit to a house of mourning, yet light
+and gossamer-like, with no suggestion of gloom. Never had she seemed so
+desirable to him, so fascinating and yet so unattainable. He made a last
+and clumsy effort to re-establish himself.
+
+"Forgive me," he said, with his hand upon the gate, "but I must ask you
+what you mean by that last question. My father had no secrets that I
+know of. How could he, when for the last forty years his life was
+practically spent in this village street?"
+
+She nodded her head slowly.
+
+"Sometimes," she murmured, "events come to those even who sit and wait,
+those whose lives are absolutely secluded. No one is safe from fate, you
+know."
+
+"But my father!" he answered. "He had no tastes, no interests outside
+the boundary of your estates."
+
+She motioned to him to open the gate.
+
+"Perhaps not," she assented, "yet I suppose that there is not one of us
+who knows as much of his neighbour's life as he imagines he does. Good
+afternoon, Mr. Hurd! My visit has given me something to think about. I
+may send for you to come to the house before I go away."
+
+She drove away, leaning back amongst the cushions with half closed eyes,
+as though tired. The country scenery with its pastoral landscape, its
+Watteau-like perfections, was wholly unseen. Her memory had travelled
+back, she was away amongst the days when the roar of life had been in
+her ears, when for a short while, indeed, the waves had seemed likely to
+break over her head. An unpleasant echo, this! No more than an echo--and
+yet! The thought of old Stephen Hurd lying in his grave suddenly chilled
+her. She shivered as she left the carriage, and instead of entering the
+house, crossed the lawn to where Gilbert Deyes was lounging. He
+struggled to his feet at her approach, but she waved him back again.
+
+"Sybarite," she murmured, glancing around at his arrangements for
+complete comfort. "You have sent Austin out alone."
+
+"Dear lady, I confess it," he answered. "What would you have? It is too
+fine an afternoon to kill anything."
+
+She sank into a chair by his side. A slight smile parted her lips as she
+glanced around. On a table by his side, a table drawn back into the
+shade of the cedar tree, were several vellum-bound volumes, a tall
+glass, and a crystal jug half full of some delicate amber beverage,
+mixed with fruit and ice, a box of cigarettes, an ivory paper-cutter,
+and a fan.
+
+"Your capacity for making yourself comfortable," she remarked, "amounts
+almost to genius."
+
+"Let it go at that," he answered. "I like the sound of the word."
+
+"I want you to go to Paris for me," she said abruptly.
+
+He flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette and looked at her
+thoughtfully. Not a line of his face betrayed the least sign of
+surprise.
+
+"To-morrow?" he asked.
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"I can get up in time for the two-twenty," he remarked thoughtfully. "I
+wonder whether it will be too late for the Armenonville!"
+
+She laughed quietly.
+
+"You are a 'poseur,'" she declared.
+
+"Naturally," he admitted. "We all are, even when the audience consists
+of ourselves alone. I fancy I'm rather better than most, though."
+
+She nodded.
+
+"You won't mind admitting--to me--that you are surprised?"
+
+"Astonished," he said. "To descend to the commonplace, what on earth do
+you want me to go to Paris for?"
+
+"I will tell you," she answered. "Forget for a moment the Paris that you
+know, and remember the Paris of the tourist."
+
+"Painful," he answered; "but it is done."
+
+"The _Hotel de Luxe_!"
+
+"I know it well."
+
+"There are a race of creatures there, small, parasitical insects, who
+hang about the hall and the boulevard outside--guides they call
+themselves."
+
+"'Show you something altogether new this evening, Captain,'" he quoted.
+"Yes; I know them."
+
+"There is, or was, one," she continued, "who goes by the name of Thomas
+Johnson. He is undersized; he has red cheeks, and puffy brown eyes. He
+used to wear a glazed black hat, and he speaks every language without an
+accent."
+
+"I should know the beast anywhere," he declared.
+
+"Find out if he is there still. Let him take you out. Don't lose sight
+of him--and write to me."
+
+"To-morrow night," he said, "I will renew my youth. I will search for
+him on the boulevards, and see the sights which make a gay dog of the
+travelling Briton."
+
+She nodded.
+
+"You're a good sort, Gilbert," she said simply. "Thanks!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+ON THE SPREE
+
+
+High up on the seventh floor of one of London's newest and loftiest
+buildings, a young man sat writing in a somewhat barely furnished
+office. He wrote deliberately, and with the air of one who thoroughly
+enjoyed his occupation. The place had a bookish aspect--the table was
+strewn with magazines and books of reference; piles of literature of a
+varied order stood, in the absence of bookshelves, against the wall. The
+young man himself, however, was the most interesting object in the room.
+He was big and dark and rugged. There was strength in his square-set
+shoulders, in the compression of his lips, even in the way his finger
+guided the pen across the paper. He was thoroughly absorbed in his task.
+Nevertheless he raised his head at a somewhat unusual sound. The lift
+had swung up to his floor, he heard the metal gate thrown open. There
+was a knock at the door, and Macheson walked in.
+
+"Victor, by glory!"
+
+Down went the pen, and Richard Holderness stood up at his desk with
+outstretched hands. Macheson grasped them heartily and seated himself
+on the edge of the table.
+
+"It's good to see you, Dick," he declared, "like coming back to the
+primitive forces of nature, unchanged, unchanging. The sight of you's
+enough to stop a revolution."
+
+"You're feeling like that, are you?" his friend answered, his eyes fixed
+upon Macheson's face. "Yes, I see you are. Go ahead! Or will you smoke
+first?"
+
+Macheson produced his pipe, and his host a great tin of honeydew.
+Macheson helped himself slowly. He seemed to be trying to gain time.
+
+"Blessed compact, ours," the giant remarked, leaning back in his chair.
+"No probing for confidences, no silly questions. Out with it!"
+
+"I've started wrong," Macheson said. "I'll have to go back on my tracks
+a bit anyway."
+
+Holderness grunted affably.
+
+"Nothing like mistakes," he remarked. "Best discipline in the world."
+
+"I started on a theory," Macheson continued thoughtfully. "It didn't pan
+out. The people I have been trying to get at are better left alone."
+
+"Exactly why?" Holderness asked.
+
+"I'll tell you," Macheson answered. "You know I've seen a bit of what we
+call village life. Their standard isn't high enough, of course. Things
+come too easily, their noses are too close to the ground. They are
+moderately sober, moderately industrious, but the sameness of life is at
+work all the time. It makes machines of the factory hands, animals of
+the country folk. I knew that before I started. I thought I could lift
+their heads a little. It's too big a task for me, Dick."
+
+"Of course," Holderness assented. "You can't graft on to dead wood."
+
+"They live decent lives--most of them," Macheson continued thoughtfully.
+"They can't understand that any change is needed, no more can their
+landlords, or their clergy. A mechanical performance of the Christian
+code seems all that any one expects from them. Dick, it's all they're
+capable of. You can't alter laws. You can't create intelligence. You
+can't teach these people spirituality."
+
+"As well try to teach 'em to fly," Holderness answered. "I could have
+told you so before, if it had been of any use. What about these
+Welshmen, though?"
+
+"It's hysteria," Macheson declared. "If you can get through the hide,
+you can make the emotions run riot, stir them into a frenzy. It's a
+debauch. I've been there to see. The true spiritual life is partly
+intellectual."
+
+"What are you going to do now?" Holderness asked.
+
+"I don't know," Macheson answered. "I haven't finished yet. Dick, curse
+all women!"
+
+The giant looked thoughtful.
+
+"I'm sorry," he said simply.
+
+Macheson swung himself from the table. He walked up and down the room.
+
+"It isn't serious," he declared. "It isn't even definite. But it's like
+a perfume, or a wonderful chord of music, or the call of the sea to an
+inland-bred viking! It's under my heel, Dick, but I can't crush it. I
+came away from Leicestershire because I was afraid."
+
+"Does she--exist?" Holderness asked.
+
+"Not for me," Macheson declared hurriedly. "Don't think that. I
+shouldn't have mentioned it, but for our compact."
+
+Holderness nodded.
+
+"Bad luck," he said. "This craving for something we haven't got--can't
+have--I wish I could find the germ. The world should go free of it for a
+generation. We'd build empires, we'd reconstruct society. It's a deadly
+germ, though, Victor, and it's the princes of the world who suffer most.
+There's only one antidote--work!"
+
+"Give me some," Macheson begged.
+
+The giant looked at him thoughtfully.
+
+"Right," he answered, "but not to-day. Clothes up in town?"
+
+Macheson nodded.
+
+"We'll go on the bust," Holderness declared. "I've been dying for a
+spree! We'll have it. Where are you staying?"
+
+"My old rooms," Macheson answered. "I looked in on my way from the
+station and found them empty."
+
+"Capital! We're close together. Come on! We'll do the West End like two
+gay young bucks. Five o'clock, isn't it? We'll walk up Regent Street and
+have an 'aperitif' at Biflore's. Wait till I brush my hat."
+
+Macheson made no difficulties, but he was puzzled. Holderness he knew
+well enough had no leanings towards the things which he proposed with so
+much enthusiasm. Was it a pilgrimage they were to start upon--or what?
+After all, why need he worry? He was content to go his friend's way.
+
+So they walked up Regent Street, bright with the late afternoon
+sunshine, threading their way through the throngs of sauntering men and
+women gazing into the shops--and at one another! At Biflore's Macheson
+would have felt out of his element but for Holderness' self-possession.
+He had the air of going through what might have been an everyday
+performance, ordered vermouth mixed, lit a cigarette, leaned back at his
+ease upon the cushioned seat, and told with zest and point a humorous
+story. There were women there, a dozen or more, some alone, some in
+little groups, women smartly enough dressed, good-looking, too, and
+prosperous, with gold purses and Paris hats, yet--lacking something.
+Macheson did not ask himself what it was. He felt it; he knew, too, that
+Holderness meant him to feel it. The shadow of tragedy was there--the
+world's tragedy....
+
+They went back to their rooms to dress and met at a popular
+restaurant--one of the smartest. Here Macheson began to recover his
+spirits. The music was soft yet inspiring, the women--there were none
+alone here--were well dressed, and pleasant to look at, the sound of
+their laughter and the gay murmur of conversation was like a delightful
+undernote. The dinner and wine were good. Holderness seemed to know very
+well how to choose both. Macheson began to feel the depression of a few
+hours ago slipping away from him. Once or twice he laughed softly to
+himself. Holderness looked at him questioningly.
+
+"You should have been with me for the last fortnight, Dick," he
+remarked, smiling. "The lady of the manor at Thorpe didn't approve of
+me, and I had to sleep for two nights in a gamekeeper's shelter."
+
+"Didn't approve of you to such an extent?" Holderness remarked. "Was she
+one of those old country frumps--all starch and prejudice?"
+
+Then for a moment the heel was lifted, and a rush of memory kept him
+dumb. He felt the tearing of the blood in his veins, the burning of his
+cheeks, the wild, delicious sense of an exaltation, indefinable,
+mysterious. He was tongue-tied, suddenly apprehensive of himself and his
+surroundings. He felt somehow nearer to her--it was her atmosphere,
+this. Was he weaker than his friend--had he, indeed, more to fear? He
+raised his glass mechanically to his lips, and the soft fire of the
+amber wine soothed whilst it disquieted him. Again he wondered at his
+friend's whim in choosing this manner of spending their evening.
+
+"No!" he said at last, and he was surprised to find his voice composed
+and natural, "the mistress of Thorpe is not in the least that sort.
+Thorpe is almost a model village, and of course there is the church, and
+a very decent fellow for vicar. I am not at all sure that she was not
+right. I must have seemed a fearful interloper."
+
+Holderness stretched his long limbs under the table and laughed softly.
+
+"Well," he declared, "it was a hare-brained scheme. Theoretically, I
+believe you were right. There's nothing more dangerous than content.
+Sort of armour you can't get through.... Come, we mustn't miss the
+ballet."
+
+They threaded their way down the room. Suddenly Macheson stopped short.
+He was passing a table set back in a recess, and occupied by two
+persons. The girl, who wore a hat and veil, and whose simple country
+clothes were conspicuous, was staring at him with something like fear in
+her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed; her lips parted, she was leaning
+forward as though to call her companion's attention to Macheson's
+approach. Macheson glanced towards him with a sudden impulse of
+indignant apprehension. It was Stephen Hurd, in irreproachable evening
+clothes save only for his black tie, and his companion was Letty.
+
+Macheson stopped before the table. He scarcely knew what to say or how
+to say it, but he was determined not to be intimidated by Hurd's curt
+nod.
+
+"So you are up in town, Letty," he said gravely. "Is your mother with
+you?"
+
+The girl giggled hysterically.
+
+"Oh, no!" she declared. "Mother can't bear travelling. A lot of us came
+up this morning at six o'clock on a day excursion, six shillings each."
+
+"And what time does the train go back?" Macheson asked quickly.
+
+"At twelve o'clock," the girl answered, "or as soon afterwards as they
+can get it off. It was terribly full coming up."
+
+Macheson was to some extent relieved. At any rate there was nothing
+further that he could do. He bent over the girl kindly.
+
+"I hope you have had a nice day," he said, "and won't be too tired when
+you get home. These excursions are rather hard work. Remember me to your
+mother."
+
+He exchanged a civil word with the girl's companion, who was taciturn
+almost to insolence. Then he passed on and joined Holderness, who was
+waiting near the door.
+
+"An oddly assorted couple, your friends," he remarked, as they struggled
+into their coats.
+
+Macheson nodded.
+
+"The girl was my landlady's daughter at Thorpe, and the young man's the
+son of the agent there," he said.
+
+"Engaged?" Holderness asked.
+
+"I'm--afraid not," Macheson answered. "She's up on an excursion--for the
+day--goes back at twelve."
+
+"I suppose he's a decent fellow--the agent's son?" Holderness remarked.
+"She seems such a child."
+
+"I suppose he is," Macheson repeated. "I don't care for him very much,
+Dick; I suppose I'm an evil-minded person, but I hate leaving them."
+
+Holderness looked back into the restaurant.
+
+"You can't interfere," he said. "It's probably a harmless frolic enough.
+Come on!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE NIGHT SIDE OF LONDON
+
+
+"No stalls left," Holderness declared, turning away from the box office
+at the Alhambra. "We'll go in the promenade. We can find a chair there
+if we want to sit down."
+
+Macheson followed him up the stairs and into the heavily carpeted
+promenade. His memory of the evening, a memory which clung to him for
+long afterwards, seemed like a phantasmagoria of thrilling music, a
+stage packed with marvellously dressed women, whose movements were
+blended with the music into one voluptuous chorus--a blaze of colour not
+wholly without its artistic significance, and about him an air heavy
+with tobacco smoke and perfumes, a throng of moving people, more
+women--many more women. A girl spoke to Holderness,--a girl heavily
+rouged but not ill-looking, dressed in a blue muslin gown and large
+black hat. Holderness bent towards her deferentially. His voice seemed
+to take to itself its utmost note of courtesy, he answered her inquiry
+pleasantly, and accepted a glance at her programme. The girl looked
+puzzled, but they talked together for several moments of casual things.
+Then Holderness lifted his hat.
+
+"My friend and I are tired," he said. "We are going to look for a seat."
+
+She bowed and they strolled on down the promenade, finding some chairs
+at the further end. The dresses of the women brushed their feet and the
+perfume from the clothes was stronger even than the odour from the
+clouds of tobacco smoke which hung about the place. Macheson, in whom
+were generations of puritanical impulses, found himself shrinking back
+in his corner. Holderness turned towards him frowning.
+
+"No superiority, Victor," he said. "These are your fellow-creatures.
+Don't look at them as though you'd come down from the clouds."
+
+"It isn't that," Macheson answered, "it's a matter of taste."
+
+"Taste! Rot!" Holderness answered. "The factory girl's hat offends my
+taste, but I don't shrink away from her."
+
+A girl, in passing, stumbled against his foot. Holderness stood up as he
+apologized.
+
+"I am really very sorry," he said. "No one with feet like mine ought to
+sit down in a public place. I hope you haven't torn your dress?"
+
+"It really doesn't matter," the girl answered. "I ought to have looked
+where I was going."
+
+"In which case," Holderness remarked, with a laugh, "you could not have
+failed to see my feet."
+
+There were two empty chairs at their table. The girl glanced towards
+them and hesitated.
+
+"Do you mind if we sit down here for a minute," she asked, "my friend
+and I? We are rather tired."
+
+He drew the chairs towards them.
+
+"By all means," he answered courteously. "Your friend does look tired."
+
+The party arranged itself. Holderness called to a waiter and gave an
+order.
+
+"My friend and I," he remarked, indicating Macheson, who was fiercely
+uncomfortable and struggling hard not to show it, "are disappointed that
+we could not get stalls. We wanted to see La Guerrero and this wonderful
+conjurer."
+
+"The place is full every night," the girl answered listlessly. "La
+Guerrero comes on at ten o'clock, you can see her from the front of the
+promenade easily. You don't often come here, do you?"
+
+"Not very often," Holderness answered. "And you?"
+
+"Every night," the girl answered in a dull tone.
+
+"That must be monotonous," he said kindly.
+
+"It is," she admitted.
+
+They talked for a few minutes longer, or rather it was Holderness who
+mostly talked, and the others who listened. It struck Macheson as
+curious that his friend should find it so easy to strike the note of
+their conversation and keep it there, as though without any definite
+effort he could assume control over even the thoughts of these girls, to
+whom he talked with such easy courtesy. He told a funny story and they
+all laughed naturally and heartily. Macheson had an idea that the girls
+had forgotten for the moment exactly where they were. Something in their
+faces, something which had almost terrified him at their first coming,
+had relaxed, if it had not passed wholly away. At the sound of a few
+bars of music one of them leaned almost eagerly forward.
+
+"There," she said, "if you want to see La Guerrero you must hurry. She
+is coming on now."
+
+The two young men rose to their feet. One of the girls looked wistfully
+at Holderness, but nothing was said beyond the ordinary farewells.
+
+"Thank you so much for telling us," Holderness said. "Come along,
+Victor. It is La Guerrero."
+
+Macheson breathed more freely when once they were in the throng. They
+watched the Spanish dancer with her exquisite movements, sinuous, full
+of grace. Holderness especially applauded loudly. Afterwards they found
+seats in the front and remained there for the rest of the performance.
+
+Out in the street they hesitated. Holderness passed his arm through his
+companion's.
+
+"Supper!" he declared. "This way! Did you know what a man about town I
+was, Victor? Ah! but one must learn, and life isn't all roses and honey.
+One must learn!"
+
+They threaded their way through the streets, crowded with hansoms,
+electric broughams, and streams of foot passengers. Holderness led the
+way to a sombre-looking building, and into a room barely lit save for
+the rose-shaded lamps upon the tables. Macheson gasped as he entered.
+Nearly every table was occupied by women in evening dress, women
+alone--waiting. Holderness glanced around quite unconcernedly as he gave
+up his coat and hat to a waiter.
+
+"Feeling shy, Victor?" he asked, smiling. "Never mind. We'll find a
+table to ourselves all right."
+
+They sat in a corner. The girls chattered and talked across them--often
+at them. A Frenchwoman, superbly gowned in white lace, and with a long
+rope of pearls around her neck, paused as she passed their table. She
+carried a Pomeranian under her arm and held it out towards them.
+
+"See! My little dog!" she exclaimed. "He bite you. Messieurs are
+lonely?"
+
+"Alas! Of necessity," Holderness answered in French. "Madame is too
+kind."
+
+She passed on, laughing. Macheson looked across the table almost
+fiercely.
+
+"What are you doing it for, Dick?" he exclaimed. "What does it mean?"
+
+His friend looked across at him steadfastly.
+
+"Victor," he said, "I want you to understand. You are an enthusiast, a
+reformer, a prophet of lost causes. I want you to know the truth if you
+can see it. There are many sides to life."
+
+"What am I to learn of this?" Macheson asked, almost passionately.
+
+"If I told you," Holderness answered, "the lesson would only be half
+learnt. Sit tight and don't be a fool. Drink your wine. Mademoiselle in
+violet there wants to flirt with you."
+
+"Shall I ask her to join us?" Macheson demanded with wasted satire.
+
+"You might do worse," Holderness answered calmly. "She could probably
+teach you something."
+
+It was a dull evening, and many of the tables remained unoccupied--save
+for the one waiting figure. The women, tired of looking towards the
+door, were smoking cigarettes, twirling their bracelets, yawning, and
+looking around the room. Many a mute invitation reached the two young
+men, but Holderness seemed to have lost his sociability. His face had
+grown harder and he seemed glad when their meal was over and they were
+free to depart. In the hall below they had to wait for their overcoats.
+Macheson strolled idly towards the entrance of another supper room on
+the ground floor, and looked in. An exclamation broke from his lips. He
+turned towards Holderness.
+
+"You see the time," he exclaimed, "and they are here! Those two!"
+
+Holderness nodded gravely.
+
+"The girl has been crying," he said, "and there is an A B C on the
+table. It's up to you, Victor. We may both have to take a hand in the
+game. No! I wouldn't go in. Wait till they come out!"
+
+They stood in the throng, jostled, cajoled, besought. At last the two
+rose and came towards the door. Letty had dried her eyes, but she looked
+still pale and terrified. Hurd, on the contrary, was flushed as though
+with wine. Macheson took her by the arm as she passed.
+
+"Letty," he said gravely, "have you missed your train?"
+
+She gave a stifled cry and shrank back, when she saw who it was.
+However, she recovered herself quickly.
+
+"Mr. Macheson!" she exclaimed. "How you startled me! I didn't expect--to
+see you again."
+
+"About this train, Letty?" he repeated.
+
+"Mr. Hurd's watch stopped," she declared, her eyes filling once more
+with tears. "He thought it was eleven o'clock,--and it was ten minutes
+past twelve. I don't know what mother will say, I am sure."
+
+"What are you going to do?" he asked.
+
+She looked round nervously.
+
+"Mr. Hurd is going to take me to some friends of his," she answered.
+"You see it was his fault, so he has promised to see mother and
+explain."
+
+Hurd pushed angrily forward.
+
+"Look here," he said to Macheson, "have you been following us about?"
+
+"I have not," Macheson answered calmly. "I am very glad to have come
+across you, though."
+
+"Sorry I can't return the compliment," Hurd remarked. "Come, Letty."
+
+A girl who was passing tapped him on the arm. She was dressed in blue
+silk, with a large picture hat, and she was smoking a cigarette.
+
+"Hullo, Stephen!" she exclaimed. "Edith wants to see you. Are you coming
+round to-night?"
+
+Hurd muttered something under his breath and moved away. Letty looked at
+him with horror.
+
+"Stephen!" she exclaimed. "You can't--you don't mean to say that you
+know--any of these?"
+
+She was trembling in every limb. He tried to pass his arm through hers.
+
+"Don't be a fool, Letty," he said. "It's time we went, or my friends
+will have gone to bed."
+
+She looked at him with wide-open eyes. Her lips were quivering. It was
+as though she saw some new thing in his face.
+
+"Your friends," she murmured, "are they--that sort? Oh! I am afraid."
+
+She clung to Macheson. People were beginning to notice them. He led her
+out into the street. Hurd followed, angrily protesting. Holderness was
+close behind.
+
+"I say, you know," Hurd began, with his arm on Macheson's shoulder.
+Macheson shook it off.
+
+"Mr. Hurd," he said, "at the risk of seeming impertinent, I must ask you
+precisely where you intend taking this girl to-night?"
+
+"What the devil business is it of yours?" Hurd answered angrily.
+
+"Tell me, all the same," Macheson persisted.
+
+Hurd passed his arm through Letty's.
+
+"Come, Letty," he said, "we will take this hansom."
+
+The girl was only half willing. Macheson declined to let them go.
+
+"No!" he said, "I will have my question answered."
+
+Hurd turned as though to strike him, but Holderness intervened, head and
+shoulders taller than the other.
+
+"I think," he said, "that we will have my friend's question answered."
+
+Hurd was almost shaking with rage, but he answered.
+
+"To some friends in Cambridge Terrace," he said sullenly. "Number
+eighteen."
+
+"You will not object," Macheson said, "if I accompany you there?"
+
+"I'll see you damned first," Hurd answered savagely. "Get in, Letty."
+
+The girl hesitated. She turned to Macheson.
+
+"I should like to go to the station and wait," she declared.
+
+"I think," Macheson said, "that you had better trust yourself to me and
+my friend."
+
+"I am sure of it," Holderness added calmly.
+
+She put her hand in Macheson's. She was as pale as death and avoided
+looking at Hurd. He took a quick step towards her.
+
+"Very well, young lady," he said. "If you go now, you understand that I
+shall never see you again."
+
+She began to cry again.
+
+"I wish," she murmured, "that I had never seen you at all--never!"
+
+He turned on his heel. A row was impossible. It occurred to him that a
+man of the world would face such a position calmly.
+
+"Very good," he said, "we will leave it at that."
+
+He paused to light a cigarette, and strolled back down the street
+towards the restaurant which they had just left. Letty was crying now in
+good earnest. The two young men looked at one another in something like
+dismay. Then Holderness began to laugh quietly.
+
+"You're a nice sort of Don Quixote to spend an evening with," he
+remarked softly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE VICTIMS OF SOCIETY
+
+
+The girl was still crying, softly but persistently. She caught hold of
+Macheson's arm.
+
+"If you please, I think I had better go back to Stephen," she said. "Do
+you think I could find him?"
+
+"I think you had much better not, Letty," he answered. "He ought not to
+have let you miss your train. My friend here and I are going to look
+after you."
+
+"It's very kind of you," the girl said listlessly, "but it doesn't
+matter much what becomes of me now. Mother will never forgive me--and
+the others will all know--that I missed the train."
+
+"We must think of some way of putting that all right," Macheson
+declared. "I only wish that I had some relations in London. Can you
+suggest anything, Dick?"
+
+"I can take the young lady to some decent rooms," Holderness answered.
+"The landlady's an old friend of mine. She'll be as right as rain
+there."
+
+The girl shook her head.
+
+"I'd as soon walk about the streets," she said pathetically. "Mother'll
+never listen to me--or the others. Some of them saw me with Stephen, and
+they said things. I think I'll go to the station and wait till the five
+o'clock train."
+
+They were walking slowly up towards Piccadilly. A fine rain had begun to
+fall, and already the pavements were shining. Neither of them had an
+umbrella, and Letty's hat, with its cheap flowers and ribbon, showed
+signs of collapse. Suddenly Macheson had an idea.
+
+"Look here," he said, "supposing you spent the night at Miss
+Thorpe-Hatton's house in Berkeley Square--no one could say anything
+then, could they?"
+
+The girl looked up with a sudden gleam of hope.
+
+"No! I don't suppose they could," she admitted; "but I don't know where
+it is, and I don't suppose they'd take me in anyway."
+
+"I know where it is," Macheson declared, "and we'll see about their
+taking you in. I believe Miss Thorpe-Hatton may be there herself. Stop
+that fourwheeler, Dick."
+
+They climbed into a passing cab, and Macheson directed the driver. The
+girl was beginning to lose confidence again.
+
+"The house is sure to be shut up," she said.
+
+"There will be a caretaker." Macheson declared hopefully. "We'll manage
+it, never fear. I believe Miss Thorpe-Hatton is there herself."
+
+Letty was trembling with excitement and fear.
+
+"I'm scared to death of her," she admitted. "She's so beautiful, and she
+looks at you always as though you were something a long way off."
+
+Macheson was suddenly silent. A rush of memories surged into his brain.
+He had sworn to keep away! This was a different matter, an errand of
+mercy. Nevertheless he would see her, if only for a moment. His heart
+leaped like a boy's. He looked eagerly out of the window. Already they
+were entering Berkeley Square. The cab stopped.
+
+Macheson looked upwards. There were lights in many of the windows, and a
+small electric brougham, with a tall footman by the side of the driver,
+was waiting opposite the door.
+
+"The house is open," he declared. "Don't be afraid, Letty."
+
+The girl descended and clung to his arm as they crossed the pavement.
+
+"I shall wait here for you," Holderness said. "Good luck to you, and
+good night, young lady!"
+
+Macheson rang the bell. The door was opened at once by a footman, who
+eyed them in cold surprise.
+
+"We wish to see Miss Thorpe-Hatton for two minutes," Macheson said,
+producing his card. "It is really an important matter, or we would not
+disturb her at such an hour. She is at home, is she not?"
+
+The footman looked exceedingly dubious. He looked from the card to
+Macheson, and from Macheson to the girl, and he didn't seem to like
+either of them.
+
+"Miss Thorpe-Hatton has just returned from the opera," he said, "and she
+is going on to the Countess of Annesley's ball directly. Can't you come
+again in the morning?"
+
+"Quite impossible," Macheson declared briskly. "I am sure that Miss
+Thorpe-Hatton will see me for a moment if you take that card up."
+
+The footman studied Macheson again, and was forced to admit that he was
+a gentleman. He led the way into a small morning-room.
+
+"Miss Thorpe-Hatton shall have your card, sir," he said. "Kindly take a
+seat."
+
+He left the room. Macheson drew up a chair for Letty, but she refused
+it, trembling.
+
+"Oh! I daren't sit down, Mr. Macheson," she declared. "And please--don't
+say that I was with Mr. Hurd. I know he wouldn't like it."
+
+"Probably not," Macheson answered, "but what am I to say?"
+
+"Anything--anything but that," she begged.
+
+Macheson nodded his promise. Then the door opened, and his heart seemed
+to stand still. She entered the room in all the glory of a wonderful
+toilette; she wore her famous ropes of pearls, the spotless white of her
+gown was the last word from the subtlest Parisian workshop of the day.
