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diff --git a/33823-8.txt b/33823-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fa4dd9e --- /dev/null +++ b/33823-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9479 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gay Adventure, by Richard Bird + +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 Gay Adventure + A Romance + +Author: Richard Bird + +Illustrator: E. Vaun Wilson + +Release Date: October 1, 2010 [EBook #33823] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GAY ADVENTURE *** + + + + +Produced by David Clarke, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + THE GAY ADVENTURE + + A ROMANCE + + By RICHARD BIRD + + _Author of_ THE FORWARD IN LOVE + + + WITH FRONTISPIECE BY + F. VAUX WILSON + + INDIANAPOLIS + THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + COPYRIGHT 1914 + THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY + + PRESS OF + BRAUNWORTH & CO. + BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS + BROOKLYN, N. Y. + + _TO BETTY_ + + _My book the Critics may abhor--_ + _The Public, too. But, all the same,_ + _This Page at least is Golden, for_ + _It bears the imprint of your name._ + + +[Illustration: It was Beatrice at last!] + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I THE IMPOVERISHED HERO AND THE SURPASSING DAMSEL + +II BEHIND THE SCENES + +III CONFIDENCES + +IV BREAKERS AHEAD! + +V THE PLOT THICKENS + +VI THE HISTORY OF HENRY BROWN + +VII MR. HEDDERWICK'S FIRST ADVENTURE + +VIII A TALE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES + +IX ENTER TONY WILD + +X HOW TO DRESS ON NOTHING A YEAR + +XI AT THE HAPPY HEART + +XII CROSSED ORBITS + +XIII RATHER STAGY + +XIV A RISE IN THE WORLD + +XV A CHANGE OF LODGING + +XVI A LETTER AND SOME REFLECTIONS + +XVII OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE + +XVIII TONY AT WORK AND PLAY + +XIX THE PLOT AGAIN THICKENS + +XX THRILL UPON THRILL + +XXI THE THORNY PATH + +XXII A TELEGRAM AND SUNDRIES + +XXIII STILL RUNNING + +XXIV CERTAINTY--AHA! + +XXV THE GOD OF THE MACHINE + +XXVI THE USUAL THING + + + + +THE GAY ADVENTURE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE IMPOVERISHED HERO AND THE SURPASSING DAMSEL + + +Mr. Lionel Mortimer was a young gentleman of few intentions and no +private means. Good-humored, by no means ill-looking, and with engaging +manners, he was the type of man of whom one would have prophesied great +things. His natural gaiety and address were more than enough to carry +him over the early stages of acquaintanceship, but subsequent meetings +were doomed to end in disillusion. His cheerful outlook on life would be +as much to your taste as ever; but the want of a definite aim and an +obvious inability to convert his talents into cash made you shake your +head doubtfully. A charming fellow, of course, but unpractical ... the +kind of man who is popular with all but match-making mothers. + +He lived in two rooms in an obscure street off the Strand, and at the +time when we make his acquaintance he has just finished a meal that +stamps the lower middle classes and the impecunious--to wit, high tea. +For the benefit of gastronomers it may be stated that it included +herrings, a loaf of bread, some butter of repellent aspect, and +strawberry jam. Lionel has lighted his pipe and seated himself at the +window to enjoy as much of a June evening as can be enjoyable in a +London back street. He has not emitted three puffs of smoke before a tap +at the door heralds the entrance of his landlady. + +Mrs. Barker, a woman of commanding presence and dressed in rusty black, +came into the room. She did not utter a word, not even the conventional +remark that it was a fine night or that the evenings would soon begin to +draw in now. With a funereal but businesslike demeanor she began to +remove the débris of the meal, at intervals giving vent to a rasping +cough or a malignant sniff. Of her presence Lionel seemed oblivious, for +he continued sitting with his back to the door, gazing with apparent +interest into the street. This, perhaps, was curious, for the street was +but a lane with little traffic and no features worthy of note. Nor was +the building opposite calculated to inspire the most sedulous observer, +being merely the blank wall of a warehouse. Not a single window relieved +the monotony, usually so painful to the artist or the adventurer. And +yet Lionel puffed at his pipe, gazing silently in front of him as if at +a masterpiece by Whistler. + +When the landlady had transferred the tea-things to a tray, shaken the +crumbs from the table-cloth into the empty grate and folded it, she +nerved herself for a direct attack. Placing her arms akimbo--an attitude +usually denoting truculent defiance or a pleasurable sense of +injustice--she pronounced her lodger's name. Lionel started, as if made +aware of her presence for the first time. He took his pipe from his +mouth and turned with a pleasant smile. + +"Good evening, Mrs. Barker," he said with careful politeness. "A fine +night, is it not?" + +She assented with an ill grace. Without giving her time to add to her +appreciation, Lionel continued in suave but enthusiastic tones: + +"Oblige me, Mrs. Barker, by observing the manner in which the sun +strikes the opposite wall. Notice the sharp outline of that chimney-pot +against the sky. Remark the bold sweep of that piece of spouting--a true +secession curve of which the molder was probably completely ignorant. +Again, the background! That dull gray monotone----" + +This rhapsody was interrupted by Mrs. Barker, whose artistic education +had consisted in a course of free-hand drawing in a board school and a +study of the colored plates issued by the Christmas magazines. It was +hardly to be expected that she should wax enthusiastic over the +warehouse wall. + +"It's no good torkin, Mr. Mortimer," she said; "I want my rent." + +"But how reasonable!" returned Lionel with increased brightness. "How +much does it come to? Certain tokens of copper--silver--gold--with some +trifling additions for food, fire, etc.----" + +"One pahnd three sempence for this week," snapped Mrs. Barker. After a +pause she added constrainedly, "If yer please." + +"Why! you are even more reasonable than I expected," cried Lionel. "If I +please! How could a man refuse anything after so polite a prelude? If I +please! My rent, if I please, is one pound, three and sevenpence; and I +must admit that the sum is paltry. If I please to exist (and up to the +present I have been delighted to fall in with the schemes of Providence) +I can do so for some twenty-four shillings a week. It includes," he +added hopefully, "the washing?" + +She nodded grimly and stretched out her hand. Lionel, with an easy +smile, waved her to the door. + +"To-morrow, Mrs. Barker, if you please. At the moment I regret to say +that my funds do not amount to the necessary sum. To-morrow I make no +doubt that----" + +Mrs. Barker interrupted with brisk invective. It appeared that Lionel +was several weeks already in arrears. She, it seemed, was a lone widow, +earning her bread by the sweat of her brow, and she would not be put +upon. The position had become intolerable: either he must pay his rent +or leave the next morning. + +"Let us consider the state of affairs," said Lionel, unruffled. "You, it +appears, need your money--or rather, my money--and I can not gainsay the +moral claim. You have attended to my simple wants in a manner beyond +praise, and I would cheerfully pay you your weight in gold (after the +pleasing custom in the East) had I the precious ore. But at the moment +my capital"--he searched his pockets--"amounts to sixpence ha'penny; +hence the deplorable _impasse_. My profession holds out no prospect of +immediate or adequate reward: briefs are lacking and editors slow to +recognize merit. I have pawned such of my wardrobe as is not necessary +to support the illusion of an independent gentleman. What do you suggest +as a solution of our difficulties? It is repugnant to both of us that I +should live on your charity. I am open to any bright idea." + +Unluckily the landlady was not an imaginative woman. She could suggest +nothing, save that Lionel should pay his rent or leave. The method of +raising money was left entirely to him, but the necessity was insisted +on in forcible terms. + +"An ultimatum?" said the lodger thoughtfully. "Well, I can not blame +you. As you have no illuminating schemes, Mrs. Barker, I must rely on +myself. But rest assured that you shall be paid. What! I am young and +strong; my clothes, thanks to judicious mending and a light hand with +the brush, will pass muster; we are in London, the richest city in the +world. I will go out and look for a fairy godmother." + +At this resolve Mrs. Barker broke into cries of protest. With a feminine +distrust of her own sex she declared that no such creature should pass +her threshold. For fifty years she had lived respectable, and it was her +firm intention to die in the same persuasion. Lionel raised a +deprecating hand. + +"You mistake me," he said in gentle reproof. "It was but a manner of +speaking inspired by the recollection of Cinderella. Being, however, +the masculine equivalent of that lady of romance (or shall we say, 'Lob +Lie-by-the-Fire'?) and out of deference to your sense of propriety, I +will strive to acquire a fairy godfather. Till to-morrow, then, Mrs. +Barker." + +He rose and politely held the door open. The landlady, carrying the tray +and table-cloth, left the room in dudgeon. + +As soon as she had gone Lionel's face lost something of its optimism, +and he began to whistle a tune in a minor key. It was a music-hall +refrain, originally scored in quick time and the major clef, a gay lilt +of the streets. Modulated by Lionel, under the depressing influence of +Mrs. Barker, it became a dirge, incredibly painful to the ear. This even +the whistler recognized after a few moments, and with a laugh at himself +and his misfortunes he seized his hat and went out. + +He was by no means clear as to his immediate intentions. Save that his +urgent need was money he had no definite idea or plan. How to compass +the few pounds necessary to discharge his debt and make sure of a roof +was at present beyond his wit, seeing that the situations for men like +him are not picked up in a moment. He had been expensively educated at a +public school and Oxford, and had a bowing acquaintance with the +classics and a tolerable knowledge of law. For three years after taking +his degree he had led a pleasant life, eating dinners, reading law and +writing. By his pen he had made some sixty pounds a year; by the +law--nothing. His father had given him an allowance while he lived, but +eighteen months previously his business had failed and the consequent +worry had driven him into the grave. His wife had died in giving Lionel +birth. After his father's death Lionel perforce had put forth more +strenuous efforts. He had even written a novel and sold it for thirty +pounds. One or two plays lay in his desk or managers' muniment-chests, +and a number of pot-boilers were soliciting the favorable consideration +of callous editors. It had been a precarious though interesting +existence, but he had kept his head above water until the last few +weeks. Now he was standing on the curb in the Strand, wondering amiably +what he should do. + +"My best chance," he thought, watching the stream of traffic that never +failed to fascinate, "would be to write a loathsome article, topical, +snappy and bright, and try to sell it for spot cash. I do not think it +would be much good studying the advertisements and applying for a post +as clerk or secretary. I hate the notion of being a clerk.... There is +envelope-addressing, I believe, but I write a villainous hand ... nor do +I care to call upon my friends and expose my unhappy condition...." +(Since his father's death Lionel had naturally given up his old way of +life and dropped out of his usual _milieu_.) ... "No; I think the +loathsome article is clearly indicated. What shall I write about? 'How +It Feels to be Out in the Streets?'... 'The Psychology of +Landladies.'... 'At a Loose End--A Curbstone Study.'... How odd that I +am desperately in need of money and hate the thought of sitting down to +earn it! How much pleasanter would it be to stand here and wait for an +adventure--for the fairy godmother who troubled the conventional Mrs. +Barker! After all, it is not impossible.... A horse might take fright +and bolt ... the driver lose his head ... a beauteous damsel sits +wringing her hands in the carriage. I seize the opportunity, spring +forward and check the maddened steed, escort the fainting lady home in a +cab, and then--ah! Boundless Possibilities." + +He smiled, lighted a cigarette and pursued his idle fancy. + +"She must be, of course, the sole heiress of a millionaire. In his +gratitude he would wish to reward me. But seeing that I am no vulgar +fee-snatcher he would ask me to stay and dine. Over the walnuts and the +port (how long is it since I drank good port?) he would learn my story, +and with unusual delicacy say, 'Well, some day I hope I shall be able to +help you to a job.' I leave his house, warm, full-fed, hopeful. The next +morning he sends his car round, and I am whirled to his palatial city +office. I enter--the great man is up to his knees in documents dictating +to a staff of typewriters and gramophones. He spares me three minutes. +'Good morning, Mr. Mortimer. I find I need a secretary--salary a +thousand a year. Oh! a bagatelle, I know, but you would have +opportunities. Politics, perhaps. Anyhow, a beginning. Care to connect?' +I accept with diffidence. 'Good. Take your coat off. Next room you'll +find ...' I am a made man. Then the daughter--I had forgotten her, dear +thing!--already touched by my heroism, might look favorably upon me; and +who knows----?" + +At this point his musings were broken by confused shoutings and +whistles. Looking up, Lionel saw with amused surprise that for once fate +was playing into his hands; his dreams were coming true. An open +brougham, drawn by a terrified horse, was approaching at an appalling +speed. The coachman, crazed with fear, was standing up, tugging vainly +at the reins, white, and shouting. In the brougham, pallid but calm, sat +a girl of about twenty-three. Her lips were slightly parted, but no +sound came from between them; courage held her erect, motionless and +silent. The traffic divided before the swaying brougham like waves +before a cutwater. When it was fifty yards distant the coachman lost all +control of himself and with a scream of fear leaped from the box. He +came down On his feet, staggered against a portly merchant--who went +over like a ninepin--and lurched heavily on to a policeman preparing to +make a dash for the horse's head. The constable fell with the man, and +the pair, hero and craven, rolled comfortably in the kennel, clasped in +each other's arms. + +Lionel, thus favored by destiny, fitted his hat more firmly to his head +and prepared to make his fortune. In his early youth he had read that +the best method of stopping a runaway is to run in the same direction. +Remembering this, he set off at full speed; and by the time the horse +was level with his shoulder he was running almost as fast. With a +judicious leap he sprang at the reins, clutched them, stumbled, +recovered and still ran. He was strong of arm and at least twelve +stones in weight. The horse, already half-repentant of his lapse, was +not inclined to support so heavy a burden at his mouth. A few yards more +and the heroic part of the episode was over. Several officious touts +were holding the horse's head, and another policeman was preparing to +make notes. + +Lionel, panting from the unusual exertion, turned to look after the +lady. She, who had behaved with such admirable composure while danger +was imminent, now that it was over, lay in a faint. As he raised her in +his arms he noticed with satisfaction that she was certainly beautiful +and her clothes expensive and tasteful. "Ha! ha!" he thought +whimsically, "a secretaryship! Governor of a Crown Colony at least! I +must take a flat to-morrow!" He bore her into a chemist's shop that +stood conveniently near, and placed her in a chair. While the chemist +was applying sal volatile in the genteelest manner, Lionel was wondering +whom he should ask to support him at St. George's. + +It was not long before the lady recovered her senses, and she opened her +eyes with a ravishing sigh. She was naturally bewildered, and +Lionel--partly because he wished to reassure her, partly because she +was very pretty--knelt and took her hand. + +"There is no need for alarm," he said persuasively, with the purring +note that some women find sympathetic. "You fainted; that is all." + +She gave the ghost of a shudder: "I fainted?" + +"Yes. The horse, ran away, but there was no accident." + +"The coachman--is he hurt?" + +This thought for another in the midst of her own recovery flushed +Lionel's being like a draught of wine. Hitherto she had been merely a +pretty aristocrat and (apparently) a delightful girl. Now she was +more--a divine human whom he longed to kiss, caress and call "You +darling!" + +"No," he said. "He fell softly. Upon a constable, I believe." + +She was nearly herself again, and gave a little laugh. "Let us hope he +was a fat one," she said. And then, after a pause: "Who stopped the +horse?" + +"Oh, I was lucky enough to do that," he replied with an assumed +jauntiness, wishing he could feel it was an every-day business. "It was +not hard." + +"Others appeared to think differently," she replied with a grave +admiration that pleased him. + +"Then, madam, they can not have seen you," he smiled. Really, the affair +was being conducted on correct lines. + +She mused for a moment, chin in hand. + +"... I think," she said presently, "you must be rather an unusual man." +Lionel tried to look as if he disagreed. "Yes, I think so.... And I +suppose I owe you my life.... I wonder what reward...." + +It must have been the devil that prompted Lionel to say, "One pound, +three and sevenpence"; but by an effort he choked back the horrible +words, and stammered that he was already repaid. + +"No," she demurred, smiling, searching him with her eyes: "that is +hardly fair. I wonder if you would like ..." She glanced round. The +chemist's back was turned: he was groping for some drug upon the +shelves. Lionel was still upon one knee, his face upturned, his eyes +drawn as by a magnet. She leaned toward him; her face came closer and +closer yet, in her eyes a world of gratitude and fun. Her hair almost +brushed his cheek, and he shivered. "I wonder if----" At that moment the +chemist turned, and she finished the sentence persuasively, "--if you +could get me a cab? I dare not trust my horse again to-day." + +Lionel rose stiffly. + +"Do you prefer," he asked, fixing the unhappy and bewildered chemist +with a glare of anger, "a hansom or a taxi?" + +"A taxi, please." + +Lionel withdrew. He ordered the coachman, dusty and degraded, to drive +home. The policeman, who had salved the discomfiture of his over-throw +by hectoring the crowd and cuffing the nearest urchins, obligingly blew +his whistle. A minute later a taxi came up. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +BEHIND THE SCENES + + +It was one of the great moments in Lionel's life when he handed her into +the prosaic vehicle. From the chemist's shop to the cab was only a few +feet, but for that paltry space the young man felt as a king must feel +when he makes a royal progress abroad. There was no cheering from the +crowd that had gathered, hoping for blood, or at least bandages; but the +whispers ("That's him! That's him! Torfs! He's all right!" etc.) +thrilled him with a sense of self-importance to which he had long been a +stranger. He found it a little difficult to refrain from raising his hat +and bowing his thanks to the kindly creatures. As for the lady, she +walked on air and seemed unconscious of an audience. + +The cab was reached all too soon. Lionel waved aside a cloud of would-be +helpers, and with a sigh of misery opened the door. The lady got in; but +just as he was on the point of shutting himself off from every hope, she +leaned forward. + +"There is room for two!" she breathed. + +It was a fine thing for him that his hand was upon the door, for the +invitation shook him as the wind the rushes. The crowd, the pavement, +even the gross material substance of the constable, reeled before him. +He heard but dimly the voice of the chauffeur asking whither he was to +drive. "To Heaven!" he muttered, and then recklessly, "Or hell, if you +like!" The chauffeur looked anxiously at him, fearing he had suffered +mentally from his exertions. Lionel caught the suspicion in his eye and +steadied himself. "I beg your pardon," he said brokenly; "I was +repeating some poetry of my childhood--_Paradise Lost_--Milton, you +know. Can't imagine what put it in my head. Drive round and round the +park." + +"Which park?" asked the man gruffly. + +"The farthest and biggest," said Lionel, and clambered in. + +They drove for several minutes without a word being spoken. Lionel was +so amazed by the aptness and desirability of the adventure that he could +not utter a word. He could only think, "What a perfectly topping girl! +How will it end? What shall I do--say--think? She is the most charming +creature I have met; she invites a kiss--might I?... Be careful, Lionel! +Your fortune is at stake! The secretaryship! Mrs. Barker and her rent! +A false step would ruin all! Besides, she is such a dear ..." These and +a hundred other fancies flickered through his brain. + +The strange lady was silent, too. It may have been that she felt she had +been a little imprudent in her invitation to the cavalier, hero though +he was. Leaning back against the cushion, she gazed pensively out of the +window at the streets and traffic, lost in thought. Her companion stared +fixedly at the stolid back of the chauffeur: that, at least, was real +and a corrective. + +It was the lady who spoke first, and with a sympathetic engaging accent, +nicely calculated to stir the most sluggish blood. + +"Well?" she said. + +Lionel awoke from his trance and turned. "Ah!" he murmured, and seized +her hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed it with a passionate +reverence. "Ah!" he said again, and "Ah!" punctuating the exclamations +with tender salutes. + +"You should not do that," reproved the lady, though her voice betrayed +neither astonishment nor indignation. "It is foolish." She laughed +musically. + +"Foolish!" echoed Lionel with a fine contempt. "Madam, it is anything +but that. If this be foolishness, then youth and joy and a careless +heart are folly, and woman is folly----" + +"I thought that men were agreed upon that," she said. + +"Cynics and pedagogues may hold the heresy," admitted Lionel, "but not +the happy, the young and the wise." + +"Your youth and happiness are patent," she retorted, "but how am I to be +sure of your wisdom?" + +He laughed. + +"If you accept my youth and gaiety, I have good hopes of convincing you +of that." + +She withdrew her hand from his ardent clasp, as if he had been too +presumptuous, or at least premature. Lionel cursed himself for a coxcomb +and hastened to make his peace. + +"You are not angry?" he asked anxiously. "I have not offended you----?" + +"No," she said, after an infinitesimal pause. "I am ... not ... angry." + +There was a query in her tone that restored his self-confidence, a +quality of which he had usually good store. With a resolute movement he +took her in his arms. Possibly she was too amazed to protest; certainly +at first she made not the least resistence to the onset. It was not +until his lips touched hers that she gave a little cry as of shame. "No, +no!" she pleaded. "You must not ... my husband ..." + +Lionel was a man of the world, but as chance would have it, he was a man +of honor, too. He dropped the lady like a hot coal at the appalling +word, and sat back rigid in his own corner of the cab. His companion, +mastered by emotion, covered her face with her hands. Presently she +peeped between her fingers and repeated his words, almost his accent. + +"You are ... not ... angry?" + +"I am never angry with a woman," he replied; but the lie was obvious. +She laid a soft hand upon his arm. + +"You have not told me your name yet," she murmured. "I must always +cherish in my memory a brave man who is not too brave to be a +gentleman." + +He moved uneasily, reflecting that _noblesse_ sometimes finds it +difficult to _oblige_. + +"I am called Lionel Mortimer." + +"I am called Beatrice Blair. Lionel ..." she went on with a reflective +sweetness, and he started as if stung. Her hand restrained while it +aroused him. "No: you must not mind that. I call you Lionel +because"--she turned aside as if struggling with her feelings--"I am a +mother. My little boy is called--was called Lionel." + +"I am sorry," he said sincerely. "Go on." + +"You must think hardly of me." He shook his head. "Yes, you must--it is +only natural. But I should like you to know the reason why I asked you +to----" + +By this time Lionel was in a very good humor with himself. Warned by his +recent heroism and virtue, flattered by the interest shown in him by +this delightful creature, he was prepared for anything. + +"I never ask a woman for a reason," he said, smiling. "I have the most +complete faith." + +"How old are you?" she asked; and when he answered "Twenty-seven," she +laughed. + +They drove in silence for a space; presently she asked what time it was. +He put his hand to his pocket and then withdrew it. She had observed the +action--"Your pocket has been picked?" + +"No," he said frankly. "As a matter of fact, I pawned my watch a week +ago." + +"Then you are poor!" she cried impulsively. "Oh! I beg your pardon,--I +did not mean----" + +Lionel was never disconcerted by his lack of means, and the chuckle was +perfectly honest as he replied, "Distinctly poor. I am glad to think I +can still create an illusion of wealth in an artificial light, but +really I am worth very little." + +"You do not mind?" she said, her eyes dancing. + +"I admit," he said, "that I should prefer to be well off. But, being +poor, I see no use in making myself unhappy. I should prefer to pay half +a guinea for a stall rather than a shilling for the gallery. Still, I +contrive pretty tolerably to enjoy the play." + +"You are a philosopher," she approved. + +"A poor man can't afford to be anything else." + +After a pause she said, "It must be getting late. Will you please tell +the man to drive to the Macready Theater?--the stage-door." + +He opened the window, smiling to himself. "An actress!" he thought; "the +young man's dream of an adventure! This is absurdly conventional." After +directing the chauffeur, he sat back, wondering what the end would be, +content to wait on fortune. The lady, too, did not speak again until +they had almost reached their destination. Then she took a purse from +her satchel and said with friendly good-humor, "This is my frolic, and I +wish to pay for it. Please!" + +Lionel was too well-bred to interpose bourgeois objections. Besides, it +was a case of necessity: his sixpence-ha'penny had been burning a hole +in his pocket for the last ten minutes. + +"Fair lady," he said lightly, "I would if I could, but I can not. Five +shillings will be more than enough." + +She gave him half a sovereign, and he wished he had been a street arab +to whom she could have said, "And keep the change." This, however, was +clearly impossible, nor did it appear to enter the lady's head. After he +had paid the man she received the balance with a careless gravity. He +raised his hat. + +"You are not going?" she asked in surprise. + +"Unless I can be of further service." + +"But that is why I have brought you here! You have not heard my reason +yet, and you must--at least in justice to myself. This is only the +beginning: you can be of the greatest service if you will. Come!" + +Lionel followed her through the stage-door. Adventure beckoned, and he +was not the man to disobey the seductive finger. True, the lady had a +husband--a scurvy thought--but he had proved himself as strong as she. +And she was deucedly pretty. + +They passed the janitor, who touched his hat to the lady, and went along +a passage. Then up a flight of stairs and down another corridor, where +sundry couples were lounging and chatting between their entrances. It +was evidently a costume play, and the sight of doublets, rapiers and +helmets was a pleasant thing after the drabness of the threshold. +Illusion again threw her veil over the crudities of life; romance +sounded the horn of hope and hallooed Lionel to the pursuit. + +The lady stopped suddenly before a door. This she opened and entered the +room beyond. Lionel followed, closed the door, and looked about him. He +was no stranger to the regions "behind," for in his younger days he had +been the friend of many actors and actresses not a few. With the +dressing-rooms of the men he was well acquainted,--those dingy +color-washed chambers, lighted by flaring gas, divided by racks for +dresses, equipped at times with but the washing-basin, stifling of +atmosphere, with little room to turn about in. In his younger days, as +has been observed, he had savored the delights of these unromantic +barracks, and had thoroughly enjoyed the experience; now he was blasé. + +Of the women's dressing-rooms he was ignorant, but in truth he was far +from curious. He supposed they were something of a replica of what he +had seen already,--four or five creatures herded in a bare loose-box, in +the intervals of painting and dressing, engaged with talk of frills or +scandal. The private dressing-rooms of those great creatures, the +leading men and ladies, were still a sealed book. He had never known +(oh, horrid thought!) a "lead," and he surveyed the present room with +interest. + +There was little to reward him, for it was a very ordinary room, quietly +furnished with two or three easy chairs, a dressing-table covered with +"making-up" apparatus, a number of photographs scattered about in +various coigns of vantage, a wall-paper of a warm terra-cotta tint, a +soft carpet to correspond. A brass curtain-rod divided the room in two, +but the curtain was not drawn. "Will you sit down?" said the hostess; "I +must leave you for a moment. Try that chair in the corner,--it is the +best. And do smoke--the cigarettes are close to you on that little +table." + +With a swift movement she pulled the curtain along its rod and +disappeared behind it. There followed a slight clicking as if she was +switching on more light; then a soft rustling and the sound of her voice +humming an air from _Carmen_. Lionel obediently lighted a cigarette and +patiently awaited events. + +In less than ten minutes she drew the curtain and stood before him +again. But now she was a different creature. Her Bond Street costume had +disappeared, the twentieth-century had gone. The piquant head was +covered only with the dark masses of hair that gleamed seductively. She +was clad in a sort of peignoir, a loose flowing robe of Oriental +texture, crimson of hue, with dull gold braiding and tassels. Her face +was rouged and powdered, but in the brilliant electric glare it seemed +neither out of keeping nor meretricious. As she stood, holding the drawn +curtain with one hand, she looked as if she had stepped straight out of +the pages of the _Arabian Nights_. + +"Do you like it?" she asked carelessly, sure of the effect. Poor Lionel, +on most occasions ready of tongue, who took a pride in never showing +surprise, could only murmur "Admirable!" With this, however, she seemed +content, and sat down in a convenient chair. + +"Luckily, it is a straight make-up," she said, taking a cigarette and +lighting it. "As a rule I use grease-paint, but to-night I was in a +hurry and made-up dry. I want to talk. I am not on for a while, and my +dress can be slipped on in five minutes. I mean to tell you as briefly +as I can my history. It is your due." + +Lionel made a noble gesture of dissent. "I am sure," he said +chivalrously, "it is all it should have been--" + +She interrupted with some acerbity. "That is not my reason. I have +nothing either to excuse or condone. But as I have already put you to +considerable trouble, and mean (if you are willing to help, me) to put +you to still more, it is but fair that you should know all." + +Lionel bowed as gracefully as he could. + +"I will make it as short as I can," she continued. "There is much that +is strange and improbable in it, but I beg you to keep silent and +forbear to question me until the end. I was born in a little village on +the southeast coast. I was a twin, the other child being a sister, the +replica of myself. My mother died when I was only two years old. When I +was seventeen I was kidnaped by a tribe of Rumanian gipsies who wished +to be revenged on my father. He had prosecuted some of them for +poaching on his land. I was smuggled to the coast, and then across to +the continent. + +"I do not mean to waste time in lingering over details immaterial to my +purpose. Were I writing a book I could fill a volume with the strange +incidents of my abduction and wanderings. But as time is short I will +come to the point at once. We journeyed by slow stages across the +continent, and of course I was jealously guarded the whole time. My +English dress was burned, my skin stained a brownish hue. Whenever +observation threatened I was immured in a small black hole, made at the +end of one of the caravans by a false partition. The police failed to +trace me, for the gipsies had been cunning enough to stay some weeks in +England after my capture to throw my relatives off the scent, keeping a +strict watch upon me. So with this inadequate résumé you must realize +that we have passed through Germany, Austria, Rumania, Bulgaria and +Rumelia. We crossed the Turkish frontier, and I still had no plan of +escape. Oh, yes! I had tried--once! The threats they used on my +detection were more than enough to prevent me trying a second time. + +"At last we reached Constantinople, where we stayed a night in a huge +caravansary. I was too well watched to be able to write a letter. The +next evening I was sold to a Turkish officer of the sultan's body-guard. +Blindfolded and gagged, I was put into a kind of sedan-chair under cover +of darkness and carried to his palace. I was escorted to a fine suite of +apartments, furnished in the eastern manner, but lit with electric +light. By this time I was so inured to tribulation that I slept +peacefully the whole night. + +"The next morning the lord of the household arrived. He salaamed +profoundly and plunged at once into the business of the day. 'Fair +lady,' he began--and I was surprised at his excellent English and +supreme courtesy--'believe me when I say that I regret your sufferings. +But as I am not the man to beat about the bush, I make bold to inform +you, with all possible respect and determination, that you are destined +to become my wife.' + +"I was not unprepared for this, but replied firmly that I would never +marry any one against my will. I added that I was a British subject, and +that as soon as my plight was known I should be rescued and vengeance +exacted. + +"He laughed pleasantly. 'This is not England,' he said, 'and you will +never be rescued. Let me put the matter plainly. I have bought you to +satisfy a whim. I have long wished for an English wife, because I +happen to admire English women more than any others. I have made efforts +to contract an alliance by orthodox methods, but have not succeeded. Set +your mind at rest, however; I intend no violence against your lovely +person. If you refuse me, you will remain a prisoner in a gilded cage, +but no harm shall come to you.' + +"'But why----' I began. He waved his hand. + +"'Because I could wish that you might learn to love me. At present I can +not expect it; for the future, who knows? I am a bachelor by choice--you +need have no western fears of polygamy. I am rich, young and powerful. +And I hope that you will find out that, though of another civilization, +I can fulfil your idea of a gentleman. For the present your jailer and +lover bids you farewell.' + +"He left me in a state of stupefaction. For some days after this I saw +nothing of him. I was treated with the utmost respect, as if I were +mistress of the household, but I was a prisoner. I was allowed to walk +in the spacious high-walled garden; but devoted slaves were close at +hand to prevent my communicating with the outer world. + +"After a week had elapsed, Lukos--for that was my master's name--began +to pay regular visits to my chamber. He exerted himself to the utmost to +interest and charm, but as yet he never mentioned love. He would talk of +a thousand things--books, philosophy, the drama, even of fashion--and +being most versatile and accomplished, I found him excellent company. I +did not feel much resentment, for I had begun to learn the world and +understand his point of view, but I was inflexibly opposed to a marriage +by force. I was resolved to die a captive, if necessary, rather than +yield. + +"This went on for two years. You start? It is true. No breath of my +imprisonment reached the embassy--much less my home. For a captive, my +life was easy, and during the long months my hopes had died, though my +determination was as English and stubborn as ever. Lukos was equally +persistent in maintaining his original attitude--gentle, persuasive, +polite, though now he often urged his suit. I admit that in other +circumstances I might have yielded, but pride kept me strong. + +"But I must hurry on--" + +As she said these words there was a knock, and a dresser entered. + +"Twenty minutes, Miss Blair," she said, without a glance at Lionel. + +"More than enough," said the strange lady, but she rose as she spoke. +"You will stay to hear the end, Mr. Mortimer? I am on for most of this +act, but if you find it interesting, please stay and smoke. You must +excuse me." + +"By all means," said Lionel, rising. "Shall I--?" + +He looked toward the door. "Oh, no!" she replied, and drew the curtain +once more. Then she and the dresser disappeared behind it. A brief +interval elapsed and she came forth dressed to play her part. She threw +him a bright smile as he sprang to the door. "You must theorize till I +come again," she said cheerfully, and he smiled back. The dresser +followed her mistress, and he was left alone. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +CONFIDENCES + + +"This," thought Lionel, as he waited for her return, "is a queer +business, a very queer business indeed. Here we have the indispensable +ingredients for an adventure--night, a pretty actress, and an +impecunious young man who has played the Noble 'Ero. What happens? The +lady sweeps the 'Ero off in a chariot, takes him to her dressing-room, +behaves with surprising propriety (quite like an ordinary mortal, in +fact), and proceeds to tell him a tale worthy of a writer of +feuilletons. What does it mean? What is the idea, the general scheme? +The tale must be lies,--pure, unvarnished buncombe, in the language of +the vulgar. It is too much to swallow a kidnaping, a tour through, let +me see ... Germany, Austria, Rumania, and, h'm ... h'm ... Bulgaria and +Rumelia; a bashi-bazouk in Constantinople, a forced marriage--I suppose +that's bound to come--and all the rest.... No, my delightful charmer, +this really is a little bit too much ... your emotional faculties and +the life of the footlights have led you astray...." + +But he shook his head, dissatisfied. The simple explanation that she was +telling lies was too simple. It explained nothing. The remembrance of +her delicious personality sent incredulity to the right-about. Her +gracious presence, dignified, commanding, womanly; her brilliant eyes, +shining with purity, sympathy and truth; her force of character that +revealed itself in every tone and gesture; her pretty hands ... these +and a hundred other witnesses battled in her favor. "Besides," he +thought, striving to weigh all evidence impartially, "what possible +object could she have in lying to me--to me of all people? She knows I +am poor and useless for purposes of blackmail. She is too ethereal a +creature for a vulgar intrigue--of that I am as sure as that I am +neither mad nor dreaming. No; the bare hard facts go to prove that she +is telling the truth. Again, why should she lie to the 'Ero who has +saved her life? Surely the 'Ero may bring that forward with +justice.--'Not guilty, my lord!'" he said aloud, acquitting the fair +defendant with a convinced enthusiasm, for he was really glad to believe +the new goddess a goddess indeed. Then for a moment doubt returned: "But +this room--this girl--the whole adventure is so fantastic, the tale so +unlikely, that I can hardly ... Lionel, enough! It may be true, and the +evidence is in her favor. Be content to wait on events. At least, it is +a variation from the normal--an agreeable break in the monotony of Mrs. +Barker and the world. Let me seize the moment, enjoy my brief hour, and +allow the future to take care of itself. At worst, I can be no loser at +the game ... no ... unless I fall in love with her.... But that must not +happen ... it _must_ not happen.... Still, I could wish she had no +husband!" + +The wish being vain, if not immoral, he laughed wryly at himself and +picked up a book that he found lying on the mantelpiece. It was a little +volume of light verse, and it whiled away the time until his hostess +reappeared. This was about half an hour after her exit. She entered, +radiant with triumph. + +"Has it seemed long?" she asked, pulling back the curtain and drawing +out a chair. + +"An eternity," he answered smoothly enough, rising and closing the door. +"And now the rest of your wonderful story, if you are not too tired." + +"Not at all," she said; "but it sounds odd to hear you call it +'wonderful.' To me, who lived it, it seemed inevitable and ordinary: +even now it hardly seems wonderful. But this is waste of time. I must +try to hurry the crisis.... Let me see, where did I stop?... Ah! I +remember now.... + +"Well, I lived two years a prisoner, and time dulled my pain. Escape was +hopeless, and I tried to be as cheerful as I could. No news reached me +of the outer world--I did not even know whether my father and sister +were alive. That was hard, but I, too, learned hardness from experience. + +"One morning Lukos came to my room as usual, but not in his usual +spirits. I rallied him on his dulness (oh! we were good friends, in +spite of the anomalous position; that is really the least surprising +feature of the story!), but he did not respond. When at last he walked +toward the window and had stood, gloomily at gaze, for several minutes, +I felt alarmed. He had never been in such a mood before. 'Lukos,' I said +gently, 'what is the matter?' + +"In a moment he was at my feet, pouring forth a torrent of words. 'Heart +of my heart!' he cried in tones that would have racked a devil; 'can you +ask! You know that I love you, for my eyes and soul have spoken. I +bought you as merchandise, with little care; I have learned to love you +as a woman should be loved, with all the strength of my being, the +force of my spirit, the frenzy of a madman that rejoices in his madness! +For you I would do anything--I would tear the sultan from his throne--I +would seize every mosque in the empire to found a new religion, the +worship of yourself! I am your master, and yet the meanest of your +slaves! You can stir me with a quiver of your eyelashes--' + +"'Yet you will not set me free,' I said, pitying, but justly +reproachful. + +"'No,' he groaned. 'I love you so much that I will not climb the heights +of renunciation. I love you enough to respect your defenselessness, but +I _can not_ let you go to be, perhaps, another's. Oh, lady of my soul, +can you not be merciful? Can you not unbend from your divinity and love +me? Star of the West, can you not illumine an eastern desert, for I love +you--I love you!'" + +"Mountebank!" said Lionel with a fine contempt. He disliked Lukos. + +"He had a poetic nature," pouted the lady. "Besides, we Occidentals, +colder in spirit, less imaginative, must make allowances for exotic +passion. I confess that his words moved me. But I took his hand and +said, 'It is impossible, my friend.'" + +"Ah!" said Lionel, taking fresh courage and a cigarette. + +"My words," she continued, "seemed to carry conviction. I felt a hot +tear fall on my hand, and there was silence. The next moment he stood up +and salaamed gravely. 'Lady of my dreams,' he said, 'you have conquered. +I will let you go ... at a price!' + +"'What is the price?' I asked fearfully. He looked like a martyr. + +"'My life,' he replied. 'I can give you up, but I can not live without +you. You are free, but I must die.'" + +"Damned actor!" burst out Lionel, in the depths of despair, for he +foresaw the end. "I beg your pardon--I beg your pardon--but----" + +"He really _meant_ it," said the lady with some petulance. "Please +control yourself while I finish. Of course I could not think of allowing +him to kill himself, so I reasoned with him. It was useless, for he was +resolved. I even offered, at last, to resign my freedom and remain with +him on the old terms: again he refused. 'No,' he said; 'it can not be, +Dispenser of Delight. I have suffered too much. You must marry me or bid +good-by to Turkey.'" + +"So you married him?" said Lionel gloomily. He had forgotten all his +earlier doubts. + +"Yes. I could not bear to think of his suicide, for I liked him very +well. Besides, I had grown less sentimental during my two years of +'life,' and believed I should find more happiness in such a union than +in many that are supposed to be made for 'love.' But I must admit that +romance found, and still finds, a corner in my heart. The primitive idea +of marriage by capture is even now immensely popular. You see, the +figure of Lukos, passionate, brave, reckless, fiery, ready to kill +himself----" + +"Oh, say he was a demigod," interrupted Lionel with bitterness, "and let +us pass on." + +"All these Byronic attributes," said the lady calmly, "combined to whip +my reluctant liking into a passable resemblance to love.... Well, I let +him go--as far as the door. As he was opening it I made my decision and +whispered '_Lukos!_' He turned, looking like a magnificent tiger, +crouching for a spring. A light gleamed from his eyes, rivaling the +flash of his jeweled sword-hilt. With a bound----" + +"Quite so--quite so!" said Lionel uncomfortably: the idea of being +audience to such a love-scene was most repugnant. "I see--I see ... of +course he would be immensely pleased--in fact, quite another man. Well, +you married him----?" + +"The next day," said the lady. "The Patriarch of Jerusalem, who happened +to be visiting the city at the time, made us one. And then I settled +down to what I imagined would be a peaceful and happy life. + +"And it was happy. Of course I now had as much freedom as I wished, and +in a short while moved in the best European society in Constantinople. +No hint of my story got abroad: it was understood that I had met Lukos +in London. I wrote to my sister, telling the whole story and enjoining +secrecy. She replied affectionately, giving me at the same time the news +of my father's death, three months earlier. She suggested a visit, but +various trifling incidents--such as influenza and a craze for Christian +Science--continually postponed it until it was too late. Lukos and I +also promised ourselves a trip to England, but that, too, never came +about.... My little Lionel----" + +The listener bounded in his chair. Then, recollecting himself, he +apologized. + +"--My little Lionel was born a year after our marriage. He lived three +weeks.... At the moment, I was stricken; but in a very short time I +felt that he was fortunate. The end came thus-- + +"A month later Lukos entered my room one afternoon with a grave face. +'My wife,' he said, 'you must be brave. We leave Constantinople +to-night.' + +"'Why?' I asked. + +"He explained hurriedly. It seemed that for months past the sultan had +been intriguing with a foreign power against Great Britain. Lukos had +got wind of the negotiations and knew the policy was fatal. He +recognized that the interests of Turkey were bound up with those of +England. He resolved to foil the sultan's plans. Two courses were open +to him--a revolution and a new dynasty, or a disclosure of the plan to +England. Averse from plunging his country into civil war, he resolved to +try the latter first. After assiduous bribing he secured a draft of a +secret treaty between the Porte and the other Power, but within +twenty-four hours suspicion fell on him. He was warned that arrest was +imminent. Flight was imperative. + +"'Disguise yourself as a _pustchik_ (water-carrier) and go on board our +yacht at once,' he said. Then, drawing a bundle of Cook's vouchers from +his pocket, 'Take these in case anything happens. And this, too--it is +the treaty. If anything happens to me, do not wait: fly to England and +take the treaty to the English Foreign Office. I can not go with you +now--there are duties to be done first--but I hope to join you. If I do +not come by eleven o'clock, weigh anchor. I shall have died for my +country. You will do this for the sake of Turkey?' + +"My eyes filled with tears, but I knew that I could serve him best by +obedience. 'Yes, Lukos,' I said, and his eyes spoke his gratitude. We +embraced and parted. + +"I reached the yacht safely and found that steam was up already. The +afternoon and evening passed like a heavy dream. At half past ten Lukos +had not come. A quarter to eleven, and I was still alone. At eleven +o'clock I wept (for I had grown to love him well), but I was true to my +promise and ordered the captain to start. We reached Brindisi in due +course, and there I determined to go overland to England, sending the +yacht back in the hope that it might still be useful to my husband if by +any chance he escaped. I did this, and in a very short time found myself +in London." + +"And took a taxi to the F. O.?" said Lionel with interest. Really, it +was a most exciting story. + +"No," said the lady. "The day I reached town a note was left at my +hotel--I had been dogged! It was written in Turkish and ran, 'The day +the British government receives your communication, that day your +husband dies.' There was neither address nor signature. It proved that I +and my schemes were known, but--it proved that my husband was still +alive. + +"This gave me hope. With the treaty as a lever I might yet free Lukos. I +have been working to that end for six months--ever since I came to +England. It is a slow business, this diplomacy, but I am beginning to +have strong hopes. And now I think it is almost the time to strike." + +"But you must be careful," said Lionel anxiously. "With such a +document----" + +She smiled faintly. + +"Twice already they have made attempts." She opened a drawer in an +escritoire near at hand. Within lay a small but serviceable revolver. +"See! I always go armed. Of course it is useless to approach the +police--that would sign Lukos' death-warrant at once. + +"But to return and finish my tale.... As soon as possible I wrote to my +sister. I did not go to her, not wishing to involve her in my perils. I +explained as much of the situation as I could, hinted at high politics, +and begged her not to see me till I gave the word. She was puzzled, but +obeyed. She wrote back a loving letter, the most important feature of +which was the news that my share of my father's estate (eight hundred a +year) could be drawn on at Coutts'. Already a handsome sum was to my +credit, for I had not required any money while Lukos and I were +together. So with this sum and Lukos' notes at my disposal I was in no +need of money. But I soon found that I needed a hobby to keep me from +thinking too much, and that brings me rapidly to the stage. + +"'A hobby' under such circumstances must sound curious: really, it is +mere common sense. The paths of diplomacy I discovered were very steep, +the movement of the wheels was very slow. When I had done everything +possible and could think of nothing else, I had a great deal of time on +my hands. Painting and music were not to my taste; acting was, for I had +always had, like most young people, a liking for the stage. Also, like +most young people, I believed I had the dramatic instinct. I got to know +a manager--with money things are easy--and he gave me a small part, a +few lines, in a new play. There was nothing in that, but what followed +was really my one piece of luck. In return for a consideration he +allowed me to understudy the lead, never dreaming my capacity would be +tested. A fortnight later my principal slipped on a fruit-skin and broke +her leg. (The incident gave rise to a correspondence on the Banana Fall +in one of the cheaper papers.) I played the part that night, and, unlike +most young people, my belief in myself was justified. I was a success. +The manager, rejoicing that he need not look for a new principal, plumed +himself on his discernment, and 'boomed' me for all he was worth. + +"Well, I was a success; but naturally I had to pay the price. In this +case the price was my sister's affection. From the first she had +objected to my going on the stage: it was a case of conscientious +prejudice, and that is one of the stubbornest things on earth. She had +written daily letters of appeal, and all my arguments were useless. I do +not wish to dwell on this ... enough to say that there grew an +estrangement ... now, we do not even write...." + +"Strange," said Lionel thoughtfully, "how even the best can be +obstinate. I hope that time may----" + +"That reminds me!" said the lady briskly, shaking off her sadness and +glancing at the clock, "I shall be on again shortly. Will you do +something for me? Thank you--I was sure you would. At a quarter to +eleven go out and get me a cab or a taxi. Now, it is important that we +should not be seen leaving the theater together--there will probably be +spies. Oh, yes! I know it sounds absurd, but in this you must be guided +by me. Get the cab and drive back by devious ways to the stage-door. +There wait for me. I shall be ready by eleven-fifteen at the latest. +That is all.... No! I forgot the reward!" + +"Reward!" he echoed, puzzled. + +"You forget you saved my life," she replied, smiling. "Close your +eyes--promise you will not open them till I give you leave. You +promise?" + +"Yes," he laughed, still not understanding. + +He closed his eyes and waited. With a mischievous smile she bent forward +and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Lionel started. In a moment doubt +was forgotten--forgotten the husband. All he knew was that a heavenly +creature had deigned to kiss him. "Your promise!" she cried warningly, +and by an effort of pride he kept his eyes closed. But he stood up, his +arms held out. There was dead silence for a moment, and then-- + +"Am I still bound?" + +"You are free," she said merrily. He opened his eyes, to find the +reality more alluring than the dream. He seized her hands. She could not +help shrinking a little, though her eyes shone defiance. + +"Why did you do that?" he breathed, aflame. + +She smiled mournfully. + +"Forgive me," she pleaded in tones that disarmed him. + +Lionel remembered his rôle as a man of honor and dropped her hand. + +"I beg your pardon," he said, but a little bitterly. She lowered her +eyes. + +"It is I who should beg yours. I must go now. Eleven-fifteen!" + +Feeling that romance was somewhat overworked, he replied, "Right ho!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +BREAKERS AHEAD! + + +At eleven-thirty Lionel found himself enjoying a tête-à-tête supper in a +Bloomsbury flat. He had obtained a cab, as commanded, and the lady and +he had driven home together. There had been no adventures, no spies, no +melodrama. In unromantic silence had they gone, for after the thrills of +the afternoon and evening neither had been in the mood to talk. On +reaching her flat, which was on the first floor, the lady had let +herself in with a latch-key, and they had gone straight into the +prettiest little sitting-room imaginable. Here a cold supper, simple but +excellent, was laid: a bottle of hock and a siphon of lemonade were the +only liquors visible. They supped together, talking briskly of various +themes, but Lukos and the treaty were not mentioned till they had +finished. When they had established themselves in armchairs and lighted +a couple of cigarettes the lady said: "And now let me tell you what I +want you to do. But first of all, will you please ring for coffee?" + +Lionel obeyed, awaiting with some curiosity the expected newcomer. Would +it be a smart maid, a mysterious man servant, or a crone with a history +in every wrinkle? His doubts were speedily resolved. The door opened +without noise, and there entered the most charming parlor maid the heart +of man could wish. She was, of course, in a maid's livery--the black and +white that is so simple, serviceable, and that can be so picturesque. +Her figure was the trimmest imaginable, her eyes were a dusky brown, her +hair was of jet. The last was arranged in a coiffure that a thoughtless +man would have judged unstudied, but a schoolgirl of fifteen would have +known its value at a glance. The features of this disturbing damsel were +not faultless--the nose, for example, did not perfectly succeed, but her +eyebrows looked as if they had been drawn by a painter, the mouth +promised a treasury of kisses, and the complexion bespoke an air less +rude than London's, for it shamed the most delicate of roses. Lionel was +obliged to remind himself that the mistress had first claim on his +affections. + +"Clear the things, please, Mizzi," said the lady, not marking the stupor +of her guest. "And then bring in coffee." + +("Mizzi!" thought Lionel. "Then she is a German or Austrian. And I +called myself a Teuto-phobe!") + +The supper was speedily cleared and the coffee brought. The lady sipped +reflectively for a few moments, and then plunged into the business. + +"What I want you to do," she said abruptly, "is to help me break into a +house." + +Lionel was almost proof against surprises. You must remember that he had +had some years of monotonous wear-and-tear at the hands of the world and +at times longed for an adventure as some men long for drink. But he +prided himself on his self-control, and had felt sure that he would meet +any adventure with an assumption of ease, however joyful he might feel +within. So far he had done pretty well: he had stopped a runaway horse, +rescued a charming actress, spent a few thrilling hours in her company, +and on the whole had kept himself in hand. But to be asked in a +matter-of-fact tone to help in committing a felony was almost too much +for his sang-froid. However, he remembered that good fortune has its +price, and that great achievements need great sacrifices. Besides, she +was so adorable, and he hated to back out of any enterprise. + +"By all means," he said with a wan cheerfulness. "When shall I start?" + +She laughed. + +"That is so nice of you--not to ask why. I will tell you a little more, +to assure you that our burglary is perfectly honorable. _We_ start +presently--in a day, two days, a week--I can not tell. The fact is that +I think a crisis is approaching. I am sure that very soon a favorable +opportunity will present itself to make use of the treaty. Some little +time ago I determined to hide this document: it was no longer safe to +keep it in my own hands." + +"Why not a bank----" he began. + +"My friend, you have no _idea_ of the importance of the affair. Probably +the bank would have been safe, but governments do not stick at trifles +when the destinies of nations are at stake. Almost certainly a colossal +bribe would have been offered, and even bank officials are human. So I +resolved to be simple, original and daring. I hid the treaty in a house +not far from here. How it was done I will tell you another time. What I +want you to do is to help me regain it. I would go alone, but now I have +begun to think it better to have an aide, in case I fail. You realize +what it may mean if we are caught? A prison--for you must not explain. +Can you do that?" + +"I am ready," he said with a laugh. When she looked at him like that he +felt that nothing mattered. Besides, it would be a thrill. + +"Good," she said with enormous appreciation. "And now I am going to bed. +I am very sleepy." + +He rose, gloomily wondering when he should see her again. "Well," he +said, with an attempt at cheerfulness, "good night." + +"You are going?" she asked in surprise. "But why? I want you to stop +here." + +Lionel's heart bounded, and then he looked at her. He was tempted to +stay, for she was unlike any other girl he had ever met. But that very +reason made him pause. He knew he wanted to kiss her and that he must +not. He thought he was not in love with her, because he ought not to be. +He knew that he would be in love with her if Lukos were dead. And +because he felt that she mattered, he was resolved not to hurt her. + +"I am sorry," he said, dropping his light tone. "I should like to, +but--no!" + +"Why not?" she asked, looking steadily at him. He looked as steadily at +her. + +"Convention," he said frankly. "If I stop here and people get to know, +you will be slandered. That is why." + +She was silent for a moment and then said softly: "You are better than I +thought.... You must certainly stop. As for 'people'--well, I know the +world and its miry ways. I know and I do not care." + +"Your friends?" he suggested, rejoicing in her. + +"I have only acquaintances, and they do not matter. Will that satisfy +you?" + +He fought against the temptation with a jest, for he felt that the +pretty creature could not really know: "You forget the disappointment of +Mrs. Barker." + +She repeated the name wonderingly and he explained. "My landlady. If I +do not return she will imagine I have run away to cheat her." + +It was a poor jest, but only a jest, and he was benumbed at its effect. +The lady frowned terribly upon him. Anger swept her lovely features like +a thunder-cloud. + +"How could you?" she cried in heavenly wrath. "How paltry! How pitiable! +I knew you for a cheerful gentleman, but to find you a trivial +scoffer----" + +"Why, what have I done?" he stammered, amazed. "It was a mere joke--a +laughing phrase--a word----" + +"Done!" she echoed. "We were both upon the heights, and with your +phrase--your joke--your word, you drag us down to the abyss of banality +again. I----" + +Her petulance annoyed him. + +"Really, madam," he said bitingly, "I am sorry to have spoiled it--to +have 'let down the scene,' as they say on the stage. But as I seem to +have offended you I shall take my leave." + +"If you do," she cried, "I shall never speak to you again. I swear it!" + +He stood irresolute. After all, she looked such a darling when she was +angry.... + +"Well," he said, temporizing, "if I stay for a while, will you promise +to be sensible?" + +"Never!" she flashed, stamping her foot, and darted from the room. + +Amusement and anger struggled for the victory in Lionel's heart. +"Confound her for her folly!" he thought, and then, "Bless her for her +inconsequence!" He sat down and lighted a cigarette, expecting her +return at any minute, determined to stick to his resolve and sleep at +home. + +When twenty minutes had passed he reflected, "She is standing on her +dignity. How foolish!" Ten minutes later he murmured, with a pained +accent, "She is human after all." By the time his fourth cigarette was +half-consumed he had fairly lost his temper. "This is not good enough," +he said; "I will let myself out and call to-morrow. If she refuses to +see me, at least I shall have kept my self-respect. No woman shall treat +me like a dog." + +Grumbling, he opened the door and went quietly out into the hall. He +listened for a moment, waiting to give her the chance to reappear and +part as friends. There was no sound: if it had not been for the light +still burning in the hall he would have sworn that the household had +gone to sleep. + +With a sigh he put on his hat and opened the inner door. He anticipated +no trouble with the outer barrier, but in this he was wrong. It was +padlocked, and flight was impossible. His sense of humor conquered +resentment, and he smiled. "I give in," he thought: "well, I have tried +to be a good boy." He hung up his hat again and returned to the +sitting-room. Then he rang the bell. As he had expected, it was answered +by the maid. + +"Monsieur wishes to retire?" she asked, with a polite sympathy for a +handsome man. + +"I should prefer to be let to go home," he said pleasantly, "but I +suppose I'm to be kept a prisoner." + +The maid looked puzzled. + +"Madame has locked the door and gone to sleep this half-hour. I dare not +wake her for the keys. Besides, she expects you to remain." + +"Then will you show me my room, please?" he said, accepting defeat. +Whether Mizzi was as innocent as she seemed he could not decide, but now +he was determined to let things take their course. She held the door +open for him, and as he passed he caught an amused twinkle in her eyes. +He yearned to give her a good shaking and say "Explain!" and presently +kiss her heartily, for she was exceedingly attractive. This impulse he +controlled, and the next moment found himself in his bedroom. + +"Breakfast is at half past nine," said Mizzi, as she drew a curtain. "At +what time does monsieur wish to be called?" + +"Oh ... about nine o'clock ... thank you ... good night." + +"Good night, monsieur," said the maid demurely as she tripped to the +door, and then a lamentable accident occurred. It was due to the +eccentricities of modern fashion. For several years Lionel had carried +his handkerchief secreted in his cuff. As Mizzi stepped daintily past, +the handkerchief, which had been working loose, fell to the ground. He +and she stooped together for its recovery, and their heads approached +nearer than was discreet. Her fingers reached the handkerchief first, +and she restored it as they were rising. This was pardonable, but she +ought not to have looked him in the face. Her eyes telegraphed "I like +you," and his, something more. Without judicious reflection Lionel +clasped her. "You are a perfect darling!" he whispered, "and I simply +must kiss you--it is what you were made for." + +"Oh, monsieur!" gasped Mizzi, "it is a scandal!" + +"Yes," agreed Lionel, "I suppose it is. But it would be a graver scandal +not to kiss such a bouquet of charms. There, my attractive +morsel--another ... a butterfly salutation on your charming eyes, +and ... good night." + +Mizzi, with a stifled laugh, kissed him lightly in return, freed herself +and escaped. Lionel, his sleepiness a thing of the past, sat down on the +bed. + +"Dash it!" he thought, wagging his head, "I oughtn't to have done +that ... but it was exceedingly pleasant ... exceedingly pleasant ... yet +I ought not to have yielded to temptation, for I was under the vague +impression that I was in love with the maid's mistress. If so, I was +disloyal, a creature of no account. Let us see whether there is not +something to be said for the defense.... + +"Suppose I do love her--the mistress, I mean--I must not kiss her, +because she is married. Doubtless it would be a fine thing to be loyal +to the husband, the lady and the ideal--in short, neither kiss her nor +any one else. In a word, become a sort of grass-bachelor.... A hard +matter, for I am not cast in the ascetic mold, and Mizzi's lips are +devilish tempting.... Suppose, now, the husband died (and I regret that +I can not regard this contingency with disgust) and there were at least +a sporting chance of my stepping into his shoes--oh! of course not at +once, but later--later--why, then I could face permanent loyalty and +temporary asceticism with a light heart.... But to go through the world +refusing all sweets because my favorite sweet has been appropriated, +surely that were foolish. + +"Again, am I in love with her? Can one fall in love so suddenly, outside +the realm of fiction? Is there not a great truth in the popular ballad +that treats of 'a tiny seed of love'? Surely love is a seed, planted by +chance or design--for example, by a match-making mama? The seed needs +opportunity for gradual growth--the sun of frequent intercourse--the +rain of timely separation--the fertilizer of presents of flowers and +bonbons--before it can grow to a splendid harvest.... This harvest of +mine can not be love; it must be passion. If so, it must be crushed.... +She is too perfect to sully even in thought." + +His brow grew gloomy, and he paced the room with feverish steps. + +"No!" he said presently, "I feel pretty sure it is not passion pure and +simple--or impure and complex if you like. Critics may sneer, but I can +not help thinking it may soon be love, if it is not that already. +Wherefore, I had better fly to do her errands as soon as possible.... +But I can not accept the ascetic ideal ... yet. Hypothetical Mizzis may +cross my path, and if they do I feel sure I shall kiss them, but the +moment I see a possible chance of winning _her_, why, then I shall be +very good. + +"... 