+But it was not these things that counted. Had he been dreaming, he
+wondered a moment later, or had that strange smile indeed curved her
+lips, that marvellous light indeed flowed from her eyes? It was the lady
+of his dreams who had entered--it was a very different woman who, with a
+slight frown upon her smooth forehead, was looking at the girl who stood
+trembling by Macheson's side.
+
+"It is Mr. Macheson, is it not?" she said calmly, "the young man who
+wanted to convert my villagers. And you--who are you?" she asked,
+turning to the girl.
+
+"Letty Foulton, if you please, ma'am," the girl answered.
+
+"Foulton! Letty Foulton!" Wilhelmina repeated.
+
+"Yes, ma'am! My brother has Onetree farm," the girl continued.
+
+Wilhelmina inclined her head.
+
+"Ah, yes!" she remarked, "I remember now. And what do you two want of me
+at this hour of the night?" she asked frigidly.
+
+"If you will allow me, I will explain," Macheson interrupted eagerly.
+"Letty came up from Thorpe this morning on an excursion train which
+returned at midnight."
+
+Wilhelmina glanced at the clock. It was five minutes to one.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"She missed it," Macheson continued. "It was very careless and very
+wrong, of course, but the fact remains that she missed it. I found her
+in great distress. She had lost her friends, and there is no train back
+to Thorpe till the morning. Her brother and mother are very strict, and
+all her friends who came from Thorpe will, of course, know that--she
+remained in London. The position, as you will doubtless realize, is a
+serious one for her."
+
+Wilhelmina made no sign. Nothing in her face answered in any way the
+silent appeal in his.
+
+"I happened to know," he continued, "that you were in London, so I
+ventured to bring her at once to you. You are the mistress of Thorpe,
+and in our recent conversation I remember you admitted a certain amount
+of responsibility as regards your people there. If she passes the night
+under your roof, no one can have a word to say. It will save her at once
+from her parent's anger and the undesirable comments of her neighbours."
+
+Wilhelmina glanced once more towards the clock.
+
+"It seems to me," she remarked, "that a considerable portion of the
+night has already passed."
+
+Both Macheson and the girl were silent. Wilhelmina for the first time
+addressed the latter.
+
+"Where have you been spending the evening?" she asked.
+
+"We had dinner and went to a place of entertainment," she faltered.
+"Then we had supper, and I found out how late it was."
+
+"Who is we?"
+
+The girl's face was scarlet. She did not answer. Wilhelmina waited for a
+moment and then shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"You are to be congratulated," she said, with cold irony, "upon your
+fortunate meeting with Mr. Macheson."
+
+She had touched the bell, and a footman entered.
+
+"Reynolds," she said, "show this young person into the housekeeper's
+room, and ask Mrs. Brown to take charge of her for the night."
+
+The girl moved forward impulsively, but something in Wilhelmina's
+expression checked her little speech of gratitude. She followed the man
+from the room without a word. Wilhelmina also turned towards the door.
+
+"You will excuse me," she said coldly to Macheson. "I am already later
+than I intended to be."
+
+"I can only apologize for disturbing you at such an hour," he answered,
+taking up his hat. "I could think of nothing else."
+
+She looked at him coldly.
+
+"The girl's parents," she said, "are respectable people, and I am
+sheltering her for their sake. But I am bound to say that I consider her
+story most unsatisfactory."
+
+They were standing in the hall--she had paused on her way out to
+conclude her sentence. Her maid, holding out a wonderful rose-lined
+opera cloak, was standing a few yards away; a man-servant was waiting at
+the door with the handle in his hand. She raised her eyes to his, and
+Macheson felt the challenge which flashed out from them. She imagined,
+then, that he had been the girl's companion; the cold disdain of her
+manner was in itself an accusation.
+
+His cheeks burned with a sort of shame. She had dared to think this of
+him--and that afterwards he should have brought the girl to her to beg
+for shelter! There were a dozen things which he ought to have said,
+which came flashing from his brain to find themselves somehow imprisoned
+behind his tightly locked lips. He said nothing. She passed slowly,
+almost unwillingly, down the hall. The maid wrapped her coat around
+her--still he stood like a statue. He watched her pass through the
+opened door and enter the electric brougham. He watched it even glide
+away. Then he, too, went and joined Holderness, who was waiting outside.
+
+"Hail, succourer of damsels in distress!" Holderness called out,
+producing his cigar-case. "Jolly glad you got rid of her! It would have
+meant the waiting-room at St. Pancras and an all-night sitting. Smoke,
+my son, and we will walk home--unless you mind this bit of rain. Was her
+ladyship gracious?"
+
+"She was not," Macheson answered grimly, "but she is keeping the girl.
+I'd like to walk," he added, lighting a cigar.
+
+"A very elegant lady," Holderness remarked, "but I thought she looked a
+bit up in the air. Did you notice her pearls, Victor?"
+
+Macheson nodded.
+
+"Wonderful, weren't they?"
+
+"Yes. She wears them round her neck, and these--these wear always their
+shame," he added, pushing gently away a woman who clutched at his arm.
+"Funny thing, isn't it? What are they worth? Ten thousand pounds, very
+likely. A lot of money for gewgaws--to hang upon a woman's body. Shall
+we ever have a revolution in London, do you think, Victor?"
+
+"Who knows?" Macheson answered wearily. "Not a political one, perhaps,
+but the other might come. The sewers underneath are pretty full."
+
+They passed along in silence for a few minutes. Neither the drizzling
+rain nor the lateness of the hour could keep away that weary procession
+of sad, staring-eyed women, who seemed to come from every shadow, and
+vanish Heaven knows where. Macheson gripped his companion by the arm.
+
+"Holderness," he cried, "for God's sake let's get out of it. I shall
+choke presently. We'll take a side street."
+
+But Holderness held his arm in a grip of iron.
+
+"No," he said, "these are the things which you must feel. I want you to
+feel them. I mean you to."
+
+"It's heart-breaking, Dick."
+
+Holderness smiled faintly.
+
+"I know how you feel," he declared. "I've gone through it myself. You
+are a Christian, aren't you--almost an orthodox Christian?"
+
+"I am not sure!"
+
+"Don't waste your pity, then," Holderness declared. "God will look after
+these. It's the women with the pearl necklaces and the scorn in their
+eyes who're looking for hell. Your friend in the electric brougham, for
+instance. Can't you see her close her eyes and draw away her skirts if
+she should brush up against one of these?"
+
+"It's hard to blame her," Macheson declared.
+
+Holderness looked down at him pityingly.
+
+"Man," he said, "you're a long way down in the valley. You'll have to
+climb. Vice and virtue are little else save relative terms. They number
+their adherents by accident rather than choice."
+
+"You mean that it is all a matter of temptation?"
+
+Holderness laughed. They had passed into the land of silent streets.
+Their own rooms were close at hand.
+
+"Wait a little time," he said. "Some day you'll understand."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+LETTY'S DILEMMA
+
+
+"You are quite sure," the girl said anxiously, "that Miss Thorpe-Hatton
+wants to see me? You see there's a train at ten o'clock I could catch."
+
+The housekeeper looked up from the menu she was writing, and tapped the
+table impatiently with her pencil.
+
+"My dear child," she said, "is it likely I should keep you here without
+orders? We have sent a telegram to your mother, and you are to wait
+until the mistress is ready to see you."
+
+"What time does she generally get down?" Letty asked.
+
+"Any time," Mrs. Brown answered, resuming her task. "She was back early
+last night, only stayed an hour at the ball, so she may send for you at
+any moment. Don't fidget about so, there's a good girl. I'm nervous this
+morning. We've twenty-four people dining, and I haven't an idea in my
+head. I'm afraid I shall have to send for Francois."
+
+"Is Francois the man-cook who comes down to Thorpe?" Letty asked.
+
+Mrs. Brown nodded.
+
+"The _chef_ you should call him," she answered. "A very clever man, no
+doubt, in his way, but takes a lot of keeping in order."
+
+"Do you have to look after all the servants?" Letty asked. "Doesn't Miss
+Thorpe-Hatton ever order anything?"
+
+Mrs. Brown looked pityingly at her guest.
+
+"My dear child," she said, "I doubt if she could tell you to three or
+four how many servants there are in the house, and as to ordering
+anything, I don't suppose such a thought's ever entered into her head.
+Here's James coming. Perhaps it's a message for you."
+
+A footman entered and greeted Letty kindly.
+
+"Good morning, young lady!" he said. "You are to go into the
+morning-room at once."
+
+Letty rose with alacrity.
+
+"Is--is she there?" she asked nervously.
+
+"She is," the man answered, "and if I were you, miss, I wouldn't do much
+more than just answer her questions and skedaddle. I haven't had any
+conversation with her myself, but mademoiselle says she's more than a
+bit off it this morning. Slept badly or something."
+
+"Don't frighten the child, James," Mrs. Brown said reprovingly. "She's
+not likely to say much to you, my dear. You hurry along, and come back
+and have a glass of wine and a biscuit before you go. Show her the way,
+James."
+
+"If you please, miss," the man answered, becoming once more an
+automaton.
+
+Letty was ushered into a small room, full, it seemed to her as she
+entered, of sunshine and flowers. Wilhelmina, in a plain white-serge
+gown, with a string of beads around her neck of some strange-coloured
+shade of blue, was sitting in a high-backed easy-chair. A small wood
+fire was burning in the grate, filling the room with a pleasant aromatic
+odour, and the window leading into the square was thrown wide open.
+
+On a table by her side were a pile of letters, an ivory letter-opener,
+several newspapers, and a silver box of cigarettes. For the moment,
+however, none of these things claimed her attention. The lady of the
+house was leaning back in her chair, and her eyes were half closed. If
+she had not been sitting with her back to the light, Letty might have
+noticed the dark rings under her eyes. It was true that she had not
+slept well.
+
+Letty advanced doubtfully into the room. Wilhelmina turned her head.
+
+"Oh, it is you," she remarked. "Come up to the table where I can see
+you."
+
+"Mrs. Brown told me that you wished to see me before I went," the girl
+said hesitatingly.
+
+Wilhelmina was silent for a moment. She was looking at the girl. Yes!
+she was pretty in a rustic, uncultured way. Her figure was unformed, her
+hands and feet what might have been expected, and it was obvious that
+she lacked taste. Were men really attracted by this sort of thing?
+
+"Yes!" Wilhelmina said, "I wish to speak to you. I am not altogether
+satisfied about last night."
+
+Letty said nothing. She went red and then white. Wilhelmina's
+examination of her was merciless.
+
+"I wish to know," Wilhelmina said, "who your companion was--with whom
+you had dinner and supper. I look upon that person as being responsible
+for your lost train."
+
+Letty prayed that she might sink into the ground. Her worst imaginings
+had not been so bad as this. She remained silent, tongue-tied.
+
+"I'm waiting," Wilhelmina said mercilessly. "I suppose it is obvious
+enough, but I wish to hear from your own lips."
+
+"I--he--I don't think that he would like me to tell you, ma'am," she
+faltered.
+
+Wilhelmina smiled--unpleasantly.
+
+"Probably not," she answered. "That, however, is beside the question. I
+wish to know."
+
+The girl was desperate. It was indeed a quandary with her. To offend the
+mistress of Thorpe was something like sacrilege, but she knew very well
+what Stephen would have had her do.
+
+"If you please, ma'am," she said at last, "I can't."
+
+Wilhelmina said nothing for a moment, only her eyebrows were slowly
+lifted.
+
+"If you do not," she said, calmly, "I must write to your mother and tell
+her what I think of your behaviour last night. I do not care to have
+people near me who are disobedient, or--foolish."
+
+The girl burst into tears. Wilhelmina watched her with cold patience.
+
+"I presume," she said, "that it was Mr. Macheson. You do not need to
+mention his name. You need only say 'Yes!'"
+
+The girl said nothing.
+
+"Mr. Macheson lodged with your mother, I believe?" Wilhelmina continued.
+
+"Yes!" the girl whispered.
+
+"And you waited upon him?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+The girl lifted her head.
+
+"Mr. Macheson always behaved like a gentleman to me," she said.
+
+Wilhelmina regarded her contemptuously.
+
+"Your ideas of what constitutes gentlemanly behaviour are probably
+primitive," she said. "I do not think that I need trouble you for any
+direct answer. Still, it would be better for you to give it."
+
+The girl was again silent. There was a knock at the door. The footman
+ushered in Stephen Hurd.
+
+He entered confident and smiling. He was wearing a new grey tweed suit,
+and he was pleased with himself and the summons which had brought him to
+London. But the sight of the girl took his breath away. She, too, was
+utterly taken by surprise, and forgot herself.
+
+"Stephen!" she exclaimed, taking a quick step towards him.
+
+"You! You here!" he answered.
+
+It was quite enough! But what puzzled Letty was that Wilhelmina did not
+seem in the least angry. There was a strange look on her face as she
+looked from one to the other. Something had sprung into her eyes which
+seemed to transform her. Her voice, too, had lost all its hardness.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Hurd?" she said. "I hope you have come to explain
+how you dared let this child lose her train last night."
+
+"I--really I--it was quite a mistake," he faltered, darting an angry
+glance at Letty.
+
+"You had supper with her," Wilhelmina said, "and you knew what time the
+train went."
+
+"She met some other friends," Stephen answered. "She left me."
+
+Wilhelmina smiled. She had found out all that she wanted to know.
+
+"Well," she said, "I won't inquire too closely into it this time, only I
+hope that nothing of the sort will occur again. You had better have
+lunch with Mrs. Brown in the housekeeper's room, Letty, and I'll send
+you over to St. Pancras for the four o'clock train. I'll give you a
+letter to your mother this time, but mind, no more foolishness of this
+sort."
+
+The girl tried to stammer out her thanks, but she was almost incoherent.
+Wilhelmina dismissed her with a smile. Her manner was distinctly colder
+when she turned to Hurd.
+
+"Mr. Hurd," she said, "I hope you will understand me when I say that I
+do not care to have my agent, or any one connected with the estate, play
+the Don Juan amongst my tenants' daughters."
+
+He flushed up to the eyes.
+
+"It was idiotic of me," he admitted frankly. "I simply meant to give the
+child a good time."
+
+"She is quite pretty in her way," Wilhelmina said, "and her parents, I
+believe, are most respectable people. You were perhaps thinking of
+settling down?"
+
+He looked at her in amazement.
+
+"What, with Letty Foulton!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Why not?" she asked.
+
+He drew a breath through his teeth. He could scarcely trust himself to
+speak for anger.
+
+"You--are not serious?" he permitted himself to ask.
+
+"Why not?" she demanded.
+
+Hurd struggled to express himself with dignity.
+
+"I should not consider such a marriage a suitable one, even if I were
+thinking of marrying at all," he said.
+
+She raised her eyebrows.
+
+"No? Well, I suppose you know best," she said carelessly. "Is there
+anything fresh down at Thorpe?"
+
+She was angry about that fool of a girl, he told himself. A good sign.
+But what an actress! His conceit barely kept him up.
+
+"There really isn't anything I couldn't arrange with Mr. Fields," he
+admitted. "I thought, perhaps, as I was up, you might have some special
+instructions. That is why I sent to ask if you would see me."
+
+He looked at her almost eagerly. After all, she was the same woman who
+had been kind to him at Thorpe. And yet, was she? A sudden thought
+startled him. She was changed. Had she guessed that he knew her secret?
+
+"No!" she said deliberately. "I do not think that there is anything. If
+you could find out Mr. Macheson's address I should be much obliged."
+
+Hurd was puzzled. This was the second time. What could she have to say
+to Macheson?
+
+"He was here last night, but I forgot to ask him," she continued
+equably.
+
+"Macheson, here!" he exclaimed.
+
+"It was he who brought the girl, Letty," she said.
+
+He was silent for a moment.
+
+"He's a queer lot," he said. "Came to Thorpe, of all places, as a sort
+of missioner, and he was about town last night most immaculately got up;
+nothing of the parson about him, I can assure you."
+
+"No!" she answered quietly. "Well, if you can discover his address,
+remember I should be glad to hear it."
+
+He took up his hat reluctantly. He had hoped at least that he might have
+been asked to luncheon. It was obvious, however, that he was expected to
+depart, and he did so. On the whole, although he had escaped from an
+exceedingly awkward situation, he could scarcely consider his visit a
+success. On his way out he passed Deyes, stepping out of a cab piled up
+with luggage. He nodded to Hurd in a friendly manner.
+
+"Miss Thorpe-Hatton in?" he asked.
+
+"Just left her," Hurd answered.
+
+Deyes passed on, and was received by the butler as a favoured guest. He
+was shown at once into the morning-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+A REPORT FROM PARIS
+
+
+"For the first time in my life," Deyes declared, accepting the cigarette
+and the easy-chair, "I have appreciated Paris. I have gone there as a
+tourist. I have drunk strange drinks at the Cafe de la Paix. I have sat
+upon the boulevards and ogled the obvious lady."
+
+"And my little guide?" she asked.
+
+"Has disappeared!" he answered.
+
+"Since when?"
+
+"A month ago! It is reported that he came to England."
+
+Wilhelmina sat still for several moments. To a casual observer she might
+have seemed unmoved. Deyes, however, was watching her closely, and he
+understood.
+
+"I am sorry," he said, "to have so little to tell you. But that is the
+beginning and the end of it. The man had gone away."
+
+"That is precisely what I desired to ascertain," she said. "It seemed to
+me possible that the man had come to England. I wished to know for
+certain whether it was true or not."
+
+"I think," Deyes said, withdrawing his cigarette and looking at it
+thoughtfully, "that it is true."
+
+"You have any further reason for thinking so," she asked, "beyond your
+casual inquiries?"
+
+"Well, yes!" he admitted. "I went a little farther than those casual
+inquiries. It seemed such a meagre report to bring you."
+
+"Go on!"
+
+"The ordinary person," he continued smoothly, "would never believe the
+extreme difficulty with which one collects any particulars as to the
+home life of a guide. More than once I felt inclined to give up the task
+in despair. It seemed to me that a guide could have no home, that he
+must sleep in odd moments on a bench at the _Hotel de Luxe_. I tried to
+fancy a guide in the bosom of his family, carving a Sunday joint, and
+surrounded by Mrs. Guide and the little Guides. I couldn't do it. It
+seemed to me somehow grotesque. Just as I was giving it up in despair,
+the commissionaire at a night cafe in Montmartre told me exactly what I
+wanted to know. He showed me the house where Johnny, as they called him,
+had a room."
+
+"You went there?" she asked.
+
+"I did," he answered.
+
+"It was locked up?"
+
+"On the contrary," he declared, "Mrs. or Miss Guide was at home, and
+very pleased to see me."
+
+"There was a woman there?"
+
+"Assuredly. Whether she is there now or not I cannot say, for it is
+three days ago, and to me she seemed nearer than that to death!"
+
+"And about this woman! What was she like? Was she his wife or his
+daughter?"
+
+"He called her his daughter. I am not sure about the relationship. She
+had been good-looking, I should say, but she was very ill."
+
+"What did she tell you--about the man Johnson?"
+
+"That he had gone to England to try to get some money. They were almost
+destitute! He was a good guide, she said, but people came so often to
+Paris, and they liked some one fresh. Then she coughed--how she
+coughed!"
+
+"Did she tell you to what part of England the man Johnson had gone?"
+
+"I asked her, but she was not sure. I do not believe that she knew. She
+said that there was some one in England who was very rich, and from whom
+he hoped to be able to get money."
+
+"Anything else?"
+
+"No! I spoke of myself as an old client of Johnny's, and I left money.
+Afterwards, at the cafe where I lunched, I found a commissionaire who
+told me more about our friend."
+
+"Ah! What was the name of the cafe?"
+
+"The Cafe de Paris!"
+
+She took up a screen and held it before her face. There seemed to be
+little need of it, however, for her cheeks were as pale as the white
+roses by her side.
+
+"This man Johnny, as they call him," Deyes continued, "seems to have had
+his ups and downs. One big stroke of luck he had, however, which seems
+to have kept him going for several years. The commissionaire was able to
+tell me something about it. Shall I go on?" he asked, dropping his voice
+a little.
+
+"I should like to know what the commissionaire told you," she answered.
+
+"Somehow or other this fellow, Johnny or Johnson as some of them called
+him, was recommended to a young lady, a very young lady, who was in
+Paris with an invalid chaperon."
+
+"Stop!" she cried.
+
+He looked at her fixedly.
+
+"You were that young lady," he said softly. "Of course, I know that!"
+
+"I was," she admitted. "Don't speak to me for a few moments. It was
+years ago--but----"
+
+She bent the screen which she held in her hand until the handle snapped.
+
+"You seem," she said, "to have rather exceeded your instructions. I
+simply wanted to know whether the man was in Paris or not."
+
+He bowed.
+
+"The man is in England," he said. "Don't you think it might be helpful
+if you gave me more of your confidence, and told me why you wanted to
+hear about him?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I would sooner tell you than any one, Gilbert," she said, "but I do not
+want to talk about it."
+
+"It must be as you will, of course," he answered, "but I hope you will
+always remember that you could do me no greater kindness--at any
+time--than to make use of my services. I do not know everything of what
+happened in Paris--about that time. I do not wish to know. I am content
+to serve you--blindly."
+
+"I will not forget that," she said softly. "If ever the necessity comes
+I will remind you. There! Let that be the end of it."
+
+She changed the subject, giving him to understand that she did not wish
+to discuss it further.
+
+"You are for Marienbad, as usual?" she asked.
+
+"Next week," he answered. "One goes from habit, I suppose. No waters
+upon the earth or under it will ever cure me!"
+
+"Liver?" she asked.
+
+"Heart!" he declared.
+
+"You shouldn't smoke so many cigarettes."
+
+"Harmless," he assured her. "I don't inhale."
+
+"I think," she said, "that I shall come over next month."
+
+"Do!" he begged. "I'll answer for the bridge. May I come and lunch
+to-morrow?"
+
+She turned to a red morocco book by her side.
+
+"A bishop and Lady Sarah," she said. "Several more parsons, and I think
+the duchess."
+
+"I'll face 'em," he declared.
+
+"I think I shall send for Peggy," Wilhelmina said. "She is always so
+sweet to the Church."
+
+Deyes grinned.
+
+"I shall go round and look her up," he declared. "Perhaps she'll come
+and have lunch with me somewhere."
+
+She held out her hand.
+
+"You're a good sort to have gone over for me," she said. "The things you
+tumbled up against you'd better forget."
+
+"Until you remind me of them," he said. "Very well, I'll do that. Sorry
+I didn't run Johnny to earth."
+
+He went off, and Wilhelmina after a few minutes went to her desk and
+wrote a letter to Stephen Hurd.
+
+    "As usual," she wrote, "when you were here this morning I forgot
+    to mention several matters upon which I meant to speak to you.
+    The first is with regard to the man whose brutal assault upon
+    your father caused his death. I understand that the police have
+    never traced him, have never even found the slightest clue to
+    his whereabouts. The more I think of this, the more strange it
+    seems to me, and I am inclined to believe that he never, after
+    all, escaped from the wood in which he first took shelter. I
+    know that the slate quarry was dragged at the time, but I have
+    been told that this was hastily done, and that there are several
+    very deep holes into which the man's body may have drifted. I
+    wish you, therefore, to send over to Nottingham to get some
+    experienced men to bring back the drags and make an exhaustive
+    search. Please have this done without delay.
+
+    "Further, I wish to communicate with the young man Macheson, who
+    was in Thorpe at the time. They may know his address at the
+    post-office, but if you are unable to procure it in any other
+    way, you must advertise in your own name. Please carry out my
+    instructions in these two matters immediately."
+
+Wilhelmina laid down her pen and looked thoughtfully through the window
+into the square. A policeman was coming slowly along the pavement. She
+watched him approach and pass the house, his eyes still fixed in front
+of him, his whole appearance stolid and matter-of-fact to the last
+degree. She watched him disappear with fascinated eyes. After all, he
+represented great things; behind him was a whole national code; the
+machinery of which he was so small a part drove the wheels of life or
+death. She turned away from the window with a shrug of the shoulders.
+Humming a tune, she threw herself back in her chair, and began the
+leisurely perusal of her letters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+LIKE A TRAPPED ANIMAL
+
+
+Macheson in those days felt himself rapidly growing older. An
+immeasurable gap seemed to lie between him and the eager young apostle
+who had plunged so light-heartedly into the stress of life. All that
+wonderful enthusiasm, that undaunted courage with which he had faced
+coldness and ridicule in the earlier days of his self-chosen vocation
+seemed to have left him. Some way, somehow, he seemed to have suffered
+shipwreck! There was poison in his system! Fight against it as he
+might--and he did fight--there were moments when memory turned the life
+which he had taken up so solemnly into the maddest, most fantastic fairy
+story. At such times his blood ran riot, the sweetness of a strange,
+unknown world seemed to be calling to him across the forbidden borders.
+Inaction wearied him horribly--and, after all, it was inaction which
+Holderness had recommended as the best means of re-establishing himself
+in a saner and more normal attitude towards life!
+
+"Look round a bit, old chap," he advised, "and think. Don't do anything
+in a hurry. You're young, shockingly young for any effective work. You
+can't teach before you understand. Life isn't such a sink of iniquity
+as you young prigs at Oxford professed to find it. See the best of it
+and the worst. You'll be able to put your finger on the weak spots quick
+enough."
+
+But the process of looking around wearied Macheson excessively--or was
+it something else which had crept into his blood to his immense
+unsettlement? There were several philanthropic schemes started by
+himself and his college friends in full swing now, in or about London.
+To each of them he paid some attention, studying its workings, listening
+to the enthusiastic outpourings of his quondam friends and doing his
+best to catch at least some spark of their interest. But it was all very
+unsatisfactory. Deep down in his heart he felt the insistent craving for
+some fiercer excitement, some mode of life which should make larger and
+deeper demands upon his emotional temperament. A heroic war would have
+appealed to him instantly--for that, he realized with a sigh, he was
+born many centuries too late. For weeks he wandered about London in a
+highly unsatisfied condition. Then one afternoon, in the waning of a
+misty October day, he came face to face with Wilhelmina in Bond Street.
+
+She was stepping into her motor brougham when she saw him. He had no
+opportunity for escape, even if he had desired it. Her tired lips were
+suddenly curved into a most bewildering smile. She withdrew her hand
+from her muff and offered it to him--for the first time.
+
+"So you are still in London, Mr. Macheson," she said. "I am very glad to
+see you."
+
+The words were unlike her, the tone was such as he had never heard her
+use. Do what he could, he could not help the answering light which
+sprang into his own eyes.
+
+"I am still in London," he said. "I thought you were to go to
+Marienbad?"
+
+"I left it until it was too late," she answered. "Walk a little way with
+me," she added abruptly. "I should like to talk to you."
+
+"If I may," he answered simply.
+
+She dismissed the brougham, and they moved on.
+
+"I am sorry," she began, "that I was rude to you when you brought that
+girl to me. You did exactly what was nice and kind, and I was hateful.
+Please forgive me."
+
+"Of course," he answered simply. "I felt sure that when you thought it
+over you would understand."
+
+"You are not going back--to Thorpe?" she asked.
+
+"Not at present, at any rate," he answered.
+
+She looked up at him with a faint smile.
+
+"You can have the barn," she said.
+
+His eyes answered her smile, but his tone was grave.
+
+"I have given that up--for a little time, at any rate," he said. "I mean
+that particular sort of work."
+
+"My villagers must content themselves with Mr. Vardon, then," she
+remarked.
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Perhaps," he said, "ours was a mistaken enterprise. I am not sure. But
+at any rate, so far as Thorpe is concerned, I have abandoned it for the
+present."
+
+She was walking close to his side, so close that the hand which raised
+her skirt as they crossed the street touched his, and her soft breath as
+she leaned over and spoke fell upon his cheek.
+
+"Why?"
+
+He felt the insidious meaning of her whispered monosyllable, he felt her
+eyes striving to make him look at her. His cheeks were flushed, but he
+looked steadily ahead.
+
+"There were several reasons," he said.
+
+"Do tell me," she begged; "I am curious."
+
+"For one," he said steadily, "I did an unjust thing at Thorpe. I
+sheltered a criminal and helped him to escape."
+
+"So it was you who did that," she remarked. "You mean, of course, the
+man who killed Mr. Hurd?"
+
+"Yes!" he answered. "I showed him where to hide. He either got clean
+away, or he is lying at the bottom of the slate quarry. In either case,
+I am responsible for him."
+
+"Well," she said, "he is not at the bottom of the slate quarry. I can at
+least assure you of that. I have had the place dragged, and every foot
+of it gone over by experienced men from Nottingham."
+
+"Really," he said, surprised. "Well, I am glad of it."
+
+She sighed.
+
+"I want you, if you can," she said, "to describe the man to me. It is
+not altogether curiosity. I have a reason for wishing to know what he
+was like."
+
+"He was in such a state of panic," Macheson said doubtfully, "that I am
+afraid I have only an imperfect impression of him. He was not very tall,
+he had a round face, cheeks that were generally, I should think, rather
+high-coloured, brown eyes and dark hair, almost black. He wore a thick
+gold ring on the finger of one hand, and although he spoke good English,
+I got the idea somehow that he was either a foreigner or had lived
+abroad. He was in a terrible state of fear, and from what I could
+gather, I should say that he struck old Mr. Hurd in a scuffle, and not
+with any deliberate intention of hurting him."
+
+She nodded.
+
+"I have heard all that I want to," she declared.
+
+They walked on in silence for several minutes. Then she turned to him
+with a shrug of the shoulders.
+
+"The subject," she declared, "is dismissed. I did not ask you to walk
+with me to discuss such unpleasant things. I should like to know about
+yourself."
+
+He sighed.
+
+"About myself," he answered, "there is nothing to tell. There isn't in
+the whole of London a more unsatisfactory person."
+
+She laughed softly.
+
+"Such delightful humility," she murmured, "especially amongst the young,
+is too touching. Nevertheless, go on. It amuses me to hear."
+
+The note of imperiousness in her tone was pleasantly reminiscent. It was
+the first reminder he had received of the great lady of Thorpe.
+
+"Well," he said, "what do you want to know?"
+
+"Everything," she answered. "I am possessed by a most unholy curiosity.
+Your relatives for instance, and where you were born."
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"I have no relatives," he answered. "I was born in Australia. I am an
+orphan, twenty-eight years old, and feel forty-eight, no profession, no
+settled purpose in life. I am Japhet in search of a career."
+
+She glanced at his shabby clothes. He had been to a mission-house in the
+East End.
+
+"You are poor?" she asked softly.
+
+"I have enough, more than enough," he answered, "to live on."
+
+Her eyes lingered upon his clothes, but he offered no explanation.
+Enough to live on, she reflected, might mean anything!
+
+"You say that you have no profession," she remarked. "I suppose you
+would call it a vocation. But why did you want to come and preach to my
+villagers at Thorpe? Why didn't you go into the Church if you cared for
+that sort of thing?"
+
+"There was a certain amount of dogma in the way," he answered. "I should
+make but a poor Churchman. They would probably call me a free-thinker.
+Besides, I wanted my independence."
+
+She nodded.
+
+"I am beginning to understand a little better," she said. "Now you must
+tell me this. Why did you entertain the idea of mission work in a place
+like Thorpe, when the whole of that awful East End was there waiting for
+you?"
+
+"All the world of reformers," he answered, "rushes to the East End. We
+fancied there was as important work to be done in less obvious places."
+
+"And you started your work," she asked, "directly you left college?"
+
+"Before, I think," he answered. "You see, I wasn't alone. There were
+several of us who felt the same way--Holderness, for instance, the man
+who came to your house with me the other night. He works altogether upon
+the political side. He's a Socialist--of a sort. Two of the others went
+into the Church, one became a medical missionary. I joined in with a few
+who thought that we might do more effective work without tying ourselves
+down to anything, or subscribing to any religious denomination."
+
+She looked at him curiously. He was tall, broad-shouldered and muscular.
+He wore even his shabby clothes with an air of distinction.
+
+"I suppose," she said calmly, "that I must belong to a very different
+world. But what I cannot understand is why you should choose a career
+which you intend to pursue apparently for the benefit of other people.
+All the young men whom I have known who have taken life seriously enough
+to embrace a career at all, have at least studied their individual
+tastes."
+
+"Well," he answered, smiling, "it isn't that I fancy myself any better
+than my fellows. I was at Magdalen, you know, under Heysey. I think that
+it was his influence which shaped our ideas."
+
+"Yes! I have heard of him," she said thoughtfully. "He was a good man.
+At least every one says so. I'm afraid I don't know much about good men
+myself. Most of those whom I have met have been the other sort."
+
+The faint bitterness of her tone troubled him. There was deliberation,
+too, in her words. Instinctively he knew that this was no idle speech.
+
+"You have asked me," he reminded her, "a good many questions. I wonder
+if I might be permitted to ask you one?"
+
+"Why not? I can reserve the privilege of not answering it," she
+remarked.
+
+"People call you a fortunate woman," he said. "You are very rich, you
+have a splendid home, the choice of your own friends, a certain
+reputation--forgive me if I quote from a society paper--as a brilliant
+and popular woman of the world. Yours is rather a unique position, isn't
+it? I wonder," he added, "whether you are satisfied with what you get
+out of life!"
+
+"I get all that there is to be got," she answered, a slight hardness
+creeping into her tone. "It mayn't be much, but it amuses
+me--sometimes."
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"There is more to be got out of life," he said, "than a little
+amusement."
+
+She shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"How about yourself? You haven't exactly the appearance of a perfectly
+contented being."
+
+"I'm hideously dissatisfied," he admitted promptly. "Something seems to
+have gone wrong with me--I seem to have become a looker-on at life. I
+want to take a hand, and I can't. There doesn't seem to be any place for
+me. Of course, it's only a phase," he continued. "I shall settle down
+into something presently. But it's rather beastly while it lasts."
+
+She looked at him, her eyes soft with laughter. Somehow his confession
+seemed to have delighted her.
+
+"I'm glad you are human enough to have phases," she declared. "I was
+beginning to be afraid that you might turn out to be just an ordinary
+superior person. Perhaps you are also human enough to drink tea and eat
+muffins. Try, won't you?"
+
+They were in front of her door, which flew immediately open. She either
+took his consent for granted, or chose not to risk his refusal, for she
+went on ahead, and his faint protests were unheard. His hat and stick
+passed into the care of an elderly person in plain black clothes; with
+scarcely an effort at resistance, he found himself following her down
+the hall. She stopped before a small wrought-iron gate, which a footman
+at once threw open.
+
+"It makes one feel as though one were in a hotel, doesn't it?" she
+remarked, "but I hate stairs. Besides, I am going to take you a long,
+long way up.... I am not at home this afternoon, Groves."
+
+"Very good, madam," the man answered.
+
+They stepped out into a smaller hall. A dark-featured young woman came
+hurrying forward to meet them.
+
+"I shall not need you, Annette," Wilhelmina said. "Go down and see that
+they send up tea for two, and telephone to Lady Margaret--say I'm sorry
+that I cannot call for her this afternoon."
+
+"Parfaitement, madame," the girl murmured, and hurried away. Wilhelmina
+opened the door of a sitting-room--the most wonderful apartment Macheson
+had ever seen. A sudden nervousness seized him. He felt his knees
+shaking, his heart began to thump, his brain to swim. All at once he
+realized where he was! It was not the lady of Thorpe, this! It was the
+woman who had come to him with the storm, the woman who had set burning
+the flame which had driven him into a new world. He looked around half
+wildly! He felt suddenly like a trapped animal. It was no place for him,
+this bower of roses and cushions, and all the voluptuous appurtenances
+of a chamber subtly and irresistibly feminine! He was bereft of words,
+awkward, embarrassed. He longed passionately to escape.
+
+Wilhelmina closed the door and raised her veil. She laid her two hands
+upon his shoulders, and looked up at him with a faint but very tender
+smile. Her forehead was slightly wrinkled, her fingers seemed to cling
+to him, so that her very touch was like a caress! His heart began to
+beat madly. The perfume of her clothes, her hair, the violets at her
+bosom, were like a new and delicious form of intoxication. The touch of
+her fingers became more insistent. She was drawing his face down to
+hers.
+
+"I wonder," she murmured, "whether you remember!"
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+RATHER A GHASTLY PART
+
+
+Mademoiselle Rosine raised her glass. Her big black eyes flashed
+unutterable things across the pink roses.
+
+"I think," she said, "that we drink the good health of our host, Meester
+Macheson, Meester Victor, is it not?"
+
+"Bravo!" declared a pallid-looking youth, her neighbour at the round
+supper table. "By Jove, if we were at the _Cote d'Or_ instead of the
+_Warwick_, we'd give him musical honours."
+
+"I drink," Macheson declared, "to all of us who know how to live! Jules,
+another magnum, and look sharp."
+
+"Certainly, sir," the man answered.
+
+There flashed a quick look of intelligence between the waiter and a
+maitre d'hotel who was lingering near. The latter hesitated for a
+moment, and then nodded. It was a noisy party and none too reputable,
+but a magnum of champagne was an order. They were likely to make more
+noise still if they didn't get it. So the wine was brought, and more
+toasts were drunk. Mademoiselle Rosine's eyes flashed softer things
+than ever across the table, but she had the disadvantage of distance.
+Ella Merriam, the latest American importation, held the place of honour
+next Macheson, and she was now endeavouring to possess herself of his
+hand under the table.
+
+"I say, Macheson, how is it none of us ever ran up against you before?"
+young Davenant demanded, leaning back in his chair. "Never set eyes on
+you myself, from the day you left Magdalen till I ran up against you at
+the Alhambra the other evening. Awfully studious chap Macheson was at
+college," he added to the American girl. "Thought us chaps no end of
+rotters because we used to go the pace a bit. That's so, isn't it,
+Macheson?"
+
+Macheson nodded.
+
+"It is only the young who are really wise," he declared coolly. "As we
+grow older we make fools of ourselves inevitably, either fools or
+beasts, according to our proclivities. Then we begin to enjoy
+ourselves."
+
+The girl by his side laughed.
+
+"I guess you don't mean that," she said. "It sounds smart, but it's real
+horrid. How old are you, Mr. Macheson?"
+
+"Older than I look and younger than I feel," he answered, gazing into
+his empty glass.
+
+"Have you found what you call your proclivities?" she asked.
+
+"I am searching for them," Macheson answered. "The trouble is one
+doesn't know whether to dig or to climb."
+
+"Why should one search at all?" the other man asked, drawing out a gold
+cigarette case from his trousers pocket, and carefully selecting a
+cigarette. "Life comes easiest to those who go blindfold. I've got a
+brother, private secretary to a Member of Parliament. He's got views
+about things, and he makes an awful fag of life. What's the good of it!
+He'll be an old man before he's made up his mind which way he wants to
+go. This sort of thing's good enough for me!"
+
+The magnum had arrived, and Macheson lifted a foaming glass.
+
+"Davenant," he declared, "you are a philosopher. We will drink to life
+as it comes! To life--as it comes!"
+
+They none of them noticed the little break in his voice. A party of
+newcomers claimed their attention. Macheson, too, had seen them. He had
+seen her. Like a ghost at the feast, he sat quite motionless, his glass
+half raised in the air, the colour gone from his cheeks, his eyes set in
+a hard fast stare. Wilhelmina, in a plain black velvet gown, with a rope
+of pearls about her neck, her dark hair simply arranged about her
+pallid, distinguished face, was passing down the room, followed closely
+by the Earl of Westerdean, Deyes, and Lady Peggy. Her first impulse had
+been to stop; a light sprang into her eyes, and a delicate spot of
+colour burned in her cheeks. Then her eyes fell upon his companions; she
+realized his surroundings. The colour went: the momentary hesitation was
+gone. She passed on without recognition; Lady Peggy, after a curious
+glance, did the same. She whispered and laughed in Deyes' ear as they
+seated themselves at an adjacent table. He looked round behind her back
+and nodded, but Macheson did not appear to see him.
+
+A momentary constraint fell upon the little party. The American young
+lady leaned over to ask Davenant who the newcomers were.
+
+"The elder man," he said, "is the Earl of Westerdean, and the
+pretty fair woman Lady Margaret Penshore. The other woman is a Miss
+Thorpe-Hatton. Macheson probably knows more about them than I do!"
+
+Macheson ignored the remark. He whispered something in his neighbour's
+ear, which made her laugh heartily. The temporary check to their
+merriment passed away. Macheson was soon laughing and talking as much as
+any of them.
+
+"Supper," he declared, "would be the most delightful meal of the day in
+any other country except England. In a quarter of an hour the lights
+will be out."
+
+"But it is barbarous," Mademoiselle Rosine declared. "Ah! Monsieur
+Macheson, you should come to Paris! There it is that one may enjoy
+oneself."
+
+"I will come," Macheson answered, "whenever you will take me."
+
+She clapped her hands.
+
+"Agreed," she cried. "I have finished rehearsing. I have a week's
+'vacance.' We will go to Paris to-morrow, all four of us!"
+
+"I'm on," Davenant declared promptly. "I was going anyway in a week or
+two."
+
+Mademoiselle Rosine clapped her hands again.
+
+"Bravo!" she cried. "And you, Mademoiselle?"
+
+The girl hesitated. She glanced at Macheson.
+
+"We will both come," Macheson declared. "Miss Merriam will do me the
+honour to go as my guest."
+
+"We'll stay at the Vivandiere," Davenant said. "I've a pal there who
+knows the ropes right up to date. What about the two-twenty to-morrow?
+We shall get there in time to change and have supper at Noyeau's."
+
+"And afterwards--_au Rat Mort_----" Mademoiselle Rosine cried. "We will
+drink a glass of champagne with _cher_ Monsieur Francois."
+
+Davenant raised his glass.
+
+"One more toast, then, before the bally lights go out!" he exclaimed.
+"To Paris--and our trip!"
+
+Some one touched Macheson on the arm. He turned sharply round. Deyes was
+standing there. Tall and immaculately attired, there was something a
+little ghostly in the pallor of his worn, beardless face, with its many
+wrinkles and tired eyes.
+
+"Forgive me for interrupting you, my dear fellow," he said. "We are
+having our coffee outside, just on the left there. Miss Thorpe-Hatton
+wants you to stop for a moment on your way out."
+
+Macheson hesitated perceptibly. A dull flush of colour stained his
+cheek, fading away almost immediately. He set his teeth hard.
+
+"I shall be very happy," he said, "to stop for a second."
+
+Deyes bowed and turned away. The room now was almost in darkness, and
+the people were streaming out into the foyer. Macheson paid the bill and
+followed in the wake of the others. Seeing him approach alone,
+Wilhelmina welcomed him with a smile, and drew her skirts on one side to
+make room for him to sit down. He glanced doubtfully around. She raised
+her eyebrows.
+
+"Your friends," she said, "are in no hurry. They can spare you for a
+moment."
+
+There was nothing in her tone to indicate any surprise at finding him
+there, or in such company. She made a few casual remarks in her somewhat
+languid fashion, and recalled him to the recollection of Lady Peggy, who
+was to all appearance flirting desperately with Lord Westerdean. Deyes
+had strolled across to a neighbouring group, and was talking to a
+well-known actor. Wilhelmina leaned towards him.
+
+"Has it ever occurred to you," she asked quietly, "that you left me a
+little abruptly the other afternoon?"
+
+His eyes blazed into hers. He found it hard to emulate the quiet
+restraint of her tone and manner. It was a trick which he had never
+cultivated, never inherited, this playing with the passions in kid
+gloves, this muzzling and harnessing of the emotions.
+
+"You know why," he said.
+
+She inclined her head ever so slightly to where his late companions were
+seated.
+
+"And this?" she asked. "Am I responsible for this, too?"
+
+He laughed shortly.
+
+"It would never have occurred to me to suggest such a thing," he
+declared. "I am amusing myself a little. Why not?"
+
+"Are you?" she asked calmly.
+
+Her eyes drew his. He almost fancied that the quiver at the corners of
+her lips was of mirth.
+
+"Somehow," she continued, "I am not sure of that. I watched you now and
+then in there. It seemed to me that you were playing a part--rather a
+ghastly part! There's nothing so wearisome, you know, as pretending to
+enjoy yourself."
+
+"I had a headache to-night," he said, frowning.
+
+She bent towards him.
+
+"Is it better now?" she whispered, smiling.
+
+He threw out his hands with a quick fierce gesture. It was well that the
+great room was wrapped in the mysterious obscurity of semi-darkness, and
+that every one was occupied with the business of farewells. He sprang to
+his feet.
+
+"I am going," he said thickly. "My friends are expecting me."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Those are not your friends," she said. "You know very well that they
+never could be. You can go and wish them good night. You are going to
+see me home."
+
+"No!" he declared.
+
+"If you please," she begged softly.
+
+He crossed the room unsteadily, and made his excuses with the best grace
+he could. Mademoiselle Rosine made a wry face. Miss Ella laid her
+fingers upon his arm and looked anxiously up at him.
+
+"Say you won't disappoint us to-morrow," she said. "It's all fixed up
+about Paris, isn't it? Two-twenty from Charing Cross."
+
+"Yes!" he answered. "I will let you know if anything turns up."
+
+They all stood around him. Davenant laid his hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"Look here, old chap," he said, "no backing out. We've promised the
+girls, and we mustn't disappoint them."
+
+"Monsieur Macheson would not be so cruel," Mademoiselle Rosine pleaded.
+"He has promised, and Englishmen never break their workd. Is it not so?
+A party of four, yes! that is very well. But alone with Herbert here I
+could not go. If you do not come, all is spoilt! Is it not so, my
+friends?"
+
+"Rather!" Davenant declared.
+
+The other girl's fingers tightened upon his arm.
+
+"Don't go away now," she whispered. "Come round to my flat and we'll all
+talk it over. I will sing you my new song. I'm crazy about it."
+
+Macheson detached himself as well as he could.
+
+"I must leave you now," he declared. "I can assure you that I mean to
+come to-morrow."
+
+He hurried after Wilhelmina, who was saying good night to her friends. A
+few minutes later they were being whirled westwards in her brougham.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+PLAYING WITH FIRE
+
+
+"And now," she said, throwing herself into an easy-chair and taking up a
+fan, "we can talk."
+
+He refused the chair which she had motioned him to wheel up to the fire.
+He stood glowering down upon her, pale, stern, yet not wholly master of
+himself. Against the sombre black of her dress, her neck and bosom shone
+like alabaster. She played with her pearls, and looked up at him with
+that faint maddening curl of the lips which he so loved and so hated.
+
+"So you won't sit down. I wonder why a man always feels that he can
+bully a woman so much better standing up."
+
+"There is no question of bullying you," he answered shortly. "You are
+responsible for my coming here. What is it that you want with me?"
+
+"Suppose," she murmured, looking up at him, "that I were to say--another
+kiss!"
+
+"Suppose, on the other hand," he answered roughly, "you were to tell me
+the truth."
+
+She sighed gently.
+
+"You jump so rapidly at conclusions," she declared. "Are you sure that
+it would not be the truth!"
+
+"If it were," he began fiercely.
+
+"If it were," she interrupted, "well?"
+
+"I would rather kiss Mademoiselle Rosine or whatever her name is," he
+said. "I would sooner go out into the street and kiss the first woman I
+met."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"What an impossible person you are!" she murmured. "Of course, I don't
+believe you."
+
+He shrugged his shoulders, and glanced at the clock.
+
+"Are you going to keep me here long?" he asked roughly. "I am going to
+Paris to-morrow, and I have to pack my clothes."
+
+"To Paris? With Mademoiselle Rosine?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+She laughed softly.
+
+"Oh! I think not," she declared. "That sort of thing wouldn't amuse you
+a bit."
+
+"We shall see!" he muttered.
+
+"I am sure that you will not go," she repeated.
+
+"Why not?" he demanded.
+
+"Because--I beg you not to!"
+
+"You!" he exclaimed. "You! Do you think that I am another of those
+creatures of straw and putty, to dance to your whims, to be whistled to
+your heel, to be fed with stray kisses, and an occasional kind word? I
+think not! If I am to go to the Devil, I will go my own way."
+
+"You inconsistent creature!" she said. "Why not mine?"
+
+"I'll take my soul with me, such as it is," he answered. "I'll not make
+away with it while my feet are on the earth."
+
+"Do you know that you are really a very extraordinary person?" she said.
+
+"What I am you are responsible for," he answered. "I was all right when
+you first knew me. I may have been ignorant, perhaps, but at any rate I
+was sincere. I had a conscience and an ideal. Oh! I suppose you found me
+very amusing--a missioner who thought it worth while to give a part of
+his life to help his fellows climb a few steps higher up. What devil was
+it that sent you stealing down the lane that night from your house, I
+wonder?"
+
+She nodded slowly.
+
+"I'm sorry you can speak of it like that," she said. "To me it was the
+most delightful piece of sentiment! Almost like a poem!"
+
+"A poem! It was the Devil's own poetry you breathed into me! What a poor
+mad fool I became! You saw how easily I gave my work up, how I sulked up
+to London, fighting with it all the time, with this madness--this----"
+
+"Dear me," she said, "what an Adam you are! My dear Victor, isn't
+it--you are very, very young. There is no need for you to manufacture a
+huge tragedy out of a woman's kiss."
+
+"What else is it but a tragedy," he demanded, "the kiss that is a
+lie--or worse? You brought me here, you let me hold you in my arms, you
+filled my brain with mad thoughts, you drove everything good and worth
+having out of life, you filled it with what? Yourself! And then--you pat
+me on the cheek and tell me to come, and be kissed some other day, when
+you feel in the humour, a wet afternoon, perhaps, or when you are
+feeling bored, and want to hunt up a few new emotions! It may be the way
+with you and your kind. I call it hellish!"
+
+"Well," she said, "tell me exactly what it is that you want?"
+
+"To be laughed at--as you did before?" he answered fiercely. "Never
+mind. It was the truth. You have lain in my arms, you came willingly,
+your lips have been mine! You belong to me!"
+
+"To be quite explicit," she murmured, "you think I ought to marry you."
+
+"Yes!" he declared firmly. "A kiss is a promise! You seem to want to
+live as a 'poseuse,' to make playthings of your emotions and mine. I
+wanted to build up my life firmly, to make it a stable and a useful
+thing. You came and wrecked it, and you won't even help me to rebuild."
+
+"Let us understand one another thoroughly," she said. "Your complaint
+is, then, that I will not marry you?"
+
+The word, the surprising, amazing word, left her lips again so calmly
+that Macheson was staggered a little, confused by its marvellous
+significance. He was thrown off his balance, and she smiled as a
+wrestler who has tripped his adversary. Henceforth she expected to find
+him easier to deal with.
+
+"You know--that it is not that--altogether," he faltered.
+
+"What is it that you want then?" she asked calmly. "There are not many
+men in the world who have kissed--even my hand. There are fewer
+still--whom I have kissed. I thought that I had been rather kind to
+you."
+
+"Kind!" he threw out his arms with a despairing gesture. "You call it
+kindness, the drop of magic you pour into a man's veins, the touch of
+your body, the breath of your lips vouchsafed for a second, the elixir
+of a new life. What is it to you? A caprice! A little dabbling in the
+emotions, a device to make a few minutes of the long days pass more
+smoothly. Perhaps it's the way in your world, this! You cheat yourself
+of a whole-hearted happiness by making physiological experiments,
+frittering away the great chance out of sheer curiosity--or something
+worse. And we who don't understand the game--we are the victims!"
+
+"Really," she said pleasantly, "you are very eloquent."
+
+"And you," he said, "are----"
+
+Her hand flashed out almost to his lips, long shapely fingers, ablaze
+with the dull fire of emeralds.
+
+"Stop," she commanded, "you are not quite yourself this evening. I am
+afraid that you will say something which you will regret. Now listen.
+You have made a most eloquent attack upon me, but you must admit that it
+is a perfect tangle of generalities. Won't you condescend to look me in
+the face, leave off vague complaints, and tell me precisely why you have
+placed me in the dock and yourself upon the bench? In plain words, mind.
+No evasions. I want the truth."
+
+"You shall have it," he answered grimly. "Listen, then. I began at
+Thorpe. You were at once rude and kind to me. I was a simple ass, of
+course, and you were a mistress in all the arts which go to a man's
+undoing. It wasn't an equal fight. I struggled a little, but I thanked
+God that I had an excuse to give up my work. I came to London, but the
+poison was working. Every morning before you were up, and every night
+after dark, I walked round your square--and the days I saw you were the
+days that counted."
+
+"Dear me, how interesting!" she interrupted softly. "And to think that I
+never knew!"
+
+"I never meant you to know," he declared. "A fool I was from the first,
+but never fool enough to misunderstand. When I brought Letty Foulton to
+you, I brought her against my will. It was for the child's sake. And you
+were angry, and then I saw you again--and you were kind!"
+
+She smiled at him.
+
+"I'm glad you admit that," she said gently. "I thought that I was very
+kind indeed. And you repaid me--how?"
+
+"Kind!" he cried fiercely. "Yes! you were kind! You were mine for the
+moment, you lay in my arms, you gave me your lips! It was an impression!
+It amused you to see any human being so much in earnest. Then the mood
+passed. Your dole of charity had been given! I must sit apart and you
+must smooth your hair. What did it all amount to? An episode, a trifling
+debauch in sentiment--and for me--God knows!"
+
+"To return once more," she said patiently, "to your complaint. Is it
+that I will not marry you?"
+
+"I did not ask that--at first," he answered. "It is a good deal, I
+know."
+
+"Then do you want to come and kiss me every day?" she asked, "because I
+don't think that that would suit me either."
+
+"I can believe it," he said.
+
+"I am inclined to think," she said, "that you are a very grasping and
+unreasonable person. I have permitted you privileges which more men than
+my modesty permits me to tell you of have begged for in vain. You have
+accepted them--I promised nothing beyond, nor have you asked for it. Yet
+because I was obliged to talk reasonably to you, you flung yourself out
+of my house, and I am left to rescue you at the expense of my pride,
+perhaps also of my reputation, from associations which you ought to be
+ashamed of."
+
+"To talk reasonably to me," he repeated slowly. "Do you remember what
+you said?"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"Naturally! And what I said was true enough."
+
+"I was to be content with scraps. To go away and forget you, until
+chance or a whim of yours should bring us together again."
+
+"Did you want so much more?" she asked, with a swift maddening glance at
+him.
+
+He fell on his knees before her couch.
+
+"Oh! I love you!" he said. "Forgive me if I am unreasonable or foolish.
+I can't help it. You came so unexpectedly, so wonderfully! And you see I
+lost my head as well as my heart. I have so little to offer you--and I
+want so much."
+
+Her hands rested for a moment caressingly upon his shoulders. A whole
+world of wonderful things was shining out of her eyes. It was only her
+lips that were cruel.
+
+"My dear boy," she said, "you want what I may not give. I am very, very
+sorry. I think there must have been some sorcery in the air that night,
+the spell of the roses must have crept into my blood. I am sorry for
+what I did. I am very sorry that I did not leave you alone."
+
+He rose heavily to his feet. His face was grey with suffering.
+
+"I ought to have known," he said. "I think that I did know."
+
+"All the same," she continued, laying her hand upon his arm, "I think
+that you are a rank extremist."
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"I don't understand," he said.
+
+"Shall I teach you?" she whispered.
+
+He flung her hand away.
+
+"No!" he said savagely.
+
+She sighed.
+
+"I am afraid you had better go away," she said.
+
+As he closed the door he fancied that he heard a sob. But it might have
+been only fancy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+MONSIEUR S'AMUSE
+
+
+"To-night," young Davenant declared, with something which was
+suspiciously like a yawn, "I really think that we must chuck it just a
+little earlier. Shall we say that we leave here at two, and get back to
+the hotel?"
+
+Mademoiselle Rosine pouted, but said nothing. The young lady from
+America tried to take Macheson's hand.
+
+"Yes!" she murmured. "Do let's! I'm dead tired."
+
+She whispered something in Macheson's ear which he affected not to hear.
+He leaned back in his cushioned seat and laughed.
+
+"What, go home without seeing Francois!" he exclaimed. "He's keeping the
+corner table for us, and we're all going to dance the Maxixe with the
+little Russian girl."
+
+"We could telephone," Davenant suggested. "Do you know that we haven't
+been to bed before six one morning since we arrived in Paris?"
+
+"Well, isn't that what we came for?" Macheson exclaimed. "We can go to
+bed at half-past twelve in London. Maitre d'hotel, the wine! My friends
+are getting sleepy. What's become of the music? Tell our friend
+there--ah! Monsieur Henri!"
+
+He beckoned to the leader of the orchestra, who came up bowing, with his
+violin under his arm.
+
+"Monsieur Henri, my friends are '_triste_,'" he explained. "They say
+there is no music here, no life. They speak of going home to bed. Look
+at mademoiselle here! She yawns! We did not come to Paris to yawn.
+Something of the liveliest. You understand? Perhaps mademoiselle there
+will dance."
+
+"Parfaitement, monsieur."
+
+The man bowed himself away, with a twenty-franc piece in the palm of his
+hand. The orchestra began a gay two-step. Macheson, starting up, passed
+his arm round the waist of a little fair-haired Parisienne just
+arriving. She threw her gold satchel on to a table, and they danced
+round the room. Davenant watched them with unwilling admiration.
+
+"Well, Macheson's a fair knockout," he declared. "I'm hanged if he can
+keep still for five minutes. And when I knew him at Oxford, he was one
+of the most studious chaps in the college. Gad! he's dancing with
+another girl now--look, he's drinking champagne out of her glass.
+Shouldn't stand it, Ella."
+
+Ella was watching him. Her eyes were very bright, and there was more
+colour than usual in her cheeks.
+
+"It's nothing to me what Mr. Macheson does," she said, with a catch in
+her voice. "I don't understand him a bit. I think he's mad."
+
+Mademoiselle Rosine leaned across and whispered in her ear. Ella shook
+her head.
+
+"You see--it is any girl with him," she said. "He dances with them, pays
+their bills--see, he pays for Annette there, and away he goes--laughing.
+You see it is so with them, too. He has finished with them now. He comes
+back to us. Guess I'm not sure I want him."
+
+Nevertheless she moved her skirts and made room for him by her side.
+Macheson came up out of breath, and poured himself out a glass of wine.
+
+"What a time they are serving supper!" he exclaimed.
+
+Davenant groaned.
+
+"My dear fellow," he exclaimed, "remember our dinner at Lesueur's. You
+can't be hungry!"
+
+"But I am," Macheson declared. "What are we here for but to eat and
+drink and enjoy ourselves? Jove! this is good champagne! Mademoiselle
+Rosine!"
+
+He raised his glass and bowed. Mademoiselle Rosine laughed at him out of
+her big black eyes. He was rather a fascinating figure, this tall,
+good-looking young Englishman, who spoke French so perfectly and danced
+so well.