'Myes ... not very lofty ... but I want to be honest, and feel +pretty sure that is what I shall do.... No doubt I shall not be happy, +but...?" + +With a dissatisfied growl he began to undress, and soon he was in bed. +To quiet his uneasy conscience before he fell asleep he muttered, "And +of course I shall do anything she tells me." + +The unheroic but truthful pleasure-seeker then gave an unromantic snore. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE PLOT THICKENS + + +A knock on his door roused Lionel at half past eight, and he sprang up +clear-eyed and joyous to meet the sun. The events of the previous day +sped pleasantly through his brain; and now that the morning was upon him +and the London sparrows twittering optimism, he could not dwell +seriously on the indignation of his hostess. "Oh, it is bound to be all +right!" he said to himself, stropping a razor that he found on the +dressing-table and whistling a merry tune. The cold tub strung him to a +higher mood, and as he plied the towel he broke into song. "_Horchen Sie +doch!_" said Mizzi approvingly to the cat, as she prepared breakfast and +heard the melodious strain: "_Er ist ein braver Kerl, der sich nicht +erzürnt. Er ist ein lustiger Geist, wirklich. Die anderen habe ich zum +Besten._" No doubt she was right. + +Lionel breakfasted alone. Mizzi said that her mistress begged to be +excused for an hour; after that she would be ready. The maid lingered a +moment more than was necessary after bringing in the coffee, and seemed +markedly assiduous for his comfort. But Lionel did not detain her in +conversation; he had no intention of elaborating the _affaire_ of the +previous night. What amusement fell to his share he was ready to accept +with a youthful zest, but he was old enough not to pursue happiness too +zealously nor to magnify trifles. A kiss was well enough, provided it +embarrassed neither the recipient nor himself. He was never a man to +raise false hopes or win success by lies or a pretended love. His +philosophy embraced the theory that girls, or some of them at least, +liked being petted, and he was not averse from the kindly office. Only, +there must be a clear, if unspoken, understanding that he was not to be +taken _au sérieux_. This philosophy, of course, did not apply to +Beatrice Blair: she was altogether outside routine. He was a butterfly, +if you like, but at any rate honest. + +So when Mizzi hoped that monsieur had slept well, he said gravely, +"Perfectly, _ma p'tite_," and asked for the morning's newspaper. She +brought it, with a pout of resentment, and as she handed it to him +discovered a fly on his collar. This she was allowed to remove with the +most absolute decorum; but when the operation was finished and she +smiled persuasively, he stroked her hair paternally and said, "You must +not be foolish, my child." Mizzi retired with a heightened color, and he +sat down with satisfaction to the cricket reports and deviled kidneys. +To tell the truth, in spite of his arguments he felt slightly ashamed of +the momentary swerve from loyalty. + +His hostess appeared in due course, looking exceedingly pretty and +self-possessed. She was dressed smartly in blue, a color that contrasted +favorably with her hair and eyes. Lionel thrilled with gladness at the +sight of her, for in brief moments of doubt he had thought that perhaps +his imagination had played tricks: the night and artificial lights might +possibly have lent her a fascination that would pass with the dawn. +Could there indeed be so delightful a creature in London? These doubts, +it must be insisted, had been exceedingly brief; still, they had had +existence, and the joy of seeing them dissolve like frost in sunlight +made life more desirable than ever. + +There was no embarrassment at the meeting. Both were highly civilized, +educated, up-to-date; with a kindred instinct of what to admit or +ignore, a knowledge of the times when silence or speech was best. The +lady made no reference to the _impasse_ of the night before, and Lionel +was too full of the present to dwell churlishly on the past. Instead, +they talked cheerfully of trivialities for a time, and then Miss Blair +announced her intention of going out to do some shopping. "I will not +ask you to come with me," she observed smiling, "for I can guess how +bored you would be. But I shall be with you again for lunch. For the +present, au revoir." + +Lionel, who would cheerfully have carried a score of parcels or +hat-boxes for the pleasure of her company, had no choice but to +acquiesce. There was no pressing reason for returning to his +lodgings--indeed, there was every reason for staying away until he could +earn some money. True, there was no immediate prospect of acquiring any; +but at least he was in the middle of an interesting experience, and he +had promised to help in a burglary. So with a fine disregard of +circumstances he chose the most comfortable armchair and the lightest +novel he could find, and put the cigarette-box within easy reach. Thus +he passed an unprofitable but pleasant morning. + +Miss Blair returned soon after one o'clock, and they had lunch together. +In the afternoon they went for a drive in a hired motor to Thames +Ditton. They stopped there for tea and got back to Bloomsbury about +seven. Lionel was put down at the flat and Miss Blair went on to the +theater, from which she returned late at night. Supper followed, and +then they smoked and chatted for half an hour before going to bed. +Lionel had expected to hear more of the conspiracy and projected felony, +but nothing was said. Wherefore he kept silence, awaited events, and +went to sleep, wondering whether a farce or tragedy was being played. + +This uneventful life went on for several days, during which he had +plenty of time to study his hostess. He learned nothing more than he +knew already. A brilliant and charming personality, grave or humorous as +occasion demanded, apparently sincere in her conviction of a great +conspiracy, devoted to her absent husband, resolute to strike when +opportunity offered--such was Beatrice Blair. When he was in her company +he could not doubt her; alone, he could not help wondering what this +Arabian Night might mean. The utter fantasy of it all bewildered him, +but even if false he could not conceive her motive. In the end he +usually came back to the conclusion that the apparently absurd was true, +and always that at all costs he would see it through to the end. + +Her attitude to him was that of a gay comrade. There were no more +"gratitude" kisses--no hint of danger. She had referred only once again +to his act of stopping the runaway horse and her wish to do something to +show her thankfulness. This he had laughed at; now that the opportunity +had come he was loath to use it; but in a subsequent conversation she +had learned that he had written several plays, all unacted, perhaps even +unread. One lay at that moment in the office of Ashford Billing, a +prominent manager; she knew him, and promised to spur him to read +Lionel's play himself. Lionel thanked her, but did not build any castles +on so flimsy a foundation. He had been knocking at managers' doors too +many years to have any illusions. + +So day followed day without anything to break the pleasant monotony. +Lionel and Beatrice were rapidly cementing a friendship that was more +than a friendship to him. Only the remembrance of Lukos kept him from +showing something more of his real feelings--the remembrance of Lukos +and the aloof friendliness of Beatrice herself. There was but one fly in +the amber of that perfect week, and that was the attitude of Mizzi. + +Since the morning after his arrival Mizzi had waited on him with an air +of courteous disapproval. She had been as polite as ever, as demure and +piquant as could be wished, but she had been less communicative, less +_sympathique_ with the stranger. Even in the presence of her mistress +there was a suggestion of frigidity that was galling to a sensitive man. +Lionel grudgingly admitted that perhaps he had been a little to blame, +but, illogically enough, he resented the atmosphere of respectful +condemnation. More than once he had tried to dissipate the unhappy +misunderstanding, to restore things to a more friendly--but not too +friendly--footing. In this he had not been successful. To his cheerful +and carefully composed commonplaces Mizzi made the briefest of answers, +and on one occasion there had been a distinct toss of the head and an +unmistakable sniff. "Women are so unreasonable," he said to himself +complainingly, after a sustained effort that fell flat; then with a pang +of compunction, "Some women, I mean. I do wish Mizzi would be +sensible.... It is very trying." + +Matters came to a head after he had been Miss Blair's guest for nearly a +week. It was a Saturday, and his hostess went to the theater directly +after lunch to get ready for the matinée. Lionel, provided with one of +her cards, was to follow her and see the play, for as yet he had not +watched her on the stage. The experience proved delightful, for the play +was good and her acting excellent. After it was over he went back to the +flat alone, for she meant to rest in her dressing-room until the evening +performance. + +Mizzi opened the door to Lionel, and when he asked her to bring tea she +said, "Immediately, m'sieur," in the most correct of tones. Disapproval +still hung heavily about her, mixed, as it seemed, with something of +compassion. Her attitude was almost that of a perfect mother to a +well-meaning but erring child. "Hang it!" thought Lionel, as he waited +in the sitting-room, "she has no business to behave like this. I have a +good mind ... a jolly good mind to..." He fell into a reverie and +gloomily whistled the opening bars of Chopin's _Marche Funèbre_. + +Presently the maid brought in tea. She set the tray on a little table, +placed a cake-stand within easy reach, paused to make sure she had +forgotten nothing, and then asked, "Is there anything more, m'sieur?" + +Lionel, who had come to a resolution while waiting, roused himself. + +"Yes," he said decisively, "there is. Will you be kind enough Mizzi, to +tell me why you surround me with the wet-blanket of your wrath? It is +very depressing to a sunny nature." + +Mizzi looked at him with a frank pity in her eyes. "It is because I am +sorry," she replied. + +"That is no explanation," said Lionel briskly, glad to perceive a thaw, +however slight. "Why are you sorry?" + +"Because you are a fool," observed Mizzi with a gentle pensiveness. + +Lionel started; he had not expected this. To be called a fool by a +friend of one's own age and sex is an every-day matter that causes no +uneasiness. To be called a fool by a withered graybeard need not leave a +sting, for there is the comfortable reflection that the graybeard may be +repeating a mere formula, and that he, too, enjoyed being a fool in his +day. To be called a fool by a youthful enemy is only to be expected, and +the epithet betrays a palpable lack of judgment in the user, an epithet +that returns like a boomerang upon himself. But to be called a fool by +a pretty woman is a distinct ordeal. Lionel was shaken. + +He contrived to compass a laugh. It was not an infectious cachinnation, +but still it was a laugh. "Will you tell me why I am a fool?" he asked +in a moment. + +"Certainly," said Mizzi, still in the same gentle tone. "It is because +you are the slave of my mistress." + +"Excuse me," said Lionel politely, "but I have no wish to discuss her. +You may go." + +At this the maid lost some of her admirable self-control. "Bah!" she +cried, "you are the same as the rest! Show a man a pretty face and a +pair of dazzling eyes, and he is blinded! You think her perfect----" + +"I know she is," he interrupted, "though why I should trouble to say so +to a servant----" + +The thrust was cruel, but he felt she had deserved it. + +"A servant!" she repeated, sparkling with anger. "A servant! Yes, it is +true--but an honest true woman that knows not how to tell lies like her +mistress----" + +"That is enough," said Lionel, taking her with a gentle firmness by the +arm. "My tea, I fear, must be getting cold." + +As soon as he touched her the virago subsided. She made not the least +resistance as he led her to the door. But as he was opening it she +looked up with appealing eyes. "Ah, monsieur!" she whispered piteously; +but he was in no mood to be melted. He shut the door upon her, and did +not see the rainbow of smiles that played over her face the moment she +was in safety. + +"She is jealous," mused Lionel, pouring out a cup of tea; "I did not +think she would have been so silly." + +He wagged his head sadly over the frailty of human nature, and then an +unpleasant thought struck him--the accusation of her mistress. "Lies" +had been the charge--an ugly word--and on the face of things somewhat +plausible. Again he reviewed the arguments for the defense--the lack of +all apparent motive for deceit, his uselessness from a blackmailer's +standpoint, and the rest,--and the strength of them gave him fresh +courage. The strongest argument of all, the remembrance of Beatrice +herself, almost clenched the matter. _Almost_, for he was cautious, and +had some knowledge of the world. Still, he was young and hopeful, and +the obvious jealousy of Mizzi was an additional reason for discounting +her assertions. "Lies or not," he concluded, "it is too amusing to let +slip. Besides, she is such a dear...." + +The object of his devoted suspicion returned soon after eleven that +night, a little tired, but full of kindliness and mirth. "Oh!" she +cried, as she entered the room, "I hope you haven't waited supper for +me. If so, you must be ravenous----" + +"Of course I waited," said Lionel. "Shall I ring?" + +"But why hasn't Mizzi set supper?" asked Beatrice, pausing in the act of +taking off her hat. + +"I don't know," said Lionel carelessly. "It is true we had a slight +difference, but surely----" + +She caught up his words. "A difference! with my maid!" + +Lionel cursed his stupidity in silence. The unlucky words had slipped +from his mouth unheeding. He stood dumb. + +"What was the difference about?" asked Beatrice frigidly. "Did you try +to kiss her?" + +At this stroke of feminine intuition Lionel felt himself to be in deep +waters. He was no lover of lies, and to this peerless creature a lie +would be doubly treacherous. On the other hand, something was due to +Mizzi: not only had he tried to kiss her--the feat had been +successfully accomplished. + +"Do you think," he asked reproachfully, "that the moment your back was +turned I could transfer my worship to another?" + +"I think it quite possible," said the lady with a twinkle he did not +see. + +"Then, madam," returned Lionel in his best wounded manner, "let me tell +you what happened. I rang for tea. Your maid served it with a certain +coldness of manner. I asked the reason, and she accused me of folly in +being devoted to you. She even hinted that your words were not wholly to +be relied on. I at once led her from the room." + +"Without a kiss?" + +"I held her at arm's length," said Lionel proudly. + +Beatrice said "H'm" in a meditative manner, and then, more briskly, +"Please ring the bell." + +Lionel obeyed, and waited in some distress. Suppose Mizzi were to excuse +herself by relating the incident in which he had been a partner! Would +he be cast into darkness on the instant? What a Nemesis for how trivial +a misdemeanor! He heard the bell ring again, as the impatient Beatrice +pressed the electric button, and sweat broke out upon his forehead. A +crisis was imminent. Still a third time the relentless tinkle sounded, +and he was without plan, excuse, or counterplot. He woke from his +anguish to hear the lady speak. + +"She must have gone out, I suppose ... but we must make +sure ... perhaps ... will you come?" + +He followed her, grateful for the respite, and at a loss for the +meaning. They went into the hall, and thence to the kitchen. No one was +there. In silence they knocked on the bedroom door, but received no +answer. Beatrice opened the door and peered within. She switched on the +electric light and they advanced. In the center of the floor stood a +portmanteau, strapped and labeled. Lionel lifted the label and read the +inscription aloud. It was to a warehouse in Camden Town. + +"She has gone!" said the lady in a whisper of tragedy. "_She has gone!_" + +"And a good riddance, too!" returned Lionel with a vast cheerfulness. +"But she might at least have laid supper first." + +"You do not understand," said Beatrice tensely. "This is no ordinary +desertion. It means, I fear, that she has joined my enemies." + +Lionel's good breeding was not proof against the suddenness of this. He +sat down abruptly on a convenient chair and laughed. + +"No, no!" he cried. "That will not do, madam. That is--forgive me--too +crude, unworthy of your talents. Reflect! Your servant runs off in a +petulant fit, and lo! you exclaim that she has been suborned by the +Ottoman Empire! That is sheer melodrama." + +Beatrice gave a smile that was grave and reproachful. + +"You forget," she said gently, "that I am an actress." + +The sweetness of the reproof, the ironical self-criticism, convinced him +of her sincerity more than any rhetoric could have done. "I beg your +pardon," he said humbly, taking her hand; "tell me more." + +"She has deserted me," said Beatrice quietly. "With her I made my one +great mistake--natural, but irreparable. I thought her true, and one +day, when I was in need of a woman's sympathy and help, I told her +all ... all, even to the hiding-place of the treaty. It is too late +for regrets or fears. Now we must act." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE HISTORY OF HENRY BROWN + + +Mr. Henry Brown was a man of forty, an age that is supposed to be the +prime of life, though most of us would prefer to be ten years younger. +At forty one has shed most illusions, but at least there is the +consolation of having arrived at a workable philosophy. For some of us +this philosophy may mean simple acquiescence; for others an attitude of +pleased contemplation, like a yokel smoking his pipe, leaning on the +gate of a summer evening. Those of us who are married and without the +philosophy of our own are fortunate in having one--if not +several--provided by a wife. And her philosophy, grounded on practical +common sense rather than a study of the metaphysicians, is of much more +value to the world than abstract thought. She is, in short, better +adapted for keeping us up to the mark. + +Henry Brown was unlucky enough to be a bachelor. This was through no +fault of his own, for as a young man he had dreamed his dreams of a snug +little home, a cheerful wife, and chubby children, who were always to +remain at an age not exceeding nine. His dreams, with their usual +perversity, had not been realized, though on more than one occasion he +had made efforts to find his ideal. There had been, for instance, the +daughter of a chimney-sweep, a virtuous and charming creature. There had +been a policeman's niece, whose boast it was that she could "slip the +bracelets"--her own expression--on a refractory subject as quickly as a +professional thief-taker. There had been the relict of a fish-and-chips +salesman, and quite a number of others, equally alluring and +disappointing. In his early youth he had dallied with them all, but he +had never got beyond the dallying stage. + +The reason had been always the same. It was not that he had failed to +find the ideal: not at all! The quarry of the moment had always seemed +the most peerless of her sex--with a mental reservation giving the +policeman's niece the pride of place. It was simply because he could not +afford to marry. Girls would "walk out" with him with pleasure. They +would give him every encouragement until ... until the fatal truth +became known. It was not that his immediate supply of cash was pitiable: +it was because he had no "prospects." He had no trade, being merely the +driver of a cab. Now it is possible for a cab-driver to marry and bring +up a family, but it was a perverse fate that all the girls to whom he +paid attention looked somewhat higher in life. And Henry Brown was +unable to satisfy their aspirations. He was deep in the groove of +cab-driving by the time he was twenty-three, and could conceive no other +calling at which he might succeed. + +Of course he might have tried to win a wife with less social ambition, +but he made only one effort in this direction. At twenty-five he +fluttered after a lady who seemed a promising helpmeet. She was a +milliner's assistant, and swore to wait till Henry Brown had saved +enough to start a home. She waited six weeks, and then, in a fit of +romance or madness, married a scavenger. + +This, in a commercial sense, had been the making of Henry Brown. Soured +by his experiences, he had resolved to hold aloof from Woman and devote +himself to Thrift. Some men might have taken to drink; but a strain of +Scottish or Jewish blood, coupled with a human desire to show the world +he could do something, compelled Mr. Brown to save. For something like +thirteen years he lived carefully and put money by. Then came a chance +legacy of five hundred pounds. With this and his savings he determined +to hazard all, cease to be a wage-slave, and start in business as a +cab-proprietor on his own account. + +He had the luck to start just as taxicabs came in, so he had no old +stock left on his hands. He bought two taxis at first and learned the +business thoroughly, driving one himself for three months to save money +and get experience. Gradually he extended his operations, and by the end +of four years he had twenty taxicabs under his command. He still lived +carefully, though in comfort, and when he arrived at his fortieth year +he rubbed his hands. "Well," he said to himself one day, "I've done it. +I might begin to think about choosing a wife now." It was significant +that he said "choose": in his youth he would have said "seek" or +possibly "sue for." + +Mr. Brown went about the business with a methodical earnestness, buying +in the first instance a new lounge suit and an appropriate tie. He also +discarded pipes as being vulgar, and took to threepenny cigars instead. +Thus habited, if the expression may be allowed, he would take his walks +abroad after office hours or on a Sunday afternoon, wondering where and +how he should meet his future wife. + +Business, which naturally had tended to harden him, had left, +nevertheless, a good deal of shyness untouched. His uneventful bachelor +life, too, had done nothing to eradicate this; and it is a painful fact +that he had spoken almost to no woman, save his housekeeper or +customers, for a dozen years. This may read oddly, but it is not so odd +as it looks. A man with little money, his way to make, and a sense of +disappointment, is not anxious at first to extend his circle of friends. +When he has made some progress, then it will be time enough, or so he +thinks. But it is not always time enough, as Henry Brown found to his +cost. His few friends were bachelors like himself, and when he began +seriously to think of marrying he was puzzled how to set about it. He +despised the idea of using a matrimonial agency, and he felt himself too +old and respectable to pick up chance acquaintances in the street. But +Cupid, who disdains no servitor, however aged, gave him his chance at +last, and a better chance than he had any right to expect. + +An attractive young woman, apparently foreign but speaking good English, +called one day to order a taxi. Mr. Brown, who booked the order himself, +was distinctly struck by her appearance. He was not so absurd as to fall +in love at first sight--an unusual proceeding, _pace_ the +penny-a-liners,--for the cautious routine of years is a fetter not +lightly to be broken. But being, so to speak, on the alert for a +possible mate, he now took more than a business interest in his +customers. He noticed, therefore, that this young woman was certainly +pretty, neat and decided, and he put her down as a lady's maid in a +"superior" house. He made no advances on this, their first meeting, but +he could not help wishing that she would come again soon. "She has a Way +with her," mused the cab-proprietor after she had gone, "and I must say +I like her; and her dress was nice, though plain. Well, a plain dress +doesn't run a husband into debt." He was painfully ignorant. + +She came again a fortnight later on a similar errand, and this time Mr. +Brown dared to unbend from his official attitude and remark that it was +fine weather. The young woman agreed with a charming smile, and Mr. +Brown caught himself thinking quite seriously about her more than once +during the day. He wondered if he might ask her the next time she came +to go for a walk one day. Would it be proper--the Thing? Would she be +pleased to look on him as a mature Don Juan, laying snares for her +pretty feet? Would it be "rushing it" too much, and would she build +extravagant hopes thereon? For Henry Brown was careful and, remembering +his early love, did not intend to commit himself until he knew a little +more about her. He was most certainly not in love, but he was thinking +about it. And when a man of his age and in his position thinks about it, +any nice presentable girl who comes his way may safely speculate on a +formal proposal, provided sufficient opportunities offer themselves +or ... are offered. This may not be romance according to the rules of +fiction, but it is life. + +However, for three weeks there were no opportunities, and the pretty +damsel did not bring her sunshine into the cab-office. This did not +plunge Mr. Brown into the depths of despair or anything so foolish. He +went about his business as usual, a little distrait it may be, hoping +occasionally that he would meet her again, and in idle moments revolving +schemes to achieve this end. The difficulty was that he did not know +where she lived, for on both occasions the taxi had been ordered to be +at a hotel, and had driven once to another hotel and once to a theater. +(He had casually questioned his drivers on the subject.) Hence he had +nothing to go on, and had to wait on the chances of fortune. + +But a third meeting came at last, for he had the luck to meet her in a +tea-shop. She happened to sit down at the same table, and with a +desperate diffidence Mr. Brown recalled himself to her. The young woman +was very obliging and perfectly at her ease. Oh, but yes! She remembered +him perfectly--his cabs were so much nicer than other people's--and +after a becoming hesitation she allowed him to pay for an ice. + +From that time he was in the toils. In the course of their conversation +he ventured to ask where she lived. She did not take any notice of the +question, and he was too shy to press her. But on parting, a casual +whisper thrilled his receptive ear: "I always promenade on a Sunday. If +you really wish, I shall meet you at the steps of the National Gallery +at half past two. You are discreet, _nicht wahr_?" Mr. Brown, who +translated the concluding phrase as a term of endearment or at least +friendliness, began to feel that life was well worth living. He met her +on Sunday, and they had a decorous but wholly satisfying promenade in +the park. Tea followed, and he escorted her part of the way home. From +that date the Sunday walk became an institution, and even an occasional +visit to the theater of an evening was allowed. + +It would be tedious to follow the affair in detail. Suffice it to say +that at the end of three months Henry Brown found himself sincerely in +love. He had not made a formal offer as yet, fearing that the lady's +heart was not sufficiently _intrigué_. He was immensely satisfied with +the change in his life and new comradeship, which he hoped would develop +into something warmer. But, afraid of being too precipitate, he +contented himself with making her presents of flowers, chocolates, or an +occasional piece of jewelry of the Mizpah type. He trusted that his +personality, generous handling of the case, and time ("Giving her rope +enough to hang herself" was his well-meant but unfortunate metaphor) +would dispose her to favor his suit. The lady appeared perfectly content +with the situation; she accepted his gifts with careless thanks and a +charming smile, enjoyed the promenades, but was sedulous to keep him +away from a definite statement or even a plain-spoken hint of his +feelings. Was she a designing creature who wished to get as much as she +could from him before saying "No"? Or did a nobler emotion possess her? +Was she judiciously probing his character and sounding the depths of her +own feelings? + +However this may have been, there is no doubt that both were content +with the present. And on a night in June, some three weeks before the +events of the last chapter, Henry Brown might have been seen seated +opposite his friend in a cheap Soho restaurant. They had just finished +supper, and both were smoking. To be honest, Mr. Brown did not +altogether approve of the cigarette, but he had never dared to object. +"Besides," he thought tolerantly, "these foreigners.... But what I +wonder is, when they marry do they take to a pipe? If so, good lord!..." +His distress vanished as he looked again upon her: she was too pretty to +disapprove of. "A bit of Orl right," he reflected; "if only I dared ask +her and she said 'Yes.'" + +The time for separation came at last, and Mr. Brown sighed as he helped +her put on her coat. On the steps of the restaurant they paused, for it +was raining. "You must have a cab," he said decisively; and then, +hesitating, "I wish you would let me see you home for once." + +She glanced up. + +"For this once, just a little way." + +Her partial acquiescence surprised him, for hitherto he had never been +permitted to escort her home in a cab. As a hansom drove up in answer to +the whistle, he wondered if it might be taken as a sign. With bounding +pulses he thought, "Shall I risk it and ask her?" And then, with a +return of sanity, "No; better wait and not spoil it." He handed her in +carefully, stepped in beside her, and asked what address he should give. +"Oh, Trafalgar Square," she replied carelessly, "and then St. Paul's if +necessary." + +He obeyed, wondering what she could mean. + +The cab had scarcely started before she turned to him and said demurely, +"You must think this strange--immodest, almost. But I have a reason. +First of all, I wish to thank you for your many kindnesses." + +She paused, and he was understood to murmur, "Not at all. An honor." She +continued: + +"But there is a question I must ask, and I beg a truthful answer. Why +have you so befriended a poor and humble girl like myself?" + +At this question Henry Brown performed a _volte-face_. A moment before +he had resolved to wait. But being in love, encouraged by an excellent +supper and some Chianti, and fired by the graciousness of his divinity, +he threw caution to the winds. Though in the privacy of his office he +had more than once rehearsed the scene and prepared effective orations, +beginning "Miss," "Honored Ma'amselle," and "My dear Miss," he merely +said, "Well, it's this way, you see: I love you." + +The age of "This is so sudden" has passed away; hence it was not +unconventional for the girl to affect no surprise at the announcement. +She was conventional enough to turn her head for a moment and appear to +be thinking deeply. She also obeyed the rules by observing presently, +"But that is foolish." Mr. Brown, his devotion crystallizing into a +sensible effort to win her, forgot his shyness and enlarged on the +pleasing theme. + +"I beg to differ," he said steadily, though his heart was beating fast +and the roof of his mouth was curiously parched. "I don't consider it +foolish at all. I have loved you for a goodish time, and I want you to +be my wife. I am not a boy, miss, as you know. I'm a serious man of +forty, for it's no use trying to hide my age or my seriousness. I have +enough to keep us both in comfort, and--and I really love you very +much." + +She was looking at him with an expression that was kind and not at all +embarrassed. + +"Listen!" she said, more steadily than he. "I thank you very much. I +guessed that you liked me, but--but I am not quite sure of you." + +"Of me!" he repeated in amazement. "Why, I--I swear that I love you. +What are you not sure of? My income? (Excuse me for mentioning it, +miss.) You can look at my books if you like. My character? Any of the +neighbors would speak for me----" + +She waved her hand impatiently. + +"It is not that. Only I am not sure that you love Romance." + +He started. + +"Romance! I dunno ..." he said blankly. "What are the symptoms? I know I +love you right enough, but Romance...." + +"Exactly. I do not know. I like you--oh! very much indeed. Sometimes I +think I love you, but then a doubt creeps in. Suppose, I say, he has not +a soul!" + +"Oh, come!" remonstrated the other. "You ought to know better than that. +Why, that's pretty near atheism! I go to church----" + +"It is not that kind of soul," she explained. "I mean, a sense of +adventure--of excitement--in a word, romance! To marry a man without +romance would be insupportable; life would be too dull. If only I could +be sure that you had romance, I might...." + +"Try me," said the practical Henry. "I must say, miss, I don't exactly +see what you mean. But I'd do anything to please you. Tell me how to set +about this romance idea and I'll do my best." + +"You mean that?" she asked, her eyes sparkling. + +"Yes," he replied stoutly. "Anything in reason." + +"Or unreason? The true romance knows no reason." + +Mr. Brown, against his better judgment, but compelled by her +attractions, said, "It's a bet!" + +After this momentous decision there was a silence. The lady sank back in +her seat and began to meditate with a pleased smile. Henry Brown, a +whirl of conflicting emotions, looked gaily out into the street. It was +depressing to the view, wet, dirty and forbidding; but to him it was the +antechamber of Paradise. At last he was by way of realizing his ideal: +his frequent failures and persistent struggles were presently to be +crowned with fulfilment. In a burst of noble emotion he resolved to give +the cabman a sovereign. He turned his head once more to look at his +charmer and caught sight of a little white hand lying carelessly on the +seat. It suggested a happy idea; and with a respectful tenderness he +lifted it and pressed it warmly. + +"Oh! you must not!" + +"Beg pardon!" he said, though he was sensible enough not to drop the +hand; "it was this romance idea that put it into my head. I hope you +don't mind." + +"But we are not promised!" + +"On Trust, eh?" he said cheerfully. "Well, I suppose I must wait till I +can say Paid For. You've been thinking of some scheme to try me, haven't +you?" + +"The scheme is ready," she replied gravely. "I was wondering whether you +are strong enough to obey. It may mean danger...." + +"Fourteen stone and in fair training," he said complacently. + +"Ridicule...." + +"I shan't be laughed at more than once." + +"Perhaps ... prison." + +"Crumbs!" observed Henry Brown, stiffening. "My dear--beg pardon--miss, +I mean. You're not one of them anarchists?" + +"No. I have done nothing wrong. Only, events might put you in a false +position. You might be accused and be obliged to be silent. Would you +flinch from prison in a good cause?" + +For a disgraceful moment Henry Brown wished to say, "The cause be +blowed," but happily his eyes met hers. Innocence, reinforced by pretty +features, has an easy prey in besotted experience. She lowered her +lashes in virginal confusion and appeal. "I'll do it!" said Henry Brown, +setting his teeth. "That is, if you're on the square." + +She clapped her hands. + +"Oh, thank you! thank you! I promise that I am on the square. Really, I +am a victim.... What I want you to do is to become, for a short time, a +kind of detective." + +"A detective!" + +"An amateur. If you can leave the guidance of your business to another +for a time." + +Her hand touched his again, possibly by accident. + +"N--yes," he said, determined. "Yes, I mean--yes." + +"I shall tell you the story another time. For the present I shall say +that it has to do with some papers. I may ask you to follow and watch a +man. I may ask you to get back for me the documents. I may--I do not +know. It may even be necessary for you to leave London for a brief +space. For the present we can do nothing, but will you hold yourself in +readiness to act at a word--a sign--a telegram from me?" + +Things were developing more rapidly than Henry Brown liked, but he was a +man of his word and--she was a delightful creature. + +"I will." + +"Thank you," she breathed, and this time plainly pressed his hand. He +seized it and returned the pressure, feeling like a knight of the middle +ages. (Or a middle-aged knight?) "And you are content to do this without +reasons--explanations?" + +"If you'll give me one excuse," he said craftily. + +"_Bitte?_" + +"I don't know what they call it in your language," said Henry, and +hesitated. A shred of bashfulness still hung about him, but he was +growing up fast--expanding like a flower beneath the sun. "May I +explain?" he asked courageously. + +"But certainly!" + +So Henry kissed her. + +"For that excuse," he whispered with a new-found eloquence, "I'd do more +than you ask." + +She laughed and imprinted a feather upon his cheek. + +"So you have a soul after all!" she said happily. "I congratulate you +and ... myself." + +The last word was inaudible; indeed it was not meant for the new +henchman of Romance. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +MR. HEDDERWICK'S FIRST ADVENTURE + + +"Alicia, my dear," said Robert Hedderwick to his wife, as he was smoking +after dinner, "shall we talk about our annual holiday?" + +His wife, a determined lady of forty-five--six years younger than +he,--put down her knitting. + +"By all means, Robert, if you wish. But I do not know what there is to +discuss. It is not yet July and we never go away till August, so there +is plenty of time." + +"But why should we not go away in July this year?" he suggested, +somewhat diffidently. + +"Why should we?" + +"Well ... it would be a change...." + +"A most undesirable and unnecessary change," said his wife decisively, +picking up her knitting again. "August is the hottest month, and August +in London would be unbearable. Besides, change for the mere sake of +change is childish. You might as well suggest our going somewhere else +than Cromer." + +"Well ... er ..." said Mr. Hedderwick nervously, "why shouldn't we? +Cromer is a charming place--charming; but we have been there twelve +years running. Don't you think----" + +"Cromer suits my health. And yours," Alicia added after a moment's +thought. "And mother would be disappointed if we didn't go. You don't +seem to have thought of that." + +Her husband opened his mouth to say "I have, my dear," but changed the +words to "Oh ... ah ... yes ... of course." Then he got up, walked to +the window in rather an aimless fashion, and stared out. Presently he +began to whistle. + +"Please do not whistle, Robert," said Alicia reprovingly. "You know I +can not endure it." + +"I beg your pardon," said Robert submissively. "I forgot." + +"You want something to do," observed his wife, as one who gives an +order. "You've done nothing but smoke since dinner. Why don't you go and +dig in the garden?" + +"I--I don't feel like gardening." + +"Or read. Where is your book that----" + +"I--I don't feel like reading." + +"The truth is, you don't know what you _do_ want," said Alicia firmly. +"You men are just like children when you haven't got a definite task. +Until you retired from the business you were always perfectly happy. Now +that your days are free you don't know what to do with yourself. Here! +come and hold my wool for me!" + +She laid her knitting down on the table and picked up a skein of white +wool that lay near. Her husband, with a resigned expression, mutely held +up his hands. The wool was placed over them, and then, after strict +injunctions not to stir, or get tangled, or drop an end, or breathe too +audibly, Mrs. Hedderwick began to wind it into a ball. + +As the uncongenial task went on, Robert reflected disconsolately that +his bid for freedom had not met with much success. He had had hopes that +this year at least Alicia would have consented to go to some other place +for their holiday. He was tired of Cromer and wanted a change. Also, he +was not enthusiastic for another holiday spent under the wing of +Alicia's mother, Mrs. Ainsley. She was too like her--he checked the +heretical thought and substituted "too determined"--to make him anxious +to renew her acquaintance more often than he was obliged. "Obliged...." +The word buzzed unpleasantly in the brain. His prophetic instinct told +him that he would be obliged to yield to Alicia's wishes. If he ventured +to suggest once more that Eastbourne or Brighton might be preferable to +Cromer, he knew too well what would happen. Alicia would say firmly, +"No, Robert; you know We settled on Cromer, and it would be silly to +change Our minds now." Supposing he dared greatly and put his foot +down; supposing he said, "I will _not_ go there: I will go to Brighton!" +what would happen? He knew perfectly well that he would never have the +courage to be so rebellious as all that; but he kept playing with the +notion as one plays with temptation in daily life. If only he dared! He +might say, "I will _not_, Alicia!" and then bolt from the house. It +would be rather fun, an adventure, to run away ... all by himself. _By +himself!_ what a holiday that would be! He laughed aloud at the thought. + +"I see nothing amusing in the wool being tangled," said Alicia's voice +reprovingly, and he jumped in alarm. + +"I was not laughing at that, my dear," he said appeasingly. "I was +thinking of something else." + +Alicia sniffed, but maintained a fortunate silence. When she finished +she said, "I am going out to take the sewing meeting for an hour or so. +Will you be in?" + +"Yes, my dear," said Robert cheerfully, and a few minutes later he heard +the front door close. + +Left to himself, he walked to the window and resumed his idle staring. +Remembering that now he was a free agent he began to whistle again, a +trifle mournfully, for he was meditating on life. This, for the average +man, as a rule, begets melancholy--particularly if it is his own life he +reflects on. + +Robert Hedderwick had been chief cashier in a big store for more than +fifteen years. He had earned two hundred and fifty pounds a year (with +an occasional bonus) for some time, and on the whole he had enjoyed his +work. At least it had always been interesting, and had given him that +most necessary of all things--regular and definite occupation. And +though at times he used to wish he was a partner or had more prospects, +still he had been contented. Then at the age of fifty an uncle had died +and left him a handsome competence. Alicia at once had made him forswear +the office and set up as a gentleman of leisure. Not that he had been +unwilling to obey. At first he had welcomed the relief from thraldom. It +was a luxury to be able to lie in bed a little longer, if he wished, +without feeling "I must get up _now_, or I shall miss the eight-fifty." +It was a luxury to sit at ease in his strip of garden on a fine morning +and read the newspaper. It was not unpleasant to think that his former +colleagues were saying, "Lucky chap, Hedderwick!" what time they were +under the eyes of their master. + +But these and similar luxuries palled after a time, and he began to +grow, not exactly discontented, but restless and vaguely unhappy. He had +no hobbies, save reading, and none but the ardent student wishes to read +throughout the day. He felt himself a little old to begin photography, +stamp-collecting or wood-carving; still, recognizing the need of some +occupation, he tried to do a little gardening. The strip of land at the +back of the house was small, being some thirty yards long by twenty +broad. Two-thirds of this was grass, which he mowed conscientiously once +a week: the rest was given up to flowers. As Robert knew nothing of +flowers, he employed a man to do what was necessary in the way of +digging and planting. When the serious business of horticulture was +finished he would employ himself in cutting off dying blossoms, +uprooting weeds and watering. But the sum total of his labor in the +little plot did not amount to more than four or five hours a week. + +His wife was an active--too active for the vicar's wife--supporter of +Saint Frideswide's Church, and when her husband became one of the +leisured classes she did her utmost to spur him to a like interest. He +obeyed passively, became a sidesman, and in due course vicar's warden. +He was not, to use the vicar's words, "a keen churchman," being on the +whole an optimistic pragmatist rather than a devotee of dogma. But he +was a good man, cheerful, kindly, with some harmless vanities. He liked, +for example, to take the alms-bag round and lead the procession of +collectors. He would complain of the trouble entailed by the +organization of the annual treat or the parish tea, but secretly he +appreciated the occupation and the importance thereof. These things +helped to fill a portion of a vacant existence, but they were not +enough. He felt that he was rusting. + +This evening "melancholy marked him for her own." It had been a day more +vacant of incident than usual, and he was almost bad-tempered. The +thought of the recent defeat by Alicia rankled, and he turned over in +his mind schemes by which he could outwit her and procure a holiday in +Brighton. "It's all very well," he grumbled to himself, "but I don't see +why I should continually knuckle under. I've been too easy-going. It's +time things were put on a different footing. I wonder if ..." + +He was still wondering when Alicia returned, and the solution of his +difficulties was not yet. Alicia, who was in an aggressive good-humor, +commented on his dulness. Robert replied in a tone that she +characterized as "snappy"; she also made the inevitable suggestion that +he had eaten something that disagreed with him. + +"_Good lord!_" said Robert, goaded at last beyond caution and fear. "Who +wouldn't be snappy, doing nothing half the day, and the other half doing +what he doesn't like? Nothing ever happens here--it's like being a fly +buzzing in a tumbler. He can't get out, though he can see all sorts of +interesting things through the glass." + +"You ought to be thankful for your many mercies," said his wife coldly: +she knew the treatment for the case. "Instead of grumbling like a child, +you had better go to bed. That is, if you have finished supper." + +At that moment Mr. Hedderwick had one of the strongest temptations of a +blameless life. He yearned for the courage to say, "Oh, damn the +supper!" but broke into a perspiration at the mere thought. Instead, he +had the grace to be astonished at his mood and weakly answered, "I think +I shall, my dear." As he opened the door his helpmeet suggested he +should not forget at his private devotions to ask for a contented +spirit. Rebellion returned, and he banged the door. + +He soon forgot his troubles in sleep; in fact, he did not even hear his +wife come to bed. He slept dreamlessly, despite the suggestion that he +had committed an error in diet, until a quarter past one. Then he awoke +quite suddenly, with a dim idea that something was happening. He sat +up in bed, rubbed his eyes, and listened: no, there seemed to be +nothing ... everything was still: only the regular breathing of his wife, +fast asleep, was to be heard. "I must have been dreaming," he thought, +preparing to lie down again. And then he heard a subdued, but distinct, +noise down-stairs. + +Robert experienced a chill that crept, via the spine and nape, to his +brain. The short hairs on the back of his head felt as if they had begun +to bristle. A ghostly cowardice flooded his being, penetrating to the +uttermost recesses. "Good lord!" he thought, "it must be a burglar!" His +first instinct was to lie down and draw the clothes over his head; his +second, to jab his wife sharply in the ribs: company in the imminent +peril was his prime necessity. Both these base impulses he controlled. +Though elderly, he felt himself still a man; and despite the fact that +he had no audience, no public opinion to make heroism easy, he realized +that his part must be played alone at all costs. + +As he came to this resolve his natural apprehension subsided: he felt +calmer, more collected. Sitting up in bed, he listened with strained +ears. For a moment there was silence; then came the quiet but distinct +opening of a door below. His misgivings had a solid foundation; and with +a dismal determination Robert cautiously got out of bed. + +Why he did not wake his wife he hardly knew. Perhaps it was chivalry, +perhaps a subconscious sense that she might spoil the fun. Yes, that was +the odd phrase that formed in his mind once the temporary panic was +subdued. With a wry smile--remembering his previous complaints of a +vacant life and his thirst for adventures--Robert tiptoed cautiously to +the dressing-table. Here he made a swift and partial toilet. He slipped +on a pair of trousers, a coat and some boots--for in the midst of his +apprehensions he had a foolish idea that the burglar might tread on his +toes. Then without noise he opened the top right-hand corner drawer, +where he kept his collars and handkerchiefs, and took out a small +revolver. As he handled the stock he felt his new manhood glowing like +champagne in every artery. Life! He had begun to live. + +How did it happen that a harmless churchwarden and retired cashier +possessed so lethal a weapon? Simply, it was due to a mixture of +precaution and romanticism. He had always thought a burglar _might_ +come, and deep in his composition lay a vein of adventure. It was fine +to have a pistol--a loaded pistol--even though never used. It gave a +sense of power and desperation. He sometimes fondled it and dreamed of +defending himself against a marauder or a mob. But such demonstrations +took place only when his wife was out. + +Robert took the pistol in an unshaking hand and conveyed himself quietly +from the room. He was not in the least frightened now; indeed he was +beginning to enjoy this new sense of being master of the situation. +Quietly he crept down-stairs, as close to the wall as possible to +prevent creaking. At the foot of the stairs he stood still and +listened.... There was no sound. But from the keyhole of the +drawing-room came a little pencil of light. Behind the door was--what? +Robert cocked the pistol, opened the door, and with a little gasp of +triumph said, "Hands up!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A TALE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES + + +There were two people in the room as Mr. Hedderwick opened the door, a +man and a lady. The latter, he noted with amazement, was in evening +dress, a light cloak being thrown over it; the former wore the ordinary +morning dress of a man about town, neat, though a little shiny, and on +his head was a top hat. At Robert's command he turned with a violent +start: the lady started, too, but in a moment recovered her composure +and laughed. "Good morning," she said cheerfully: "I can't say this is +an unexpected pleasure, for that would be only a half-truth. And now, +what are you going to do?" + +Robert, considerably taken aback at the character of his prisoners and +his own reception, paused a moment before replying. He was breathing a +little noisily from pure excitement, but still he was careful to keep +the pistol at a threatening angle. + +"Well," he said slowly, "in the first place I warn you that I shall +shoot if you move----" + +"Of course," she agreed brightly, "that would be the most sensible thing +to do. But we have no intention of being so foolish. It seems that you +hold the whip-hand, so--shall we sit down and discuss the situation?" + +"By all means," said Robert, gaping. "You will find that armchair the +most comfortable." + +She seated herself, and her companion was about to follow suit. But he +checked himself, picked up a gaily-colored rug from the sofa, and with a +smile said, "There is no need for even a jailer to catch cold." He threw +it lightly across to Robert, who caught it with a blush. He wished +foolishly he had put on a collar. Then the man sat down and looked at +the lady as if waiting for instructions. Robert followed his example, +taking care to interpose the table between them in case of a surprise. + +"And now," said the lady again, "what are you going to do? Send for a +policeman?" + +It was the obvious course, but Robert on a sudden felt that it would be +impossible. When he had valiantly left his bed, seized his weapon and +prepared to capture a burglar or two, he had in mind merely the vision +of an ordinary hooligan. The reality upset him. He needed time to adjust +his ideas. + +"I suppose I must," he said apologetically. "I am exceedingly sorry, but +really, you know----" + +"Oh, we quite understand," returned Beatrice (for of course it was she +and Lionel) with a frank camaraderie. "It must be a painful position for +you as well as for us. But perhaps, before deciding, you would like to +hear the reason of our visit?" + +His eyes brightened; he grasped an idea. + +"Excellent!" he said. "I have the satisfaction of having frustrated your +design, and honestly I am not in love with the notion of giving you in +charge. Besides ..." he hesitated as if ashamed, but decided on candor, +"my life is a trifle dull, and if you can tell me a really interesting +tale, well ..." + +"Sir, you are a sportsman," observed Lionel; and Beatrice added +persuasively, "A perfect dear!" + +"Flattery is useless," he replied. "I don't want that. Tell me a good +tale, and perhaps ..." + +"I will tell you all," said Beatrice. "If we were captured I had meant +to keep silence; but your generous offer compels a change of plan. You +shall have a frank truthful----" + +"I do not insist on truth," said Robert, stroking his nose, "but it must +be interesting." He stopped, aghast at his own depravity. Then he +laughed gently. "Morality is hard to achieve at this hour. But come! A +good tale!" + +Lionel smiled. He had faith in Beatrice as a story-teller, even if he +was a little doubtful of her other qualities. He settled himself on the +sofa, prepared not only to hear but criticize. As for Mr. Hedderwick, he +was so eager that he laid down the revolver on the table and leaned +forward on his elbows. To all appearance he might have been a boy +listening to a true yarn of pirates and savages. + +Beatrice, without effort or hesitation, began to speak. A second +Scheherezade, she was fighting for her husband and her own freedom, and +everything conspired to lend her aid. She had a thrilling story to tell +at first hand; she had the dramatic instinct and an appreciative +audience. Not only Mr. Hedderwick but Lionel, too, listened with rapt +attention. The tale lived, as told by her, bearing the stamp of truth +and humor in every syllable her lips uttered. And Lionel, keeping guard +over himself with a loving suspicion, noticed that in no particulars did +she depart from the original version. He cursed himself that any shred +of doubt could still cling about him. Did any cling? Surely not, and +yet.... Pish! it was not merely disloyal--it was ludicrous: the two +stories were identical. Had the first been lies she must now have +betrayed herself. + +Not that she told her story in such detail as she had to Lionel: there +was not time for that. The _précis_ of her life and adventures lasted no +more than half an hour: all that mattered was there, but the smaller +details were absent. A touch here, and the kidnaping was painted in a +dozen words; a line there, and she had swept them to Constantinople: a +paragraph depicted Lukos with a master hand--a few vivid sentences +described the flight. Then came the stage, her meeting with Lionel (five +pages to the rescue, the taxi deleted altogether, and three lines to the +dressing-room), and lastly, the treachery of Mizzi. She brought her +story down to the moment of their capture, not forgetting to tell how +they had effected their entrance by means of skeleton keys. "And that is +all," she said at last, drawing a breath of relief. + +"Not quite all," said Mr. Hedderwick with rounded eyes. "Lord! what a +tale! what a life! Compared with this ..."--his eyes wandered +discontentedly round the room, and he did not finish the sentence. "But +go on--go on! Tell me why you hid the papers here." + +"Partly by chance, partly design. I meant to hide them in a stranger's +house, thinking they would be safest there. One evening as I walked +this way I saw a machine in front of your door. It was a vacuum cleaner! +That decided me. It meant that after they had finished there was no +likelihood of your carpets being lifted for some time." + +"My carpets!" gasped Robert. "What the----" + +"Oh, do _wait_!" said Beatrice pettishly; and he collapsed, as was only +fitting. "I came next day and the cleaner had gone. During the morning I +made discreet inquiries as to your habits and mode of life. In the +evening I hired a cab, drove to Kensington to put any possible trackers +off the scent, changed into another cab and drove back here. At +seven-thirty I called. You were out, and your wife said you would not be +back for at least half an hour. I asked if I might wait, as my business +was important. She hesitated, but consented, my sables being a guarantee +that I had not come with any designs on your plate. + +"However, to my disgust she insisted on remaining in the room and +discussing trivialities. Of course, as long as she remained I was +helpless, and my well-meant hints were disregarded. I was in despair; +but presently the cook burst in with a woeful tale of a scorched +petticoat, and the situation was saved. Your wife darted out to survey +the damage, and the next moment my precious papers were hidden beneath +the carpet. + +"Mrs. Hedderwick returned within a very few minutes, full of apologies +and (I fear) regrets that she had left the room. I did not prolong my +visit. On the plea that I could not wait further, and promising to call +again, I managed to escape. If you wish for proof, look under the carpet +beneath your chair." + +Mr. Hedderwick sprang up like an eager schoolboy. He seized the poker, +inserted it under the carpet, and with a crackling wrench prized up a +yard or two. With trembling fingers he tore it back still farther, and +then his face fell. He stood up, a disappointed man. "There is nothing +here," he said accusingly. "This is an anticlimax to a capital tale." + +Lionel did not move, but his face darkened. During the recital he had +felt a warm glow of faith pervade his whole being, a glow that was not +diminished by the contemplation of Beatrice. By the time she had +finished he was a devout adherent, and now the shock of disillusion +swung him back once more to the certainty of doubt. He did not speak, +but his eyes sought hers in a question he could not put into words. The +lady alone seemed unembarrassed. She gave a regretful sigh. + +"There is no anticlimax," she said. "Rather it is the thickening of the +plot. Of course they have been taken by Mizzi. Has she been there +recently--yesterday?" + +"Not that I know of," he returned blankly. "It's possible, I suppose ... +anyhow, it's not a bad idea for ... for a story, but...." + +"I see you disbelieve still," said Beatrice with a calm disdain. "I had +no idea men could be so stupid. I suppose there is nothing for it but to +wake Mrs. Hedderwick and ask her." + +The churchwarden sat down suddenly, as if his knees had given way. "Wake +Mrs. Hedderwick!" he repeated in a ghastly voice: "wake my wife! Oh, no! +It is impossible--quite out of the question!" + +"Not at all. She will know whether any one has called here, and in +justice to my veracity you must ask her. I insist! Remember our freedom +is at stake." + +Mr. Hedderwick rose, pale but determined. + +"I beg your pardon," he said politely. "Will you please go at once? I +have not the least intention of prosecuting, and I swear that I believe +your story. Only will you _please_ go at once?" + +Lionel chuckled, amused and grateful. + +"This is hardly fair, sir," he said. "You forget that we want +information as to where those papers may have gone. If your wife could +tell us whether any one has called and what his or her appearance----" + +"No, no!" quavered the unhappy Robert. "I can not consent! You must find +out elsewhere. I can not have my wife roused! I--I would not have her +here for a thousand pounds!" + +"Indeed, Robert!" said a deep voice from the door. The churchwarden +leaped round in a trice. He saw his wife, in the majesty of a +dressing-gown, a poker in her right hand, standing in the doorway. His +bowels turned to water. "Alicia!" he groaned. + +"Yes," she said with a pleasurable severity. "What does this mean?" Her +eye roved austerely and there was a dead silence. Robert was temporarily +annihilated, Beatrice serenely impassive, Lionel amusedly dividing his +attention between the two ladies. Presently Mrs. Hedderwick's brow +cleared, as if a light had dawned upon her. She began to speak again in +a voice that was almost cheerful. "I see!" she said: "it is a new idea, +Robert. I suppose these are some of your friends, and this is a kind of +breakfast party. I am very sorry that you did not give me earlier +warning, or I would have had the dining-room ready. My husband," she +said, turning confidentially to Beatrice, "is a man, and naturally does +not realize that bacon can not be fried in a moment, and that eggs will +not cook themselves. Toast, again, needs a little care; and coffee I +always say is worthless unless one looks after it one's self." + +"Alicia!" interposed the miserable Robert, "I do wish you'd be +reasonable. For heaven's sake----" + +"Kindly do not swear, Robert," said his wife, turning ferociously on +him. "If I have made a mistake, I am sure it was but natural. If this is +not a breakfast-party, pray what is it? A man of your age would not +indulge in _suppers_"--she gave the word an emphasis that insinuated +Cremorne--"so what can I think? I hear an unusual noise--I come +down-stairs and find my husband hobnobbing with a strange gentleman and +his ... friend ... whom I _have_ met, but----" + +Lionel rose, but Beatrice was wiser and forestalled him. + +"Your surprise and indignation are only natural, Mrs. Hedderwick," she +said coolly, "but they will be abated when you learn that our untimely +visit is in connection with a police affair." + +Her instinct was right. Curiosity conquered the churchwarden's wife, +where an appeal to pity or kindred emotions would have failed. She +relaxed her frigid attitude and said, "Indeed?" + +"Yes," pursued Beatrice. "I can not tell you all at present, but be +assured that if it ever comes into court your evidence will be of +value." Mrs. Hedderwick smoothed her dressing-gown and determined to +appear in the witness-box in mauve. "Will you just tell us this: did any +stranger call here this evening?" + +"Yes," answered Mrs. Hedderwick, divided between resentment and a thirst +for knowledge. "A lady, or at least a female, called and inquired for my +husband." + +"A lady!" ejaculated Mr. Hedderwick. "This promises well----" + +His wife's eye compelled him again to his seat. "I think, Robert, if you +evinced less interest in such a subject it would be more seemly. The +female in question asked if she might wait, as she wished to beg a +subscription for an anti-suffragist league. I am in sympathy with such +an object and allowed her to remain. In the course of our conversation +she referred to an article on dress in one of the women's papers. I +happened to have the journal and offered to fetch it; she agreed, +thinking that the plate of a new blouse might suit my style." + +"So you left her alone!" broke in Lionel. + +"For a bare two minutes. When I returned she was still there. We +discussed the blouse for a while, and presently she said that she must +go, but would return later." + +"Plagiarist!" said Beatrice with a smile. "Did you happen to notice how +she was dressed?" + +"I never notice such things," said Mrs. Hedderwick with dignity. "Dress +is not one of my foibles. But after she had gone I picked up a +handkerchief which I suppose she had dropped. It was marked----" + +"Wait!" said Mr. Hedderwick suddenly. "What is her name?" he asked, +turning to Beatrice. + +"Whose, Robert?" queried his wife. + +"Oh, bother!" he said, irritation lending him courage. "Your maid's." + +"Mizzi Schmidt." + +"And the initials, Alicia?" + +"M. S." + +Mr. Hedderwick, his head full of romantic notions of chivalry, +forgetting the urgent need of circumspection, rose. He advanced toward +Beatrice, raised her hand, and, to the horror of his wife, kissed it +solemnly. "I beg your pardon," he said; "there is no anticlimax. Now +that you know Mizzi is the thief you will want to be off. Good-by and +good luck." + +They took him at his word and rose. + +"Good-by," said Beatrice in the most ordinary voice. "Thank you so much +for your help--and yours, too, Mrs. Hedderwick. So sorry we had to break +into your house. Good-by. Now, Mr. Mortimer!" + +"Good-by," said Lionel; "thanks most awfully. I felt you were a +sportsman as soon as I saw you." + +They were in the hall by this time, and the magnanimous churchwarden was +already opening the door. + +"Not at all," he said. "I've had a most interesting night. I wish you'd +let me know the end of the tale some day." + +"If it is a happy ending, you shall," said Beatrice. She halted a +moment, motioned to Lionel to pass out before her, and then turned. "If +you see us again, be careful never to recognize or speak to us; it might +mean danger--not only to you, but us." + +He smiled but said nothing. Beatrice and Lionel moved away in the light +of the early dawn. Mr. Hedderwick closed the door gently and stood deep +in thought for a moment. "What an adventure ... what a splendid +woman ... what a jolly chap!" his thoughts ran. "How different their life +from mine! Here am I, tied to the same holiday year after year ... afraid +to call my soul my own ... why, why should I not have a holiday on my own +account--a holiday ... by myself for once. Something new ... something +out of the common...." + +"Robert!" said a threatening voice from the drawing-room, and he leaped. +"Come in! I have something to say to you!" + +The tone told him what the "something" would be. His thoughts raced +furiously during the next twenty seconds, but he had wit enough to +answer, "Yes, Alicia! Wait till I have locked the door!" Then with a +swift but silent movement he slipped on a greatcoat and hat and +stealthily opened the door again. He peered out.... Yes, there was hope +and an object, for he could see, some hundred and fifty yards away, the +figures of Beatrice and her escort. With a gasp Mr. Hedderwick +muttered, "_I will_!" He pulled the door to behind him and set out +furtively, but with a resolute swiftness, in pursuit. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ENTER TONY WILD + + +Tony Wild, whose address was The Albany, and who enjoyed an unearned +income of two thousand a year, stood on the steps of the Tivoli +Music-Hall at half past ten, smoking. His face, which was passably +attractive, had temporarily lost its usual good-humor, and he puffed his +cigarette slowly as if it was more of a task than a pleasure. This, +indeed, it was; for he had consumed seventeen since getting out of bed +at ten o'clock that morning, and he smoked more from habit than anything +else. He was a young man of twenty-six who pursued happiness, or rather +distraction, on the accepted lines: dinners, dances and the stage formed +his daily round, but with the zest of youth or cynicism he constantly +searched for new thrills. Experience was his god, and it must be +confessed that he had had more than a fair share of sensations. He had +been jilted, married (luckily it proved a bigamous union; as his "wife," +a Covent Garden chorister, had nothing but her prettiness to recommend +her; and Tony had been immensely relieved when her husband reappeared +after serving seven years at Portland), made a descent in a submarine, +gone up in a balloon, and driven a car in the Gordon-Bennett race. He +had flown in an aeroplane once for the sake of a new thrill, but +subsequently determined that it would be a pity further to risk two +thousand a year. These were but a few of his distractions. The only +experience he had never tried was work. + +On the whole, he had enjoyed himself. There were times, of course, when +he felt that life was a little empty, a little dull; but on such +unfortunate occasions he made haste to bring himself up to the scratch +by searching for a fresh adventure. His most desperate expedient up to +date had been to enlist, but the discipline and routine of the barracks +made even ennui seem desirable, and he bought himself out after +twenty-four hours of agony. This evening he was feeling distinctly dull, +for the day had been singularly profitless. A solitary breakfast at +eleven had been followed by a perfunctory glance over _The Daily Mail_. +Even that stimulating sheet had failed to rouse him, and an afternoon +swim at the Bath Club had been terminated by sheer boredom. Dinner at +his club had failed to produce any congenial spirits, and in desperation +he went to the Tivoli. + +A few of the turns he enjoyed in a mild and deprecating fashion, but at +ten-thirty he found himself on the steps, bitterly reflecting on the +defects of modern civilization. + +"London!" he thought moodily, "a city of six million people, and not a +thing for me to do. Shall I go to bed?" + +It seemed a confession of weakness; besides he was not in the least +sleepy. So he discarded the unworthy thought, and set out on an aimless +ramble through the streets. There is always something to look at in +London, something to interest, even though it be but the policeman +directing the traffic; and Tony soon found his languor past and +good-humor returning. He liked being among a crowd of people, watching, +speculating, enjoying. The Strand was one of his favorite haunts, +especially at night when the lamps were lit and the theaters discharging +their motley audiences. In Piccadilly Circus at eleven o'clock, +Shaftesbury Avenue, Aldwych, or the Strand, a man need never feel bored, +though he may feel rebellious. + +Tony walked slowly on, stopping occasionally to observe the people. He +looked at his watch presently and found that it was past eleven. "Early +yet," he reflected; "what's the use of going home? Shall I try the club +or a longer walk? The Embankment ... a nocturne of lamps and water ... +and ... yes! that would be a new game! Forward!" + +He turned down to the right and soon found himself by the Thames. Here +he proceeded to practise the new game which had just occurred to his +active brain. It was simple, if ghoulish, for he merely did his best to +imitate a would-be suicide. Turning up his collar and setting his hat a +little on the back of his head, he plunged his hands deep into his +pockets and assumed an expression of despair. Then he walked slowly +along, at times glancing at the river and ostentatiously avoiding the +eyes of chance policemen. Presently he stopped, leaned both his elbows +on the parapet, and stared gloomily at the Thames. His maneuvers were +crowned with success, for a constable soon approached and told him in a +kindly tone to move on. Tony replied in a sepulchral voice, and in a few +moments was deep in conversation with his preserver. A fictitious tale +of cards and drink exercised the powers of his imagination pleasantly +enough for ten minutes or so, and when they separated it was with a +mutual glow of satisfaction. The policeman thought he had saved a +brother, Tony had enjoyed himself for a brief space. It did not occur to +him that critics might consider his game morbid or in bad taste. Had he +been questioned he would have said, "No doubt you're right, but I was +frightfully bored." + +After this episode he walked across Waterloo Bridge to enjoy the view, +and then returned leisurely to Piccadilly. He was not in the least +sleepy, so he determined to extend his walk indefinitely. "The great +charm," he reflected, "of being a bachelor with plenty of money is that +one can do exactly what one likes without being questioned. If I return +at six o'clock in the morning, Pettigrew will admit me without a murmur +and ask if I want breakfast. Now, if I had a wife, it is possible that +she would take no interest in my midnight ramble.--No! she would take +too much interest and fear the worst.... Well, where shall I go? I feel +in excellent trim.... Shall I walk to Bolders Green--Whitechapel--the +Elephant and Castle? Strange names beckon me.... I remember reading of +Hackney Marshes as a little boy ... shall I go and see if there are any +marshes? Or shall I make for St. John's Wood and see what Lord's looks +like in moonlight, where + + A ghostly batsman plays to the bowling of a ghost, + And I look through my tears on a soundless clapping host, + As the run-stealers flicker to and fro? + +Yes; let's try Lord's!" + +We need not follow Tony in his walk. It is enough to say that at four +o'clock he found himself, still wakeful, in Covent Garden, watching the +market-men at work. After enjoying the sight he wandered idly up to +Oxford Street, and presently the Euston Road. He walked down this till +he reached Euston railway station, and here he paused to enjoy the +freshness of the morning and the quiet of the streets. "Gad!" he +thought, "what a shame to lie in bed till ten o'clock. Why haven't I +tried this jape sooner? This is the sort of time when one thinks of the +country and hates London. If only there was a train here I'd go away for +a day or two and try it." An idea struck him and he smiled. "Well, here +is a station. It might be amusing to go and see if there is a train +starting for anywhere. I think I will. I'll make a vow to take a ticket +by the first train available and get out wherever the country looks +interesting. That at any rate will be something new." + +He entered Euston station at a quarter to five. A sleepy ticket-clerk +told him that the first train went at five-seven, and asked whither he +meant to travel. "Oh, give me a ticket that costs five shillings," said +Tony: "I don't much care. No, dear fellow, I'm not mad, and I've not +been drinking. A five-bob ticket, please." + +The clerk complied with an ill-used air. Tony received his ticket and +went to find the train. As he laid his hand on the door of a first-class +compartment it occurred to him to look at the ticket. It was a +third-class. Instead of being annoyed, Tony laughed. "A night of +thrills!" he murmured: + +"I haven't traveled third for years. Is there any chance of my having +fellow travelers? I should doubt it." + +There were some ten minutes before the train was due to start, and Tony +occupied the time in looking out of the window. There was not much to +engage his attention, save a few porters handling newspapers and other +parcels, but presently a man appeared making for the train. Tony glanced +at him with a languid curiosity. The newcomer was dressed in a correct +morning suit and silk hat. He also carried gloves and a stick. But +though he looked like a gentleman and carried himself with an air, +Tony's eye detected signs of poverty. The coat was shiny, and the hat, +though carefully brushed, had little luster. "What the deuce is he doing +here at this time, and in such clothes?" thought Tony. Then he burst +into a noiseless laugh. "The pot and kettle!" he reflected, chuckling: +"I had forgotten that I am still in evening dress!" + +He sank back in the seat to laugh at himself more thoroughly, and the +man in the silk hat passed by the window. He made his way into the next +compartment, and unfortunately there was no corridor. Tony was debating +whether or not it was worth while to get out and join the stranger on +the off chance of learning something new, when the whistle went. But +before the train had begun to move, a face appeared at the opposite +window. A man was climbing up the footboard from the line. The next +moment the door was opened, the man entered, shut the door behind him +and sat down. He was a man of some fifty years, dressed rather oddly. +His bowler hat and overcoat were good, but he wore no collar. Tony +looked at him contentedly; after all, this walk was producing +experiences. + +"Good morning," he said mildly: "do you usually enter a train on the off +side? I ask merely from vulgar curiosity." + +The man laughed, panting a little from his exertions. He did not look +like a criminal; indeed he appeared distinctly meek. He seemed happy, +too. + +"No," he replied. "This is the first time in my life. I am going on a +holiday. May I in return ask you if you usually travel in evening dress +in the morning?" + +Tony smiled. + +"No; I too am going on a holiday." + +"To Shereling?" asked the man amiably. + +"I don't know." + +"You don't know." + +"No; I was dull. So I took the five-shilling ticket and the first train. +I have no notion where I shall get out." + +"What a splendid idea!" cried the other enthusiastically, much to Tony's +astonishment. "Most of us are so bound by convention that we plot and +plan for weeks: often we even go where we don't want to." + +"Why?" + +The other hesitated. + +"Domestic pressure," he said with a smile. "You seem an understanding +sort of chap, so I don't mind telling you that. This year--last night, +to be candid--I resolved to burst my shackles for a time. Certain ... +events ... hastened my decision. I am going to Shereling. I left in +rather a hurry--you see I have no collar. I suppose I shall have to +wait till we get to Shereling now before I can buy one." + +"There's no hosiery department on the train," said Tony: "railway +companies are very unimaginative. If there were, I'd buy a decent suit +to travel in. Do tell me why you came in in that unconventional way." + +"Sorry," said the man, "but I can't do that. It's all right, you know: I +have a ticket." + +"Of course," agreed Tony politely, and relapsed into musing. Here was a +perfect windfall with enormous possibilities. Decidedly he must not lose +sight of his new companion; he would get out at Shereling, too. Tony +studied him from half-shut eyes: he looked a decent little chap--almost +jolly ... rather like a schoolboy off for a holiday, expecting some +excellent pleasure and glorying in the prospect. Also, he was mysterious +and secretive, though to outward appearance he was a prosperous business +man in a small way--a head clerk or under-manager perhaps. There was +something in his face, too, an innocent zest, that appealed to the blasé +young man. "Yes, old cock," thought Tony, "I must freeze on to you, +whether you like it or not." + +After a silence the old cock began to crow, and soon there was a brisk +conversation in progress. They talked chiefly of trivial things, but +held each other's interest nevertheless. Tony's outlook and the +newcomer's were wide asunder, as also were their experiences. It was the +elder man who asked most of the questions, the younger who was +responsible for the answers. But they found a bond of union in a +Pepysian interest in the novel and unusual, though each approached it +from a different standpoint. Tony was a master of external knowledge and +sought for something fresh; the other, a babe, welcomed the stalest +facts as discoveries from a new world. + +"I wish," he said, and with a sigh, "that we were going to travel +together for a while." Tony's heart leaped. "You are an interesting +young man ... but no! that is impossible--it would never do." + +Tony did not reply. He felt sure that the fish was almost hooked, but he +did not wish to spoil things by seeming too eager. But he resolved that +ere the journey came to an end he would land his fish and spend a few +days in his company. He did not think there would be a slackening of the +interest: if there were, why, he could easily go back to town. +Meanwhile---- + +The train pulled up. + +"Hallo!" said the elderly man. "This train is billed as a non-stop to +Shereling. Why on earth----" + +He leaned out of the window and beckoned the guard. + +"What's the matter?" he asked. + +"The strike," the guard answered. "You see, sir, there are ten or +fifteen thousand men on strike here just now, and it seems they've got a +little out of 'and." + +"But what," asked Tony's companion, effectually filling the +window,--"what has that to do with the trains? Why----" + +"You see, sir," continued the guard with an apologetic air, "they've got +a bit out of 'and. I don't know the rights of it--they do say they're +underpaid, though the employers say they spend their wages on +whippet-racing. Anyway, they're out----" + +"But the _railway_, man. What----" + +The guard coughed. + +"Some of them's a bit 'asty, sir, likewise uncontrollable. It seems that +they broke into the publics about midnight and 'ave been making a night +of it, so to speak. They've sent for the soldiers, but they 'aven't +arrived yet. And they've tore up some of the track. The breakdown gang +is repairing it, but it will be an hour or so before we can get on." + +"D'you hear that?" + +"Rather," said Tony, getting up. "Let's go and have a look. I've never +seen a raging mob." + +"Better not, sir," advised the guard. "The town's not safe." + +"They may listen to me," said Tony with simple grandeur. He turned to +his companion. "Do you feel like playing with fire?" + +The little man's eyes sparkled and he breathed quickly. He hesitated a +moment with natural caution. Then---- + +"Yes," he said briefly. "Dash it! I--I feel as if I were beginning to +live!" + +Tony laughed and opened the door. The guard sighed. + +"Well, gentlemen," he said, "don't say I didn't warn you. Anyhow, I'd +advise you to leave your money behind and your watches, too." + +"The man's a perfect Solon," said Tony, feeling in his trousers pocket. +"Here, guard, seven pounds three ... and a watch. If I perish, you may +keep them, but remember that the watch needs winding night and morning." + +The guard gazed dumbly at the evening dress. Then he turned to the other +man, "You anything, sir?" + +"N--nothing that matters," was the confused reply. "Come on! let's make +a move!" + +"Broke!" thought Tony. "But he hasn't tried to touch me yet. What a day +out!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +HOW TO DRESS ON NOTHING A YEAR + + +The two men left the station and began to walk sharply toward the town, +which was close at hand. The first street they entered was deserted, but +evidence of the strike lay open to the shamed sky. Lamps, it is true, +still stood erect, but their glass was shattered; missiles and rubbish +littered the roadway, shop-windows had not a pane left whole, and here +and there makeshift screens of boards replaced or protected the windows. +It was a scene of ruin, complete and piteous. The most curious feature +was that not a soul was in the street: everything was still and lonely. + +In the next street a similar spectacle met them--ruin and solitude. In a +third, the same. In a fourth, the same. It was as if a battle had taken +place, or rather as if the town had been sacked and cleared by an +invading army, which had passed on like a destroying angel, leaving +signs of its progress, and signs alone. + +"This is deuced odd," was Tony's comment--"deuced odd. The ruin does not +surprise, for everything is possible in this age of Socialism. But is +the spirit of curiosity dead? If so, _that_ will be 'the end of all +things.' Surely everybody can not be murdered or afraid to come out. +Surely we shall light upon at least one brand from the burning--some +pathetic, interesting, interested spectator. If it were but a man drunk +in the gutter...." + +"Yes, it's rum," agreed his companion. "But listen! I think I hear a +noise over there to the right. Shall we go and see?" + +Tony stopped, friendliness in his heart. + +"I think you're right," he said. "But look here! Judging by what we've +seen, these chaps won't stick at trifles. Personally I don't much care +what happens, so long as I can get interested; but you're +different--you're an older man. Hadn't you better try the station?" + +The little man blushed. + +"Damn it, sir!" he began, and then stopped. "I beg your pardon--I +haven't sworn these twenty years, but I feel somehow different to-day. +What I mean is that I'm not a graybeard yet, and if you can be +interested, I can. Come on!" + +"All right," said Tony, warming to him. "Awfully sorry I said that. I +say, you _are_ a sportsman----" + +The other blushed again, but this time with pleasure. "Thank you. That +is the second time I have been called a sportsman within twenty-four +hours. I ... I rather like it, Mr.----. By the way, have you any +objection to telling me your name?" + +"Not a bit, if you'll tell me yours." + +The little man considered a moment, and then---- + +"My name is Hedderwick," he said frankly. "I feel I can trust you to +keep your own counsel." + +"Of course. Mine is Tony Wild." + +They had been walking quickly in the direction of the noise, which every +minute became clearer. At last, guided by their ears, they entered a +street where their curiosity was satisfied. At the farther end was a +seething crowd of men, a few women, and a rabble of gutter children. +They were the strikers, or some of them, all excited and not a few +drunk. As the guard had said, they were evidently somewhat out of hand, +and the looting of the public-houses had not tended to assuage their +wrath. Fired by their alleged grievances, liquor, eloquence and the +electricity of a mob, they had spent the last few hours in wrecking the +town. The police had done all that was possible to stem the attack and +vindicate law and order, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. +Reinforcements and soldiers had been telegraphed for, and were even now +marching, but for the time being the local forces had retired to talk +over the return match and exchange of lint and arnica. The strikers were +in possession and thoroughly enjoying themselves. + +Tony, whispering to his companion, "Keep close and don't get into +arguments: pretend to be a labor leader, if you like!" pushed his way +slowly through the crowd. Robert, his heart bumping with fear, interest +and excitement, followed him; he was afraid, but not too afraid, and he +felt that his holiday was proving a success. When they reached the +center of interest, after a tardy but good-humored progress, they were +rewarded with a sight neither had hoped for. + +The thickest of the crowd was swaying round a large shop. It was termed +the emporium, and almost merited the title. The happy anarchs had +smashed every atom of the plate-glass, careless of the rate-payers, and +then had proceeded to abolish such of the fittings as offended their +esthetic sense. In the center of the window-space, standing on a chair, +was a cheerful striker, conducting a kind of auction. More strictly, it +was a charitable distribution, for no one made any effort to pay for the +goods received. The shop was a miniature Whiteley's, embracing +everything from a perambulator to a parachute, and it was odd to watch +the incongruity of some of the articles distributed. One man, for +example, was given a child's feeding-bottle, and accepted it without +demur; with a bellow of approval he seized it by the rubber tube and +whirled it round, shouting, till the tube broke and the bottle flew off +at a tangent. Another received half a pianola--the whole was too much +for him to carry, and kindly friends helped him to bisect it with clubs +and bars. A third, bemused with beer, staggered off with a dozen volumes +of _Comparative Religion_, murmuring brokenly. "Suthin' f'r the kids to +read," and dropping at intervals his burden in the mud. It was a +pleasant illustration of good feeling and unselfishness. + +A few moments after Tony and Robert had penetrated to the front, +ready-made clothing was being distributed with a lavish hand. The +auctioneer would seize a suit, or a part of a suit, from the nearest +peg, and with humorous or profane comments throw it to one of the crowd. +"Who wants a waistcoat?" he was crying presently; "a regular fancy +article, double-wove, stamped on every bleeding yard! Just the thing to +fetch the girls! Just the thing to wear of a Sunday! and when the +bloom's orf you can use it as an 'earth-rug or a tea-cozy! Just the +thing--here y'are!" and he flung it to an outstretched hand. + +"Now's our chance if we want a change!" whispered Robert. He meant it as +a joke, and trembled as he saw Tony's face light up with amusement. +"Don't be a fool!" he whispered at once. "These chaps are simply +mad----" + +"Could you oblige me with a suit?" asked Tony suavely, but in the +clearest tones. The crowd turned at the university accent. Hitherto they +had been too busy to notice the new arrival, but as they observed the +opera hat, the smart broadcloth and starched linen, they recognized the +presence of one of the upper classes and looked black. A murmur arose, +growing in strength and hostility, and a voice suggested with painful +clarity the dissection of his internal organs. + +Tony took in the situation: another minute, and grumbling threats might +be exchanged for action of an unpleasant kind; there was not a moment to +lose. "Let me show you a thing, comrades!" he said brightly; and before +the smoldering wrath could burst into flame he took off his hat and +smote it. The fabric collapsed with a ridiculous _klop_, and the crowd, +taken by surprise and ready to laugh at the mere trifle, roared. Tony +spun it into the air with a careless grace, far over the heads of the +throng; and as all eyes were fixed on its trajectory he pushed his way +forward. "A moment, please!" he urged, shouldering on toward the shop. +"By your leave, sir! Excuse me, friend! Beg pardon, brother!" And +behold! he was standing beside the auctioneer. + +The latter glared his enmity, refusing to budge, but Tony took no heed. +All trace of boredom gone, his eyes aglow with eagerness, he +gesticulated for silence. The strikers, not wholly recovered from their +surprise, postponed, at least for the time being, the suggested +vivisection, and waited for Tony to justify himself. He was a fluent +speaker, and lost no time in beginning. + +"Comrades!" he cried, "you see me as I am! I am in the unhappy position +of being without a hat and in evening dress. Unlooked-for events put me +in a train this morning, and it was not until the train had started that +I realized my absurd costume. What was I to do? Chance settled the +question. Chance brought me here into your delightful neighborhood, and +what do I find? A good fairy, as it were, distributing clothes for +nothing!" At this point a voice called for "Cheers for the----fairy!" +which were heartily given. The fairy, unused to badinage, retired from +the rostrum, and Tony was quick to jump up. "You see, comrades, that I +got a rise: may you soon get the same--may you get what you are asking +for!" A tornado of cheers covered his corollary, "viz., six months +hard," uttered in an undertone. Feeling was shifting a little in his +favor now, and he swept on. "Here, I thought, is my opportunity! I am an +outcast, dressed in the ridiculous garb civilization imposes on her +sons--the pampered scions of the aristocracy! You have seen me discard +my allegiance to the dukes: the crushing of the hat was symbolical. I +hate the petty trammels of the curled and scented darlings of the rich! +If you wish--if you will allow me to annex one of the admirable and +useful suits of reach-me-downs--nine and elevenpence ha'penny off the +peg--I will discard the remnants of an obsolete feudalism. My coat shall +go! My waistcoat! Even my----" + +A prude cried "Shame!" Tony seized upon the word liked a practised +ranter. + +"Yes!" he cried warmly, "it _is_ a shame that I should be forced to wear +these loathsome garments when self-respect urges me to assume a manlier +garb. May I take it that I have your assent? I put it to the meeting +that I forthwith st--take what I want." He paused for breath, but they +were dumb before this extraordinary creature. He hurried on. "Carried +unanimously. Thank you, comrades, for this mark of appreciation and +esteem. Behold!" He tore off his coat and waistcoat and trod upon them. +"See how I trample the badge of servitude! Observe!" He discarded his +nether apparel, knowing that he could not stick at trifles: the crowd's +mood might turn if he gave it time. Luckily, his audacity was rewarded, +for the audience roared with brutal joy at Tony's remarkable appearance. +Without hesitation he snatched a suit from several that hung at hand, +selecting the quietest he could see, talking furiously as he put it on. +"And what now? See! a transformation! A man clothed in sensible dress! +Hurrah for the social revolution! Hurrah for communizing the means of +production and distribution--especially distribution! And all the rest +of the dear old claptrap," he added sotto voce as he leaped nimbly down. + +In the thunderous applause that followed the impassioned harangue Tony +slipped his arms through Mr. Hedderwick's, and they were allowed to make +good their escape. They walked in silence till they were clear of the +crowd, and then Robert paused. + +"Mr. Wild, you were simply splendid!" he said in awestruck tones. +"You're one of the best chaps I've ever met." + +Tony chuckled, tired but pleased. + +"Not a bad effort, was it? But, by jove! I was in a funk half the time." + +"So was I," confessed Robert. "I began to think I might have to use +this." He pulled a revolver out of his pocket and showed it. Tony crowed +with pure joy. + +"Good lord, man! You've got a _pistol_! How perfectly splendid! What on +earth do you carry a pistol for? Do tell me--_please_!" + +Mr. Hedderwick walked on in silence for a minute, evidently weighing +some problem. Presently he gave a gulp of decision. + +"Mr. Wild," he said, "I haven't known you very long, but I seem to have +known you for years. What I've seen has interested me--impressed me, and +I like you. You know a little about me, that I'm off for a holiday on +unusual lines, but unless you agree to my proposal I shan't tell you any +more. You, it appears, are a free agent, young, with nothing to do. I +think we might enjoy ourselves much more together than apart. In any +case, if we found it didn't suit we could separate. If you feel like +adventuring for a few days I think there may be a little fun. I can't +promise it, but I think so. If you agree, I'll tell you the rest when +we get to The Happy Heart." + +"One question," said Tony, "and don't be offended. Do you want any +money?" + +Mr. Hedderwick thought for a moment and frowned. Then he smiled. + +"I have two and eightpence in my pocket," he said frankly. "I came +out in a hurry. I could get more if I wanted, but I don't mean to +try, for I have no wish to be traced yet. I'm not a cadger or a +confidence-trickster. If you care to finance me till we return, so much +the better for me. If not, well, I'll do without and rough it somehow. I +don't mean to miss my holiday." + +Tony smiled. This Hedderwick seemed an admirable fellow. + +"What and where is The Happy Heart?" he asked. + +"An inn at Shereling where I mean to stay." + +"Forward, then, to The Happy Heart. I wish I'd bagged some boots, too. +These pumps are simply cruel." + +They set out once more toward the station. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +AT THE HAPPY HEART + + +The landlord of The Happy Heart stood leaning against his door-post, +smoking a churchwarden. He was enjoying his tobacco and the summer +morning, and occasionally directing a bovine thought to the identity of +the solitary guest at present lying in bed up-stairs. The said guest had +arrived two days before with a view to golf, for the Shereling links +were well known. The Happy Heart was rarely without a golf enthusiast, +since it was the only inn in Shereling, the local squire (at present +yachting) owning most of the land in the neighborhood, and refusing to +let "his" village become an abiding-place for tourists. Wherefore the +neighboring town of Dallingham, six miles distant, reaped a golden +harvest, and its hotels were out of all proportion to its population. + +The guest up-stairs, to return to the landlord's vaguely moving +thoughts, was a man well over seventy, but active for his age. An olive +complexion hinted that he was no Briton, but the testimony of the +green-keepers went to prove that his English was "floont"; and of the +magnitude of his tips the odd-job man of The Happy Heart could not say +enough. A man of seventy may be excused for showing reserve or desiring +quiet, and the landlord did not think it curious that the visitor +divided his time between the links and his bedroom: the man was +certainly a gentleman, perhaps an aristocrat, and there was no doubt +that his money was good. The only thing that bothered the landlord +was--why had he brought no servant? It did not occur to him that +solitude to the great may be worth more than the benignities of a valet. + +The landlord shaded his eyes with a browned hand and looked down the +road. There was nothing to be seen. With an effort that was mental as +well as physical he turned himself upon the axis of the door-post and +blinked in the other direction. Here the figure of a man rewarded him, +walking steadily but without hurry toward the inn. "One of they golfing +chaps from the station," was the landlord's first thought; "he must be +mortal keen to come so early." His mild surprise changed to blank +amazement as the stranger drew near. "Top hat, gloves, et setterer," he +muttered. "A swell an' all! What's he doing of here?" He was still +ruminating when the stranger halted, surveyed the tavern sign, and +entered. The landlord followed him into the parlor. + +"A quart of beer, please," said Lionel, sitting down with relish on the +nearest bench. The landlord, his surprise in no way lessened by the +order, went and drew the beer. He placed it before his customer, and +then said, "You're early astir, sir." + +"Ten o'clock early?" said Lionel. "I thought that country people called +that late." + +"Not if you come by train, sir, as I suppose you did. A friend o' +mine--Jeggs the farmer--drove by here twenty minutes agone. He said that +the first train, the five o'clock, had only just come in, being delayed +by the strikers. I suppose you came by that?" + +"Yes," said Lionel, "I did." + +"And did you see anything of the strike, sir?" + +"No," said Lionel; "I stayed in the train--in fact, I slept all the way, +being tired." + +The landlord, seeing that the other was in no communicative mood, +withdrew, after begging him to ring the bell if he wanted further +refreshment. Lionel, left to the kindly solitude of the parlor, put up +his legs on the bench with a sigh of relief, took a draught of the beer, +and lighted a pipe. + +He was very tired, in spite of the sleep he had spoken of. With the +exception of that brief and disturbed period in the train he had not +slept for some twenty-six hours, and in addition, he had been through +sundry diverting experiences. The successful burglary had been a strain, +and after he and Beatrice had got back to the flat they had spent the +next three hours in discussing and planning. They had searched every +room, nook and cranny for some trace of Mizzi, some clew as to where she +might have flown. Of course it was useless: not a scrap of paper--not a +single compromising document rewarded their efforts. Only some blackened +ashes in the bedroom grate hinted at possibilities. She had left nearly +all her clothes and personal belongings, and her boxes were unlocked as +if to invite inspection. She had simply disappeared--gone, like one in a +melodrama, "out into the night." + +It was of the utmost importance to trace her, but what could be done? It +was obvious that detectives should not be employed, for a hint of +official interference might mean the death of Lukos. Beatrice and Lionel +must do their own detection, and they spent their brains on the problem, +apparently so hopeless. + +Even the cause of Mizzi's disloyalty was anything but clear. It might be +that she was in the pay of the sultan, or it might be that she wished to +be revenged. But why revenge? Beatrice, with a twinkle that made Lionel +feel qualms of conscience, suggested jealousy; but the suggestion was +thrown out in such an airy spirit that he felt she did not really +believe in it. He himself preferred to believe, and did believe, that +the more sensational hypothesis should be adopted. She must be a spy, +who meant to get a good price for the famous papers. But why had she not +stolen them before? Perhaps she had been in treaty with the enemy but +had failed to get the terms she wanted. It did not seem adequate, but it +was the only solution they could suggest. + +Assuming, then, that she had stolen the papers to make money, what would +be her first step? Beatrice--and Lionel agreed with her--thought that +she was too clever to deal with underlings: she would go as near to the +fountainhead as she could, to the Turkish ambassador himself, for he was +a known adherent of the old régime. She would go as soon as possible, +the next morning--_i.e._, about the present, what time Lionel was +drinking beer in The Happy Heart,--but a dim recollection was beating in +the brain of Beatrice that she had seen something of importance in the +society news of a few days past. They searched the flat for every +newspaper, and at last found the sheet they wanted. Hope beating at the +doors, they scanned the column that Lionel never read, but that Beatrice +studied first. Yes! there it was--the justification of her memory for +seeming trivialities. "His excellency the Turkish ambassador has gone +for a few days' golf to Shereling." Beatrice threw the paper away in +flushed triumph, thought deeply for a few moments, and then said, "You +must go there. Mizzi may follow and try to succeed at Shereling. Watch +and do the best you can. I shall stay in London in case I am wrong, and +keep an eye on the embassy. If she is at Shereling, try to get the +treaty. I must leave you to work on your own lines. If I hear anything I +shall wire to the local inn. Will you?" + +Of course he said, "Yes. Is there anything else?" + +"Money. No--do not protest. This is life and death, and both cost +money." She ran to a little safe and returned, her hands full. "Here are +notes for a hundred pounds or more. You may have to bribe. Do not +refuse--it is for Lukos!" + +Lionel longed to say, "Madam, my life and fortune are at your disposal. +Let there be no mention of money between us." But seeing that his stock +of ready cash had dwindled to twopence-halfpenny (he had bought a packet +of ten cigarettes the day before, and now cursed the extravagance), he +could only say, "As you will." + +"Thank you," she said softly, and laid her hand on his head. He +thrilled, and she administered a necessary antidote. "It is for Lukos!" + +"Oh, hang Lukos!" he groaned in spirit; and then in swift repentance his +thoughts mumbled, "No, no! Bless Lukos--dear old Lukos! Poor old chap!" + +After this there had been nothing but idle conversation until the hour +of his departure approached. Once Beatrice fell into a fit of musing and +presently she said, "What a fool I was to tell Mizzi!" A younger man +might have said, "Not at all: it was perfectly natural." Lionel, older, +more self-reliant, and more honest, replied simply, "We all make +mistakes," for he thought her folly almost incredible. She felt +this--they were more than _sympathiques_--and said, "Ah! if you knew! I +was very lonely one night ... lonely and sad ... I had to talk to some +one, and believed her a true friend. You can imagine my self-reproach." +He could, and felt himself more than justified in pressing her hand. + +Presently there had been some suspense, for when the time came for him +to leave the flat, at half past four, Beatrice had peeped from the +window and imagined that she saw a man watching the house. Lionel +peeped too, but could see nothing. Nevertheless they had waited another +ten minutes, as long as they dared if he was to catch the first train. +But at length he resolved to risk a spy, and after a brief, tense, but +outwardly calm "good-by" he had left the house. By taking a cab he +reached Euston in time, and at last was established in the train. So far +as he knew, he had not been followed: the only stranger he had noticed +had been a man who was in the train before he was on the platform, so +from him there could be nothing to fear. + +And now he was in The Happy Heart, resting after a dusty three-mile walk +from Shereling station, drinking good English beer, far from all thought +of Oriental craft and scheming. He was in Shereling, on the second stage +of his fond adventure. What was to be the first step? + +In spite of the rest and beer he felt discontented, and glumly wished +that Beatrice were at hand. To what end? To advise, direct, console, or +soothe? He hardly knew, but darkly suspected that it was for the weaker +reason. Idly he allowed himself to remember the touch of her delightful +fingers, cool, nervous and alluring: the seduction of her hair, the +brilliant command of her eyes. But it was not these only that inspired +his grateful remembrance: it was also her lovely personality, her +courage, her charm, herself. Of course it could not be love; that was +absurd. It was a flame kindled by the sympathy of a comrade--the kind of +comrade he had never known. Possibly the fact that he had not enjoyed +any extensive woman-friendships during the recent years had made him +exaggerate her qualities: she might be rare, but could she be so rare as +he thought her? Supposing he met some other delightful woman soon, might +not the pleasant image of Beatrice lose something of its luster? He +shook himself impatiently; it was a foolish thought. Other women might +be delightful, charming, desirable, but there could only be a single +Beatrice. How pretty she was! How--and here the figure of Lukos beckoned +a grim warning: "It is time you put your shoulder to the wheel, my ... +_friends_!" + +"All right, old chap--_all right_!" said Lionel petulantly to the shade. +"Don't be in such a beastly hurry. It's not love ... it's not love, I +tell you. Just a superlative esteem for your splendid wife.... Your +_wife_," he added with a martyr's sigh. And then he raised the tankard, +feeling that it ought to hold Tokay. "Here's to her!" he murmured, +drinking deep. He put the pewter down, but raised it again. "And to you, +old chap!" he added generously. "... Hullo! there's none left. Beg +pardon." + +As he finished, the door opened and admitted a chubby little clergyman, +who sat down with a courteous "Good morning!" Lionel made haste to +remove his legs from the bench. The landlord followed close upon the +heels of the newcomer. "Morning, sir," said the landlord respectfully. +"Will you take anything?" + +"Draught cider. Half a pint," said the clergyman briskly. The landlord +disappeared, and he turned, smiling. "You should try the cider of The +Happy Heart," he said--"that is, if you have not done so already. I +allow myself that as a concession to the flesh." + +"And a sensible concession, too," replied Lionel heartily. He was +pleased that a gentleman in Holy Orders did not think it undignified to +drink in a common "pub." "I have been drinking beer, and very good it +is--or was. But I must try the cider, if I remain here." + +"Staying long?" asked the other pleasantly. And when Lionel said, +guardedly, that he had not quite settled yet, the clergyman did not +pursue the question, but passed on to other themes. "I am the local +parson," he said chattily. "My name is Peters." As he spoke the landlord +came back with the clerical cider and a telegram. + +"Does your name happen to be Mortimer, sir?" he asked. "Because if so, +this here telegram is for you." + +"It is," said Lionel in some surprise. The wire could only be from +Beatrice, but he had not expected any communication from her as yet. +With a brief apology he opened the yellow envelope and read its +contents. It was all he could do to keep from betraying his +astonishment. The wire read as follows:-- + + "Hope you had pleasant journey. My suspicions deepen. Try stay + Arkwright twin. Suspect even her. Wait further wire.--BLAIR." + +He read the telegram three times, but it was not till the third reading +that he grasped the import of "Arkwright twin." He knew no one of the +name of Arkwright, nor had he ever claimed acquaintance with a twin. +"The nearest I could do is triplets," he thought. "Johnson of the House +was a triplet, I remember, but that's no good to me.... Who on +earth...?" And then he recalled Beatrice saying that she had a twin +sister who had disapproved of her stage career. Of course it must be +she. He had been so accustomed to think of his preceptress as Beatrice +Blair that he had almost forgotten it must be a stage name. And so she +was really an Arkwright--rather a pretty name on the whole, though +unworthy of her high claims; failing Beatrice Blair, it ought to have +been Rosalind ... Rosalind what? Rosalind Roy ... Rosalind Gay ... +Rosalind Ebbsfleet ... Rosalind Wise.... He smiled as his thoughts +played with a score of dainty conceits. He was roused to common sense +and depression by the remembrance that she was really Mrs. Lukos. But +was Lukos a surname? "Let's hope not," he reflected sourly. + +"No bad news, I trust," said the chubby clergyman, with a polite but +ecclesiastical inflection. + +"No--no," answered Lionel abruptly. He abandoned Rosalind completely and +tried to arrange his thoughts. "By the way, do you happen to know any +one of the name of Arkwright in the neighborhood?" + +The chubby clergyman looked interested. + +"I do and I don't," he said, pulling his chair close to the table and +leaning on his elbows. "A Miss Arkwright lives at The Quiet House. She +has been the tenant for only two months, and nobody has seen her yet." + +"What!" + +"It sounds odd," said the clergyman with the smile of one who has an +interesting story for a virgin audience, "but it is true. She calls on +nobody, and denies herself to every caller. She is never seen in the +village except when driving in her motor, and I am sorry to say that she +does not come to church." + +"But surely something is known of her,--through the servants, for +instance----" + +"She has a housekeeper, I believe, who makes friends with nobody; a dumb +gardener and a dumb footman. A little extraordinary, eh?" He rubbed his +hands with zest. "But it is true none the less. Of course, all sorts of +gossip have been greedily accepted. I never listen to gossip--one has to +think of one's position--but some things can not be hid.... They say she +takes motor drives at night,--every night. I do not credit the +'every'--exaggeration is so prevalent. I always believe less than half +what the villagers tell me--that is, what drifts round to my ears." + +"But what does she do all day?" asked Lionel. Clearly this was a queer +state of affairs. + +"I do not know. Her grounds are large. Perhaps she gardens." + +"You do not think there is any fear of ... of a scandal?" asked Lionel +in a pained voice, anxious not to wound. + +"I trust not ... I trust not. I have no reason to think.... Of course, +things _do_ look odd, and my wife says ... but, no! I am sure she must +be wrong. I ... I hope so." + +"Mrs. Peters has heard----?" hazarded Lionel. The clergyman shook his +head with dignity. + +"Nothing. Nothing. My wife called, but was refused admittance. Naturally +she, as the vicar's wife, felt a little hurt...." + +"Of course," agreed Lionel. "But no other friends come? Nobody in +motors?" + +"I believe not. I should have heard,--it would have drifted round to me +in the course of time." + +"Nobody stays here, I suppose?" + +"Oh, yes--golfers. One is here now--an excellent man,--old and of +foreign origin, I believe. He calls himself Beckett; but he has told me +(in confidence) that he is here for rest, incognito. He may be somebody +of importance--an excellent man, however. He gave me a guinea for our +restoration fund the day I showed him the church." + +"The ambassador!" was Lionel's swift conclusion; and then aloud, "Has +he been here long?" + +"Three days. For golf. We have played a few rounds." He smiled at some +hidden joy. "He is not very good, for even I can give him a stroke a +hole. Uncommunicative--very, but interesting, a gentleman, and I should +say a seeker." + +"Ah!" said Lionel, getting up. "Well, I must go on. Can you tell me how +to find The Quiet House?" + +The other gasped. + +"You are going to _call_!" He recollected himself and apologized. "I beg +your pardon, but ... go straight down the road ... the prettiest house +on the right. By the way, if you are staying here I should be happy to +take you round the links. Or show you the church----" + +"Thank you," said Lionel. "You are very good, but I don't know how long +I shall be staying." + +"Well, come round and smoke a pipe after dinner," suggested the +clergyman. His eagerness to secure one who knew Miss Arkwright was +poorly disguised. "I would say, come and dine, but Mrs. Peters...." + +He left it to be understood that Mrs. Peters' permission must first be +obtained. Lionel could hardly restrain a smile. "Thank you," he said; +"I can not promise yet, but I will remember. Good-by." + +He left Mr. Peters rejoicing over a fresh piece of news that had +"drifted round," which he meant to retail to his wife at the earliest +opportunity. As he sat down again to finish his modest allowance, Tony +Wild and Mr. Hedderwick made an unobtrusive appearance. They had watched +Lionel turn the corner before approaching, for Robert was not anxious to +meet his late visitor by daylight. + +"Good morning, sir," said Tony. He turned to his friend,--"What's yours? +Mine is beer, and lots of it!" + +"Mine's bed," said Robert, and sat down with a yawn. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +CROSSED ORBITS + + +There are few things more restful than watching other people working +hard, and the sensation is doubly piquant when one is sitting in the +shade watching the worker toiling beneath the sun. Mrs. Peters was +sitting in the shade; and though she would have denied the suggestion of +idleness (for was she not picking the names of likely helpers for the +imminent bazaar?), it was not unpleasant to observe Brown, the odd-job +man, mowing the lawn. He seemed willing, though of course you must +remember he had been taken on only two days ago, and besides, knew that +the mistress had her eye on him; sober, too, refusing beer in favor of +lemonade--but there! that might be hypocrisy, for there is always +something, and these quiet men are often worse than the patently +unsteady. Probably he gambled.... Still, at present he was undeniably +working, and he had sense enough to oil the machine every quarter of an +hour. + +The vicarage lawn was big enough for two tennis-courts, with a little +over for croquet in miniature or clock-golf. It took, theoretically, an +able-bodied man an hour and a half to "run the machine over it." The +optimistic phrase was the vicar's, who had not run the machine (or its +predecessors) for twenty years. A succession of practical runners made +the sum come out differently; and one rebellious soul--"of course, my +dear, a radical chapel-goer"--had invited his employer to shove the +qualified mower himself and see if 'e could do it in a qualified +howerananarf. The sporting offer was not accepted, but the idealistic +standard maintained. It was, in fact, a grass-cutting bogy who had never +been beaten yet. + +"Be careful, Brown," said Mrs. Peters, preparatory to a departure +indoors, "to gather up _all_ the grass and put it in the sack. It looks +so untidy if you leave any lying about." + +"Yes, ma'am," said Brown respectfully; "I'll be sure to do so. I ought +to finish in half an hour or so." + +"Less, if you _work_, Brown," said Mrs. Peters reprovingly. She knew he +had been mowing for little over an hour, but discipline must be kept up. +Besides, does not Browning say, "A man's reach should exceed his grasp, +or what's a Heaven for?" Without waiting for possible protests she went +into the house. + +The odd-job man smiled. + +"She's all right," he said softly to no one in particular. "Oh, lor', +_yes_!... _She's_ all right." + +He whistled softly, but without obvious discontent, and made a change in +his labors. Giving the machine a well-earned rest, he began to gather up +the cut grass from a square of canvas that lay extended on the ground +and stuffed it into the sack referred to by Mrs. Peters. This task +brought him near the tall privet-hedge, reinforced by a four-foot +paling, which sheltered the vicarage garden from the road. He had hardly +accounted for a dozen armfuls when a voice from the other side of the +hedge said, "Good morning." + +Regardless of Mrs. Peters' late instructions, the odd-job man dropped a +generous portion of grass and stood transfixed. "So you've come!" he +said quietly but distinctly. "For goodness' sake let's have a look at +your pretty face!" + +The privet-hedge parted, and a damsel of twenty-three smiled upon the +gratified Brown. + +"Is that better?" she asked. + +"Lots," replied the odd-job man, pressing closer to the hedge. "But I +tell you what would be better still----" + +"Yes?" + +"I shall have to whisper it...." + +The damsel, full of innocent curiosity, bent forward to listen. The +odd-job man, congratulating himself on extraordinary cunning, bent +forward and essayed a kiss of welcome. The intended recipient, however, +seemed to be possessed of a sixth sense or instinct, for, when his lips +were on the point of meeting hers, she drew back with a melodious cry of +surprise. The kiss was too late to be checked, and unhappily was +bestowed upon a bunch of privet. + +The odd-job man mildly whispered the equivalent of "How very annoying!" +and then remonstrated in a louder tone. He pointed out that he had not +seen his visitor for a week, and that under the circumstances the least +she could do, etc. + +"Ye ... es," agreed the damsel, parting the hedge once more, "it is +true, all that you say. But you forget that you have not earned it yet." + +"Holy Moses!" said the odd-job man, appealing to the heavens. "Here I +chuck my job in London at a word--or, rather, a letter from you! I come +down here got up as a laborer; I hang about the blessed village till I'm +sick for the town and you again; I get taken on here to work--and, mind +you, it _is_ work, though I don't grumble at that. And it's all for to +keep an eye on a chap I've never seen." + +"And not for me?" + +"You silly chu--I beg your pardon, miss--that is, my dear! What I do +mean is, who are you gettin' at? Of _course_, it's for you, and I'm +going through with it. But I do think you might give me a bit of +encouragement like, when you come at last----" + +He paused; there was the sound of steps coming down the road, and he had +no wish to be overheard courting. Thus drawn back to real life, +conscience pricked him, and he wondered if there was any danger of Mrs. +Peters reappearing. In a panic he looked over his shoulder.... No! the +lawn was deserted: he still had time. But when he turned to the hedge he +was surprised to see his love with her head pushed right through the +privet, scarlet from excitement. A hand, too, appeared, enjoining +caution and silence. + +You must have recognized ere this that Brown, the odd-job man beneath +the thrall of Mrs. Peters, was none other than Mr. Henry Brown, +cab-proprietor, under different auspices. You will remember, then, the +type of man he was but a few chapters ago, middle-aged, reserved, +cautious and a little unenterprising. But you will not forget that love +had made a change in his habits, outlook and élan. He was younger now, +more alert, audacious and full of guile. So you must not be surprised +that when he saw his lady beckoning, appealing to him to come closer, be +careful, not talk, but observe--when he saw her head (and it was a very +pretty head) framed in harmonious privet--when he saw this gift of +fortune, you must not be surprised that he accepted it. He drew near and +kissed her very quietly but very heartily. She, for some obscure reason +wishing to remain unseen, did not dare to withdraw her head or box his +ears. All she could do was to bite her lip and stamp her dainty heel, +while she remained, ostrich-like, in the hedge. + +The footsteps passed, but before they began to grow fainter Henry Brown +repeated the salutation. "Couldn't help it!" he said meekly, answering +the sparkle in her eyes. "You shouldn't tempt a man. Now, what's the +row?" + +She was too excited to rebuke him; the moment was too precious to be +lost. "You see him?" she queried, pointing to the retreating figure of +Lionel, who was on the road to The Quiet House. "Well, that is the man +you are to watch! That is he from whom you are to recover the document!" + +"The deuce it is!" said Henry, gazing after Lionel with interest. "Well, +he's big enough to give trouble...." + +"You are not afraid?" + +"Not particularly," he said with a slow smile. "It's not a job I hanker +after, but I've promised you to try, and I will try. You'll tell me, I +dare say, what you think the best way of setting about it?" + +"Of course. You are far too stupid to think for yourself. And now, +good-by!" + +"I say, you're not going! And I had such a lot to talk about ... that +wedding, for instance...." + +"What wedding?" She paused, chin in air. + +"Come! that's a good 'un. Ours." + +"Pstt! the assurance of these male creatures!--As if I would marry a man +who kisses me by force! No, Mr. Brown, do not count on that. Do what you +have promised first, and then I will think about it. If I choose, +well ... If I do not choose, well ... I promise nothing." + +"That's a poor sort of bargain." + +"It is no bargain: I do not bargain. I give an order. Good-by. Oh, I +will write to you----" + +"Thank you--thank you----" he began. + +"To tell you what to do. I shall not be far, but you must not attempt to +see me without my leave." + +She turned on her heel and marched down the road. The odd-job man +whistled in amused dismay. "They're all alike," he muttered as he turned +to his work again and met the vicar's wife. She was coming from the +house and wore a severe expression. + +"Did I hear you talking, Brown?" + +"I can't say, ma'am," he answered stolidly. She frowned. + +"Be good enough not to equivocate," she commanded. "_Were_ you talking?" + +"I often talk aloud to myself," said Henry mildly. He was an honest man +and did not take kindly to lies, even of the whitest. Mrs. Peters +frowned again. + +"Indeed!" she said icily. "Do you mean to say you were not talking to a +young woman through the hedge?" + +"Yes, ma'am," said Henry, "I was. I suppose I'm allowed to rest for a +minute now and then." + +"Rest is a very different thing from philandering. That I can not allow. +It looks very bad from the road to see the vicarage servants gossiping +or worse through the hedge. Remember, Brown, it must not happen again. I +can not understand one of our village girls----" + +She paused interrogatively, but Henry was not so silly as to fall into +the trap. He began to oil the machine, and even Mrs. Peters did not +like to ask pointblank who his sweetheart was. Instead, she finished +with a snap, "--making herself so cheap." + +She went back to the house again. Henry straightened up and glared after +her. "They're all alike!" he said again; but how he could include two +such different people as Mrs. Peters and his adored in the same +condemnation is hard to understand. The words of the sentence, it is +true, were identical; but the inflection hinted at a great gulf fixed +between the two offenders. Possibly they were charged with different +offenses. + +"They're all alike...." Are they? Does the same essential lurk beneath +the surface? Supposing we could dissect Mrs. Peters, Alicia, Mizzi, +Beatrice Blair, and a thousand Ermyntrudes or Sallies, should we find +the same germ of woman? Take Lionel's evidence, if it were available. +You might safely assert that to him Beatrice was different from and +superior to any other woman you could produce. Henry Brown would as +stoutly hold the same of his anonymous sweetheart. Mr. Peters and Mr. +Hedderwick we may hope would take an identical line, or at least they +would have once. But these are, or have been, lovers, the blindest of +mortals, and their evidence is too partial to be trustworthy. A cynic +like Pope would tell you that every woman is at heart a rake, and might +find a score of others to support him. A Shaw might produce a monster +like Ann Whitfield and brazenly say she was typical. A Chesterton would +talk of women being sublime as individuals but horrible in a herd. A son +might say that his mother was perfect, but he, too, would be partial. +What is the truth about woman? Only a woman can say, and she would find +it hard to take a detached view. Probably truth was partly expressed by +the odd-job man in words--wholly expressed by his words and inflection. +They are human and feminine if you probe deep enough, but there are +variations, unimagined harmonies and discords for the seeker. "They're +all alike"--with a difference, and no man can learn the whole truth from +a text-book. The text-book can give him elementary rules which may serve +him well, but he must be prepared to find plenty of exceptions. The +student, however, need not fear monotony. + +But while we have been indulging in cheap philosophy Mr. Brown's +sweetheart has got well down the road, following at a considerable +distance the footsteps of Lionel. Evidently she is in a good humor with +the world, for she hums an air that has a sprightly sound as of the +boulevards or cabarets, and she stops to pick a wild rose. She is +smiling at her thoughts--possibly at the lamentable lack of self-control +exhibited by her lover, possibly at the remembrance of the grass still +to be mown and neatly gathered. And as she is in a good humor, +self-possessed, and the air is of the balmiest, is it wonderful that she +should smile absently on a good-looking stranger sitting by the +roadside, smoking a cigarette? Surely not, as the stranger is Tony Wild, +who has left Mr. Hedderwick exhausted at The Happy Heart, while he +strolls out to examine the lie of the land. + +"Good morning," says Tony courteously, raising his cap. He does not get +up, for that might frighten her away. "Can you tell me which is the road +to Hetton-le-Hole? Forgive me asking, but...." + +"I have never heard of it," says the lady, with a smile that shows she +penetrates Tony's elementary artifice. "I am sorry.... Good morning." + +Tony deliberately flicks the ash from his cigarette. + +"What a bore!" he observes with a fluent laziness in his voice, and of +course the lady can not continue her progress while he is speaking. It +would look so prudish. "I was awfully keen on seeing Hetton-le-Hole, but +nobody here seems to know the road, so I suppose I shall have to give up +the idea. I say, don't you find life rather a bore?" It was an abrupt +change of subject, but there seemed no inconsequence as the words +dropped idly from his lips. He appeared to be talking at random for an +obvious purpose, but with an unaffected sincerity. "Nothing to do, I +mean, and not a vast amount to see. One day following another, and so +forth, you know...." + +"Heavens, no!" replied the lady with an amused contempt. "There is so +much to see--to ask--to think about! What can a young man like you think +of himself if he is bored at ... at twenty-six?" + +"Good shot!" said Tony. "I say, please forgive me being so forward and +pushing and all that, and do sit down and talk to me. I should be +tremendously gratified, and I'd do my best to amuse you." + +"I have stayed too long already," she said with a crisp note of rebuke. +"I have neither the time nor the wish to stop and relieve the tedium of +bored strangers. I hope you will soon find the road you speak of." + +She turned and went on her way. Tony smiled good-naturedly; really, she +had been quite lenient, though he had hardly deserved all she said and +implied. She was more than pretty and was evidently no fool. A lady? +N--no ... but ... was it worth following up? Should he try to engineer a +small flirtation or be content with the fair promises held out by Mr. +Hedderwick? N ... no ... Yes! She had spurned his lightly-proffered +homage to her charms, and amour propre would not allow him to give in +without a struggle. He was only too willing in most things to step aside +of his own free will--things so soon lost their interest; but to be +forced to play the part of rejected spectator, that could not be +permitted. His eyes followed her smilingly. "I bet she turns and waves!" +thought the despicable Tony. "She's a charming lady's maid who likes +fun, respects herself, and means to be treated with correctness--when +she chooses. She will turn and wave before reaching that bend in the +road. And _I_ will be stand-offish and refuse to reply. A perfect cause +of offense, with a delightful misunderstanding to follow. _But_, I shall +follow her secretly along the hedge and find out where she lives. +Admirable!" + +She had gone some little distance, but still did not turn round. +Worshipers of beauty, modesty, good feeling and decorous behavior, +rejoice! She did not turn round! Her gay _svelte_ figure marched bravely +along, virginal defiance in her shoulders and the swing of her +tailor-made skirt. The fragments of a gallant whistle floated back to +Tony, and he murmured "Bravado!" with an uneasy doubt. The curve of the +road was close at hand now: a few more yards would carry her past in +triumph, and the sex be vindicated. Tony was in painful agitation, for +his knowledge of woman and powers of swift diagnosis were at stake. +Three yards were left--two--hope seemed dead. Then, alas! she stopped +and a smile crept to his lips. But she did not turn round--there is +still a loophole for the sex,--she did not turn round! All she did was +to open her reticule and take her handkerchief from it. As the +handkerchief was withdrawn a bit of pasteboard was caught in its folds +and fell--unnoticed?