+
+"I would make you come and sit by me, Monsieur Macheson," she declared,
+"but Ella would be jealous."
+
+"What about me?" Davenant exclaimed.
+
+"Oh! la, la!" she answered, pinching his arm.
+
+"I'm sure I don't mind," Ella declared. "I guess we're all free to talk
+to whom we please."
+
+Macheson drew up a chair and sat opposite to them.
+
+"I choose to look at you both," he said, banging the table with his
+knife. "Garcon, we did not come here to eat your flowers or your
+immaculate tablecloth. We ordered supper half an hour ago. Good! It
+arrives."
+
+No one but Macheson seemed to have much appetite. He ate and he drank,
+and he talked almost alone. He ordered another bottle of wine, and the
+tongues of the others became a little looser. The music was going now
+all the time, and many couples were dancing. The fair-haired girl,
+dancing with an older woman, touched him on the shoulder as she passed,
+and laughed into his face.
+
+"There is no one," she murmured, "who dances like monsieur."
+
+He sprang up from his seat and whirled her round the room. She leaned
+against his arm and whispered in his ear. Ella watched her with
+darkening face.
+
+"It is little Flossie from the _Folies Marigny_," Mademoiselle Rosine
+remarked. "You must have a care, Ella. She has followed Monsieur
+Macheson everywhere with her eyes."
+
+He returned to his place and continued his supper.
+
+"Hang it all, you people are dull to-night," he exclaimed. "Drink some
+more wine, Davenant, and look after mademoiselle. Miss Ella!"
+
+He filled her glass and she leaned over the table.
+
+"Every one else seems to make love to you," she whispered. "I guess I'll
+have to begin. If you call me Miss Ella again I shall box your ears."
+
+"Ella then, what you will," he exclaimed. "Remember, all of you, that we
+are here to have a good time, not to mope. Davenant, if you don't
+sparkle up, I shall come and sit between the girls myself."
+
+"Come along," they both cried. Mademoiselle Rosine held out her arms,
+but Macheson kept his seat.
+
+"Let's go up to the _Rat Mort_ if we're going," Ella exclaimed. "It's
+dull here, and I'm tired of seeing that yellow-headed girl make eyes at
+you."
+
+Macheson laughed and drained his glass.
+
+"_Au Rat Mort!_" he cried. "Good!"
+
+They paid the bill and all trooped out. The fair-haired girl caught at
+Macheson's hand as he passed.
+
+"_Au Rat Mort?_" she whispered.
+
+She threw a meaning glance at Ella.
+
+"Monsieur is well guarded," she said softly.
+
+"Malheureusement!" he answered, smiling.
+
+Davenant drew him on one side as the girls went for their cloaks.
+
+"I say, old chap," he began, "aren't you trying Ella a bit high? She's
+not a bad-tempered girl, you know, but I'm afraid there'll be a row
+soon."
+
+Macheson paused to light a cigarette.
+
+"A row?" he answered. "I don't see why."
+
+"You're a bit catholic in your attentions, you know," Davenant remarked.
+
+"Why not?" Macheson answered. "Ella is nothing to me. No more are the
+rest of them. I amuse myself--that's all."
+
+Davenant looked as he felt, puzzled.
+
+"Well," he said. "I'm not sure that Ella sees it in that light."
+
+"Why shouldn't she?" Macheson demanded.
+
+"Well, hang it all, you brought her over, didn't you?" Davenant reminded
+him.
+
+"She came over as my guest," Macheson answered. "That is to say, I pay
+for her whenever she chooses to come out with us, and I pay or shall pay
+her hotel bill. Beyond that, I imagine that we are both of us free to
+amuse ourselves as we please."
+
+"I don't believe Ella looks at it in that light," Davenant said
+hesitatingly. "You mean to say that there is nothing--er----"
+
+"Of course not," Macheson interrupted.
+
+"Hasn't she----"
+
+"Oh! shut up," Macheson exclaimed. "Here they come."
+
+Ella passed her arm through his. Mademoiselle Rosine had told her while
+she stood on tiptoe and dabbed at her cheeks with a powder-puff, that
+she was too cold. The Messieurs Anglais were often so difficult. They
+needed encouragement, so very much encouragement. Then there were more
+confidences, and Madame Rosine was very much astonished. What sort of a
+man was this Monsieur Macheson, yet so gallant, so gay! She promised
+herself that she would watch him.
+
+"We will drive up together, you and I," Ella whispered in his ear, but
+Macheson only laughed.
+
+"I've hired a motor car for the night," he said. "In you get! I'm going
+to sit in front with the chauffeur and sing."
+
+"You will do nothing of the sort," Ella declared, almost sharply. "You
+will come inside with us."
+
+"Anywhere, anyhow," he answered. "To the little hell at the top of the
+hill, Jean, and drive fast," he directed. "Jove! it's two o'clock! Hurry
+up, Davenant. We shall have no time there at all."
+
+There was barely room for four. Mademoiselle Rosine perched herself
+daintily on Davenant's knee. Ella tried to draw Macheson into her arms,
+but he sank on to the floor, and sat with his hands round his knees
+singing a French music-hall song of the moment. They shouted to him to
+leave off, but he only sang the louder. Then, in a block, he sprang from
+the car, seized the whole stock of a pavement flower-seller, and, paying
+her magnificently, emptied them through the window of the car into the
+girls' laps, and turning round as suddenly--disappeared.
+
+"He's mad--quite mad," Ella declared, with a sigh. "I don't believe we
+shall see him again to-night."
+
+Nevertheless, he was on the pavement outside the _Rat Mort_ awaiting
+them, chaffing the commissionaire. He threw open the door and welcomed
+them.
+
+"They are turning people away here," he declared. "Heaps of fun going
+on! All the artistes from the Circus are here, and a party of Spaniards.
+Francois has kept our table. Come along."
+
+Ella hung on to him as they climbed the narrow, shabby staircase.
+
+"Say," she pleaded in his ear, "don't you want to be a little nicer to
+me to-night?"
+
+"Command me," he answered. "I am in a most amenable temper."
+
+"Sit with me instead of wandering round so. You don't want to talk to
+every pretty girl, do you?"
+
+He laughed.
+
+"Why not? Aren't we all on the same quest? It is the 'camaraderie' of
+pleasure!"
+
+They reached the bend of the stairs. From above they could hear the
+music, the rattle of plates, the hum of voices. She leaned towards him.
+
+"Kiss me, please," she whispered.
+
+He stooped down and raised her hand to his lips. She drew it slowly away
+and looked at him curiously.
+
+"Your lips are cold," she said.
+
+He laughed.
+
+"The night is young," he answered. "See, there is Francois."
+
+They passed on. Ella was a little more content. It was the most
+promising thing he had said to her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+AT THE "DEAD RAT"
+
+
+Monsieur Francois piloted the little party himself to the corner table
+which he had reserved for them. He had taken a fancy to this tall young
+Englishman, whose French, save for a trifle of accent, was as perfect as
+his own, who spent money with both hands, who was gay as the gayest, and
+yet who had the air of being little more than a looker-on at the
+merriment which he did so much to promote.
+
+"We are full to-night, monsieur," he said. "There will be a great crowd.
+Yet you see your table waits. Mademoiselle Bolero herself begged for it,
+but I said always--'No! no! no! It is for monsieur and his friends.'"
+
+"You are a prince," Macheson exclaimed as they filed into their places.
+"To-night we are going to prove to ourselves that we are indeed in
+Paris! Sommelier, the same wine--in magnums to-night! My friend is
+sleepy. We must wake him up. Ah, mademoiselle!" he waved his hand to the
+little short-skirted danseuse. "You must take a glass of wine with us,
+and afterwards--the Maxixe! Waiter, a glass, a chair for mademoiselle!"
+
+Mademoiselle came pirouetting up to them. Monsieur was very kind. She
+would take a glass of champagne, and afterwards--yes! the Maxixe, if
+they desired it!
+
+They sat with their backs to the wall, facing the little space along
+which the visitors to the cafe came and went, and where, under
+difficulties, one danced. The leader of the orchestra came bowing and
+smiling towards them, playing an American waltz, and Macheson, with a
+laugh, sprang up and guided mademoiselle through the throng of people
+and hurrying waiters.
+
+"Monsieur comes often to Paris?" she asked, as they whirled around.
+
+"For the first time in my life," Macheson answered. "We are here on a
+quest! We want to understand what pleasure means!"
+
+Mademoiselle sighed ever so slightly under the powder with which her
+pretty face was disfigured.
+
+"One is gay here always," she said somewhat doubtfully, "but it is the
+people who come seldom who enjoy themselves the most."
+
+Macheson laughed as he led her back to their table.
+
+"You are right," he declared. "Pleasure is a subtle thing. It does not
+do to analyse."
+
+Macheson filled her glass.
+
+"Sit down," he said, "and tell us about the people. It is early yet, I
+suppose?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Yes," she answered. "There are many who come every night who have not
+yet arrived."
+
+Ella leaned forward to ask a question, and mademoiselle nodded. Yes!
+that was Bolero at the small table opposite. She sat with three men, one
+of whom was busy sketching on the back of the menu card. Bolero, with
+her wonderful string of pearls, smileless, stolid, with the boredom in
+her face of the woman who sees no more worlds to conquer. Monsieur with
+the ruffled hair and black eyes? Yes! a Russian certainly. Mademoiselle,
+with a smile which belied her words, was not sure of his name, but
+Francois spoke always of His Highness! The gentleman with the
+smooth-shaven face, who read a newspaper and supped alone? Mademoiselle
+looked around. She hesitated. After all, monsieur and his friends were
+only casual visitors. It was not for them to repeat it, but the
+gentleman was a detective--one of the most famous. He had watched for
+some one for many nights. In the end it would happen. Ah! Some one was
+asking for a cake-walk? Mademoiselle finished her wine hastily and
+sprang up. She will return? But certainly, if monsieur pleases!
+
+The band struck up something American. Mademoiselle danced up and down
+the little space between the tables. Ella laid her hand upon Macheson's
+shoulder.
+
+"Why do you want to talk to every one?" she whispered. "I think you
+forget sometimes that you are not alone."
+
+Macheson laughed impatiently.
+
+"My dear young lady," he said, "you too forget that we are on a quest.
+We are here to understand what pleasure means--how to win it. We must
+talk to every one, do everything everybody else does. It's no good
+looking on all the time."
+
+"But you never talk to me at all," she objected.
+
+"Rubbish!" he answered lightly. "You don't listen. Come, I am getting
+hungry. Davenant, we must order supper."
+
+Davenant, whose hair Mademoiselle Rosine had been ruffling, whose tie
+was no longer immaculate, and who was beginning to realize that he had
+drunk a good deal of wine, leaned forward and regarded Macheson with
+admiration.
+
+"Old man," he declared, "you're great! Order what you like. We will eat
+it--somehow, won't we, Rosine?"
+
+She laughed assent.
+
+"For me," she begged, "some caviare, and afterwards an omelette."
+
+"Consomme and dry biscuits--and some fruit!" Ella suggested.
+
+Macheson gave the order and filled their glasses. It was half-past two,
+and people were beginning to stream in. Unattached ladies strolled down
+the room--looking for a friend--or to make one. Their more fortunate
+sisters of the "haute demi-monde" were beginning to arrive with their
+escorts, from the restaurants and cafes. Greetings were shouted up and
+down the room. Suddenly Ella's face clouded over again. It was the girl
+in blue, with whom Macheson had danced at Lesueur's, who had just
+entered with a party of friends, women in lace coats and wonderful opera
+cloaks, the men all silk-hatted--the shiniest silk hats in Europe--white
+gloves, supercilious and immaculate. A burst of applause greeted her,
+as, with her blue skirts daringly lifted, she danced down the room to
+the table which was hastily being prepared for them. Her piquant face
+was wreathed with smiles, she shouted greetings everywhere, and when she
+saw Macheson, she threw him kisses with both hands, which he stood up
+and gallantly returned. She was the centre of attraction until
+Mademoiselle Anna from the Circus arrived, and to reach her place leaped
+lightly over an intervening table, with a wonderful display of red silk
+stocking and filmy lingerie. The place became gayer and noisier every
+moment. Greetings were shouted from table to table. The spirit of
+Bohemianism seemed to flash about the place like quicksilver. People who
+were complete strangers drank one another's health across the room. The
+hard-worked waiters were rushing frantically about. The popping of corks
+was almost incessant, a blue haze of tobacco smoke hung about the room.
+Macheson, leaning back in his place, watched with eyes that missed
+little. He saw the keen-faced little man whose identity mademoiselle had
+disclosed, calmly fold up his paper, light a cigarette, and stroll
+across the room to a table nearly opposite. A man was sitting there with
+a couple of women--a big man with a flushed face and tumbled hair. The
+waiter was opening a magnum of champagne--everything seemed to promise a
+cheerful time for the trio. Then a word was whispered in his ear. The
+newcomer bowed apologetically to the ladies and accepted a glass of
+wine. But a moment later the two men left the place together--and
+neither returned.
+
+"What are you staring at?" Ella demanded curiously.
+
+Macheson looked away from the door and smiled quietly.
+
+"I was wondering," he answered, "what it was like--outside?"
+
+"Would you like to go?" she whispered eagerly in his ear. "I'm ready.
+The others could come on afterwards."
+
+"What, without supper?" he exclaimed. "My dear girl, I'm starving.
+Besides--I didn't mean that altogether."
+
+"It's rather hard to know what you do mean," she remarked with a sigh.
+"Say, I don't understand you a little bit!"
+
+"How should you," he answered, "when I'm in the same fix myself?"
+
+"I wish you were like other boys," she remarked. "You're so difficult!"
+
+He looked at her--without the mask--for a moment, and she drew back,
+wondering. For his eyes were very weary, and they spoke to her of things
+which she did not understand.
+
+"Don't try," he said. "It wouldn't be any good."
+
+Mademoiselle sank into her chair opposite to them, breathless and hot.
+She accepted a glass of wine and begged for a cigarette. She whispered
+in Macheson's ear that the big man was a forger, an affair of the year
+before last. He was safe away from Paris, but the price of his liberty
+was more than he could pay. The man there to the left with the lady in
+pink, no! not the Vicomte, the one beyond, he was tried for murder a
+month ago. There was a witness missing--the case fell through,
+but--mademoiselle shook her shoulders significantly. The lady with fair
+hair and dark eyes, Macheson asked, was she English? But certainly,
+mademoiselle assured him. She was the divorced wife of an English
+nobleman. "To-night she is alone," mademoiselle added, "but it is not
+often! Ah, monsieur!"
+
+Mademoiselle shook her finger across the table. Macheson's too curious
+glance had provoked a smile of invitation from the lady!
+
+"I really think you might remember that I am here," Ella remarked. "It
+is very interesting to hear you talk French, but I get tired of it!"
+
+Mademoiselle took the hint and flitted away. Supper arrived and created
+a diversion. Nevertheless, Macheson alone of the little party seemed to
+have absorbed successfully the spirit of the place. He was almost
+recklessly gay. He drank toasts right and left. He was the centre from
+which the hilarity of the room seemed to radiate. Davenant was half
+muddled with wine, and sleepy. He sat with his arm about Rosine, who
+looked more often towards Macheson. Ella, who had refused to eat
+anything, was looking flushed and angry. She had tried to link her arm
+in her companion's, but he had gently disengaged it. She kept whispering
+in his ear, and sat with her eyes glued upon Mademoiselle Flossie, whose
+glances and smiles were all for Macheson. And soon after the end came.
+The band began a waltz--"L'Amoureuse"--it was apparently mademoiselle
+herself who had commanded it. With the first bars, she sprang to her
+feet and came floating down the room, her arms stretched out towards
+Macheson. She leaned over the table, her body swaying towards him, her
+gesture of invitation piquant, bewitching. Macheson, springing at once
+to his feet, rested his hand for a moment upon the table which hemmed
+him in, and vaulted lightly into the room. A chorus of laughter and
+bravoes greeted his feat.
+
+"But he is un homme galant, this Englishman," a Frenchwoman cried out,
+delighted. Every one was watching the couple. But Ella rose to her feet
+and called a waiter to move the table.
+
+"I am going," she said angrily. "I have had enough of this. You people
+can come when you like."
+
+They tried to stop her, but it was useless. She swept down the room,
+taking not the slightest notice of Macheson and his companion, a spot of
+angry colour burning in her cheeks. Davenant and Mademoiselle Rosine
+stood up, preparing to follow her. The former shouted to Macheson, who
+brought his partner up to their table and poured her out a glass of
+champagne.
+
+"Ella's gone!" Davenant exclaimed. "You'll catch it!"
+
+Macheson smiled.
+
+"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Are you off too?"
+
+"As soon as the Johnny brings the bill," Davenant answered.
+
+"I'll settle up," Macheson declared. "Take the automobile. I'll follow
+you in a few minutes."
+
+Mademoiselle Flossie, called back to her own table, hurried off with a
+parting squeeze of Macheson's hand. He sat down alone for a moment. At
+the other end of the room, a darkey with a doll's hat upon his head was
+singing a coon song!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE AWAKENING
+
+
+Alone for the first moment of the evening, it seemed to Macheson that a
+sudden wave of confounding thoughts surged into his brain, at war from
+the first with all that was sensuous and brilliant in this new and
+swiftly developed phase of his personality. He closed his eyes for a
+moment, and when again he opened them it seemed indeed as though a
+miracle had taken place. The whole atmosphere of the room was changed.
+He looked around, incredulous, amazed. The men especially were
+different. Such good fellows as they had seemed a few moments ago--from
+his altered point of view Macheson regarded them now in scornful
+curiosity. Their ties were awry, their hair was ruffled, their faces
+were paled or flushed. The laughter of women rang still through the
+place, but the music had gone from their mirth. It seemed to him that he
+saw suddenly through the smiles that wreathed their lips, saw underneath
+the barren mockery of it all. This hideous travesty of life in its
+gentler moods had but one end--the cold, relentless path to oblivion.
+Louder and louder the laughter rang, until Macheson felt that he must
+close his ears. The Devil was using his whip indeed.
+
+Mademoiselle la Danseuse, seeing him alone, paused at his table on her
+way through the room.
+
+"Monsieur is _triste_," she remarked, "because his friends have
+departed."
+
+Macheson shook his head.
+
+"I am off, too, in a few minutes," he answered.
+
+A waiter with immovable face slipped a note into his hand, under cover
+of presenting the bill. Macheson read it and glanced across the room.
+Mademoiselle Flossie was watching him with uplifted eyebrows and
+expectant smile. Macheson shook his head, slightly but unmistakably. The
+young lady in blue shrugged her shoulders and pouted.
+
+Mademoiselle la Danseuse was watching him curiously.
+
+"I wonder," she said softly, "why monsieur comes here."
+
+"In search of pleasure," Macheson answered grimly.
+
+She looked at him fixedly, and Macheson, momentarily interested,
+returned her gaze. Then he saw that underneath the false smile, for a
+moment laid aside, there was something human in her face.
+
+"Monsieur makes a brave show, but he does not succeed," she remarked.
+
+"And you?" he asked. "Why do you come here?"
+
+"It pays--very well," she answered quietly, and left him.
+
+Macheson settled his bill and called for the vestiaire. In the further
+corner of the room two women were quarrelling. The languid senses of
+those who still lingered in the place were stirred. The place was
+electrified instantly with a new excitement. A fight, perhaps--every one
+crowded around. Unnoticed, Macheson walked out.
+
+Down the narrow stairs he groped his way, with the music of the
+orchestra, the fierce hysterical cries of the women, the mock cheering
+of those who crowded round, in his ears. He passed out into the
+blue-grey dawn. The stars were faint in the sky, and away eastwards
+little fleecy red clouds were strewn over the house-tops. He stood on
+the pavement and drew in a long breath. The morning breeze was like a
+draught of cold water; it was as though he had come back to life again
+after an interlude spent in some other world. Overhead he could still
+hear the music of the "Valse Amoureuse," the swell of voices. He
+shivered, with the cold perhaps--or the memory of the nightmare!
+
+The commissionaire, hat in hand, summoned a coupe, and Macheson took his
+place in the small open carriage. Down the cobbled street they went, the
+crazy vehicle swaying upon its worn rubber tyres, past other night
+resorts with their blaze of lights and string of waiting cabs; past
+women in light boots, in strange costumes, artificial in colour and
+shape, painted, bold-eyed, uncanny pilgrims in the City of Pleasure;
+past the great churches, silent and stern in the cold morning light;
+past weary-eyed scavengers into the heart of the city, where a thin
+stream of early morning toilers went on their relentless way. Once more
+he entered the obscurity of his dimly lit hotel, where sleepy-eyed
+servants were sweeping, and retired to his room, into which he let
+himself at last with a sigh of relief. He threw up the blinds and
+opened the windows. To be alone within those four walls was a blessed
+thing.
+
+He threw off his coat and glanced at his watch. It was half-past five.
+His eyes were hot, but he had no desire for sleep. He walked restlessly
+up and down for a few minutes, and then threw himself into an
+easy-chair. Suddenly he looked up.
+
+Some one was knocking softly at his door. He walked slowly towards it
+and paused. All his senses were still pulsating with a curious sense of
+excitement; when he stood still he could almost hear his heart beat.
+From outside came the soft rustling of a woman's gown--he knew very well
+who it was that waited there. He stood still and waited. Again there
+came the knocking, to him almost like a symbolical thing in its
+stealthy, muffled insistence. He felt himself battling with a sudden
+wave of emotions, struggling with a passionate, unexpected desire to
+answer the summons. He took a quick step forwards. Then sanity came, and
+the moment seemed far away--a part of the nightmare left behind. He
+waited until he heard the quiet, reluctant footsteps pass away down the
+corridor. Then he muttered something to himself, which sounded like a
+prayer. He sank into a chair and passed his hand across his forehead.
+The recollection of that moment was horrible to him. He stared at the
+door with fascinated eyes. What if he had opened it!
+
+He still had no desire for sleep, but he began slowly to undress. His
+clothes, his tie, everything he had been wearing, seemed to him to reek
+of accumulated perfumes of the night, and he flung them from him with
+feverish disgust. There was a small bath-room opening from his sleeping
+chamber, and with a desire for complete cleanliness which was not wholly
+physical, he filled the bath and plunged in. The touch of the cold water
+was inspiring and he stepped out again into a new world. Much of the
+horror of so short a time ago had gone, but with his new self had come
+an ever-increasing distaste for any resumption, in any shape or form, of
+his associations of the last few days. He must get away. He rummaged
+through his things and found a timetable. In less than an hour he was
+dressed, his clothes were packed, and the bill was paid. He wrote a
+short note to Davenant and a shorter one to Ella. Ignoring the events of
+the last night, he spoke of a summons home. He enclosed the receipted
+hotel bill, and something with which he begged her to purchase a
+souvenir of her visit. Then he drank some coffee, and with a somewhat
+stealthy air made his way to the lift, and thence to the courtyard of
+the hotel. Already a small victoria was laden with his luggage; the
+concierge, the baggage-master, the porters, were all tipped with a
+prodigality almost reckless. Shaven, and with a sting of the cold water
+still upon his skin, in homely flannel shirt and grey tweed travelling
+clothes, he felt like a man restored to sanity and health as his cab
+lumbered over the long cobbled street, on its way to the Gare du Nord.
+It was only a matter of a few hours, and yet how sweet and fresh the
+streets seemed in the early morning sunshine. The shops were all open,
+and the busy housewives were hard at work with their bargaining, the
+toilers of the city thronged the pavements, everywhere there was
+evidence of a real and rational life. The city of those few hours ago
+was surely a city of nightmares. The impassable river flowed between.
+Macheson leaned back in his carriage and his eyes were fixed upon the
+blue sunlit sky. His lips moved; a song of gratitude was in his heart.
+He felt like the prisoner before whom the iron gates have been rolled
+back, disclosing the smiling world!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE ECHO OF A CRIME
+
+
+"Macheson, by Jove! Where on earth have you sprung from?"
+
+Holderness threw down his pen and held out both his hands. Macheson drew
+a long sigh of relief.
+
+"From the pigsties, Dick. Whew! It's good to see you again--to be here!"
+
+Holderness surveyed his friend critically.
+
+"What have you been up to?" he asked. "Look washed out, as though you'd
+had a fever or something. I've been expecting to see you every day."
+
+"I've been on a pleasure trip to Paris," Macheson answered. "Don't talk
+about it, for God's sake."
+
+Holderness roared with laughter.
+
+"You poor idiot!" he exclaimed. "Been on the razzle-dazzle, I believe. I
+wish I'd known. I'd have come."
+
+"It's all very well to laugh," Macheson answered. "I feel like a man
+who's been living in a sewer."
+
+"Are you cured?" Holderness asked abruptly.
+
+Macheson hesitated. As yet he had not dared to ask himself that
+question. Holderness watched the struggle in his face.
+
+"I'm sorry I asked you that," he said quietly. "Look here! I know what
+you've come to me for, and I can give it you. You can start at once if
+you like."
+
+"Work?" Macheson asked eagerly. "You mean that?"
+
+"Of course! Tons of it! Henwood's at his wits' end in Stepney. He's
+started lecturing, and the thing's taken on, but he can't go on night
+after night. We don't want anything second-rate either. Then I want help
+with the paper."
+
+"I'll help you with the paper as soon as you like," Macheson declared.
+"I'd like to go to Stepney, too, but could we hit it, Henwood and I?"
+
+"Of course," Holderness answered. "What are you thinking of, man? You
+haven't become a straw-splitter, have you?"
+
+"Not I," Macheson answered "but you have crystallized your ideas into a
+cult, haven't you? I might find myself on the other side of the traces."
+
+"Rot!" Holderness answered vigorously. "Look here! This is what we call
+ugliness and dirt. We say that these things make for misery. We say that
+it is every man's duty, and every woman's, too, to keep themselves clean
+and clean-living, for the sake of the community. We take the Christian
+code. It is the most complete, the most philosophic, the most beautiful.
+We preach it not from the Christian standpoint, but from the point of
+view of the man of common sense. Doctrinal religions are all very well
+in their way, but the great bald fact remains that the truth has not
+been vouchsafed to us through any of them. Therefore we say live the
+life and wait. From a scientific point of view we believe, of course,
+in a future state. It may be that the truth awaits us there. You can
+work to that, can't you?"
+
+"Of course," Macheson answered, "but don't you rather overlook the
+support which doctrine gives to the weak and superstitious?"
+
+"Bah! There are the strong to be considered," Holderness declared.
+"Think how many men of average intelligence chuck the whole thing
+because they can't stomach doctrine. Besides, these people all think, if
+you want to confirm 'em or baptize 'em or anything of that sort, that
+you've your own axe to grind. Jolly suspicious lot the East-Enders, I
+can tell you."
+
+"I'll go and see Henwood," Macheson declared.
+
+Holderness glanced at his watch.
+
+"We'll have something to eat and go together," he declared. "Look here,
+I'm really pushed or I wouldn't bother you. Can you do me a country walk
+in November for the paper? I have two a month. You can take the last
+number and see the sort of thing."
+
+"I'll try," Macheson promised. "You can give me a couple of days, I
+suppose?"
+
+"A week--only I want it off my mind. You can get out somewhere and rub
+up your impressions. We'll dine for half a crown in Soho, and you shall
+tell me about Paris."
+
+Macheson groaned.
+
+"Shut up about Paris," he begged. "The thought of it's like a nightmare
+to me--a nightmare full of puppet gnomes, with human masks and the faces
+of devils underneath."
+
+"The masks came off?" Holderness asked.
+
+Macheson shivered.
+
+"They did," he answered.
+
+"Do you good," Holderness declared coolly, locking his desk. "I've been
+through it. So long as the masks came off it's all right. What was it
+sent you there, Victor?"
+
+"A piece of madness," Macheson answered in a low tone, "supreme, utter
+madness."
+
+"Cured?"
+
+"Oh! I hope so," Macheson answered. "If not--well, I can fight."
+
+Holderness stood still for a moment. There was a queer look in his eyes.
+
+"There was a woman once, Victor," he said, "who nearly made mincemeat of
+my life. She could have done it if she liked--and she wasn't the sort
+who spares. She died--thank God! You see I know something about it."
+
+They walked out arm in arm, and not a word passed between them till they
+reached the street. Then Holderness called a hansom.
+
+"I feel like steak," he declared. "Entre-cote with potatoes, maitre
+d'hotel. Somehow I feel particularly like steak. We will chuck Soho and
+dine at the Cafe Royal."
+
+They talked mostly of Henwood and his work. Holderness spoke of it as
+successful, but the man himself was weakly. The strain of holding his
+difficult audience night after night had begun to tell on him.
+Macheson's help would be invaluable. There was a complete school of
+night classes running in connexion with the work, and also a library.
+"You can guess where the money came from for those," he added, smiling.
+"On the women's side there was only the cookery, and the care of the
+children. All very imperfect, but with the making of great things about
+it."
+
+They went into the Cafe proper for their coffee, sitting at a
+marble-topped table, and Holderness called for dominoes. But they had
+scarcely begun their game before Macheson started from his seat, and
+without a word of explanation strode towards the door. He was just in
+time to stop the egress of the man whom he had seen slip from his seat
+and try to leave the place.
+
+"Look here," he said, touching him on the shoulder. "I want to talk to
+you."
+
+The man made no further attempt at escape. He was very shabby and thin,
+but Macheson had recognized him at once. It was the man who had come
+stealing down the lane from Thorpe on that memorable night--the man for
+whose escape from justice he was responsible.
+
+"My friend won't interfere with us," Macheson said, leading him back to
+their seats. "Sit down here."
+
+The man sat down quietly. Holderness took up a paper.
+
+"Go ahead," he said. "I shan't listen."
+
+"If I am to talk," the man said, "I must have some absinthe. My throat
+is dry. I have things to say to you, too."
+
+Macheson called a waiter and ordered it.
+
+"Look here," the man said, "I know all that you want to say to me. I can
+save you time. It was I who called upon old Mr. Hurd. It was out of
+kindness that I went. He has a daughter whom I cannot find. She is in
+danger, and I went to warn him. He struck me first. He lost his temper.
+He would not tell me where to find her, he would not give me even the
+money I had spent on my journey. I, too, lost my temper. I returned the
+blow. He fell down--and I was frightened. So I ran away."
+
+Macheson nodded.
+
+"Well," he said, "you seem to have struck an old man because he would
+not let you blackmail him, and I, like a fool, helped you to escape."
+
+"Blackmail!" The man looked around him as though afraid of the word. His
+cheeks were sunken, but his brown eyes were still bright. "It wasn't
+that," he said. "I brought information that was really valuable. There
+is a young lady somewhere who is in danger of her life. I came to warn
+him; I believed what I had always been told, that she was his daughter.
+I found out that it was a lie. It was a conspiracy against me. He never
+had a daughter. But I am going to find out who she is!"
+
+"What if I give you up to the police?" Macheson asked.
+
+"For the sake of the woman whom the old man Hurd was shielding you had
+better not. You had very much better not," was the hoarse reply. "If you
+do, it may cost a woman her life."
+
+"Why are you staying on in England?" Macheson asked.
+
+"To find that woman, and I will find her," he added, with glittering
+eyes. "Listen! I have seen her riding in a carriage, beautifully
+dressed, with coachman and footman upon the box, an aristocrat. I always
+said that she was that. It was a plot against us--to call her that old
+man's daughter."
+
+"All this has nothing to do with me," Macheson said quietly. "The only
+thing I have to consider is whether I ought or ought not to hand you
+over to the police."
+
+The man eyed him craftily. He had little fear.
+
+"If you did, sir," he said, "it would be an injustice. I only touched
+the old man in self-defence."
+
+Macheson looked at him gravely.
+
+"I hope that that is the truth," he said. "You can go."
+
+The man stood up. He did not immediately depart.
+
+"What is it?" Macheson asked.
+
+"I was wondering, sir," he said, in a confidential whisper, "whether you
+could not give me an idea as to who the lady was who called herself
+Stephen Hurd's daughter in Paris six years ago."
+
+Macheson shook his head.
+
+"I have no idea," he answered curtly.
+
+The man shuffled away. Macheson lit a cigarette and watched him for a
+moment steadfastly through the large gilt-framed mirror.
+
+"Queer sort of Johnny, your friend," Holderness remarked.
+
+"He's a bad lot, I'm afraid," Macheson answered. "Somehow or other I
+can't help wishing that I hadn't seen him."
+
+Holderness laughed.
+
+"Man alive," he said, "it's a good thing you've come back to me, or
+you'd be a bundle of nerves in no time. We'll get along now, if you're
+ready. You might find something to say to 'em to-night. I know Henwood's
+pretty well pumped dry."
+
+They left the place, and took an omnibus citywards.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+A COUNTRY WALK
+
+
+It was exactly such a day as he would have chosen for his purpose when
+Macheson stepped out of the train at the wayside station and set his
+face towards Thorpe. A strong blustering wind, blowing down from the
+hills, had dried the road of all save a slight coating of mud, a wind
+fresh from the forest, so fresh and strong that he walked with his cap
+in his hand and his head thrown back, glad to breathe it in his lungs
+and feel the sting of it on his cheeks. It seemed to him that he had
+been away for months, as he climbed the long hill towards the village.
+The fields now were brown instead of green, a pungent smell of freshly
+turned earth and burning wood was in his nostrils. The hedges and trees
+were bare; he caught a glimpse of the great house itself from an
+unexpected point. Everywhere he was receiving familiar impressions. He
+came to the avenue up which he had passed on his first visit to the
+house, continually he met carts bearing her name, and villagers, most of
+whom he noticed with some surprise, looked at him doubtfully. Presently
+he arrived at the village itself, and stopped before the long, low,
+white house where Stephen Hurd lived. He paused for a moment,
+hesitating whether to fulfil this part of his mission now, or to wait
+until later in the day. Eventually, with the idea of getting the thing
+over, he opened the gate and rang the front-door bell.
+
+He was shown into the study, and in a few minutes Stephen Hurd came in,
+smoking a pipe, his hands in his pockets. When he saw who his visitor
+was he stopped short. He did not offer his hand or ask Macheson to sit
+down. He looked at him with a heavy frown upon his face.
+
+"You wished to see me?" he said.
+
+"I did," Macheson answered. "Perhaps my call is inopportune. I have come
+from London practically for no other reason than to ask you a single
+question."
+
+Hurd laughed shortly.
+
+"You had better ask it then," he said. "I thought that you might have
+other business in the neighbourhood. Preaching off, eh?"
+
+"My question is simply this," Macheson said calmly. "Have you, or had
+you, ever a sister?"
+
+A dull red flush streamed into the young man's face. He removed his pipe
+from his mouth and stared at Macheson. His silence for several moments
+seemed to arise from the fact that surprise had robbed him of the powers
+of speech.
+
+"Who put you up to asking that?" he demanded sharply.
+
+Macheson raised his eyebrows slightly.
+
+"My question is a simple one," he said. "If you do not choose to answer
+it, it is easy for me to procure the information from elsewhere. The
+first villager I met would tell me. I preferred to come to you."
+
+"I have no sister," Hurd said slowly. "I never had. Now you must tell me
+why you have come here to ask me this."
+
+"I am told," Macheson said, "that years ago a girl in Paris represented
+herself as being your father's daughter. She is being inquired for in a
+somewhat mysterious way."
+
+"And what business is it of yours?" Hurd demanded curtly.
+
+"None--apparently," Macheson answered. "I am obliged to you for your
+information. I will not detain you any longer."
+
+But Stephen Hurd barred the way. Looking into his face, Macheson saw
+already the signs of a change there. His eyes were a little wild, and
+though it was early in the morning he smelt of spirits.
+
+"No! you don't," he declared truculently. "You're not going till you
+tell me what you mean by that question."
+
+"I am afraid," Macheson answered, "that I have nothing more to tell
+you."
+
+"You will tell me who this mysterious person is," Hurd declared.
+
+Macheson shook his head.
+
+"No!" he said. "I think that you had better let me pass."
+
+"Not yet," Hurd answered. "Look here! You've been in communication with
+the man who came here and murdered my father. You know where he is."
+
+"Scarcely that, was it?" Macheson answered. "There was a struggle, but
+your father's death was partly owing to other causes. However, I did not
+come here to discuss that with you. I came to ask you a question, which
+you have answered. If you will permit me to pass I shall be obliged."
+
+Hurd hesitated for a moment.
+
+"Look here," he said, with an assumption of good nature, "there's no
+reason why you and I should quarrel. I want to know who put you up to
+asking me that question. It isn't that I want to do him any harm. I'll
+guarantee his safety, if you like, so far as I am concerned. Only I'm
+anxious to meet him."
+
+Macheson shook his head.
+
+"I do not know where he is myself," he answered. "In any case, I could
+not give you any information."
+
+Stephen Hurd stood squarely in front of the door.
+
+"You'll have to," he said doggedly. "That's all there is about it."
+
+Macheson took a step forward.
+
+"Look here," he said, "I shouldn't try that on if I were you. I am
+stronger than you are, and I have studied boxing. I don't care about
+fighting, but I am going to leave this room--at once."
+
+"The devil you are," Hurd cried, striking at him. "Take that, you
+canting hypocrite."
+
+Macheson evaded the blow with ease. Exactly how it happened he never
+knew, but Hurd found himself a few seconds later on his back--and alone
+in the room. He sprang up and rushed after Macheson, who was already in
+the front garden. His attack was so violent that Macheson had no
+alternative. He knocked him into the middle of his rose bushes, and
+opened the gate, to find himself face to face with the last person in
+the world whom he expected to see in Thorpe. It was Wilhelmina herself
+who was a spectator of the scene!
+
+"Mr. Macheson," she said gravely, "what is the meaning of this?"
+
+Macheson was taken too completely by surprise to frame an immediate
+answer. Stephen Hurd rose slowly to his feet, dabbing his mouth with his
+handkerchief.
+
+"A little disagreement between us," he said, with an evil attempt at a
+smile. "We will settle it another time."
+
+"You will settle it now," the lady of the Manor said, with authority in
+her tone. "Shake hands, if you please. At once! I cannot have this sort
+of thing going on in the village."
+
+Macheson held out his hand without hesitation.
+
+"The quarrel was not of my seeking," he said. "I bear you no ill-will,
+Hurd. Will you shake hands?"
+
+"No!" Stephen Hurd answered fiercely.
+
+Macheson's hand fell to his side.
+
+"I am sorry," he said.
+
+"You will reconsider that, Mr. Hurd," Wilhelmina said quietly.
+
+"No!" he answered. "I am sorry, Miss Thorpe-Hatton, to seem ungracious,
+but there are reasons why I cannot accept his hand. He knows them well
+enough. We cannot possibly be friends. Don't let us be hypocrites."
+
+Wilhelmina turned away coldly.
+
+"Very well," she said. "Mr. Macheson, will you walk with me a little
+way? I have something to say to you."
+
+"With pleasure," he answered. "I'm sorry, Hurd," he added, turning
+round.
+
+There was no answer. Together they walked up the village street. Already
+the shock of seeing her had passed away, and he was fighting hard
+against the gladness which possessed him. He had paid dearly enough
+already for his folly. He was determined that there should be no return
+of it.
+
+"Which way were you going?" she asked.
+
+"To the hills," he answered. "I can leave you at the church entrance.
+But before you go----"
+
+"I am not going," she answered. "I should love a walk. I will come with
+you to the hills."
+
+He looked at her doubtfully. She appeared to him so different a person
+in her country clothes--a dark brown tailor-made suit, with short skirt,
+a brown tam-o'-shanter and veil. She was not much more than a child
+after all. Her mouth was a little sad, and she was very pale and seemed
+tired.
+
+"If you care to walk so far," he said gravely--"and with me!"
+
+"What am I expected to say to that?" she asked demurely.
+
+"I think that you know what I mean," he answered, avoiding her eyes.
+"Your villagers will certainly think it strange to see their mistress
+walking with the poor missioner who wasn't allowed to hold his
+services."
+
+"I am afraid," she answered, "that my people have learnt to expect the
+unexpected from me. Now tell me," she continued, "what has brought you
+back to the scene of your persecutions? I am hoping you are going to
+tell me that it is to apologize for the shockingly rude way you left me
+last time we met."
+
+"I did not know that you were here," he answered. "I came for two
+reasons--first, to collect materials for a short article in a friend's
+magazine, and secondly, to ask a question of Stephen Hurd."
+
+"Apparently," she remarked, "your question annoyed him."
+
+"He seemed annoyed before I asked it," Macheson remarked; "I seem to
+have offended him somehow or other."
+
+"I should imagine," she said drily, "that that is not altogether
+incomprehensible to you."
+
+So she knew or guessed who it was that had been Letty Foulton's
+companion in London. Macheson was silent. They walked on for some
+distance, climbing all the time, till Wilhelmina paused, breathless, and
+leaned against a gate.
+
+"I hope," said she, "that you are collecting your impressions. If so, I
+am sure they must be in the air, for you have not looked to the right or
+to the left."
+
+He smiled and stood by her side, looking downwards. The village lay
+almost at their feet, and away beyond spread the mist-wreathed country,
+still and silent in the November afternoon. The wind had fallen, the
+birds were songless, nothing remained of the busy chorus of summer
+sounds. They stood on the edge of a plantation--the peculiar fragrance
+of freshly turned earth from the ploughed fields opposite, and of the
+carpet of wet leaves beneath their feet, had taken the place of all
+those sweeter perfumes which a short while ago had seemed to belong
+naturally to the place.
+
+"To tell you the truth," he said, "I have been thinking more about
+something which I have to say to you."
+
+"Is it something serious?" she asked.
+
+"Rather," he admitted.
+
+Her eyebrows were faintly contracted. She looked up at him pathetically.
+
+"It will keep for a little time," she said. "Let us finish our walk
+first. I am down here alone, and have been dull. This exercise is what I
+wanted. It is doing me good. I will not have my afternoon spoilt. See, I
+have the key of the gate here, we will go through the plantation and up
+to the back of the beacon."
+
+She led the way, giving him no time to protest, and he followed her,
+vaguely uneasy. Through the plantation their feet fell noiselessly upon
+a carpet of wet leaves; outside on the springy turf the rabbits
+scampered away in hundreds to their holes. Then they began to climb.
+Beneath them the country expanded and rolled away like a piece of
+patchwork, dimly seen through a veil of mist. Wilhelmina turned towards
+him with a laugh. There was more colour now in her cheeks. She was
+breathless before they reached the summit and laid her hand upon his arm
+for support.
+
+"Confess," she said, "you like me better here than in London, don't
+you?"
+
+"You are more natural," he answered. "You are more like what I would
+have you be."
+
+She sat down on a piece of grey rock. They were at the summit now. Below
+was the great house with its magnificent avenues and park, the tiny
+village, and the quaint church. Beyond, a spreading landscape of
+undulating meadows and well-tilled land. The same thought came to both
+of them.
+
+"Behold," she murmured, "my possessions."
+
+He nodded.
+
+"You should be very proud of your home," he said quietly. "It is very
+beautiful."
+
+She turned towards him. Her face was as cold and destitute of emotion as
+the stone on which she sat.
+
+"Do you wonder," she asked, "why I have never married?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"A matter of temperament, perhaps," he said. "You are inclined to be
+independent, aren't you?"
+
+"There have been things in my life--a very secret chamber," she said
+slowly. "I think that some day I shall tell you about it, for I may need
+help."
+
+"I shall be glad," he said simply. "You know that!"
+
+She rose and shook out her skirts.
+
+"Come," she said, "it is too cold to sit down. I am going to take you to
+Onetree Farm. Mrs. Foulton must give us some tea. I have a reason, too,"
+she added more slowly, "for taking you there."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE MISSING LETTY
+
+
+Macheson knew directly they entered the farm that Wilhelmina had brought
+him here for some purpose. For Mrs. Foulton straightened herself at the
+sight of him, and forgot even her usual respectful courtesy to the lady
+of the Manor.
+
+"I have brought Mr. Macheson to see you, Mrs. Foulton," Wilhelmina said.
+"We want you to give us some tea--and there is a question which I think
+you ought to ask him."
+
+The woman was trembling. She seemed for the moment to have no words.
+
+"If you like," Wilhelmina continued calmly, "I will ask it for you. Did
+you know, Mr. Macheson, that Letty Foulton has left home and has gone
+away without a word to her mother?"
+
+"I did not know it," Macheson answered gravely. "I am very sorry."
+
+"You--didn't know it? You don't know where she is?" the woman demanded
+fiercely.
+
+"Certainly not," Macheson answered. "How should I?"
+
+The woman looked bewildered. She turned towards Wilhelmina as though for
+an explanation.
+
+"Mr. Macheson has himself to blame," Wilhelmina said, "if his action in
+bringing your daughter to me that night has been misunderstood. At any
+rate, he cannot refuse to tell you now what he refused to tell me. You
+understand, Mr. Macheson," she added, turning towards him, "Mrs. Foulton
+insists upon knowing with whom you found her daughter having supper that
+night in London."
+
+Macheson hesitated only for a moment.
+
+"Your daughter was with Mr. Stephen Hurd, Mrs. Foulton," he said.
+
+The woman threw her apron over her head and hastened away. They heard
+her sobbing in the kitchen. Wilhelmina shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"What a bore!" she remarked. "We shan't get any tea. People of this sort
+have no self-control."
+
+Macheson looked at her sternly.
+
+"Have the people here," he asked, "been connecting me with this child's
+disappearance?"
+
+"I suppose so," she answered carelessly. "Rather a new line for you,
+isn't it--the gay Lothario! It's your own fault. You shouldn't be so
+mysterious."
+
+"You didn't believe it?" he said shortly.
+
+"Why not? You've been--seeing life lately, haven't you?"
+
+"You didn't believe it?" he repeated, keeping his eyes fixed upon her.
+
+She came over to him and laid her hands upon his shoulders. Her pale
+face was upturned to his. It seemed open to him to transform her
+attitude into a caress.
+
+"Of course not, dear," she answered. "If--any one else did, they will
+soon know the truth."
+
+"All the same," he muttered, "it's horrible. We must do something!"
+
+She moved away from him wearily. His thoughts were full of the tragedy
+of Letty Foulton's disappearance. He seemed scarcely to know that she
+had been almost in his arms. He turned to her suddenly.
+
+"I shall go back," he said, "to speak once more with Stephen Hurd."
+
+She looked into his face and saw things there which terrified her. He
+had moved already towards the door, but she stood in his way.
+
+"No!" she cried. "It is not your affair. Let me deal with him!"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"It is no matter," he said, "for a woman to interfere in."
+
+"He will not listen to you," she continued eagerly. "He will tell you
+that it is not your concern."
+
+"It is the concern of every honest man," he interrupted. "You must
+please let me go!"
+
+She was holding his arm, and she refused to withdraw her fingers. Then
+Mrs. Foulton intervened.
+
+She had smoothed her hair and was carrying a tea-tray. They both looked
+at her as though fascinated.
+
+"I hope I have not kept you waiting, madam," she said quietly. "I had to
+send Ruth up for the cream. The boy's at Loughborough market, and I'm a
+bit shorthanded."
+
+"I--oh! I'm sorry you bothered about the tea, Mrs. Foulton," Wilhelmina
+said, with an effort. "But how good it looks! Come, Mr. Macheson! I
+don't know whether you've had any lunch, but I haven't. I'm perfectly
+ravenous."
+
+"I've some sandwiches in my pocket," Macheson answered, moving slowly to
+the table, "but to tell you the truth, I'd forgotten them."
+
+She drew off her gloves and seated herself before the teapot. All the
+time her eyes were fixed upon Macheson. She was feverishly anxious to
+have him also seat himself, and he could scarcely look away from the
+woman who, with a face like a mask, was calmly arranging the things from
+the tray upon the table. When she left the room he drew a little breath.
+
+"Do they feel--really, these people," he asked, "or are they Stoics?"
+
+"We feel through our nerves," she answered, "and they haven't many. Is
+that too much cream?--and pass the strawberry jam, please."
+
+He ate and drank mechanically. The charm of this simple meal alone with
+her was gone--it seemed to him that there was tragedy in the arrangement
+of the table. She talked to him lightly, and he answered--what he
+scarcely knew. Suddenly he interposed a question.
+
+"When did this girl Letty leave home?" he asked.
+
+"I am not sure," she answered. "We will ask Mrs. Foulton."
+
+Mrs. Foulton came silently in.
+
+"We want to know, Mrs. Foulton, when Letty went away," Wilhelmina asked.
+
+"A week ago to-morrow, madam," Mrs. Foulton answered. "Is there anything
+else you will be wanting?"
+
+"Nothing, thank you," Wilhelmina answered, and then, seeing that the
+woman lingered, she continued:
+
+"Are you wanting to get rid of us?"
+
+The woman hesitated.
+
+"It isn't that, madam," she said, "but I'm wanting to step out as soon
+as possible."
+
+The same idea occurred at once to both Wilhelmina and Macheson.
+
+"You are going down to the village, Mrs. Foulton?" Wilhelmina asked
+gravely.
+
+"I'm going down to have a bit of talk with Mr. Stephen Hurd, madam," she
+answered grimly. "I'd be glad to clear away as soon as convenient."
+
+Wilhelmina turned round in her chair, and laid her hand upon the woman's
+arm.
+
+"Mrs. Foulton," she said, "Mr. Macheson and I are going to see him at
+once. Leave it to us, please."
+
+Mrs. Foulton shook her head doubtfully.
+
+"Letty's my daughter, madam, thank you kindly," she said. "I must go
+myself."
+
+Wilhelmina shook her head.
+
+"No!" she said firmly. "You can go and see him afterwards, if you like.
+Mr. Macheson and I are going to see what we can do first. Believe me,
+Mrs. Foulton, it will be better for Letty."
+
+The woman was shaken and Wilhelmina pushed home her advantage.
+
+"We are going straight to the village now, Mrs. Foulton," she said. "You
+will only have to be patient for a very short time. Come, Mr. Macheson.
+If you are ready we will start."
+
+They walked briskly along the country lane, through the early twilight.
+They said little to one another.
+
+Macheson was profoundly moved by the tragedy of Letty's disappearance.
+With his marvellous gift of sympathy, he had understood very well the
+suffering of the woman whom they had just left. He shivered when he
+thought of the child. With every step they took, his face resolved
+itself into grimmer lines. Wilhelmina was forced at last to protest.
+
+"After all," she said, touching his arm, "this young man will scarcely
+run away. Please remember that I am not an athletic person--and I have
+not much breath left."
+
+He slackened his pace at once.
+
+"I am sorry," he said. "I was forgetting."
+
+"Yes," she answered simply, "you were forgetting. I--noticed it!"
+
+To Macheson, her irritation seemed childish--unworthy. He knew so little
+of women--or their moods.
+
+"What are you going to say to Stephen Hurd?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"I shall make him marry Letty Foulton," she answered.
+
+"Can you do it?" he demanded.
+
+"He must marry her or go," she declared. "I will make that quite clear."
+
+Macheson drew a little breath. He suddenly realized that for all his
+impetuosity, the woman who walked so calmly by his side held the cards.
+He slackened his pace. The lane had narrowed now, and on either side of
+them was a tall holly hedge. Her hand stole through his arm.
+
+"Well," she said softly, "you have not told me yet whether your
+pilgrimage to Paris was a success."
+
+He turned upon her almost fiercely.
+
+"Yes!" he answered. "It was! A complete success! I haven't an atom of
+sentiment left! Thank goodness!"
+
+She laughed softly.
+
+"I don't believe it," she whispered in his ear. "You went abroad to be
+cured of an incurable disease. Do you imagine that the Mademoiselle
+Rosines of the world count for anything? You foolish, foolish person. Do
+you imagine that if I had not known you--I should have let you go?"
+
+"I am not one of your tenants," he answered grimly.
+
+"You might be," she laughed.
+
+"You are very kind," he declared. "But I need not tell you that nothing
+in this world would induce me to become one."
+
+She walked on, humming to herself. He was hard to tame, she told
+herself, but the end was so sure. Yet all her experience of his sex had
+shown her nothing like this. It was the first time she had played such a
+part. Was it only the novelty which she found attractive? She stole an
+upward glance at him through the twilight. Taller and more powerful than
+ever he seemed in the gathering darkness--so far as looks were concerned
+he was certainly desirable enough. And yet the world--her world, was
+full of handsome men. It must be something else which he possessed,
+some other less obvious gift, perhaps that flavour of puritanism about
+his speech and deportment, of which she was always conscious. He
+resisted where other men not only succumbed but rushed to meet their
+fate. It must be that, or----
+
+She herself became suddenly serious. She looked straight ahead down the
+darkening lane. Fate could surely not play her a trick so scurvy as
+this. It could not be that she cared. Her hands were suddenly clenched;
+a little cry broke from her lips. Her heart was beating like a girl's;
+the delicious thrill of youth seemed to be thawing her long frozen
+blood. Not again! she prayed, not again! It was a catastrophe this;
+grotesque, impossible! She thrust out her hands, as though to guard
+herself from some impending danger. Macheson turned to look at her in
+surprise, and her eyes were glowing like stars.
+
+"Is anything the matter?" he asked.
+
+She laughed unnaturally.
+
+"A memory," she answered, "a superstition if you like. Some one was
+walking over the grave of my forgotten days."
+
+She pointed to the front of the low white house, now only a few yards
+away. A dogcart stood there waiting, with some luggage at the back.
+Stephen Hurd himself, dressed for travelling, was standing in the
+doorway.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+FOILED
+
+
+"We seem to be just in time, Mr. Hurd," Wilhelmina said. "Do you mind
+coming back for a moment into your study? Mr. Macheson and I have
+something to say to you."
+
+He glanced at his watch. He was wholly unable to conceal his annoyance
+at their appearance.
+
+"I am afraid," he said, with strained civility, "that I can only spare a
+couple of minutes."
+
+"You are going to town?" she asked, as he reluctantly followed her.
+
+"Yes!" he answered. "Mr. White wished to see me early to-morrow morning
+about the new leases, and I have to go before the committee about this
+Loughborough water scheme."
+
+"These are my affairs," she said, "so if you should miss your train, the
+responsibility will be mine."
+
+"I can spare five minutes," he answered, "but I cannot miss that train.
+I have some private engagements. And, madam," he continued, struggling
+with his anger, "I beg that you will not forget that even if I am in
+your employ, this is my house, and I will not have that man in it!"
+
+He pointed to Macheson, who was standing upon the threshold. Wilhelmina
+stood between the two.
+
+"Mr. Hurd," she said, "please control yourself. There is no reason why
+we should any of us quarrel. Mr. Macheson and I are here to speak to you
+of a matter in which he has become concerned. I asked him to come here
+with me. We have come to see you about Letty!"
+
+"What about her?" he demanded, with some attempt at bravado.
+
+"We find that there is an impression in the village that Mr. Macheson is
+responsible for her disappearance."
+
+Hurd seized his opportunity without a second's hesitation.
+
+"How do you know that it isn't the truth?" he demanded. "He wouldn't be
+the first of these psalm-singing missioners who have turned out to be
+hypocrites!"
+
+Macheson never flinched. Wilhelmina only shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"Mr. Hurd," she said, "we will not waste time. Mr. Macheson and I are
+both perfectly aware that you are responsible for Letty's
+disappearance."
+
+"It's--it's false!" he declared, swallowing with an effort a more
+obnoxious word. "Why, I haven't left the village since the day she went
+away."
+
+"But you are going--to-night," Wilhelmina remarked.
+
+He flushed.
+
+"I'm going away on business," he answered. "I don't see why it should be
+taken for granted that I'm going to see her."
+
+"Nevertheless," Wilhelmina said quietly, "between us three there isn't
+the slightest doubt about it. I tell you frankly that the details of
+your private life in an ordinary way do not interest me in the least.
+But, on the other hand, I will not have you playing the Don Juan amongst
+the daughters of my tenants. You have been very foolish and you will
+have to pay for it. I do not wish to make you lose your train to-night,
+but you must understand that if you ever return to Thorpe, you must
+bring back Letty Foulton as your wife."
+
+He stared at her incredulously.
+
+"As my--wife!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Precisely," Wilhelmina answered. "I will give her a wedding present of
+a thousand pounds, and I will see that your own position here is made a
+permanent one."
+
+He had the appearance of a man beside himself with anger. Was this to be
+the end of his schemes and hopes! He, to marry the pretty uneducated
+daughter of a working farmer--a girl, too, who was his already for the
+asking. He struggled with a torrent of ugly words.
+
+"I--I must refuse!" he said, denying himself more vigorous terms with an
+effort.
+
+She looked at him steadily.
+
+"Better think it over, Mr. Hurd," she said. "I am in earnest."
+
+He hesitated for a moment, and then, with a glance at the clock, moved
+towards the door.
+
+"Very well," he said, "I will think it over. I will let you know
+immediately I return from London."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"You can take as long as you like to reflect," she answered, "but it
+must be here in this room. Mr. Macheson and I will wait."
+
+He turned towards her.
+
+"Miss Thorpe-Hatton," he said, "will you allow me to speak to you alone
+for two minutes?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"It is not necessary," she answered. "Mr. Macheson does not count. You
+can say whatever you will before him."
+
+A smile that was half a sneer curved his lips. He was like a rat in a
+corner, and he knew that he must fight. He must use the weapon which he
+had feared with a coward's fear.
+
+"The matter on which I wish to speak to you," he said, looking straight
+at her, "is not directly connected with the affair which we have been
+discussing. If you will give me two minutes, I think I can make you
+understand."
+
+She met his challenge without flinching. She was a shade paler, perhaps;
+the little glow which the walk through the enchanted twilight had
+brought into her cheeks had faded away. But her gaze was as cool and
+contemptuous as before. She showed no sign of any fear--of any desire to
+conciliate.
+
+"I think," she said, "that I can understand without. You can consider
+that we are alone. Whatever you may have to say to me, I should prefer
+that Mr. Macheson also heard."
+
+Macheson looked from one to the other uneasily.
+
+"Shall I wait in the passage?" he asked. "I should be within call."
+
+"Certainly not," she answered. "This person," she continued, indicating
+Stephen with a scornful gesture, "is, I believe, about to make a
+bungling attempt to blackmail me! I should much prefer that you were
+present."
+
+Stephen Hurd drew a sharp breath. Her words stung like whips.
+
+"I don't know--about blackmail," he said, still holding himself in. "I
+want nothing from you. I only ask to be left alone. Stop this nonsense
+about Letty Foulton and let me catch my train. That's all I want."
+
+Wilhelmina shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"You are a very wearisome person," she declared. "Did you ever know me
+to change my mind? Every word I have said to you I absolutely mean. No
+more, no less!"
+
+One of the veins at his temple was protruding. He was passionately
+angry.
+
+"You think it wise," he cried threateningly, "to make an enemy of me!"
+
+She laughed derisively, a laugh as soft as velvet, but to him maddening.
+
+"My dear young man," she said carelessly, "I think I should prefer you
+in that capacity. I should probably see less of you."