--on the road. Tony waited with vast contentment +until she had turned the corner. Then with a light heart he followed and +picked up the card. He read the inscription with amused curiosity. It +was, "Miss Arkwright, The Quiet House." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +RATHER STAGY + + +After Beatrice had bidden Lionel good-by in the early dawn she did the +most sensible thing possible: she went to bed. But it is one thing to go +to bed and another to go to sleep, as many a sufferer--from insomnia, +love, indigestion, or kindred ailments--has found to his cost. You feel +weary, oppressed with the want of sleep, let us say, yawnsome--in a +word, ready to drop off the moment you are between the sheets. But, if a +white night be inscribed in the book of Fate, how changed the mood as +soon as the light is out! At once, almost, you lose that sense of +impending slumber and become wide awake, clear-eyed and keen of brain. +Something occurs to interest your mind and you meditate perspicaciously +thereon. Another thought succeeds, and another, and you grow more +wakeful every moment. Soon you begin to say, "I must go to sleep now," +and resolutely try to refuse to think. But resolution is vain before +insomnia. Eyelids may be tightly shut, but the masked eyeballs still +peer vigilantly into the void: hands may clench themselves in the +hopeless effort to compose the will and induce the wished-for slumber: +the alert body may strive to cheat itself by observing the accustomed +ritual--first on the right side, then left, then right again--in the +expectation of influencing mind by matter: droves of sheep may be +counted passing through innumerable gates--poems recited till the very +thought of verse revolts--numerals repeated by the ticking brain--but +still you are far from the haven. It seems that + + "Not poppy, nor mandragora, + Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world" + +could bestow the most blessed of all boons. And at last you give up the +unequal struggle and try to make the best of it. + +Failing drugs--and one has to be a smart society lady, a broken man or +woman, for them--there are various palliatives. You may turn on the +light and read till sleep comes with soothing fingers upon tired brows. +Or, if young and enterprising, you can go for a walk and see the dawn. +Or sometimes an impromptu bedroom picnic--bread and cheese and a bottle +of beer raided thief-wise from the pantry, taking great care not to let +the stairs creak and alarm the house--may have excellent results. These, +and a score of similar expedients, may be recommended with assurance to +the patient. And if they fail, at least they have passed an hour or so +more pleasantly than in mere acquiescence. + +Beatrice lay awake, sorely against her will. She knew that sleep was +what she needed, and would need still more within some fourteen hours. +The strain of acting, followed by her preposterous adventure at the +magnanimous churchwarden's, had used up more of her nervous resources +than was desirable. Sleep was therefore the obvious thing. But alas! it +proved the impossible thing, too, and she lay restless, aglow with +thought, waiting impatiently for what she knew would not come. + +What did she think of during those hours of frenzied vision? Was it of +Lukos, waiting in an eastern prison for the news that would set him free +to join her? Was it her dead son, the little boy she had spoken of to +Lionel? Or Turkey, the land of her adoption, struggling for freedom, +enmeshed with perils, the slave of diplomatic and selfish adventures? +Her art--had it a place within those weary wheels of thought; her +success on the stage, the triumphs of the footlights--illusory, but so +real in seeming, so satisfying and complete? Or Lionel--did he whip her +straining fancies to a wilder effort toward the goal? Something of all +these may have engaged her, for each was inextricably interwoven with +the others. Lukos--Lionel--the sultan--Mizza--the Hedderwicks--the +ambassador--a hundred minor characters, "supers" in the drama of her +life, wheeled hither and thither, mocking, defying, questioning. The +horrible lines of Wilde burned in letters of fire upon the wall: + + "Slim shadows hand in hand: + About, about, in ghostly rout + They trod a saraband: + And the damned grotesques made arabesques, + Like the wind upon the sand." + +Each must have had his place in the drama, but the important question +was, who played the lead? Lukos or Lionel--honor and faith or ... +inclination? Yet that is hardly a fair way of putting it: she must not +define her interest as inclination, hinting at something more potent. +Interest one may admit without qualification: Lionel had saved her life, +was an attractive and pleasant young man, and had been her guest for a +week. Of course Beatrice was interested; she would have been hard or +inhuman otherwise. But did her inclination show signs of becoming +something more? Could she honestly say in the stereotyped phrase that +"he was nothing to her?"--nothing being the antithesis of everything. In +that sense she could say it, for he was certainly not everything. But +was "nothing" exact? Ah!... + +At least she must have found comfort in the reflection that she had sent +him away on an errand that would avert all danger, if successfully +carried out. She had been ... weak ... once or twice, but such a +weakness may find a ready forgiveness, considering the circumstances and +the expiation. Which of us, oh, censorious reader, would have been as +strong as Beatrice? + +Still, she could not sleep, and for the present that outweighed all +moral hesitations and scruples. At seven o'clock she gave up the unequal +contest, dressed and went out for a short walk. The air calmed her, and +she gained a respite from the self-examination for an hour. Then, after +making an effort to eat some breakfast, she sat down to smoke a +cigarette and think again about Lionel. What was he like, the real man, +the true Lionel? Was he a man to be trusted, a man to be relied on, the +sort of man, so to speak, one would like (supposing it were possible) to +marry? Lionel as a husband.... "Husband" brought a smile, a blush and a +frown to the face of Beatrice, and it is to be hoped that the shade of +Lukos noticed the blush as well as the smile. "Heavens! and I have +only known him a week!" thought Beatrice with self-chastisement: +"besides ..." Precisely! There are so many "besideses" in real life. + +But undoubtedly, and without any disloyalty to shades, living or +otherwise, he was the dearest of boys. He had behaved extraordinarily +well throughout--extraordinarily well, for actresses have unique +opportunities of studying man's weakness--not only in the cab and the +dressing-room, but during the week of voluntary imprisonment. Polished, +controlled, devoted without being tiresome, he was certainly the dearest +of boys. Human, too, and humanity was a quality that appealed to +Beatrice; nor did he lack a sense of humor and romance. But she had only +known him for a week, and could she possibly form an adequate judgment +in such a period? "He may be acting all the time," she thought with a +dismal pucker of the forehead, "and I ought to know how easy it can be +to act. What a fool I am to worry over things!" + +She threw away the half-smoked cigarette with a petulant gesture and +continued to worry. The remembrance of Mizzi flashed across her +mind--her prettiness and Lionel's evasive declarations. These had been +glib enough, no doubt, but glibness and dexterity were not sufficient to +lull the suspicions of Beatrice. "He is a man," she argued angrily, +perversely pleased in lashing her apprehensions, "and a bachelor. What +else could one expect? Of course, he may not have kissed her, but.... If +he has, well ... what right have I to...." + +Her petulance increased with every moment, and when the bell rang about +ten o'clock she felt more like a naughty ill-tempered child than +anything else. Remembering that now she had no maid, she controlled +herself and opened the door. Her face cleared, for on the threshold +stood a man she liked, her manager. + +"Hullo, Ashford!" she said. "Come in! I'm glad you've come, for I'm +bored to tears." + +Ashford Billing, a smartly-dressed man of thirty-six, entered. One would +hardly have guessed him to be connected with the stage, for he had a +mustache, was well-groomed without over-emphasizing the fact, and had a +pleasant look of self-reliance without swagger. He was tall and lean, as +if he was accustomed to keep himself in hard condition, and though an +American you could scarcely have guessed it from his speech. Four years +in England, during which time he had studied to erase transatlantic +idioms and intonations with a view of playing on the stage, had been +crowned with almost complete success. Only a stray word, a phrase +occasionally, showed that he was not a native-born. + +"It's an early call, Miss Blair," he said pleasantly as he followed her +into the sitting-room. "Partly business and partly pleasure. Which will +you have first?" + +"Oh, pleasure," answered Beatrice carelessly: "I'm tired of business. +Will you smoke?" + +"No, thank you. Well, I'll plunge into the pleasure right away, though +there's some business in it, too. You know I'm not the man to beat about +the bush, so I'll ask you straight out if you're still in the same mind +as you were six months ago?" + +Beatrice made an irritated movement of her shoulders. + +"Oh, bother!" she answered. "Fancy calling at this hour to ask me that!" + +"Sorry," said Ashford Billing. He did not appear at all excited, though +his eyes gleamed. "My time's hardly my own just now--working day and +night over the new production, provincial tours and syndicates. And you +never seem to be at home at reasonable hours--I called twice last week, +but Mizzi said you were out." + +Beatrice blushed, and turned to the window to hide the blush. She +remembered her instructions to Mizzi. + +"So I thought I'd come now on the off chance," continued Billing. "Dear +Miss Blair, I may not appear romantic or in earnest, but I am. I'm a +plain man and want to marry you. You refused me once, but I don't like +giving up altogether. Is it any good?" + +"Not a bit," said Beatrice decisively. "Sorry, Ashford: I like you +awfully, but not that way. So you must take that as final." + +"I will for the present," he answered, looking gloomy for a moment. Then +he brightened up. "But at the risk of offending I warn you that I mean +to ask you again later on, in case you change your mind. In the American +dictionary there's no such word as 'impossible.'" + +Beatrice was roused at this. + +"Look here, Ashford!" she said, biting her lip, "don't you talk to me +like that! It's no good, and I won't have it! You'll make me lose my +temper in a minute. I've never encouraged you, though I've always been +fond of you in a friendly way." + +"Then still there may----" + +"You've as much chance," said Beatrice, with flashing eyes, "as a +bob-tailed dog in fly time! There's one of your own Americanisms for +you, and I hope you like it!" + +Ashford Billing could not help laughing, though Beatrice seemed in a +thoroughly bad temper. + +"Say, that's fierce!" he said, relapsing. "Where did you hear that?" +Then he became graver. "But I won't worry you any more. I'm sorry ... +but I guess I'll study to improve my manners." + +"Let's get to business," said Beatrice, sitting down. "I'm tired to +death of this. What is it you want?" + +"Well," he said, following her example, "I came here for two things. The +first was to ask you to be my--oh, yes! good enough! I know that's a +back number now. For the present, anyway. If that didn't materialize I +wanted to know if you'd care to tour the provinces in _A False Step_. +You know we close down in a week, and I'm going to start the +tour--number one towns only--in the autumn." + +Beatrice shook her head. + +"No; I'm going to take a rest." + +"You'll have lots of time to take a rest before the tour starts. Why +not----" + +"Look here, Ashford! You seem to think that I don't know my own mind in +anything. I've already refused your offer for a London shop, and I don't +mean to think about the provinces. See? I won't be worried any +more--I'm----" + +She paused and suddenly burst into tears, hiding her face in her hands. +Ashford Billing, long accustomed to the vagaries of leading ladies and +hardened in a rough school, was completely taken aback. He had known +Beatrice for a fine actress and a finer woman--a woman who had charm, +good looks and character. To see her break down for no apparent reason +was not merely distressing--it was a shock. + +"Say, little girl," he said kindly--and there was no hint of disrespect, +though on other occasions he was scrupulous in his use of "Miss +Blair"--"I'm real sorry. I didn't know you'd feel bad about it. What's +the trouble? Can I be of any help?" + +Beatrice recovered herself, feeling extremely ashamed. + +"It's only nerves," she replied, drying her eyes with vicious dabs. "I +didn't sleep last night. That's all. Give me a cigarette." + +Billing opened his case and gave her one, looking gravely at her. There +was something behind this, he thought, but what it was he could not +guess. + +"I won't worry you any more," he said quietly. "I'd have liked to book +you for that tour, but I guess you know best. You've had a tiring +season--long runs are the very deuce, though they pay the manager. You +take that rest you talk of and make it a good one. But let me know when +you feel like getting to work again." + +"Thanks, Ashford," said Beatrice, smoking quickly. "You're a good sort. +But, honestly, I'm thinking of giving up the stage altogether. I'm +getting sick of it." + +Billing, who had had the kudos of giving Beatrice her first chance, felt +his heart sink. But, realizing that this was not the time to urge mature +reflection, he held his peace. Beatrice talked idly a few minutes, +trying to appear natural, but the effort was great. + +"Where are you going for a holiday?" she asked. + +"Flying," he answered. "Across the channel, perhaps. I've never done it +yet." + +"What a queer boy you are," she said, looking at him fixedly. "What on +earth made you take to the aeroplane?" + +"Why on earth did I take to the sky?" he laughed. "I did it to advertise +my first production over here. It was the right goods, too, for every +one talked about the actor-manager-air-man. When I found how exciting it +was, I couldn't stop. That's all." + +"You're odd creatures, you men," said Beatrice, musing. "I should have +thought that managing theaters was exciting enough." + +"Change of excitement--just like falling in love with a new sweetheart," +he smiled. + +"Ah! that sounds like a man! Tell me, Ashford, do all men run after +every pretty face they see?" + +"You want me to give away trade secrets, eh? Well, I suppose most men +do ... until they're hooked." + +"Ashford! _Hooked!_ How loathsome!" + +"I beg your pardon ... I was thinking as a cynical bachelor. What I mean +is that I suppose most men swear off the pursuit once they've promised." + +"And never relapse?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"The decent ones don't, but even they sometimes have a bit of a +struggle. Take an extreme case: suppose a decent chap gets engaged, and +force of circumstances keeps him apart from his divinity for ... +years...." + +"He ought to feel bound in honor not even to think of another!" flashed +Beatrice. + +Billing sighed. + +"He ought, but he's up against a tough proposition. At least, the decent +one tries...." + +"Men are horrible," she said wearily. + +"Pretty horrible," he agreed, "but there's an amazing lot of unseen +goodness hidden in the dirt.... Men aren't so bad ... some men. But +we're getting too serious. I must be off. It's been a bad morning's work +for me." He smiled--not very whole-heartedly, but still he smiled. "You +refuse both my offers. But you'll let me know if I can ever do anything, +won't you? That's merely friendly." + +Beatrice did not smile, but she looked appreciatively at him. + +"Thanks, Ashford," she said. "Yes; I've just remembered one thing you +can do. Read a play by a friend of mine." + +He groaned in comic despair. + +"All right!" he said, "but don't make me promise to produce it. Remember +this is my living!" + +"No; I only want you to read it. If it's bad, say so like a man: don't +put the poor wretch off with the usual sugary criticism. And don't let +it lie for months with all the rest of the lumber. You managers are +cruel to authors, and you've had this one lying idle a long time." + +He did not deny the charge, save by a smile. + +"I'll read it this week, sure," he said. "What's it called, and who's +the author?" + +"I forget the name of the play. The author is a Mr. Mortimer." + +She said the name quite easily and without a blush, but Billing on the +instant thought, "Who the devil is he? And what does she want to push +his play for?" But he did not allow his face even to hint at surprise. +He just held out his hand and said good-by, as naturally as if he had +not been rejected without any hope of a future recantation. For though +he professed optimism, in his heart he felt that Beatrice was not for +him, and the knowledge hurt. + +"Good-by," he said cheerily. "Mind you have a good holiday, and come +back to work soon." + +"Good-by, Ashford," she said, trying to keep back some unnecessary +tears. She had known him for some time and guessed what he was thinking. +He, she was sure, was at least one of the men who tried. "You're a good +sort. Good-by." + +Then she telephoned to a garage: "I want my car at two o'clock!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A RISE IN THE WORLD + + +The Happy Heart was an ideal resting-place for a tired man, whether town +or country-bred. To the former it made the stronger appeal, for there +could be no greater contrast than between The Happy Heart and the +flaring brazen public-houses which offer solace to the dwellers of the +pavement. These attract by their fierce pledges of light, warmth and the +stimulated oblivion of the moment; The Happy Heart draws the +heart-strings alike of the physically tired and mentally jaded. Apart +from the promise of good liquor--and all who go to Shereling can rely on +the promise being fulfilled--it makes an esthetic appeal. For it is +still an old-fashioned country tavern of the prettiest type, destined to +make even the total abstainer wonder whether he be so absolutely in the +right after all. It boasts a porch, over which a Virginia creeper +spreads its amorous leaves; rose-bushes waft a welcome and the sure hope +of peace to plowman or golfer after the day's striving. A meditative +cow, apparently an artistic fixture, chews the cud in a field hard by +from day to day. Smoke curls lazily from a huge and ancient chimney, as +much as to say, "Be of good cheer! I come from the kitchen!" And there +is, too, one of those signposts you see sometimes in the south,--a +pillar placed separate from the inn itself with a swinging board above. +The superscription, by the way, was due to the fancy of the squire's +wife. When the squire entered into his inheritance and married he had +had dreams. He wished to be like Dogberry and have everything handsome +about him. His wife, a pretty imaginative creature, had imbued him with +ideas for the betterment of his dependents, and he had tried to fulfil +her wishes. He inclined to the practical side, and to him was due at +least half the credit for the improved housing and sanitation of +Shereling. She, practical enough, thought that estheticism should show +an equal growth; and to her shade the visitor does reverence when he +admires the profuse planting of trees, the village library with its good +pictures, the addition of a tower to the church, and a fine organ. Last, +but not least, she persuaded her husband to have the inn called The +Happy Heart, instead of The Bull and Dog. + +In this desirable residence Tony and Robert Hedderwick sat at two +o'clock, enjoying their cigars after a copious lunch. Robert had slept +the whole morning, and now felt a new man. Tony was tired, but +disinclined for bed,--there had been too much to interest him up to the +present, and he felt there might be more to come. This was such a new +sensation that he had no trouble in propping his eyelids till the +evening, and he listened with zest while Robert prattled cheerfully of +his incredible adventures. They had, of course, agreed to work as +partners, so long as tedium kept away: they were mutually attracted, and +already more than friendly. Confidences had been exchanged: Tony had +repeated to the envious churchwarden some of the tamer episodes of his +dilettante existence; Robert had tried to cap them with his burglars and +Alicia. + +"But you ought to let your wife know something," suggested Tony. "She +may be worrying." + +The churchwarden looked a little uneasy. "If I write I might be traced +by the postmark," he objected. "I suppose I might send a letter saying +I'm all right to a friend, and get him to readdress it. But even then +there's a danger...." + +"There's danger any way," said Tony, smoking thoughtfully. "From what +you tell me, I should think Mrs. Hedderwick would not hesitate to use +detectives if she thought it necessary. I should hardly think it would +be long before they picked up your trail, unless you communicate with +her. Really, you know----" He broke off suddenly and laughed. "No! don't +write; I've got a better plan. I won't tell you now, but keep it for a +little--till a dull hour comes and we are hard up for something to do." + +Robert, naturally curious, begged for enlightenment, but Tony was +adamant. Changing his ground, he declared that there was no hurry for a +day or two,--or at least for a few hours. Mrs. Hedderwick would probably +take a couple of days to make up her mind to use the police, and +meanwhile they were better employed in seizing the thrills of the +moment. Tony got his way, of course: he was accustomed to lead and exact +obedience. Personality and class-consciousness, coupled with a humor +that appealed to his victims, made the task easy. + +"I haven't told you yet," said he, after silencing Robert's objections, +"what I did with my morning. Well, I looked round and got the general +hang of the village. More, I followed our mysterious friend--let's call +him Billy,--and from a distance saw him enter The Quiet House. (Queer +place that, by the way. Surrounded by a brick wall ten feet +high,--couldn't get a glimpse inside except through a gate.) The +landlord tells me that he hasn't booked a bed here, so it looks either +as if he meant to leave Shereling or stay at The Quiet House." + +"A good job, too," commented Robert. "It wouldn't do for him to see me. +Of course I should be recognized at once, and that would make him +suspicious." + +"Quite so," agreed Tony. "If he hung about here you'd have to stay in +bed all day,--rather a depressing prospect when fun is promised. But if +I were you I'd give a false name to the landlord. If Billy heard of Mr. +Hedderwick it would make him think of things." + +Robert had an instinctive repugnance to the plan. In some obscure way it +savored of criminality, and the shackles of convention were still not +wholly broken. But in the end Tony again triumphed, and the blameless +Hedderwick was dubbed Bangs. He did not particularly care for the +choice; but as Tony said he looked the perfect essential Bangs and that +any other name would be unthinkable, Robert gave way. + +"Oh, and I saw some one else," continued Tony when the point was +settled. "A remarkably pretty girl. She, too, entered The Quiet +House--some time after Billy. I had seen him safely in, and was waiting +by the roadside when she came along. She snubbed me--quite +properly,--but was kindly careless enough to drop a card. It bore the +name of Miss Arkwright, who, I understand, owns The Quiet House. But +somehow I don't feel sure that the card is hers." + +"Why?" + +"Dunno," said Tony with a dissatisfied air. "I haven't any reasonable +evidence. A kind of intuition, I suppose, more than anything else. +Somehow she doesn't _look_ an Arkwright,--she hasn't got an Arkwright +personality. Now, you simply exude Bangs at every pore,--_you're_ all +right." + +"What was she like?" + +"Bangs being a respectable married man, mere good looks have no interest +for him." ("Oh, but they have!" interrupted Robert with a naif +eagerness.) "Well, they oughtn't to, then. As a matter of fact, she was +deucedly pretty, and--good lord!" + +He broke off and jumped to his feet in a listening attitude. Robert did +the same, for in the porch they heard the voice of Lionel--or "Billy," +as they had named their anonymous friend--in conversation with the +landlord. The two men were discussing the weather, and Tony and his +partner looked frantically at each other for a plan. In another minute +Lionel might enter the parlor, and there was no escape. The door was but +a yard distant from the porch: the window opened on the road. To leave +the room by either egress might mean discovery, and for Robert to be +recognized by Lionel would ruin all. That is, it might effectively put +an end to the development of the adventure, for if "Billy's" suspicions +were awakened he might take the first train back to town. At least he +would be put on his guard, and that would make things more difficult +than ever. It was imperative that Robert should be hidden from sight. +But where? He could not be concealed under the table, for no cloth lay +upon it, drooping decorously over the edges. There was no cupboard large +enough to contain the bulk of Bangs. No friendly screen, the +time-honored refuge of the dramatist, stood in any corner. No +Falstaffian basket was there to promise aid. The room was a Sahara in +view of the unhappy arrival of "Billy," and beads of perspiration stood +out on Robert's brow as he waited, without a plan, helpless as a trapped +rabbit. + +Tony's friends used sometimes to complain that he put them in impossible +situations. The charge was not unjust; but, as Tony would point out when +accused, he was equally ready to sacrifice himself if circumstances +demanded it. It was unfortunate, no doubt, that Fate seemed to prefer +the immolation of a friend, but that was not his fault,--it was Fate who +should be reviled. This was an occasion calling for presence of mind, +resource and unflinching discipline. If the adventure of his life was +to be carried through successfully, no minor considerations--such as +friendship or soot--could be allowed to weigh. With a strong gesture he +pointed to the old-fashioned hearth and capacious chimney. "Up you go!" +he whispered. "Look sharp!" + +Robert recoiled. "No! no!" he whispered piteously. "Not that! +Surely----" + +He was not allowed to argue. In another moment Robert felt himself led, +as in a dream, to the fireplace. The next, and he had a foot upon the +massive iron bars. Luckily there was no fire laid, no coal to disturb +and proclaim his bid for obscurity. He looked up into the cavernous +darkness and groaned in spirit; that was the first time he regretted his +mad flight. Then, helping himself by projecting bricks, searching for +insecure crevices with his toes, he began to climb the few feet +necessary to safety. + +By the time his ankles were the only visible evidence the hearth was +covered with soot, and Tony looked anxiously round for something to +remove it. As chance would have it, a broom stood in the corner of the +parlor, left there by a careless servant after the morning's tidy-up. +Triumph in his eye, Tony seized it and approached the hearth. But on +getting there his purpose changed; temptation was too strong. Pushing +the broom up the chimney, he used it as one uses a ramrod, helping the +murmurous Robert in his upward path. "Excelsior, old friend!" whispered +Tony, for an ankle could still be seen. "Excelsior!" and he thrust with +frenzy. The only response was a muffled sound that floated down, a +subdued kind of blasphemous choke. It filtered into the parlor as +"Orpgh," but Tony did not relax his efforts till the ankle had +disappeared. The next moment Lionel entered the room, followed by the +landlord. The latter gave an astonished grunt as he surveyed Tony, hands +and face smudged like a Christy Minstrel, and even Lionel's breeding +found it hard to restrain a laugh. + +"There has been a fall of soot, Mr. Glew," observed Tony blandly. "I +found this broom, and was just going----" + +"Lor', sir, don't you trouble," said Glew, scandalized that a guest +could so demean himself. "The servant'll do that presently. I was just +saying to the missus a week ago come Thursday that we should 'ave to get +our chimneys cleaned soon. We'll 'ave to set about it in earnest now, +and no mistake." + +"I suppose you send over to Dallingham for a sweep?" suggested Lionel, +sitting down. The landlord chuckled. + +"Yes, sir, when the squire's at 'ome. 'E makes us. But when 'e's abroad, +why, we do the old-fashioned way--light a batten of straw and burn the +flue clear." + +A slight scuffle proceeding from the chimney seemed to hint that Mr. +Bangs had heard. Could it be that he feared lest they were going to +clean the flue in the old-fashioned way now, or was he merely suffering +from cramp? Whichever it was, he shifted: the noise was unmistakable, +and the fall of more soot made the landlord shake his head. + +"I doubt there's a bird got down the chimney," he said, scratching his +chin. "Those jackdaws or young rooks do sometimes. Give me the broom, +sir, and I'll soon have him down." + +Tony's hand tightened on the broom. + +"Let me," he said suavely. "There's no need for two people to get +black." Without waiting for a reply he approached the fireplace and +thrust his weapon strenuously aloft. It was no time for half measures, +and Tony felt obliged to be as realistic as possible in the interests of +his friend. Realism, however, may be carried to excess (as Mr. Bangs +pointed out later with no little heat), and the fluttering of the +mythical bird would have drawn tears to the eyes of humanitarians. + +"It's no good, sir," said the landlord, dismally observing the soot; +"it's out o' reach. I fancy I'd better get that straw and ha' done with +it." + +"That's rather too cruel, landlord," said Lionel from his seat. "I don't +like the idea of smothering the poor beast." + +"Put it this way, sir," said Glew, who was an amiable fellow; "is it +better to smother it or leave it there to starve? My way 'ud take five +minutes--yours a couple o' days. Well, sir?" + +"I suppose you're right," said the soft-hearted Lionel, "but I don't +half like----" + +"Don't you worry," struck in Tony, who was beginning to get anxious. "I +tell you what! It's a big chimney and I'm pretty slim. If you'll let me +go up to-night after the pub's closed, Mr. Glew, I'll strip and climb. +Of course we mustn't leave it there, and smothering doesn't appeal to +me." + +"You're a decent chap," said Lionel, moved to admiration. Tony modestly +murmured "Not at all," and hoped the landlord was satisfied. But he was +not. The very ideer! One o' his guests a-climbin' the chimney! No! he'd +send the boy up. Hi! + +Things were now looking very black in more than one sense, and the +disciple of romance in the chimney had serious thoughts of a descent. +But as the landlord opened his mouth to bellow for the boy, the man from +up-stairs--"Mr. Beckett"--passed the door with his golf-clubs slung over +his shoulder. He looked in and said, "I'm going up to the links, Mr. +Glew. Dinner at seven-thirty, please," in a polished voice that carried +a hint of an alien accent. Then he went on. + +Lionel determined to follow. He had been to The Quiet House that morning +and had learned that Miss Arkwright was away. She would be back, +however, about four. The door had been answered by the dumb footman +spoken of by the vicar, who had exhibited one of those dials that stand +on hall tables--"Out--in at...." So Lionel had come back, meaning to +kill a couple of hours at the inn. But when he saw the man "Beckett" it +struck him that he might as well waste those hours on the links. He +might possibly get into conversation with this man, whom he felt sure +was the Turkish ambassador. Every thing pointed to it,--the newspaper +paragraph--the accent--the assumed name (for he had confessed it to the +vicar)--the age. Supposing this to be so, he might be worth watching. If +Beatrice were right in her suspicions and conjectures, it was quite +possible Mizzi would follow him to Shereling and seek an interview. +Mizzi, in point of fact might have already made an assignation--she +might even be waiting on the links! Supposing he found them ... well, at +least he would have verified suspicions, and could chart his course by +certain knowledge. Yes, he would follow on the off chance. + +He did not take as long to make up his mind as we have taken to describe +it. The reader, if kindly-hearted, should be glad of this; for meanwhile +the unhappy Bangs has risked exceeding the proverbial allowance of "a +peck of dirt" to be swallowed in a lifetime. Lionel, then, went out, +leaving Tony to deal with the landlord. He sighed with relief, for at +least the most important character had disappeared. + +"Mr. Glew," he said winningly, "I have a little surprise for you. May I +close the door for a moment?" + +"Cert'n'y, sir," said the other, staring. His bovine gaze followed Tony +as he walked to the fireplace, stooped down, and said gently, "_Come, +birdie, come!