+
+He took a quick stride forward. He thrust his face almost into hers. She
+drew back with a gesture of disgust.
+
+"You," he cried, striking the table with his clenched fist, "to pretend
+to care what becomes of any fool of a girl who chooses to take a lover!
+Is it because you're in love with this would-be saint here?"
+
+He struck the table again. He was absolutely beside himself with rage.
+He seemed even to find a physical difficulty in speech. Wilhelmina
+raised her eyebrows.
+
+"Go on," she said coolly. "I am curious to hear the rest."
+
+Macheson suddenly intervened. He stepped between the two.
+
+"This has gone far enough," he said sternly. "Hurd, you are losing your
+head. You are saying things you will be sorry for afterwards. And I
+cannot allow you to speak like this to a woman--in my presence!"
+
+"Let him go on," Wilhelmina said calmly. "I am beginning to find him
+interesting."
+
+Hurd laughed fiercely.
+
+"What!" he cried. "You want to hear of your 'Apache' lover, the man you
+took from the gutters of Paris into----"
+
+Macheson struck him full across the mouth, but Wilhelmina caught at his
+arm. She had overestimated her courage or her strength--he was only just
+in time to save her from falling.
+
+"Brute!" she muttered, and the colour fled from her cheeks like breath
+from a looking-glass.
+
+Macheson laid her on the couch and rang the bell. Suddenly he realized
+that they were alone. From outside came the sound of wheels. He sprang
+up listening. Wilhelmina, too, opened her eyes. She waved him away
+feebly. He smiled back his comprehension.
+
+"The servants are coming," he said. "I can hear them. I promise you that
+if he catches the train, I will!"
+
+[Illustration: "GO ON," SHE SAID COOLLY, "I AM CURIOUS TO HEAR THE
+REST." Page 240]
+
+He vaulted through the window which he had already opened. The sound of
+wheels had died away, but he set his face at once towards the station,
+running with long easy strides, and gradually increasing his pace.
+Stephen Hurd, with his handkerchief to his mouth, and with all his
+nerves tingling with a sense of fierce excitement, looked behind him
+continually, but saw nothing. Long before he reached the station he had
+abandoned all fear of pursuit. Yet during the last half-mile Macheson
+was never more than a few yards from him, and on St. Pancras platform he
+was almost the first person he encountered.
+
+"Macheson! By God!"
+
+He almost dropped the coat he was carrying. He looked at Macheson as one
+might look at a visitor from Mars. It was not possible that this could
+be the man from whom he had fled. Macheson smiled at him grimly.
+
+"How did--how did you get here?" the young man faltered.
+
+"By the same train as you," Macheson answered. "How else? Where are you
+going to meet Letty?"
+
+Hurd answered with a curse.
+
+"Why the devil can't you mind your own business?" he demanded.
+
+"This is my business," Macheson answered.
+
+Then he turned abruptly round towards the hesitating figure of the girl
+who had suddenly paused in her swift approach.
+
+"It is my business to take you home, Letty," he said. "I have come to
+fetch you!"
+
+Letty looked appealingly towards Stephen Hurd. What she saw in his
+face, however, only terrified her.
+
+"Look here," he said thickly, "I've had almost enough of this. You can
+go to the devil--you and Miss Thorpe-Hatton, too! I won't allow any one
+to meddle in my private concerns. Come along, Letty."
+
+He would have led her away, but Macheson was not to be shaken off. He
+kept his place by the girl's side.
+
+"Letty," he said, "are you married to him?"
+
+"Not yet," she answered hesitatingly. "But we are going to be."
+
+"Where are you going to now?"
+
+She glanced towards Stephen.
+
+"I am going to take her away with me," he declared sullenly, "as soon as
+I can get my luggage on this cab."
+
+"Letty," Macheson said, "a few hours ago Miss Thorpe-Hatton offered
+Stephen Hurd a dowry for you of a thousand pounds, if he would promise
+to bring you back as his wife. He refused. He has not the slightest
+intention of making you his wife. I am sorry to have to speak so
+plainly, but you see we haven't much time for beating about the bush,
+have we? I want you to come with me to Berkeley Square. Mrs. Brown will
+look after you."
+
+She turned towards the young man piteously.
+
+"Stephen," she said, "tell Mr. Macheson that he is mistaken. We are
+going to be married, aren't we?"
+
+"Yes," he answered. "At least I always meant to marry you. What I shall
+do if every one starts bullying me I'm sure I don't know. Cut the whole
+lot of you, I think, and be off to the Colonies."
+
+"You don't mean that, Stephen," she begged.
+
+He pointed to the cab laden now with his luggage.
+
+"Will you get in or won't you, Letty?" he asked.
+
+She shrank back.
+
+"Stephen," she said, "I thought that you were going to bring mother up
+with you."
+
+He laughed hardly.
+
+"Your mother wasn't ready," he said. "We can send for her later."
+
+"Don't you think, Stephen," she pleaded, "that it would be nice for me
+to stay with Mrs. Brown until--until we are married?"
+
+"If you go to Mrs. Brown," he said gruffly, "you can stay with her.
+That's all! I won't be fooled about any longer. Once and for all, are
+you coming?"
+
+She took a hesitating step forward, but Macheson led her firmly towards
+another hansom.
+
+"No!" he answered, "she is not. You know where she will be when you have
+the marriage license."
+
+Stephen sprang into his cab with an oath. Even then Letty would have
+followed him, but Macheson held her arm.
+
+"You stay here, Letty," he said firmly.
+
+She covered her face with her hands, but she obeyed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+MYSTERIES IN MAYFAIR
+
+
+That night, and for many nights afterwards, Macheson devoted himself to
+his work in the East End. The fascination of the thing grew upon him; he
+threw himself into his task with an energy which carried him often out
+of his own life and made forgetfulness an easy task. Night after night
+they came, these tired, white-faced women, with a sprinkling of sullen,
+dejected-looking men; night after night he pleaded and reasoned with
+them, striving with almost passionate earnestness to show them how to
+make the best of the poor thing they called life. Gradually his efforts
+began to tell upon himself. He grew thinner, there were shadows under
+his eyes, a curious intangible depression seemed to settle upon him.
+Holderness one night sought him out and insisted upon dinner together.
+
+"Look here, Victor," he said, "I have a bone to pick with you. You'd
+better listen! Don't sit there staring round the place as though you saw
+ghosts everywhere."
+
+Macheson smiled mirthlessly.
+
+"But that is just what I do see," he answered. "The conscience of every
+man who knows must be haunted with them! The ghosts of starving men and
+unsexed women! What keeps their hands from our throats, Dick?"
+
+"Common sense, you idiot," Holderness answered cheerfully. "There's a
+refuse heap for every one of nature's functions. You may try to rake it
+out and cleanse it, but there isn't much to be done. Hang that mission
+work, Victor! It's broken more hearts than anything else on earth! A man
+can but do what he may."
+
+"The refuse heap is man's work!" Macheson muttered.
+
+"But not wholly his responsibility," Holderness declared. "We're part of
+the machine, but remember the wheels are driven by fate, or God, or
+whatever the hidden motive force of the universe may be. Don't lose
+yourself, Macheson! Sentiment's a good thing under control. It's a
+sickly master."
+
+"You call it sentiment, if one feels the horror of this garbage heap!
+Come to-night and look into their faces."
+
+"I've done it," Holderness declared. "I've been through it all. Hang it
+all, do you forget that I'm the editor of a Socialist magazine? No! feel
+it you must, but don't let it upset your mental balance. Don't lose your
+values!"
+
+Macheson left his friend in a saner frame of mind. His words came back
+to him that night as he watched the little stream of people file out
+from the bare white-washed building, with its rows of cheap cane chairs.
+It was so true! To give way to despair was simply to indulge in a
+sentimental debauch. Yet in a sense he had never felt so completely the
+pitiful ineffectiveness of his task. How could he preach the Christian
+morality, expound the Christian doctrines, to a people whose very
+sufferings, whose constant agony, was a hideous and glaring proof that
+by the greater part of the world those doctrines were ignored!
+
+A man was shown into his room afterwards, as he was putting on his
+overcoat. Almost with relief Macheson saw that he at least had no
+pitiful tale to tell. He was a small dapper man, well dressed, and spoke
+with a slight American accent.
+
+"Mr. Macheson," he said, "I'm taking the liberty of introducing myself.
+Peter Drayton my name is, never mind my profession. It wouldn't interest
+you."
+
+Macheson nodded.
+
+"What can I do for you?" he asked, with some curiosity.
+
+"Say, I've been very much interested in these talks of yours to the
+people," Mr. Drayton remarked. "But it's occurred to me that you're on
+the wrong end of the stick. That's why I'm here. You're saying the right
+things, and you've got the knack of saying them so that people have just
+got to listen, but you're saying them to the wrong crowd."
+
+"I don't understand," Macheson was forced to confess.
+
+"Well, I reckon it's simple enough," Drayton answered. "These people
+here don't need to have their own misery thrust down their throats, even
+while you're trying to show them how to bear it. It's the parties who
+are responsible for it all that you want to go for. See what I mean?"
+
+"I think so," Macheson admitted, "but----"
+
+"Look here," Drayton interrupted, "you're a man of common sense, and you
+know that life's more or less a stand-up fight. Those that are licked
+live here in Whitechapel--if you can call it living--and those who win
+get to Belgravia! It's a pitiless sort of affair this fight, but there
+it is. Now which of the two do you think need preaching to, these
+people, or the people who are responsible for them? You've started a
+mission in Whitechapel--it would have been more logical, if there's a
+word of truth in your religion, to have started it in Mayfair."
+
+Macheson laughed.
+
+"They wouldn't listen to me," he declared.
+
+"I'd see to that," Drayton answered quickly. "It's my business. I want
+you to give a course of--well, we'd call them lectures, in the West End.
+You can say what you like. You can pitch into 'em as hot as Hell! I'll
+guarantee you a crowded audience every time."
+
+"I have no interest in those people," Macheson said. "Why should I go
+and lecture to them? My sympathies are all down here."
+
+"Exactly," Drayton answered. "I want you to stir up the people who can
+really help, people who can give millions, pull down these miles of
+fever-tainted rat holes, endow farms here and abroad. Lash them till
+their conscience squeaks! See? What's the good of preaching to these
+people? That won't do any good! You want to preach to the really
+ignorant, the really depraved, the West-Enders!"
+
+"Do I understand," Macheson asked, "that you have a definite scheme in
+which you are inviting me to take part?"
+
+Drayton lit a cigarette and led the way out.
+
+"Look here," he said, "I'll walk with you as far as you're going, and
+tell you all about it...."
+
+It was a sort of pilgrimage which Macheson undertook during these
+restless nights, a walk seemingly purposeless, the sole luxury which he
+permitted himself. Always about the same hour he found himself on the
+garden side of Berkeley Square, always he stood and looked, for a period
+of time of which he took no count, at the tall, dimly lit house, across
+whose portals he had once passed into fairyland. Then came a night when
+everything was changed. Lights flashed from the windows, freshly painted
+window-boxes had been filled with flowers, scarce enough now; everything
+seemed to denote a sudden spirit of activity. Macheson stood and watched
+with a curious sense of excitement stirring in his blood. He knew very
+well what was happening. She was coming, perhaps had already arrived in
+town. He realized as he stood there, a silent motionless figure, how far
+gone in his folly he really was, how closely woven were the bonds that
+held him. For time seemed to him of no account beside the chance of
+seeing her, if only for a moment, as she passed in or out. He never knew
+how long he waited there--it was long enough, however, for his patience
+to be rewarded. Smoothly, with flashing lights, a little electric
+brougham turned into the Square and pulled up immediately opposite to
+him. The tall footman sprang to the ground, the door flew open, he saw
+a slim, familiar figure, veiled and dressed in a dark travelling
+costume, pass leisurely up the steps and into the arc of light which
+streamed through the open door. The brougham glided away, the door was
+closed, she was gone. Still Macheson leaned forward, watching the spot
+where she had been, his heart thumping against his sides, his senses
+thrilled with the excitement of her coming. Suddenly his attention was
+diverted in a curious manner. He became conscious that he was not the
+only watcher under the chestnut trees. A man had stolen out from amongst
+the deeper shadows close up to the railings, and was standing by his
+side. Macheson recognized him with a start.
+
+"What are you doing here?" he asked abruptly.
+
+His fellow-watcher, too, showed signs of excitement. His cheeks were
+flushed. He pointed across the road with shaking finger, and looked up
+into Macheson's face with a triumphant chuckle.
+
+"Run to earth at last!" he exclaimed. "You saw her! You saw her, too!"
+
+"I saw a lady enter that house," Macheson answered. "What of it?"
+
+The man whom he had once befriended drew a breath between his clenched
+teeth.
+
+"There she goes!" he muttered. "The woman who dared to call herself the
+daughter of a poor land-agent! The woman who is deceiving her world
+to-day as she deceived us--once! Bah! It is finished!"
+
+He started to cross the road. Macheson kept by his side.
+
+"Where are you off to?" he asked.
+
+The man pointed to the brilliantly lit house.
+
+"There!" he answered fiercely. "I am going to see her. To-night! At
+once! She shall not escape me this time!"
+
+"What do you want with her?" Macheson asked.
+
+"Money--or exposure, such an exposure," the man answered. "But she will
+pay. She owes a good deal; but she will pay."
+
+"And supposing," Macheson said, "that I were to tell you that this lady
+is a friend of mine, and that I will not have you intrude upon her--what
+then?"
+
+Something venomous gleamed in the man's eyes. A short unpleasant laugh
+escaped him.
+
+"Not all the devils in hell," he declared, "would keep me from going to
+her. For five years she's fooled us! Not a day longer, not an hour!"
+
+Macheson's hand rested lightly upon the man's shoulder.
+
+"Can you reach her from prison?" he asked calmly.
+
+The man turned and snarled at him. He knew well enough that escape or
+resistance alike was hopeless. He was like a pigmy in the hands of the
+man who held him.
+
+"This isn't your affair," he pleaded earnestly. "Let me go, or I shall
+do you a mischief some day. Remember it was you who helped me to escape.
+You can't give me away now."
+
+"I helped you to escape," Macheson said, "but I did not know what you
+had done. There is another matter. You have to go away from here quietly
+and swear never to molest----"
+
+The man ducked with a sudden backward movement, and tried to escape, but
+Macheson was on his guard.
+
+"You are a fool," the man hissed out, his small bead-like eyes
+glittering as though touched with fire, his thick red lips parted,
+showing his ugly teeth. "It is money alone I want from her. I have but
+to breathe her name and this address in a certain quarter of Paris, and
+there are others who would take her life. Let me go!"
+
+Then Macheson was conscious of a familiar figure crossing the street in
+their direction. He had seen him come furtively out of the house they
+had been watching, and had recognized him at once. It was Stephen Hurd.
+Keeping his grasp upon his captive's shoulder, Macheson intercepted him.
+
+"Hurd," he said, "I want to speak to you."
+
+Hurd started, and his face darkened with anger when he saw who it was
+that had accosted him. Macheson continued hurriedly.
+
+"Look here," he said. "I owe you this at any rate. I have just caught
+our friend here watching this house. Have you ever seen him before?"
+
+Hurd looked down into the face of the man who, with an evil shrug of the
+shoulders, had resigned himself--for the present--to the inevitable.
+
+"Never," he answered. "Can't say I'm particularly anxious to see him
+again. Convert of yours?" he asked, with a sneer.
+
+"He is the man who visited your father on the night of his death,"
+Macheson said.
+
+Stephen Hurd was like a man electrified. He seized hold of the other's
+arm in excitement.
+
+"Is this true?" he demanded.
+
+The man blinked his eyes.
+
+"You have to prove it," he said. "I admit nothing."
+
+"You can leave him to me," Stephen Hurd said, turning to Macheson.
+
+Macheson nodded and prepared to walk on.
+
+"There is a police-station behind to the left," he remarked.
+
+Hurd took no notice. He had thrust his arm tightly through the other
+man's.
+
+"I have been looking for you," he said eagerly. "We must have a talk
+together. We will take this hansom," he added, hailing one.
+
+The man drew back.
+
+"Are you going to take me to the police-station?" he demanded.
+
+"Police-station, no!" Hurd answered roughly. "What good would that do
+me? Get in! Cafe Monico!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE WAY OF SALVATION
+
+
+Holderness leaned back in his worn leather chair and shouted with
+laughter. He treated with absolute indifference the white anger in
+Macheson's face.
+
+"Victor," he cried, "don't look at me as though you wanted to punch my
+head. Down on your knees, man, and pray for a sense of humour. It's the
+very salt of life."
+
+"That's all very well," Macheson answered, "but I can't exactly see----"
+
+"That's because you're deficient," Holderness shouted, wiping the tears
+from his eyes. "I haven't laughed so much for ages. Here you come from
+the East to the West, with all the world's tragedy tearing at your
+heart, flowing from your lips, a flagellator, a hater of the people to
+whom you speak, seeking only to strike and to wound, and they accept you
+as a new sensation! They bare their back to your whip! They have made
+you the fashion! Oh! this funny, funny world of ours!"
+
+Macheson smiled grimly.
+
+"I'll grant you the elements of humour in the situation," he said, "but
+you can scarcely expect me to appreciate it, can you? I never came here
+to play the mountebank, to provide a new sensation for these tired dolls
+of Society. Dick, do you think St. Paul could have opened their eyes?"
+
+Holderness shook his head.
+
+"I don't know," he declared. "They're a difficult class--you see, they
+have pluck, and a sort of fantastic philosophy which goes with breeding.
+They're not easily scared."
+
+Macheson thought of his friend's words later in the afternoon, when he
+stood on the slightly raised platform of the fashionable room where his
+lectures were given. Not a chair was empty. Macheson, as he entered,
+gazed long and steadily into those rows of tired, distinguished-looking
+faces, and felt in the atmosphere the delicate wave of perfume shaken
+from their clothes--the indescribable effect of femininity. There were
+men there, too, mostly as escorts, correctly dressed, bored, vacuous,
+from intent rather than lack of intelligence. Macheson himself,
+carelessly dressed from design, his fine figure ill-clad, with untidy
+boots and shock hair, felt his anger slowly rising as he marked the stir
+which his coming had caused. He to be the showman of such a crowd! It
+was maddening! That day he spoke to them without even the ghost of a
+smile parting his lips. He sought to create no sympathy. He cracked his
+whip with the cool deliberation of a Russian executioner.
+
+... "I was asked the other day," he remarked, "by an enterprising
+journalist, what made me decide to come here and deliver these lectures
+to you. I did not tell him. It is because I wanted to speak to the most
+ignorant class in Christendom. You are that class. If you have
+intelligence, you make it the servant of your whims. If you have
+imagination, you use it to enlarge the sphere of your vices. You are
+worse than the ostrich who buries his head in the sand--you prefer to go
+underground altogether....
+
+"As you sit here--with every tick of your jewelled watches, out in the
+world of which in your sublime selfishness you know nothing, a child
+dies, a woman is given to sin, a man's heart is broken. What do you
+care? What do you know of that infernal, that everlasting tragedy of sin
+and suffering that seethes around you? Why should you care? Your life is
+attuned to the most pagan philosophy which all the ages of sin have
+evolved. You have sunk so low that you are content to sit and listen to
+the story of your ignominy...."
+
+What fascination was it that kept them in their places? Holderness, who
+was sitting in the last row, fully expected to see them leave their
+seats and stream out; Macheson himself would not have been surprised.
+His voice had no particular charm, his words were simple words of abuse,
+he attempted no rhetorical flourishes, nor any of the tricks of oratory.
+He stood there like a disgusted schoolmaster lecturing a rebellious and
+backward school. Holderness, when he saw that no one left, chuckled to
+himself. Macheson, aware that his powers of invective were spent,
+suddenly changed his tone.
+
+Consciously or unconsciously, he told them, every one was seeking to
+fashion his life according to some hidden philosophy, some unrealized
+ideal. With religion, as it was commonly understood, he had, in that
+place at any rate, nothing to do. Even the selfish drifting down the
+stream of idle pleasures, which constituted life for most of them, was
+the passive acceptance in their consciousness of the old "faineant"
+philosophy of "laissez faire." Had they any idea of the magnificent
+stimulus which work could give to the emptiest life! For health's
+sake alone, they were willing sometimes to step out of the rut of
+their easy-going existence, to discipline their bodies at foreign
+watering-places, to take up courses of physical exercises, as prescribed
+by the fashionable crank of the moment. What they would do for their
+bodies, why should they not try for their souls! The one was surely as
+near decay as the other--the care of it, if only they would realize it,
+was ten thousand times more important! He had called them, perhaps, many
+hard names. There was one he could not call them. He could not call them
+cowards. On the contrary, he thought them the bravest people he had ever
+known, to live the lives they did, and await the end with the equanimity
+they showed. The equivalent of Hell, whatever it might be, had evidently
+no terrors for them....
+
+He concluded his address abruptly, as his custom was, a few minutes
+later, and turned at once to leave the platform. But this afternoon an
+unexpected incident occurred. A man from the middle of the audience rose
+up and called to him by name.
+
+Macheson, surprised, paused and turned round. It was Deyes who stood
+there, immaculately dressed in morning clothes, his long face pale as
+ever, his manner absolutely and entirely composed. He was swinging his
+eyeglass by its narrow black ribbon, and leaning a little forward.
+
+"Sir," he said, once more addressing Macheson, "as one of the audience
+whose shortcomings have so--er--profoundly impressed you, may I take the
+liberty of asking you a question? I ask it of you publicly because I
+imagine that there are many others here besides myself to whom your
+answer may prove interesting."
+
+Macheson came slowly to the front of the platform.
+
+"Ask your question, sir, by all means," he said.
+
+Deyes bowed.
+
+"You remind me, if I may be permitted to say so," he continued, "of the
+prophet who went about with sackcloth and ashes on his head, crying
+'Woe! woe! woe!' but who was either unable or unwilling to suggest any
+means by which that doleful cry might be replaced by one of more
+cheerful import. In plain words, sir, according to your lights--what
+must we do to be saved?"
+
+There was a murmur of interest amongst the audience. There were many
+upon whom Macheson's stinging words and direct denunciation had left
+their mark. They sat up eagerly and waited for his answer. He came to
+the edge of the platform and looked thoughtfully into their faces.
+
+"In this city," he said, "it should not be necessary for any one to ask
+that question. My answer may seem trite and hackneyed. Yet if you will
+accept it, you may come to the truth. Take a hansom cab, and drive as
+far, say, as Whitechapel. Walk--in any direction--for half a mile. Look
+into the faces of the men, the women and the children. Then go home and
+think. You will say at first nothing can be done for these people. They
+have dropped down too low, they have lost their humanity, they only
+justify the natural law of the survival of the fittest. Think again! A
+hemisphere may divide the East and the West of this great city; but
+these are human beings as you are a human being, they are your brothers
+and your sisters. Consider for a moment this natural law of yours. It is
+based upon the principle of the see-saw. Those who are down, are down
+because the others are up. Those men are beasts, those women are
+unsexed, those children are growing up with dirt upon their bodies and
+sin in their hearts, because you others are what you are. Because!
+Consider that. Consider it well, and take up your responsibility. They
+die that you may flourish! Do you think that the see-saw will be always
+one way? A revolution in this world, or justice in the next! Which would
+you rather face?"
+
+Deyes bowed slightly.
+
+"You have given me an answer, sir, for which I thank you," he answered.
+"But you must allow me to remind you of the great stream of gold which
+flows all the while from the West to the East. Hospitals, mission
+houses, orphanages, colonial farms--are we to have no credit for these?"
+
+"Very little," Macheson answered, "for you give of your superfluity.
+Charity has little to do with the cheque-book. Besides, you must
+remember this. I am not here to-day to plead the cause of the East. I am
+here to talk to you of your own lives. I represent, if you are pleased
+to have it so, the Sandow of your spiritual body. I ask you to submit
+your souls to my treatment, as the professor of physical culture would
+ask for your bodies. This is not a matter of religion at all. It is a
+matter, if you choose to call it so, of philosophy. Your souls need
+exercise. You need a course of thinking and working for the good of some
+one else--not for your own benefit. Give up one sin in your life, and
+replace it with a whole-hearted effort to rescue one unfortunate person
+from sin and despair, and you will gain what I understand to be the
+desire of all of you--a new pleasure. Briefly, for your own sakes, from
+your own point of view, it is a personal charity which I am advocating,
+as distinguished from the charity of the cheque-book."
+
+"One more question, Mr. Macheson," Deyes continued quietly. "Where do we
+find the lost souls--I mean upon what principle of selection do we
+work?"
+
+"There are many excellent institutions through which you can come into
+touch with them," Macheson answered. "You can hear of these through the
+clergyman of your own parish, or the Bishop of London."
+
+Deyes thanked him and sat down. The lecture was over, and the people
+slowly dispersed. Macheson passed into the room at the back of the
+platform. Drayton, who was waiting for him there, pushed over a box of
+cigarettes. He knew that Macheson loved to smoke directly he had
+finished talking.
+
+"Macheson," he said solemnly, "you're a marvel. Why, in my country, I
+guess they'd come and scratch your eyes out before they'd stand plain
+speaking like that."
+
+Macheson was looking away into vacancy.
+
+"I wonder," he said softly, "if it does any good--any real good?"
+
+Drayton, who was looking through a cash-book with gleaming eyes, opened
+his lips to speak, but thought better of it. He pointed instead towards
+the table.
+
+The usual pile of notes was there--all the latest novelties in fancy
+stationery were represented there, crested, coroneted, scented. Macheson
+began to tear them open and as rapidly destroy them with a little
+gesture of disgust. They were mostly of the same type. The girls were
+all so anxious to do a little good, so tired of the wearisome round of
+Society, wouldn't Mr. Macheson be very kind and give them some personal
+advice? Couldn't he meet them somewhere, or might they come and see him?
+They did hope that he wouldn't think them bold! It would be such a help
+to talk to him. The married ladies were bolder still. They felt the same
+craving for advice, but their proposals were more definite. Mr. Macheson
+must come and see them! They would be quite alone (underlined), there
+should be no one else there to worry him. Then followed times and
+addresses. One lady, whose coronet and motto were familiar to him, would
+take no denial. He was to come that afternoon. Her carriage was waiting
+at the side door and would bring him directly to her. Macheson looked up
+quickly. Through the window he could see a small brougham, with cockaded
+footman and coachman, waiting outside. He swept all the notes into the
+flames.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, go and send that carriage away, Drayton," he begged.
+
+Drayton laughed and disappeared. On the table there remained one more
+note--a square envelope, less conspicuous perhaps than the others, but
+more distinguished-looking. Macheson broke the seal. On half a sheet of
+paper were scrawled these few lines only.
+
+     "For Heaven's sake, come to me at once.--Wilhelmina."
+
+He started and caught up his hat. In a few minutes he was on his way to
+Berkeley Square.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+JEAN LE ROI
+
+
+Over a marble-topped table in a retired corner of the cafe Stephen Hurd
+listened to the story of the man whom Macheson had delivered over to
+him, and the longer he listened the more interesting he found it. When
+at last all was told, the table itself was strewn with cigarette stumps,
+and their glasses had three times been replenished. The faces of both
+men were flushed.
+
+"You see," the little man said, glancing for a moment at his
+yellow-stained fingers, and then beginning to puff furiously at a fresh
+cigarette, "the time is of the shortest. Jean le Roi--well, his time is
+up! He may be here to-morrow, the next day, who can tell? And when he
+comes he will kill her! That is certain!"
+
+Hurd shuddered and drank some of his whisky.
+
+"Look here," he said, "we mustn't have that. Revenge, of course, he will
+want--but there are other ways."
+
+The little man blinked his eyes.
+
+"You do not know Jean le Roi," he said. "To him it is a pastime to kill!
+For myself I do not know the passions as he would know them. Where
+there was money I would not kill. It would be as you have said--there
+are other ways. But Jean le Roi is different."
+
+"Jean le Roi, as you call him, must be tamed, then," Hurd said. "You
+speak of money. I have been her agent, so I can tell you. What do you
+think might be the income of this lady?"
+
+Johnson was deeply interested. He leaned across the table. His little
+black eyes were alight with cupidity.
+
+"Who can tell?" he murmured. "It might be two, perhaps three, four
+thousand English pounds a year. Eh?"
+
+Stephen Hurd laughed scornfully.
+
+"Four thousand a year!" he repeated. "Bah! She fooled you all to some
+purpose! Her income is--listen--is forty thousand pounds a year! You
+hear that, my friend? Forty thousand pounds a year!"
+
+The little man's face was a study in varying expressions. He leaned back
+in his chair, and then crouched forward over the table. His beady eyes
+were almost protruding, a spot of deeper colour, an ugly purple patch,
+burned upon his cheeks. The words seemed frozen upon his lips. Twice he
+opened his mouth to speak and said nothing.
+
+Stephen Hurd took off his hat and placed it upon the table before him.
+His listener's emotion was catching.
+
+"Forty thousand pounds," he said softly, "livres you call it! It is a
+great fortune. She has deceived you, too! You must make her pay for it."
+
+Johnson was recovering himself slowly. His voice when he spoke shook,
+but it was with the dawn of a vicious anger!
+
+"Yes!" he muttered, speaking as though to himself, "she has deceived us!
+She must pay! God, how she must pay!"
+
+His fingers twitched upon the table. He was blinking rapidly.
+
+"There is the money," he said softly, "and there is Jean le Roi!"
+
+It was a night of shocks for him. Again his eyes were dilated. He shrank
+back in his chair and clutched at Hurd's sleeve.
+
+"It is himself!" he whispered hoarsely. "It is Jean le Roi! God in
+Heaven, he will kill us!"
+
+Johnson collapsed for a moment. In his face were all the evidences of an
+abject fear, and Stephen Hurd was in very nearly as evil a plight. The
+man who was threading his way through the tables towards them was
+alarming enough in his appearance and expression to have cowed braver
+men.
+
+"Jean le Roi--he fears nothing--he cares for nothing, not even for me,
+his father," Johnson muttered with chattering teeth. "If he feels like
+it he will kill us as we sit here."
+
+Hurd, who was facing the man, watched him with fascinated eyes. He was
+over six feet high, and magnificently formed. Notwithstanding his ready
+made clothes, fresh from a French tailor, his brown hat ludicrously too
+small and the blue stubble of a recently cropped beard, he was almost as
+impressively handsome as he was repulsive to look at. He walked with the
+grace of a savage animal in his native woods; there was something indeed
+not altogether human in the gleam of his white teeth and stealthy,
+faultless movements. He came straight to where they sat, and his hand
+fell like a vice upon the shoulder of the shrinking elder man. It was
+further characteristic of this strange being that when he spoke there
+was no anger in his tone. His voice indeed was scarcely raised above a
+whisper.
+
+"What are you doing here, old man?" he asked. "Why did you not meet me?
+Eh?"
+
+"I will tell you, tell you everything, Jean," Johnson answered. "Sit
+down here and drink with us. Everything shall be made quite clear to
+you. I came for your sake--to get money, Jean. Sit down, my boy."
+
+Jean le Roi sat down.
+
+"I sit with you," he said, "and I will drink with you, because I have no
+money to pay for myself. But we are not friends yet, old man! I will
+hear first what you have done. And who is this?"
+
+His eyes flashed as he looked upon Hurd. Johnson interposed quickly.
+
+"A friend, a good friend," he exclaimed. "He will be of service to us,
+great service. Only a few minutes ago he told me something astounding,
+something for you also to hear, dear Jean. It is wonderful news."
+
+Jean le Roi interrupted.
+
+"What I want to hear from you," he said, in a soft, vicious whisper, "is
+why, when they let me out of that cursed place, you were not there with
+money and clothes for me, as I ordered. But for the poor faithful
+Annette, whom I did not desire to see, I might have starved on the day
+of my release. Stop!----" he held up his hand as Johnson was on the
+point of pouring out a copious explanation, "order me brandy first. Tell
+them to bring me the bottle. Do not speak till I have drunk."
+
+They called a waiter and gave the order. They waited in an uneasy
+silence until it arrived. Jean le Roi drank at first sparingly, but his
+eyes rested lovingly upon the bottle.
+
+"Now speak," he commanded.
+
+Johnson told his story with appropriate gestures.
+
+"After it was all over," he began rapidly, "and one saw that a rescue
+was impossible, I followed madame! It was a moment of fury, I thought.
+She will repent, she will pay for lawyers for his defence. So I hung
+about her hotel, only to find that she had left, stolen away. As you
+know, she did not appear at the trial! It was a bargain with the police
+that they should not call her if she betrayed you! She escaped me, Jean,
+and as you know, I had no money. All, every penny had been spent on your
+clothes and your horse and carriage, to make you a gentleman."
+
+Jean le Roi extended his hands. "Money well spent indeed! Let the old
+man continue!"
+
+"She escaped me, Jean, and it was many months before I found a clue on
+an old label--just the words 'Thorpe, England.' So I wrote there, and
+the letter did not come back as the others. I waited a little time and I
+wrote again, this time to receive an answer! It was a stern, angry
+letter from a man who called himself her father, and signed himself
+Stephen Hurd. He was what is called here an estate agent, and he had
+not very much money. He would not send one pound. He said that the
+marriage was illegal, and if one came to England he threatened the law!
+I wrote again--humbly, piteously. I spoke of your hardships. I told how
+all the time you raved of your dear wife, how you repented your
+madness--how it was for love of her only that you had committed such a
+crime! There came no answer. I forwarded the letters which you had
+written to her--I begged, oh! how I begged for just a little money for
+the small luxuries, the good wine, the tobacco, the newspapers. They
+sent nothing!"
+
+Jean le Roi drew in his breath with a gasp.
+
+"Oh!" he muttered. "So they sent nothing!"
+
+"Not one sou, Jean--not one sou! And all the while the time of your
+release was drawing near. What could I do! Well, I raised the money. How
+I will not tell you, my boy, but I went on a fruit boat from Havre to
+Southampton, and from there down to Thorpe. I saw the old man Stephen
+Hurd. It was on a Sunday night that I arrived, and I found him alone.
+He was as hard, Jean, as his letters. When I pressed him he ordered
+me out of the house. I would not go. I said that I would see my
+daughter-in-law. I would remain until I saw her, I said, even if I slept
+under a hedge. Again he ordered me out of the house. I was firm; I
+refused. Then he struck me, there was a quarrel, and he fell. I thought
+at first that he was unconscious, but when I examined him--he was dead."
+
+Johnson finished his speech in a stealthy whisper, leaning half way
+across the table. Jean le Roi poured himself out more brandy, but he was
+unmoved.
+
+"The old trick, I suppose," he remarked carelessly, making a swift
+movement with his hand.
+
+"No! no!" Johnson declared earnestly. "I used no weapon! It was an
+accident, a pure accident. Remember that this is his son. He would not
+be here if it was not quite certain that it was accident--and accident
+alone."
+
+Jean le Roi lifted his head and gazed curiously at Stephen Hurd.
+
+"So you," he murmured, "are my brother-in-law?"
+
+Johnson leaned once more across the table.
+
+"It is where you, where we all have been deceived," he said
+impressively. "Listen. She was never the daughter of Stephen Hurd at
+all. It was a schoolgirl's freak to take that name, when she was eluding
+her chaperon and amusing herself in Paris. Stephen Hurd was her
+servant."
+
+"And she?" Jean le Roi asked softly.
+
+Johnson spread out his yellow-stained fingers. His voice trembled, his
+eyes shone. It was like speaking of something holy.
+
+"She is a great lady," he said. "She goes to Court, she has houses, and
+horses and carriages, troops of servants, a yacht, motor-cars. She is
+rich--fabulously rich, Jean. She has--listen--forty thousand pounds,
+livres mind, a year."
+
+"More than that," Hurd muttered.
+
+"More than that," Johnson repeated.
+
+Jean le Roi was no longer unmoved. He drew a long breath and his teeth
+seemed to come together with a click.
+
+"There is no mistake?" he asked softly. "An income of forty thousand
+pounds?"
+
+"There is no mistake," Stephen Hurd assured him. "I will answer for
+that."
+
+Jean le Roi's face was white and vicious. Yet for a time he said nothing
+and his two companions watched him anxiously. There was something
+uncanny about his silence.
+
+"It is a great deal of money," he said at last. "Often in prison I was
+hungry, I had no cigarettes. I was forced to drink water. A great deal
+of money! And she is my wife! Half of what she has belongs to me! That
+is the law, eh?"
+
+"I don't know about that," Stephen Hurd said, "but she has certainly
+treated you very badly."
+
+Jean le Roi struck the table with his fist, not violently, and yet
+somehow with a force which made itself felt.
+
+"It is over--that!" he said. "I am a man who knows when he has been
+ill-treated; who knows, too, what it is that a wife owes to her husband.
+Tell me where it is that she lives, old man. Write it down."
+
+Johnson drew from his pocket a stump of pencil and the back of an
+envelope. He wrote slowly and with care. Jean le Roi extended the palm
+of his hand to Stephen Hurd.
+
+"He will warn madame, perhaps," he suggested. "Why does he sit here with
+us, this young man? Is it that he, too, wants money?"
+
+"No! no! my son," Johnson intervened hastily. "Madame treated him
+badly. He would not be sorry to see her humiliated."
+
+Jean le Roi smiled.
+
+"It shall be done," he promised. "But from one of you I must have money.
+I cannot present myself before my wife so altered. No one would believe
+my story."
+
+"How much do you want?" Hurd asked uneasily.
+
+"Twenty pounds English," Jean le Roi answered. "I cannot resume my
+appearance as a gentleman on less."
+
+Hurd took out some notes.
+
+"I will lend you that," he said slowly.
+
+Jean le Roi's long fingers took firm hold of the notes. He buttoned them
+up in his pocket, slapped the place where they were, and poured out more
+brandy.
+
+"Now," he said, "I am prepared. Madame shall discover what it means to
+deceive her fond husband!"
+
+Hurd moved in his seat uneasily. There was something ominous in the
+villainous curve of the man's lips--in the utter absence of any direct
+threats. What was it that was passing in his mind?
+
+"You are not thinking of any violence?" he asked. "Remember she is a
+proud woman, and you cannot punish her more than by simply appearing and
+declaring yourself."
+
+Jean le Roi smiled.
+
+"We shall see," he declared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE KING OF THE APACHES
+
+
+Wilhelmina was resting--and looked in need of it. All the delicate
+colours and fluttering ribbons of her Doucet dressing-jacket could not
+hide the pallor of her cheeks, or the hollows under her eyes. Macheson,
+who came in sternly enough, felt himself moved to a troublous pity.
+Nothing seemed left of the great lady--or the "poseuse"!
+
+"You are kind," she murmured, "to come so soon. Sit down, please!"
+
+"Is there any trouble?" he asked. "You look worried."
+
+She laughed unnaturally.
+
+"No wonder," she answered. "For five years I have been living more or
+less on the brink of a volcano. From what I have heard, I fancy that an
+eruption is about due."
+
+"Tell me about it," he asked.
+
+She passed him a telegram. It was from Paris, and it was signed Gilbert
+Deyes.
+
+"Jean le Roi was free yesterday. Left immediately for England."
+
+Macheson looked up. He did not understand.
+
+"And who," he asked, "is Jean le Roi?"
+
+She looked him in the eyes.
+
+"My husband," she told him quietly. "At least that is what I suppose the
+law would say that he was."
+
+Macheson had been prepared for something surprising, but not for this.
+He looked at her incredulously. He found himself aimlessly repeating her
+words.
+
+"Your husband?"
+
+"I was married five years ago in Paris," she said in a dull, emotionless
+tone. "No one over here knows about it, or has seen him, because he has
+been in prison all the time. It was I who sent him there."
+
+"I can't believe this," he said, in a low tone. "It is too amazing."
+
+Then a light broke in upon him and he began to understand.
+
+"He is in England now," she said, "and I am afraid."
+
+"Jean le Roi?" he muttered.
+
+"King of the Apaches," she answered bitterly. "'The greatest rogue in
+Paris,' they said, when they sentenced him."
+
+"Sentenced him!" he repeated, bewildered.
+
+"He has been in prison since the day we were married," she continued.
+"It was I who sent him there."
+
+He bowed his head. He felt that it was not right to look at her. An
+infinite wave of tenderness swept through his whole being. He was
+ashamed of his past thoughts of her, of his hasty judgments. All the
+time she had been carrying this in her bosom. Her very pride seemed to
+him now magnificent. He felt suddenly like a querulous child.
+
+"What can I do to help you?" he asked softly.
+
+She came a little nearer to him.
+
+"I am afraid," she said, dropping her voice almost to a whisper. "Ever
+since I heard the story of his life, as it was told in court, I have
+been afraid. When he was taken, he swore to be revenged. For the last
+twenty-four hours I have felt somehow that he was near! Read this!"
+
+She passed him a letter. The notepaper was thick and expensive, and
+headed by a small coronet.
+
+     "My dearest wife," it began. "At last this miserable separation
+     comes to an end! I am here in London, on my way to you! Prepare
+     to throw yourself into my arms. How much too long has our
+     happiness been deferred!
+
+     "I should have been with you before, dear Wilhelmina, but for
+     more sordid considerations. I need money. I need money very
+     badly. Send me, please, a thousand pounds to-morrow between
+     three and four--or shall I come and fetch it, and you?
+
+     "As you will.
+
+                    "Your devoted husband,
+                         "Jean."
+
+He gave her back the letter gravely.
+
+"What was your answer?" he asked.
+
+"I sent nothing," she declared. "I did not reply. But I am
+afraid--horribly afraid! He is a terrible man. If we were alone, he
+would kill me as you or I would a fly. If only they could have proved
+the things at the trial which were known to be true, he would never have
+seen the daylight again. But even the witnesses were terrified. They
+dared not give evidence against him."
+
+"Will you tell me," Macheson asked, "how it all came about? Not unless
+you like," he added, after a moment's hesitation. "Not if it is painful
+to you."
+
+She sat down upon the couch, curling herself up at the further end of
+it, and building up the pillows at the further end to support her head.
+Against the soft green silk, her face was like the face of a tired
+child. Something seemed to have gone out of her. She was no longer
+playing a part--not even to him--not even to herself. There was nothing
+left of the woman of the world. It was the child who told him her story.
+
+"You must listen," she said, "and you may laugh at me if you like, but
+you must not be angry. My story is the story of a fool! Sit down,
+please--at the end of the couch if you don't mind! I like to have you
+between me and the door."
+
+He obeyed her in silence, and she continued. She spoke like a child
+repeating her lesson. She held a crumpled-up lace handkerchief in her
+hand, and her eyes, large and intent, never left his.
+
+"This is the story of a girl," she said, "an orphan who went abroad
+with a chaperon to travel in Europe and perfect her French. In Paris the
+chaperon fell ill, the girl hired a guide recommended by the hotel, to
+show her the sights.
+
+"They saw all that the tourist sees, and the chaperon was still ill. The
+girl thought that she would like to see something of the Parisians
+themselves; she was tired of Cook's English people and Americans. So she
+gave the guide money to buy himself clothes, and bade him take her to
+the restaurants and places where the world of Paris assembled. It was
+known at the hotel, perhaps through the servants, that the girl was
+rich. The guide heard it and told some one else. Between them they
+concocted a plot. The girl was to be the victim. She was only eighteen.
+
+"One day they were lunching at the Cafe de Paris--the guide and the
+girl--when a young man entered. He was exceedingly handsome, and very
+wonderfully turned out after the fashion of the French dandy. The guide,
+as the young man passed, rose up and bowed respectfully. The young man
+nodded carelessly. Then he saw the girl, and he looked at her as no man
+had ever looked before. And the girl ought to have been angry, but
+wasn't.
+
+"She asked the guide who the young man was. He told her that it was the
+Duke of Languerois, head of one of the oldest families in France. His
+father and grandfather, and for a time he himself, had been in their
+service! The girl looked across at the young man with interest, and the
+young man returned her gaze. That was what he was there for.
+
+"As they left the restaurant her guide fell behind for a moment, and
+when she looked round she saw him talking to the young man. Of course
+she wanted to know what they had been saying, and with much apparent
+reluctance the guide told her. The young man had been inquiring about
+mademoiselle, where they spent their time, how he could meet them. Of
+course he had told nothing. But the young man was very persistent and
+very much in earnest! She encouraged the guide to talk about him, and
+she believed what she was told. He was rich, noble, adored in French
+society, and he was in love with mademoiselle. She was very soon given
+to understand this.
+
+"For several days the young man was always in evidence. He was perfectly
+respectful, he never attempted to address her. It was all most cunningly
+planned. Then one evening, when she was driving with her guide through a
+narrow street, a man sprang suddenly upon the step of her carriage and
+snatched at her jewels. Another on the other side had passed his arm
+round the guide's neck and almost throttled him, and a third was
+struggling with the coachman. It was one of those lightning-like attacks
+by Apaches, which were common enough then--at least it seemed like one.
+The girl screamed, and, of course, the young man, who had been following
+in another voiture, appeared. One of the thieves he threw on to the
+pavement, the others fled. And the young man was a hero! It was well
+arranged!"
+
+Her voice broke for a moment, and Macheson moved uneasily upon the sofa.
+If he could he would have stopped her. He could guess as much of the
+miserable story as it was necessary for him to know! But she ignored
+his threatened interruption. She was determined, having kept her secret
+for so long, that he should know now the whole truth.
+
+"After that, things moved rapidly. The girl was as near her own mistress
+as a child of her age could be. She was lonely and the young man proved
+a delightful companion. He had many attractive gifts, and he knew how to
+make use of them. All the time he made love to her. For a time she
+resisted, but she had very little chance. She was just at the age when
+all girls are more or less fools. In the end she consented to a secret
+marriage. Afterwards he was to take her to his family. But that time
+never came.
+
+"They were married at eleven o'clock one morning, and went afterwards to
+a cafe for dejeuner. The young man that day was ill at ease and nervous.
+He kept looking about him as though he was afraid of being followed. He
+spoke vaguely of danger from the anger of his noble relations. They were
+scarcely seated at luncheon before a man came quietly into the place and
+whispered a few words in his ear. Whatever those few words were, the
+young man went suddenly pale and called for his hat and stick. He wrote
+an address on a piece of paper and gave it to the girl. He begged her to
+follow him in an hour--he would introduce her then to his friends. And
+he left her alone. The girl was troubled and uneasy. He had gone off
+without even paying for the luncheon. He had the air of a desperate man.
+She began to realize what she had done.
+
+"She was preparing to depart when an Englishman, who had been
+lunching at the other end of the room, came over, and, with a word
+of apology, sat down by her side. He saw that she was young, and a
+fellow-countryman, and he told her very gravely that he was sure she
+could not be aware of the character of the man with whom she had been
+lunching. Her eyes grew wide open with horror. The man, he said, was the
+illegitimate son of a French nobleman, and his mother had been married
+to a guide--her guide! He had perhaps the worst character of any man in
+Paris. He had been tried for murder, imprisoned for forgery, and he was
+now suspected of being the leader of a band of desperate criminals who
+were dreaded all over Paris. This and other things he told her of the
+man whom she had just married. The girl listened as though turned to
+stone, with the piece of paper which he had given her crumpled up in her
+hands. Then the police came. They asked her questions. She pretended at
+first to know nothing. At last she addressed the commissionary. If she
+gave him the address where this young man could be found, he and all his
+friends, might she depart without mention being made of her, or her name
+appearing in any way? The commissionary agreed, and she gave him the
+piece of paper. The Englishman--it was Gilbert Deyes--took her back to
+her hotel, and the police captured Jean le Roi and the whole band of his
+associates. The girl returned to England that night. Jean le Roi was
+sentenced to six years' penal servitude. His time was up last week."
+
+"What a diabolical plot!" Macheson exclaimed. "But the marriage! It
+could have been annulled, surely?"
+
+"Perhaps," she answered, "but I did not dare to face the publicity. I
+felt that I should never be able to look any one in the face again. I
+had given my name to the guide Johnson as Clara Hurd. I hoped that they
+might never find me."
+
+"They cannot do you any harm," Macheson declared. "Let me go with you to
+the lawyers. They will see that you are not molested."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"It is not so easy," she said. "The marriage was quite legal. To have it
+annulled I should have to enter a suit. The whole story would come out.
+I could never live in England afterwards."
+
+"But you don't mean," he protested, "to remain bound to this blackguard
+all your life!"
+
+"How can I free myself," she asked, "except by making myself the
+laughing-stock of the country?"
+
+"Why did you send for me?" he asked bluntly.
+
+"To ask for your advice--and to protect me," she added, with a shiver.
+"It is not only money that Jean le Roi wants! It is vengeance because I
+betrayed him."
+
+"As for that, I won't leave you except when you send me away," he
+declared. "And my advice! If you want that, the right thing to me seems
+simple enough. Go at once to your lawyers. They will tell you the proper
+course. At the worst, the man could be bought off for the present."
+
+She raised her head.
+
+"I will not give him one penny," she declared. "I have always sworn
+that."
+
+"But I'm afraid if you won't try to divorce him that he can claim some,"
+Macheson said.
+
+"Then he must come and take it by force," she declared.
+
+There was silence between them. Then she rose to her feet and came and
+stood before him.
+
+"I ought to have told you all this long ago," she said simply. "To-day I
+felt that I must tell you without another hour's delay. Now that you
+know, I am not so terrified. But you must promise to come and see me
+every day while that brute remains in London."
+
+"Yes! I promise that," he answered, also rising to his feet.
+
+They heard her maid moving about in the bedroom.
+
+"Hortense is reminding me that I must dress for dinner," she remarked
+with a faint smile. "One must dine, you know, even in the midst of
+tragedies."
+
+Macheson prepared to take his departure.
+
+"I shall come to-morrow," he said, "if you do not send for me before."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+BEHIND THE PALM TREES
+
+
+Lady Peggy was fussing round the drawing-room, talking to all her guests
+at once.
+
+"I haven't the least idea who takes anybody in," she declared. "James
+said he'd see to that, so you might just as well put your hand in a
+lucky-bag. And I'm not at all sure that you'll get any dinner. I've got
+a new _chef_--drives up in a high dogcart with such a sweet little
+groom. He may be all right. Jules, the maitre d'hotel at Claridge's, got
+him for me, and, Wilhelmina, sooner than come out like a ghost, I'd
+really take lessons in the use of the rouge-pot. My new maid's a perfect
+treasure at it. No one can ever tell whether my colour's natural or not.
+I don't mind telling you people it generally isn't. But anyhow, it isn't
+daubed on like Lady Sydney's--makes her look for all the world like one
+of 'ces dames,' doesn't it? I'm sure I'd be afraid to be seen speaking
+to her if I were a man. Gilbert," she broke off, addressing Deyes, who
+was just being ushered in, "how dare you come to dinner without being
+asked? I'm sure I have not asked you. Don't say I did, now. You refused
+me eight times running, and I crossed you off my list."
+
+Deyes held out a card as he bowed over his hostess's fingers.
+
+"My dear lady," he said, "here is the proof that I am not an intruder. I
+am down to take in our hostess of Thorpe!"
+
+"You have bribed James," she declared. "I hope it cost you a great deal
+of money. I will not believe that I asked you. However, since you are
+here, go and tell Wilhelmina some of your stories. I hate pale cheeks,
+and Wilhelmina blushes easily. No use looking at the clock, Duke. Dinner
+will be at least half an hour late, I'm sure. These foreign _chefs_ have
+no idea of punctuality. What's that? Dinner served! Two minutes before
+time. Well, we're all here, aren't we? I knew it would be either too
+early or too late. Duke, you will have to take me in. By the time we get
+there the soup will probably be cold. You'd better pray that we're
+starting with caviare and oysters! Such a slow crowd, aren't they--and
+such chatterboxes! I wish they'd move on a little faster and talk a
+little less. No! Only thirty. Nice sociable number, I call it, for a
+round table. I asked Victor Macheson, the man who's so rude to us all
+every Thursday afternoon for a guinea a time--I don't know why we pay it
+to be abused,--but he wouldn't come. I met him before he developed, and
+I don't think he liked me."
+
+"You got my telegram?" Deyes asked, as he unfolded his napkin.
+
+Wilhelmina nodded.
+
+"Yes!" she answered. "It was very good of you to warn me. I have had--a
+letter already. The campaign has begun."
+
+Deyes nodded.
+
+"Chosen your weapons yet?" he asked.
+
+"I haven't much choice, have I?" she answered, a little bitterly. "I
+fight, of course."
+
+Deyes was carefully scanning the menu through his horn-rimmed eyeglass.
+
+"Becassine a la Broche," he murmured. "I must remember that."
+
+Then he turned in his chair and looked at Wilhelmina.
+
+"You are worrying," he declared abruptly.
+
+She shrugged her shoulders, alabaster white, rising from the unrelieved
+black of her velvet gown.
+
+"My maid's fault," she added. "I ought to have worn white. Of course I'm
+worrying. I don't care about carrying the signs of it about with me
+though. I think I shall have to adopt Peggy's advice, and go to the
+rouge-pot."
+
+"Perhaps," he said deliberately, "it will not be necessary."
+
+She looked up at him quickly. His words sounded encouraging.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that a way may be found to induce a certain gentleman to return
+to his native country and stay there," Deyes said smoothly. "After
+dinner we are going to have some talk. Please oblige me now by
+abandoning the discussion and eating something. Ah! that champagne will
+do you good."
+
+Her neighbour on the other side addressed her, and Wilhelmina was
+conscious of a sudden lightening of the load upon her heart. Like every
+one else, she had confidence in this tall, self-contained man whose life
+was somewhat of a mystery even to his friends, and who had about him
+that suggestion of power which reticence nearly always brings. He was
+going to help her. She pushed all those miserable thoughts away from
+her. She became herself again.
+
+"Let no one imagine," Lady Peggy said, carefully knocking the end of a
+cigarette upon the table, "that I am going to try to catch the eyes of
+all you women, and go sailing away with my nose in the air to look at
+engravings in the drawing-room. You can just get up and go when you
+like, any or all of you. There are bridge tables laid out for you in the
+library, music and a hopping girl--I don't call it dancing--in the
+drawing-room, a pool in the billiard-room, or flirtation in the
+winter-garden. Coffee and liqueurs will follow you wherever you go. Take
+your choice, good people. For myself, the Duke is telling me stories of
+Cairo. J'y suis, j'y reste. I'm only thankful no one else can hear
+them!"
+
+The party at the great round table dispersed slowly by two and threes.
+Wilhelmina and Deyes strolled into the winter-garden. Deyes lit a
+cigarette and stood with his hands behind him. Wilhelmina was leaning
+against the back of a chair. She was too excited to sit down.
+
+"Please!" she begged.
+
+Deyes threw his cigarette away. His face seemed to harden and soften at
+the same time. His mouth was suddenly firm, but his eyes glowed. All the
+boredom was gone from his manner and expression.
+
+"Wilhelmina," he said, "I have wanted to marry you ever since I saw you
+in the Cafe de Paris with that atrocious blackguard who has caused you
+so much suffering. You may remember that I have hinted as much to you
+before!"
+
+She was startled--visibly disturbed.
+
+"You know very well," she said, "that you are speaking of impossible
+things!"
+
+"Things that were impossible, Wilhelmina," he said. "Suppose I take Jean
+le Roi off your hands? Suppose I promise to send him back to his own
+country like a rat to his hole? Suppose I promise that your marriage
+shall be annulled without a line in the newspapers, without a single
+vestige of publicity?"
+
+"You cannot do it," she murmured eagerly.
+
+"You want your freedom, then?" he asked.
+
+"Yes! I want my freedom," she answered. "I have a right to it, haven't
+I?"
+
+"And I," he said slowly, "want you!"
+
+There was a short pause. Through the palms came the faint wailing of a
+violin, the crash of pianoforte chords, the clear soft notes of a
+singer. Wilhelmina felt her eyes fill with tears. She was overwrought,
+and there were new things, things that were strange to her, in the worn,
+lined face of the man who was bending towards her.
+
+"Wilhelmina," he said softly, "life, our life, does its best to strangle
+the emotions. One feels that one does best with a pulse which has
+forgotten how to quicken, and a heart which beats to the will of its
+owner. But the most hardened of us come to grief sometimes. I am afraid
+that I have come--very much to grief!"
+
+"I am sorry," she said quietly.
+
+He drew away and his face became like marble.
+
+"You mean--that it isn't any use?" he asked hoarsely.
+
+She looked at him, and he did not press for words.
+
+"Is it--the missioner?" he asked.
+
+Her head sank a little lower, but still she did not answer. Gilbert
+Deyes drew himself upright. He remembered the cigarette which had burnt
+itself out between his fingers, and he carefully re-lit it.
+
+"I am now," he said, blowing a cloud of blue smoke into the heart of a
+yellow rose, "confronted by a somewhat hackneyed, but always interesting
+problem. Do I care for you enough--or too little--or too much--to
+continue your friend, when my aid will probably ensure the loss of you
+for ever! It is not a problem to be hurried over, this!"
+
+"There is no need for haste," she answered. "I know you, Gilbert, better
+than you know yourself. I am very sure that you will help me--if you
+can."
+
+He laughed bitterly.
+
+"You are a good deal surer of me than I am of myself," he answered. "Why
+should I give you up to a boy who hasn't learnt yet the first lesson of
+life?"
+
+"What is it?" she asked. "I am not clear that I have graduated."
+
+"You can see it blazoned over the portals as you pass through the
+gates," he answered, "'Abandon all enthusiasm, ye who enter here.' The
+pathways of life are heaped with the corpses of those who will not
+understand. Do you think that this boy will fare better than the rest,
+with his preaching and lectures and East End work? It's sheer
+impertinence! Man, the individual, is only a pawn in the game of life.
+Why should he imagine that he can alter the things that are?"
+
+"Even the striving to alter them," she said, "may tend towards
+betterment."
+
+"A platitude," he declared--"and hopeless!"
+
+She raised her eyes to his.
+
+"Anyhow," she said softly, "I care for him."
+
+He bowed low.
+
+"Incomprehensible," he murmured. "Take your freedom and marry this young
+man if you must. But I warn you that you will be miserable. Apples and
+green figs don't grow on the same tree."
+
+He drew an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her.
+
+"Jean le Roi," he said, "was married to Annette Hurier, in the town of
+Chalons, two years before he posed before you as the Duke of Languerois.
+You will find Annette's address in there. It took me a year to trace
+this out--a wasted year! Bah! you women are all disappointments. We will
+go and play bridge."
+
+Lady Peggy stared at Wilhelmina when they entered the library a few
+minutes later.
+
+"What on earth have you been doing to her, Gilbert?" she demanded.
+"She's a changed woman!"
+
+"Making love to her!" Deyes answered.
+
+Lady Peggy laughed.
+
+"If I believed you," she declared, "I'd give up this rubber and go and
+lose myself amongst the palms with you. Come and cut in--you too,
+Wilhelmina."
+
+But Wilhelmina excused herself. She drove homewards with a soft smile
+upon her lips, and the dead weight lifted from her heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE ONLY WAY
+
+
+It was a round table, too, at which Macheson dined that night, but with
+a different company. For they were all men who sat there, men with
+earnest faces and thoughtful eyes. The graces of evening dress and
+society talk they knew nothing of. They were the friends of Macheson's
+college days, the men who had sworn amongst themselves that, however
+they might live, they would devote the greater part of their life to
+their fellow-creatures.
+
+They were smoking pipes, and a great bowl of tobacco was on the table.
+Few of them took wine, but Macheson and Holderness were drinking whisky.
+Holderness, their senior, was usually the one who started their informal
+talk.
+
+"My work's been easy enough all the time," he remarked, leaning forward.
+"There were no end of labour-papers, but all being run either for the
+trades' unions, or some special industrial branch. I started a labour
+magazine--Macheson found the money, of course--and I'm paying my way
+now. I don't know whether the thing does any good. At any rate it's an
+effort! I've been hearing about your colony, Franklin. I shall want an
+article on it presently."
+
+A tall, thin young man removed his pipe from his mouth.
+
+"You shall have it as soon as I can find time," he answered. "We're
+going strong, but really there's very little credit due to me. It was
+Macheson's money and Macheson's idea. We've got an entire village now
+near Llandirog, and the whole population come from the prisons. Macheson
+and I used to attend the police-courts ourselves, hear all the cases,
+and form our own conclusions as to the prisoners. If we thought there
+was any hope for them, we made a note, met them when they came out, and
+offered them a job, on probation--in our village. We have to leave it to
+the chaplains now--I can't spare time to be always in London. We've two
+woollen mills, a saw-mill, and a bakery, besides all the shops, and
+nearly a thousand acres of well-farmed land. At first the people round
+were terribly shy of us, but that's all over now. Why, we have less
+trouble with the police in our village than any for miles around. We're
+paying our way, too."
+
+"You've done thundering well, Franklin," Macheson declared. "I remember
+what a rough time you had at first. Uphill work, wasn't it?"
+
+"That's what makes it such a relief to have pulled through," Franklin
+declared, re-lighting his pipe. "I shouldn't like to say how much I had
+to draw from Macheson before we turned the corner. Glad to say we've
+paid a bit back now, though. Tell us about your idea, Holroyd. They tell
+me it's working well in some of the large cities."
+
+"It's simple enough," Holroyd answered, smiling. "It was just the
+application of common sense to the laws of charity. Nearly every one's
+charitable by instinct--only sometimes it's so difficult for a busy man
+to know exactly when and how to give. I started in one of the big
+cities, looking up prosperous middle-class families. I'd try to induce
+them, instead of just writing cheques for institutions and making things
+for bazaars, to take a personal interest in a family of about the same
+size as their own who were in a bad way. When they promised, all I had
+to do was to find the poor family and bring them together, and it was
+astonishing how much the one could do for the other without undue
+effort. There were the clothes, of course, and old housekeeping things,
+odd bits of furniture, food from the kitchen, a job for one of the boys
+in the garden, a day's work for one of the girls in the house. I tell
+you I have lists of hundreds of poor families, who feel now that they
+have some one to fall back upon, and the richer half of the combination
+take a tremendous interest in their foster-family, as some of them call
+it. Sometimes there is trouble, but the world is governed by majorities,
+and in the majority of cases the thing has turned out excellently."
+
+"There's the essence of charity in the idea--the personal note,"
+Macheson remarked. "How's the Canadian farm going, Finlayson?"
+
+"We're paying our way," Finlayson answered, "and you should see our
+boys. They come out thin and white--all skin and bones. You wouldn't
+recognize one of them in six months! They're good workers, too. We've
+nine hundred altogether in the North-West, and we want more. I'm hoping
+to take a hundred back with me."
+
+"It's a grand country," Macheson said. "I'm glad it's part of the
+Empire, Finlayson, or I should grudge you those boys. We can't spare too
+many. Hinton, your work speaks for itself."
+
+Hinton, the only one in clerical dress, smiled a little wearily.
+
+"Sometimes," he said, "I wish it would speak a little louder. East End
+work is all the same. One feels ashamed of preaching religion to a
+starving people."
+
+Macheson nodded his sympathy.
+
+"I know what you mean," he said. "It drove me from the East to the West.
+We should preach at the one and feed the other!... Of course, I
+personally have always been handicapped. I haven't been able to
+subscribe to any of the established churches. But I do believe in the
+laws of retribution, whether you call them human or Divine. One's moral
+delinquencies pay one out just as bodily excesses do. Always one's debts
+are to be paid, and it's a terrible burden the drones must carry. After
+all, I've come to the conclusion that there's heaps of sound moral
+teaching to be drummed into our fellow-creatures without the necessity
+of being orthodox!"
+
+"You speak lightly of your own work, Macheson," Franklin said, "but
+there is one thing we must none of us forget. Our schools, our farms,
+our colonies, all our attempts, indeed, owe their very being to your
+open purse----"
+
+Macheson held out his hand.
+
+"Franklin," he said, "I want to tell you something which I think none of
+you know. I want to tell you where most of my money came from, and
+you'll understand then why I've been so anxious to get rid of it--or a
+part of it--in this way. Did you ever hear of Ferguson Davis, the
+money-lender? Yes, I can see by your faces you did. Well, he was my
+mother's brother, and he died without a will when I was a child, and the
+whole lot came to me!"
+
+"A million and a quarter," some one murmured.
+
+"More," Macheson answered. "I was at Oxford when I understood exactly
+the whole business, and it seemed like nothing but a curse to me. Then I
+talked to the dear old professor, and he showed me the way. I can
+honestly say that not one penny of that money has ever been spent,
+directly or indirectly, upon myself. I believe that if the old man could
+come to life and read my bank-book he'd have a worse fit than the one
+which carried him off. I appointed myself the trustee of his fortune,
+and it's spread pretty well all over the world. I've never refused to
+stand at the back of any reasonable scheme for the betterment of our
+fellow-creatures. There have been a few failures perhaps, but many
+successes. The Davis buildings are mine--in trust, of course. They've
+done well. I've a larger scheme on hand now on the same lines. And in
+spite of it all the money grows! I can't get rid of it. The old man
+chose his investments well, and many of our purely philanthropic schemes
+are beginning to pay their way. It isn't that I care a fig about the
+money, but you must try to make these things self-supporting, or you
+injure the character of those who benefit by them. Now I've told you all
+the truth, but don't let it go out of this room. You can consider
+yourselves fellow-trustees with me, if you like. Show me an honest way
+to use money for the real benefit of the world's unfortunates, and it's
+yours as much as mine."
+
+"It's magnificent," Franklin murmured.
+
+"It's justice," Macheson answered. "The money was wrung from the poor,
+and it goes back to them. Perhaps it's a saner distribution, for it's
+the improvident and shiftless of the world who go to the money-lender."
+
+There was a knock at the door. The hall-porter of the club in which they
+were holding their informal meeting entered and addressed Macheson.
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, "but there is a young man here who
+wants to see you at once. He would not give his name, but he says that
+his business is urgent."
+
+"Where is he?" Macheson asked.
+
+"In the smaller strangers' room, sir."
+
+Macheson excused himself, and, crossing the hall, entered the barely
+furnished apartment, on the left of the entrance. A young man was
+walking up and down with fierce, restless movements. He was pale,
+untidily dressed, and in his eyes there was a curious look of terror, as
+though all the time he saw beyond the walls of the room things which
+kept him breathless with fear. Macheson, pausing for a moment on the
+threshold, failed on the instant to recognize him. Then he closed the
+door and advanced into the room.
+
+"Hurd!" he exclaimed. "What do you want? What is the matter?"
+
+"Matter enough," Hurd declared wildly. "I have been a fool and a
+blackguard. Those two got round me--the old man and his cursed step-son!
+I must have been mad!"
+
+"What have you done?" Macheson asked sharply.
+
+"She treated me badly," Hurd continued, "made a fool of me before you,
+and turned me away from Thorpe. I wanted to cry quits with her, and
+those two got hold of me. Jean le Roi is her husband. She refused to see
+him--to hear from him. Letty Foulton is there, and I have been allowed
+to visit her. I knew the back way in, and I took Jean le Roi there--an
+hour ago--and he is waiting in her room until she comes home!"
+
+"Good God!" Macheson murmured. "You unspeakable blackguard!"
+
+He glanced at the clock. It was past midnight.
+
+"What time was she expected home?" he demanded.
+
+"Soon after eleven! She was only dining out. He--he swore that he only
+wanted to talk to her, to threaten her with exposure. She deserved that!
+But he is a madman. When I left him I was afraid. He carries a knife
+always, and he kept on saying that she was his wife. I left him there
+waiting--and when I wanted him to promise that there should be no
+violence, he laughed at me. He is hidden in her room. I thought that it
+was only money he wanted--but--but----"
+
+Macheson flung him on one side. He caught up his hat and rushed out of
+the club.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+MAN TO MAN
+
+
+Hortense smiled softly to herself as she laid down the ivory-backed
+brushes. What did it mean, she wondered, when her mistress went out with
+tired eyes and pallid cheeks, and came home with the colour of a rose
+and eyes like stars, humming an old French love-song, and her feet
+moving all the time to some unheard music? It was years since she had
+seen her like this! Hortense knew the signs and was well pleased. At
+last, then, the household was to be properly established. A woman as
+beautiful as her mistress without a lover was to Hortense an
+incomprehensible thing.
+
+"You can go now, Hortense," her mistress ordered. "I will have my coffee
+half an hour earlier to-morrow morning."
+
+"Very good, madame," the girl answered. "There is nothing else to-night,
+then?"
+
+"Nothing, thank you," Wilhelmina answered. "You had better go to bed
+now. I have been keeping you up rather late the last few evenings. We
+must both turn over a new leaf."
+
+Hortense departed, smiling to herself. It was always like this--when it
+came. One thought of others and one wanted to be alone. She, too,
+hummed a few bars of that love-song as she climbed the stairs to her
+room.
+
+Wilhelmina rose from her chair and stood for a moment looking at herself
+in the long, oval looking-glass. Hortense had chosen for her a French
+dressing-jacket, with the palest of light blue ribbons drawn through the
+lace. Wilhelmina looked at herself and smiled. Was it the light, the
+colouring, or was she really still so good to look at? Her hair, falling
+over her shoulders, was long and silky, the lines seemed to have been
+smoothed out of her face--she was like herself when she had been a girl!
+She followed the slender lines of her figure, down past the lace of her
+petticoat to her feet, still encased in her evening slippers with
+diamond buckles, and she laughed softly to herself. What was she yet but
+a girl? Fate had cheated her of some of the years, but she was barely
+twenty-five. How wonderful to be young still and feel one's blood flow
+to music like this! Her thoughts ran riot. Her mouth trembled and a
+deeper colour stained her cheeks. Then she heard a voice behind her, a
+living voice in her room. And as swiftly as those other mysterious
+thoughts had stolen into her heart, came the chill of a deadly,
+indescribable fear.
+
+"Charming! Ravishing! It is almost worth the six years of waiting, dear
+wife!"
+
+She began to tremble. She could not have called out or framed any
+intelligible sentence to save her life. It was like a nightmare. The
+horror was there, without the power of movement or speech.
+
+He moved his position and came within the range of her terrified
+vision. Hurd's twenty pounds and a little more added to it had done
+wonders. He wore correct evening clothes, correctly worn. Except for his
+good looks--the good looks of a devil--he would have attracted notice
+nowhere. He leaned against the couch, and though his lips curled into a
+sneer, there was a flame in his eyes, a horrible admiration.
+
+She tried to pray.
+
+"You are overcome," he murmured softly. "Ah! Why not? Six years since
+our happiness was snatched from us, cherie! Ah! but it was cruel! You
+have thought of me, I trust! You have pitied me! Ah! how often I have
+lain awake at night in my cell, fondly imagining some such reunion--as
+this."
+
+She forced herself to speak through lips suddenly pale. What strange
+words they sounded, frozen things, scarcely audible! Yet the effort hurt
+her.
+
+"I will give you--the money," she said. "More, if you will!"
+
+"Ah!" he said reflectively, "the money! I had forgotten that. It was not
+kind of you to run away and hide, little woman! It was not kind of you
+to send me nothing when I was in prison! Oh! I suffered, I can tell you!
+There is a good deal to be made up for! Pet, if you had not reminded me,
+just now these things seem so little. Dear little wife, you are
+enchanting. Almost you turn my head."
+
+He came slowly towards her. She threw up her hands.
+
+"Wait!" she begged, "oh, wait! Listen! I am in your power. I admit it. I
+will make terms. I will sign anything. What is it that you want? You
+shall be rich, but you must go away. You must leave me now!"
+
+He looked at her steadily and it seemed to her that his eyes were on
+fire with evil things.
+
+"Little wife," he said, with a shade of mockery in his lowered tone. "I
+cannot do that. Consider how you were snatched from my arms! Consider
+the cruelty of it. As for the money--bah! I have come to claim my own.
+Don't you understand, you bewitching little fool? It is you I want! The
+money can wait! I cannot!"
+
+He came nearer still and she shrank, like a terrified dumb thing,
+against her magnificent dressing-table, with its load of priceless
+trinkets. She tried to call out, but her voice seemed gone, and he only
+laughed as he laid his hand over her mouth and drew her gently towards
+him. With a sudden unnatural strength she wrested herself from his arms.
+
+"Oh! listen to me, listen to me for one moment first," she begged
+frantically. "It's true that I married you, but it was all a plot--and I
+was a child! You shall have your share of my money! Leave me alone and I
+swear it! You shall be rich! You can go back to Paris and be an
+adventurer no longer. You shall spend your own money. You can live your
+own life!"
+
+Even then her brain moved quickly. She dared not speak of Annette, for
+fear of making him desperate. It was his cupidity to which she appealed.
+
+"I am no wife of yours," she moaned. "You shall have more money than you
+ever had before in your life. But don't make me kill myself! For I
+shall, if you touch me!"
+
+He was so close to her now that his hot breath scorched her cheek.
+
+"Is it that another has taken my place?" he asked.
+
+"Yes!--no! that is, there is some one whom I love," she cried. "Listen!
+You know what you can do with money in Paris. Anything! Everything!"
+
+He was so close to her now that the words died away upon her lips.
+
+"Little wife," he whispered, "don't you understand--that I am a man, and
+that it is you I want?"
+
+Again she tried to scream, but his hand covered her mouth. His arm was
+suddenly around her. Then he started back with an oath and looked
+towards the door of her bedroom.
+
+"Who is in that room?" he asked quickly.
+
+"My maid," she lied.
+
+He took a quick step across the room. The door was flung open and
+Macheson entered. Wilhelmina fainted, but forced herself back into
+consciousness with a sheer effort of will. Sobbing and laughing at the
+same time, she tried to drag herself towards the bell, but Jean le Roi
+stood in the way. Jean le Roi was calm but wicked.
+
+"What are you doing in my wife's bedroom?" he asked.
+
+"I am here to see you out of the house," Macheson answered, with one
+breathless glance around the room. "Will you come quietly?"
+
+"Out of my own house?" Jean le Roi said softly. "Out of my wife's room?
+Who are you?"
+
+[Illustration: THE BONE SNAPPED, AND THE KNIFE FELL FROM THE NERVELESS
+FINGERS. Page 301]
+
+"Never mind," Macheson answered. "Her friend! Let that be enough. And
+let me tell you this. If I had come too late I would have wrung your
+neck."
+
+Jean le Roi sprang at him like a cat, his legs off the ground, one arm
+around the other's neck, and something gleaming in his right hand.
+Nothing but Macheson's superb strength saved him. He risked being
+throttled, and caught Jean le Roi's right arm in such a grip that he
+swung him half round the room. The bone snapped, and the knife fell from
+the nerveless fingers. But Macheson let go a second too soon. Jean le
+Roi had all the courage and the insensibility to pain of a brute animal.
+He stretched out his foot, and with a trick of his old days, tripped
+Macheson so that he fell heavily. Jean le Roi bent over him on his
+knees, breathing heavily, and with murder in his eyes. Macheson scarcely
+breathed! He lay perfectly still. Jean le Roi staggered to his feet and
+turned towards Wilhelmina.
+
+"You see, madame," he said, seizing her by the wrist, "how I shall deal
+with your lovers if there are any more of them. No use tugging at that
+bell. I saw to that before you came! I'm used to fighting for what I
+want, and I think I've won you!"
+
+He caught her into his arms, but suddenly released her with a low animal
+cry. He knew that this was the end, for he was pinioned from behind, a
+child in the mighty grip which held him powerless. "You are a little too
+hasty, my friend," Macheson remarked. "I was afraid I might not be so
+quick as you on my feet, so I rested for a moment. But no man has ever
+escaped from this grip till I chose to let him go. Now," he added,
+turning to Wilhelmina, "the way is clear. Will you go outside and rouse
+the servants? Don't come back."
+
+"You are--quite safe?" she faltered.
+
+"Absolutely," he answered. "I could hold him with one hand."
+
+Jean le Roi lifted his head. His brain was working swiftly.
+
+"Listen!" he exclaimed. "It is finished! I am beaten! I, Jean le Roi,
+admit defeat. Why call in servants? The affair is better finished
+between ourselves."
+
+Wilhelmina paused. In that first great rush of relief, she had not
+stopped to think that with Jean le Roi a prisoner, and herself as
+prosecutrix, the whole miserable story must be published. He continued.
+
+"Give me money," he said, "only a half of what you offered me just now,
+and you shall have your freedom."
+
+Wilhelmina smiled. Something of the joy of a few hours ago came faintly
+back to her.
+
+"I have already that," she answered. "I learnt the truth to-night."
+
+Jean le Roi shrugged his shoulders. The game was up then! What an
+evening of disasters!
+
+"Let me go," he said. "I ask no more."
+
+Wilhelmina and Macheson exchanged glances. She vanished into her room
+for a moment, and reappeared in a long wrapper.
+
+"Come with me softly," she said, "and I will let you out."
+
+So they three went on tiptoe down the broad stairs. Macheson and
+Wilhelmina exchanged no words. Yet they both felt that the future was
+different for them.
+
+"You can give Mr. Macheson your address," Wilhelmina said, as they stood
+at the front door. "I will send you something to help you make a fresh
+start."
+
+But Jean le Roi laughed.
+
+"I play only for the great stakes," he murmured, with a swagger, "and
+when I lose--I lose."
+
+So he vanished into the darkness, and Macheson and Wilhelmina remained
+with clasped hands.
+
+"To-morrow," he whispered, stooping and kissing her fingers.
+
+"To-morrow," she repeated. "Thank God you came to-night!"
+
+She was too weary, too happy to ask for explanations, and he offered
+none. All the time, as he crossed the Square and turned towards his
+house, those words rang in his ears--To-morrow!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+LORD AND LADY BOUNTIFUL
+
+
+Deyes caught a vision of blue in the window, and crossed the lawn. Lady
+Peggy leaned over the low sill. Between them was only a fragrant border
+of hyacinths.
+
+"You know that our host and hostess have deserted us?" she asked.
+
+He nodded.
+
+"They have gone over to this wonderful Convalescent Home that Macheson
+is building in the hills," he remarked. "I am not sure that I consider
+it good manners to leave us to entertain one another."
+
+"I am not sure," she said, "that it is proper. Wilhelmina should have
+considered that we are her only guests."
+
+She sat down in the window-sill and leaned back against the corner. She
+had slept well, and she was not afraid of the sunshine--blue, too, was
+her most becoming colour. He looked at her admiringly.
+
+"You are really looking very well this morning," he said.
+
+"Thank you," she answered. "I was expecting that."
+
+"I wonder," he said, "how you others discover the secret of eternal
+youth. You and Macheson and Wilhelmina all look younger than you did
+last year. I seem to be getting older all by myself."
+
+She looked at him critically. There were certainly more lines about his
+face and the suspicion of crow's-feet about his tired eyes.
+
+"Age," she said, "is simply a matter of volition. You wear yourself out
+fretting for the impossible!"
+
+"One has one's desires," he murmured.
+
+"But you should learn," she said, "to let your desires be governed by
+your reason. It is a foolish thing to want what you may not have."
+
+"You think that it is like that with me?" he asked.
+
+"All the world knows," she answered, "that you are in love with
+Wilhelmina!"
+
+"One must be in love with someone," he remarked.
+
+"Naturally! But why choose a woman who is head and ears in love with
+some one else?"
+
+"It cannot last," he answered, "she has married him."
+
+Lady Peggy reached out for a cushion and placed it behind her head.
+
+"That certainly would seem hopeful in the case of an ordinary
+woman--myself, for instance," she said. "But Wilhelmina is not an
+ordinary woman. She always would do things differently from other
+people. I don't want to make you more unhappy than you are, but I
+honestly believe that Wilhelmina is going to set a new fashion. She is
+going to try and re-establish the life domestic amongst the upper
+classes."
+
+"She always was such a reformer," he sighed.
+
+Lady Peggy nodded sympathetically.
+
+"Of course, one can't tell how it may turn out," she continued, "but at
+present they seem to have turned life into a sort of Garden of Eden, and
+do you know I can't help fancying that there isn't the slightest chance
+for the serpent. Wilhelmina is so fearfully obstinate."
+
+"The thing will cloy!" he declared.
+
+"I fancy not," she answered. "You see, they don't live on sugar-plums.
+Victor Macheson is by way of being a masterful person, and Wilhelmina is
+only just beginning to realize the fascination of being ruled. Frankly,
+Gilbert, I don't think there's the slightest chance for you!"
+
+He sighed.
+
+"I am afraid you are right," he said regretfully. "I began to realize it
+last night, when we went into the library unexpectedly, and Wilhelmina
+blushed. No self-respecting woman ought to blush when she is discovered
+being kissed by her own husband."
+
+"Wilhelmina," Lady Peggy said, stretching out her hand for one of Deyes'
+cigarettes, "may live to astonish us yet, but of one thing I am
+convinced. She will never even realize the other sex except through her
+own husband. I am afraid she will grow narrow--I should hate to write as
+her epitaph that she was an affectionate wife and devoted mother--but I
+am perfectly certain that that is what it will come to."
+
+"In that case," Deyes remarked gloomily, "I may as well go away."
+
+"No! I shouldn't do that," Lady Peggy said. "I should try to alter my
+point of view."
+
+"Direct me, please," he begged.
+
+"I should try," she continued, "to put a bridle upon my desires and take
+up the reins. You could lead them in a more suitable direction."
+
+"For instance?"
+
+"There is myself," she declared.
+
+He laughed quietly.
+
+"You!" he repeated. "Why, you are the most incorrigible flirt in
+Christendom. You would no more tie yourself up with one man than enter a
+nunnery."
+
+She sighed.
+
+"I have always been misunderstood," she declared, looking at him
+pathetically out of her delightful eyes. "What you call my flirtations
+have been simply my attempts, more or less clumsy, to gain a husband. I
+have been most unlucky. No one ever proposes to me!"
+
+He laughed derisively.
+
+"Your victims have been too loquacious," he replied. "How about Gayton,
+who went to Africa because you offered to be his friend, and Horris--he
+came to my rooms to tell me all about it the day you refused him, and
+Sammy Palliser--you treated him shockingly!"
+
+"I had forgotten them," she admitted. "They were nice men, too, all of
+them, but they all made the same mistake. I remember now they did
+propose to me. That, of course, was fatal."
+
+"I scarcely see----" he began.
+
+She patted him gently on the arm.
+
+"My dear Gilbert," she said, "haven't I always said that I never intend
+to marry any one who proposes to me? When I have quite made up my mind,
+I am going to do the proposing myself!"
+
+"Whether it is Leap Year or not?" he asked.
+
+"Decidedly!" she answered. "Men can always shuffle out of a Leap Year
+declaration. My man won't be able to escape. I can promise you that."
+
+"Does he--exist then?" Deyes asked.
+
+She laughed softly.
+
+"He's existed for a good many years more than I have," she answered. "I
+wasn't thinking of marrying a baby."
+
+"Ah! Does he know?"
+
+"Well, I'm not sure," she said thoughtfully. "He ought to, but he's such
+a stupid person."
+
+It was then that Gilbert Deyes received the shock of his life. He
+discovered quite suddenly that her eyes were full of tears. For the
+first time for many years he nearly lost his head.
+
+"Perhaps," he suggested, dropping his voice and astonished to find that
+it was not quite so steady as usual, "he has been waiting!"
+
+"I am afraid not," she answered, looking down for a moment at the buckle
+in her waistband.
+
+He looked round.
+
+"If only he were here now," he said. "Could one conceive a more
+favourable opportunity? An April morning, sunshine, flowers, everything
+in the air to make him forget that he is an old fogey and doesn't
+deserve----"
+
+She lifted her eyes to his, now deliciously wet. Her brows were
+delicately uplifted.
+
+"I couldn't do it," she murmured, "unless he were in the same room."
+
+Deyes stepped over the hyacinths and vaulted through the window.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wilhelmina selected a freshly cut tree-stump, carefully brushed away the
+sawdust, and sat down. Macheson chose another and lighted a cigarette.
+Eventually they decided that they were too far away, and selected a
+tree-trunk where there was room for both. Wilhelmina unrolled a plan,
+and glancing now and then at the forest of scaffold poles to their left,
+proceeded to try to realize the incomplete building. Macheson watched
+her with a smile.
+
+"Victor," she exclaimed, "you are not to laugh at me! Remember this is
+my first attempt at doing anything--worth doing, and, of course, I'm
+keen about it. Are you sure we shall have enough bedrooms?"
+
+"Enough for a start, at any rate," he answered. "We can always add to
+it."
+
+She looked once more at that forest of poles, at the slowly rising
+walls, through whose empty windows one could see pictures of the valley
+below.
+
+"One can build----" she murmured, "one can build always. But think,
+Victor, what a lot of time I wasted before I knew you. I might have done
+so much."
+
+He smiled reassuringly.
+
+"There is plenty of time," he declared. "Better to start late and build
+on a sure foundation, you know. A good many of my houses had to come
+down as fast as they went up. Do you remember, for instance, how I
+wanted to convert all your villagers by storm?"
+
+She smiled.
+
+"Still--I'm glad you came to try," she said softly. "That horrid foreman
+is watching us, Victor. I am going to look the other way."
+
+"He has gone now," Macheson said, slipping his arm around her waist.
+"Dear, do you know I don't think that one person can build very well
+alone. It's a cold sort of building when it's finished--the life built
+by a lonely man. I like the look of our palace better, Wilhelmina."
+
+"I should like to know where my part comes in?" she asked.
+
+"Every room," he answered, "will need adorning, and the lamps--one
+person alone can never keep them alight, and we don't want them to go
+out, Wilhelmina. Do you remember the old German, who said that beautiful
+thoughts were the finest pictures to hang upon your walls? Think of next
+spring, when we shall hear the children from that miserable town running
+about in the woods, picking primroses--do you see how yellow they are
+against the green moss?"
+
+Wilhelmina rose.
+
+"I must really go and pick some," she said. "What about your pheasants,
+Victor?"
+
+He laughed.
+
+"I'll find plenty of sport, never fear," he answered, "without keeping
+the kiddies shut out. Why, the country belongs to them! It's their
+birthright, not ours."
+
+They walked through the plantation side by side. The ground was still
+soft with the winter's rains, but everywhere the sunlight came sweeping
+in, up the glade and across the many stretching arms of tender
+blossoming green. The ground was starred with primroses, and in every
+sheltered nook were violets. A soft west wind blew in their faces as
+they emerged into the country lane. Below them was the valley, hung with
+a faint blue mist; all around them the song of birds, the growing sounds
+of the stirring season. Stephen Hurd came cantering by, and stopped for
+a moment to speak about some matter connected with the estates.
+
+"My love to Letty," Wilhelmina said graciously, as he rode off. Then she
+turned to Macheson.
+
+"Stephen Hurd is a little corner in your house," she remarked.
+
+"In our house," he protested. "I should never have considered him if he
+had not worked out his own salvation. If he had reached me ten minutes
+later----"
+
+She gripped his arm.
+
+"Don't," she begged.
+
+He laughed.
+
+"Don't ever brood over grisly impossibilities," he said. "The man never
+breathed who could have kept you from me. Across the hills home, or are
+your shoes too thin?"
+
+He swung open the gate, and they passed through, only to descend the
+other side, along the broad green walk strewn with grey rocks and
+bordered with gorse bushes, aglow with yellow blossom. They skirted the
+fir plantation, received the respectful greetings of Mrs. Green at the
+gamekeeper's cottage, and, crossing the lower range of hills, approached
+the house by the back avenue. And Wilhelmina laughed softly as they
+passed along the green lane, for her thoughts travelled back to one wild
+night when, with upraised skirts and flying, trembling footsteps, she
+had sped along into a new world. She clung to her husband's arm.
+
+"I came this way, dear, when I set out that night--to kiss you."
+
+He stooped down and kissed her full on the lips.
+
+"A nice state you flung me into," he remarked.
+
+"It was rather an exciting evening," she said demurely.
+
+They walked straight into the morning-room, which was indiscreet, and
+Wilhelmina screamed.
+
+"Peggy," she cried, "Peggy, you bad girl!"
+
+The two women went off together, of course, to talk about it, and Deyes
+and Macheson, like Englishmen all the world over, muttered something
+barely comprehensible, and then looked at one another awkwardly.
+
+"Care for a game of billiards?" Macheson suggested.
+
+"Right oh!" Deyes answered, in immense relief.
+
+                         THE END
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
+
+Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise,
+every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and
+intent.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Missioner, by E. Phillips Oppenheim
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