_"--a song of his childhood flitting suddenly across his +brain. To make his meaning perfectly clear, he added, "It's all right, +Bangs. You may get down from the table!" Then he discreetly retired a +few paces and waited. He had not to wait long. + +"_Mygoard!_" said the landlord explosively, and indeed there was excuse +for the expression. It was caused by the extraordinary entrance of Mr. +Bangs. He clambered down painfully for a few feet, but just as he +reached the bottom his foot slipped and he sat down emphatically, facing +them, in the grate. The appearance of this gnome, silent, save for a +strange wheezing that rasped its way through a soot-slaked windpipe, +baffled description. Tony looked at the figure with a mournful +compassion, and the landlord rocked drunkenly against the door. + +"You see, Mr. Glew," said Tony soothingly, "it happened like this. My +friend--who, I am sure, will corroborate me as soon as he has had a +drink,--my friend and I had a dispute about chimneys. He averred that +they often concealed a 'priest's hole,'--one of those hiding-places for +Popish priests we read about. I disagreed, and our dispute became so +heated that we even staked money--Mr. Bangs, on the probable existence +of such a chamber here, I on the negative side. He is an enthusiast, and +nothing would content him but the immediate settlement of the question. +So, despite my protests, up he climbed. Just as he was about to descend, +you and the other gentleman entered. Conceive the position! He naturally +had no wish to be discovered in such a situation, and waited, hoping the +parlor would soon be empty. Your suggestion of the batten upset all +calculations. Now, I am sure you will spare his feelings and say nothing +of this. All he requires is a hot bath. You quite understand?" + +The landlord gave a crow of assent. But as he went down the passage a +deep rumbling, suppressed but distinct, betokened that he could not +regard the situation seriously. When the door was closed Tony turned +apologetically to his companion-in-arms. + +"Awfully sorry, old chap," he said, "but it was one of those things that +had to be. You quite see that, I hope?" + +"_Krwx!_" said the gnome, weeping. "_Krwx! airp--krwx!_" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A CHANGE OF LODGING + + +At the club-house Lionel put his name down for a week's membership, +thinking it might be useful. He learned from the local professional in +the course of a short chat that there were only some half-dozen players +out that afternoon, all being men. Mizzi, therefore, had not assumed the +disguise of a golfer, though she might be waiting somewhere on the +horizon at an appointed trysting-place. The ambassador drove from the +first tee while they were talking: he was playing a solitary game +against bogey, who--judging from the first three shots--appeared likely +to win. The fact that he did not take a caddy might mean anything--a +sense of shame or an expected meeting with Mizzi. Lionel, that he might +have a reasonable excuse for keeping him under observation, borrowed +some clubs from the pro. on the plea that his own had not yet arrived. +He had not played golf for years, but trusted that some of his ancient +skill might still remain,--enough, at least, to justify his appearance +on the links. + +The scheme, however, produced little, for there was no sign of Mizzi. +Lionel played slowly, keeping a methodical hole behind all the way. At +the fifteenth, however, he caught up with his quarry. In a moment of +ill-judged enthusiasm, and fired by the thrill of a superlative +brassie-shot, he went all out for his third. It was a long hole--bogey +five--and there was a deep bunker guarding the green. Lionel, after some +consideration, took the mashie in preference to the iron. It was a +mistake, for the green was farther than he thought. He made a beautiful +full shot that flew straight but fell short, deep in the heart of the +bunker. "Spoilt it!" thought Lionel with natural melancholy. "Ah! well! +Not so bad, considering I haven't played for so long." + +As he walked on he remembered with a pang that he had forgotten the +ambassador. In the pleasure excited by a perfect drive, a perfect +brassie-shot, and an ill-fated, ill-judged, but clean full mashie, he +had lost sight of the other's existence. Now he was nowhere to be seen. +"Confound it!" thought Lionel uneasily; "what a kid I am to get carried +away by the game! Has he holed out and gone on, or is he by any chance +in that bunker?" + +He hurried forward, now thinking only of the chase; and as he drew +nearer he heard curious sounds proceeding from the grave of so many +hopes. Voluble, emphatic and distinct utterance in an alien tongue +floated through the abashed ether, and with a sigh of relief Lionel +approached and stood on the brink of the pit. + +It was a deep sandy hollow, shored up on the farther side with stout +banks of timber, and at the bottom stood the ambassador cursing his +ball. So intent was he on this futile but human act, that he did not +observe his audience above. Lionel stood and watched, not ill-pleased +that an aged arbiter of the peace of nations could on occasion show some +feeling, real if regrettable. Presently the exasperated diplomat ceased +his objurgations, swung his niblick once more and tried to get out. He +struck once and the ball bounded heartily against the timbers, falling +back at his very feet. He smote again and a shower of stinging sand +whipped sharply in his face. "_Whee!_" he said distinctly, and Lionel's +cheek tingled in sympathy. He swung a third time and with neat precision +played a flint-stone well on the green, laying it dead. Being a man of +obvious determination, though limited skill, he tried again, and yet +once more. Then, with uncouth barbaric cries, which Lionel rightly +guessed to be in the Turkish language, he lashed flail-wise at the ball. +It rolled, leaped, hopped--grew vivid with excitement, but still it +never left the bunker. + +He gave it up at last. This cunning diplomat, this indomitable +statesman, was obliged to own himself defeated. Picking up the ball, he +deliberately took a knife from his pocket and tried to cut it in half. +This proving impossible, he flung it away, resolved that nevermore +should he be troubled with this particular disturber of the peace. Then +with a resolute quiet action, he broke his niblick across his knee. +Lionel, hoping to get into conversation, left his eyrie and joined him +in the pit. + +"My turn now, sir!" he said with a fictitious cheerfulness. "I hoped the +green was twenty yards closer. This is a beastly place to get out of." + +It was a false move. Had he waited till the other had done a hole in +three, or at least made one good approach, Lionel might have found him +good-humored, conversational, entertaining. But at the moment he was not +himself. With a contemptuous "_Allez au diable!_" the ambassador looked +sourly on Lionel and climbed slowly up the hill. Lionel, disappointed +but not resentful, watched him drive from the next tee. + +He followed him round without result, and in the fulness of time saw him +leave the golf-house and walk dejectedly home. After watching him enter +The Happy Heart, Lionel made his way peacefully to The Quiet House, +hoping Miss Arkwright would have returned. In this he was not +disappointed, for the silent footman bowed in answer to his question and +held the door invitingly open. Lionel accepted the unspoken welcome, +entered and was shown into the drawing-room. The footman placed a chair +and motioned that he should sit down. Lionel obeyed with a vague feeling +that something was amiss. Was it the silence of the footman that gave +him an uncanny impression, or was it the atmosphere of the house? He had +heard of presentiments of ill under similar circumstances and had +disbelieved them all, but now it was different ... he was uneasy. After +sitting uncomfortably in his chair, half expecting it to play some +goblin trick upon him, he got up and began to look at a picture hanging +above the mantelpiece. + +He was still busy with his scrutiny when he heard the door open and +close again behind him. Turning at the sound, he saw a lady standing +perfectly still in the middle of the room. Lionel gasped, and almost +fell. "_You!_" he quavered, sure now that wizardry was at work. "_You!_" + +"Please sit down," said a grave voice. "I am Miss Arkwright." + +Lionel pulled himself together with an effort, but he did not sit down. + + +"No," he objected steadily. "I am sorry to contradict you, but that is +not true. You are playing a trick on me for some reason that I can not +understand. But I swear that you are not Miss Arkwright." + +The lady smiled, as one who soothes a maniac. + +"Indeed?" she said courteously. "Then perhaps you will tell me who I +am?" + +"You are Miss Beatrice Blair," said Lionel in a hard voice. He was +bitterly disappointed, and no wonder. + +"Beatrice Blair?" repeated the other, with an astonishment that could +not but be genuine. "Whom do you mean? Who is Beatrice Blair?" + +"She was playing last night at the Macready Theater," returned Lionel +with a patient dignity. "How she contrives to be at Shereling at this +hour, mystifying a poor wretch whose only fault is a too ardent +devotion, I can not explain." + +This he thought rather a fine speech, and he was relieved to see the +clearing of her brow. But he was mistaken as to the cause. + +"The Macready Theater!" cried the lady in a tone of satisfaction. "Ah! I +can guess now. You must mean my sister, of course. There can be no +other explanation. I know she is"--she shuddered daintily--"an actress, +but I had quite forgotten her nom de guerre." + +"Her ... sister ..." repeated Lionel dully. "Why, yes ... I thought I +was calling on her sister ... I wished to see her--not Miss Blair +again...." + +He sat down, unable to realize it yet. + +"Did you not know we were twins?" she asked, clearly anxious to help +him. + +"I had heard ... but I did not expect...." + +"To find the resemblance so striking? I have not seen my sister for +years, but when we were younger strangers often mistook us. We were +mutual replicas. I imagine from your surprise that the resemblance is +still very marked." + +"That is the feeblest way of putting it," he answered, still staring as +if fascinated. "You are identical in every feature--eyes--hair--even the +voice...." + +"Perhaps you might find that we differ in disposition--in character----" + +He interrupted bruskly, forcing himself to accept the incredible. + +"Excuse me; but I can not imagine any one so perfect as Miss Blair." + +The lady sighed. "She is on the stage." + +"Good heavens, madam!" said Lionel with scornful candor. "Does the stage +spell infamy to you? I thought that attitude was _vieux jeu_ now." + +"I may be old-fashioned," she said primly, "but I am under few +illusions. Of course I would not even hint that my sister is likely to +tread the downward path" ("Oh, _lord_!" he groaned in spirit)--"one of +our family must have sufficient firmness of character to rise above even +_her_ environment. But we know the old proverb of pitch and defilement; +can she honestly hope to retain her bloom unsullied?" + +"Have you ever--I won't say 'met an actor or actress,'" asked Lionel in +polite wrath, "but, been to a theater?" + +"Certainly. Three pantomimes and _Our Boys_." + +"But that is--how many years ago?" + +"It was a revival of the play," she said with a blush, and Lionel was +glad to notice that she had at least one human trait. "I am thankful to +say that I did not laugh." + +"And you rest your condemnation on that?" he asked, disgusted that so +pretty a creature could be so narrow. + +"On that, on what I have been told, and on the ridiculous number of +post-card favorites that I see--often in deplorable dishabille--in every +stationer's shop. I have deliberately come to the conclusion that the +stage is immoral. How, then, can I avoid condemning my sister's +lamentable choice of a career?" + +Lionel rose, pale with anger, forgetful of his errand. + +"I am sorry to hear it," he said with absurd dignity. Of course, he +ought to have laughed and talked about the garden. "I am sorry you +persist in such a hasty condemnation of a noble profession----" + +"And of Miss Blair," she put in with a sly jealousy. + +"If you like," he flung out. "I can not allow any one--even you--to +criticize her. I regret, therefore, that I shall not be able to stop the +night." + +"I was not aware," she said with an unmoved countenance, "that I had +given you an invitation." + +Lionel was so taken aback that he sat down abruptly in his chair. Then +the humor of the situation came to his rescue and he laughed outright. +The lady, too, though she made a gallant effort to control herself, +failed miserably. In a moment the pair of them were united by the most +perfect bond (save one) that earth knows--the mutual appreciation of a +jest. + +Lionel, as the waves of their mirth broke gently into ripples and +presently dissolved in the foam of smiles, realized how foolish he had +been. When he set out first for The Quiet House he had taken it for +granted that Beatrice had telegraphed to bespeak her sister's +hospitality. It was only too clear now that she had not done this, +either through forgetfulness, pressure of work, or procrastination. He +had simply assumed that Miss Arkwright would receive him as her guest, +and the conversation had been too briskly controversial to allow him to +think. Now he was doubly annoyed at his clumsiness: he had behaved like +a boor and had sacrificed the interests of Beatrice to an ill-timed +chivalry. His cue was submission at all costs for Beatrice's sake. + +"I apologize," he said with a frank good humor. "I thought your sister +had already engaged your good offices on my behalf." He noticed +hopefully that Miss Arkwright's eyes still twinkled with amusement. +Clearly she was not all prunes and prisms. + +"I have heard nothing," said the lady much more sweetly. "No doubt she +meant to write, and forgot. Poor Beatrice! She was always harum-scarum." + +To a sensitive man this might have implied a lack of confidence in the +protégé of Beatrice, and Lionel moved uneasily. + +"I hope," he said humbly, "that you will forgive me. I trust that you +will allow me to prove my good faith--that----" + +"I shall ask you to dine and sleep?" she said bluntly, though a charming +smile softened the crudity of her words. "Well, Mr.----?" + +"Mortimer. Lionel Mortimer." + +"Mr. Mortimer, I do not doubt your word for a moment. I should enjoy +cultivating your acquaintance and hearing some first-hand news of my +sister. But I fear it is impossible. You see there are the proprieties +to be considered. I am a single lady, and perhaps...." + +To Lionel this was an astonishing view of the case. After his +unconventional week at the Bloomsbury flat he was poorly qualified to +appreciate the apprehensions of Miss Arkwright. His brain told him idly +that she was perfectly right, but his heart merely insisted on the abyss +between her outlook and her sister's. And, as usually happens, the heart +found the readier audience. + +"Quite so--quite so! But surely you----" + +"Are old enough?" she suggested helpfully, plunging him deeper. + +"No--no! I did not mean that! I only meant that surely you have a +housekeeper--some person of mature age, much older--oh! _much_ older +than yourself--who would save the situation?" + +"Well," she admitted with an exasperating coyness, "I have such a +domestic, it is true. Mrs. Wetherby is sixty. Do you think that would +do?" + +"Admirably!" cried Lionel in triumph, caring nothing for his recent +buffets. "Admirably! Mrs. Wetherby shall protect you with the armor of a +centurion--or of a Lord Nelson," he added scrupulously, remembering that +the pre-dreadnought era would carry more conviction. "The thing is +arranged! I shall stay after all!" + +"Thank you," returned Miss Arkwright with a demure twinkle. ("Is she a +prude? Oh, is she?" he reflected, watching.) "Of course, I shall be +delighted to do all I can for a friend of Beatrice. You really _do_ know +her?" she asked in pretty appeal, as if frightened at her own rashness. + +"If you like," said Lionel, luxuriously recalling his wonderful week, "I +shall paint a word-picture of her charms. I shall tell you how her eyes +shame the starlight--how her hair can enmesh the hearts of all +beholders--how her lips----" + +"I do not think I need trouble you," interrupted his hostess rather +distantly. "No doubt Beatrice is an attractive young person----" + +"_Young person!_" he repeated, horror-struck. "Beatrice Blair a _young +person_! Profanity! Please, please do not----" + +"I shall leave you to think of a better description," she said, with a +smile of pity that held no scorn. "I have some letters to write, and I +fear you will have to dine alone. You must excuse me, but it is +inevitable.... Do you mind ringing the bell?" + +He obeyed, and a moment later the footman entered. "Take this gentleman +to the blue room, Forbes," said Miss Arkwright. "See that he has +everything he wants." The footman bowed and held the door open for +Lionel. "Dinner is at half past seven. If you are dull before then, +please go to the library. But perhaps you are not a reader? Perhaps you +are of those 'whose only books are----'" She checked herself, as if +remembering her own correctness or the immobile Forbes. + +"They taught me only wisdom--the best wisdom of all," said Lionel, +answering the unfinished quotation. Then he went out, wondering. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A LETTER AND SOME REFLECTIONS + + + "BLOOMSBURY, LONDON. + + "DEAR MR. MORTIMER,--Long before this reaches you my sister + will have received a telegram introducing you properly. I am so + sorry that I forgot to wire before, but I have been so harassed + and busy that I never thought about it. A true woman, you will + say--I can almost see your superior smile as I sit writing + here, yet I dare to hope that the smile will not be too + superior, that a touch of pity will creep in when you remember + that my worry is for a husband's freedom. If only I can save + Lukos--but it is foolish to waste time on 'if's.' I _mean_ to + succeed, and you have promised to help me. You have my + heartfelt gratitude already. + + "Thank you for your letter telling me of your arrival at The + Quiet House. Do not be discouraged that you have not seen Mizzi + yet, and that you have been unable to approach the ambassador + again. I have been working very hard and am not dissatisfied + with the results, though they would look paltry if I committed + them to paper. My information leads me to think that we are on + the right track--that Mizzi _is_ the guilty party--that sooner + or later an attempt _will_ be made to sell the document--and + lastly that we must suspect every one. Yes, _every one_! Even + my sister, perhaps, and that brings me to the more important + part of my letter. + + "I have not seen Winifred for some years, but from the hints + you gave me in your letter I gather that she is of distinctly + prepossessing appearance. (Isn't that how the police reports + usually describe it?) My pen hesitates whether to write 'Be on + your guard' or not. Shall I?... may I?... But it is written and + must stand. Oh! do not imagine that I am distrustful--I _know_ + you can be relied on--I _know_ you can be true and firm and + faithful: but my heart fails when I remember that you are a + man; encompassed, too, by perils you hardly perceive, snares + almost impalpable. Forgive me! I have no right to speak like + this.... I know you are honorable ... but the greatness of the + stake forces me to utter my warning--to foresee danger which + may be remote--to leave no stone unturned to insure a + triumph--to guard against any weakness, however venial or + trivial, which may make my path--and the path of Lukos!--more + difficult. + + "This is a rambling letter. It is midnight, and I have had a + tiring day. Forgive me and understand; or, if you can not + understand, forgive! I urge you again to watch my sister + carefully.... Heavens! it seems a perfidy; but the life of + Lukos!... Watch her, I say again. I have grave cause for + suspicion, though she does not guess I suspect. Why she, above + all others, should betray me I can not tell. I had hoped + that--but this is weak and futile. _Watch her carefully._ + + "You say that up to the present nothing has happened. It may + well be that nothing will happen for a time. In any case, you + are of the greatest service by remaining at The Quiet House--on + guard! Stay there at all costs, till you hear from me again. Do + what _she_ tells you--play the hypocrite if need be--strive to + conciliate her, but _watch_. I have London under my eyes. + + "So much for the chief business. As for news, the play ceases + very shortly and I may be able to arrange a meeting, when we + can talk things over. On the whole, I am happy, being busy,--at + least as happy as I can expect to be until.... Oh! by the way, + since we parted I have had another offer of marriage. Such a + nice man, too. But if only men could be satisfied with being + true _friends_.... Some men can, I know, but the rest ... I am + tired. Good night, my friend.--Your friend, + + "BEATRICE BLAIR." + +Such was the letter that Lionel was reading for the fiftieth time since, +a fortnight past, it had come to The Quiet House. It gave him little +information and less comfort. From the formal "Dear Mr. Mortimer" ("Hang +it! I couldn't _expect_ 'Lionel'!" he told himself savagely) to the +distant intimacy of "Your friend Beatrice Blair," it was unsatisfying to +a devoted adherent of romance. Yet what else could he ask for? He was +not in love--no! he was not in love, for there was a husband! Besides, +Beatrice would be the last person to lead him on when.... Stay! there +had been temptation on her part in the cab and in the dressing-room. +Yes, there _had_; there was no sense in pretending to himself that there +had been no encouragement: there _had_. Charity (a word, by the way, +which the Revised Version has altered to "Love") on the instant said: +"Coxcomb! She led you on to engage your services for Lukos. A pardonable +deception." "Very well," grumbled Lionel, admitting the justice of the +argument, "let it be so. But it seems a little rough on...?" + +Leaving this, he turned to other items, trying to read some new shades +of meaning into the too-well-remembered words. She was working +hard--good: she was fairly happy--good: he must stay where he was--good: +watching--good: Lukos--Lukos--again Lukos ... h'm ... yes, +good--certainly good. The beggar was her husband, after all. +Good. The sister was pretty--a smile: he must be on his +guard ... h'm ... perfidy ... a traitor ... of prepossessing +appearance ... could she be ... jealous? + +"Coxcomb!" said reason again: "look at the end--'Your _friend_.' Then, +too, there is 'another proposal ... such a nice man.' Jealousy? Ha! ha!" +Lionel swallowed the pill with a bad grace and put the letter away. + +He had been at The Quiet House for a little more than a fortnight, and +up to the present he had achieved nothing. Mizzi had made no sign, the +ambassador was invisible, no further instructions had come from +Beatrice. Yet he had been interested and amused, studying the character +of his hostess and waiting, Micawber-like, for something to turn up. + +His position was the oddest conceivable. Since Beatrice's telegram ("She +introduces you," said Miss Arkwright, "at the price of five and +threepence. You must be an exceptional man!") he had been more than a +guest, almost an old acquaintance. He had been accepted without +question, treated as an equal, hall-marked with the stamp of an +Arkwright's approval, because the Arkwrights, it appeared, prided +themselves on their hospitality. It was not for the sake of Beatrice +alone that he received so warm a welcome: she was a lady to be mentioned +with reserve, being "on the stage." But she was an Arkwright, and a +guest vouched for (especially at five and threepence) by an Arkwright +was a person to be considered. + +This at a price, and a curious price at that. "In some things I am a +faddist," Miss Arkwright had said the morning after his arrival. "I +admit it freely. I am glad to welcome you here, Mr. Mortimer, but if you +stay you must give me your word not to go outside my grounds during your +visit. The garden is large--the village uninteresting, so your curtailed +liberty will not be much of a deprivation. You think me insane, perhaps? +Well, I have reasons for my wish,--personal reasons into which I can not +enter. That is the only stipulation I make: can you accept it?" + +He said yes, for refusal meant a lodging at the inn, where he could not +watch her. In his letter to Beatrice he told her of this extraordinary +whim, and asked whether she thought it better to agree or to pack up and +go. Her "stay at all costs" was sufficient answer, and though he hoped +this did not mean "If need arise, break bounds and your word," still he +meant to do it if necessary. The life of Lukos and her happiness were +worth more than a detective's honor. + +But up to the present there had been no question of breaking bounds. He +could see nothing of Mr. "Beckett" nor Mizzi, but he was obeying +Beatrice. And it was not unpleasant even for a detective to enjoy +luxurious idleness, a perfect garden and the society of a charming +woman. For she was charming, despite her fads and bigotry. She was well +read, exceedingly pretty, and could talk. The mornings she spent in +writing and arranging her household affairs. After lunch she gave +herself up to him entirely. Tea they usually had together in the +summer-house. About five she always excused herself, and Lionel dined +alone. He was given to understand that she was busy on a history of the +Arkwright family and could work best at night. Consequently he never saw +anything of her again till breakfast. + +This naturally struck him as one of the most suspicious features of the +case. Suspicious--not in the sense that Miss Arkwright was an Ottoman +conspirator, for that he had been instructed to expect; but suspicious +for a deeper reason. More than once during the first week of his stay he +had caught himself wondering, "Can she be, by any chance, Beatrice +herself, masquerading as her own sister?" It was a solution that +suggested itself to a mind seeking explanation of extraordinary things, +extraordinary people. It was the most natural suspicion in the world, +considering what he had gone through. He rejected it at first as being +preposterous and disloyal, but common sense and a dislike of being +victimized made him return to the idea and weigh it from day to day. + +In the end he discarded the theory. It was, he thought, too enormous a +deception to be carried through with success: even Beatrice, actress +though she was, could not have the histrionic powers necessary to the +feat; such a _tour de force_, continued from day to day, was impossible. +Besides, Miss Arkwright and her sister were different in many points. +They were, it is true, identical in voice, feature and carriage, but +their outlook and ideas were far asunder. Winifred Arkwright obviously +hated the stage, while Beatrice Blair was an actress; Winifred seemed +timid in some respects, Beatrice radiated courage; the latter had never +mentioned religion; the former was a Christian Scientist; Beatrice +adored asparagus; Winifred's weakness was kidney beans. These, and a +hundred other variations, trivial in themselves but overwhelming in the +mass, gave him heart of grace and a fresh faith in his lady of the +stage. + +But despite all this he claimed that Winifred _might_ be Beatrice. It +was almost unthinkable, but still it _might_ be so. What gave the coup +de grâce, at least for a time, to his vain imaginings was a copy of _The +Times_. It has been said that Miss Arkwright always left him after five: +this would have given her time to motor to London and play at the +theater if she had been Beatrice Blair. But Beatrice herself had written +that the play was soon to be taken off: when he saw an announcement in +the newspaper that the Macready Theater was closed, he wondered if his +hostess would join him at dinner that night. If she _did_, why, it would +be a damning fact. But she did not, either on that or any subsequent +day. He breathed more freely, and went on waiting as patiently as he +might. + +The task of learning the house, grounds and personnel did not take long. +The servants were an aged cook, whom he never saw; a gardener; Forbes +the footman; and the housekeeper, Mrs. Wetherby, a silent faded woman +of over sixty, whose recreation outside her duties was the game of +patience. A sad and oppressive creature, she, whose life had been a +tragedy. The details were not given, though Lionel gathered that it had +been a very ordinary tragedy, but enough to wither her life and make her +shun her kind. Both the men servants were dumb--an odd circumstance, but +Lionel was getting used to oddity. He expressed surprise one day, hoping +to draw out his hostess. She was frank about the matter: "They are dumb, +poor creatures, but their affliction is my gain. Most servants gossip or +argue. Mine do neither, and that is why I was at some pains to engage +them. It works very well, though a stranger is naturally surprised at +first." + +The more he saw of her, the more he admired. The primness of her +attitude, when he began to know her better, struck him as being anything +but ineradicable; she was in some things exceedingly human. They were +talking one afternoon of Christian Science, and Lionel asked her if she +really believed there was no such thing as pain. + +"Of course," she said promptly. "Pain is merely ignorance." + +"Then you must admit," he said, "that there can be no pleasure." + +She was puzzled. "How so?" + +"Everything must have its foil. Good requires evil as its negative, or +there is--nothing. So to feel pleasure one must postulate pain. +Otherwise you are incapable of pleasure." + +"Oh, but I'm _not_!" she said impulsively, and laughed. + +"Then where are your science and your logic?" + +"You mean I am a woman and illogical." She parried, evading the dilemma. +"When you understand our true position you will realize how fallacious +are your arguments. Now, what do you think of _Pendennis_?" + +He laughed again, but talked Thackeray willingly enough. When, a few +moments later, she idly plucked a rose and pricked her finger on a +thorn, giving a little cry, he said humorously, "Ignorance, not pain!" +She disdained to notice him, but smelt the rose luxuriously. "The +illusion of pleasure?" he suggested, pressing the thrust home. Her eyes +sparkled with indignation, but he smiled into them unafraid. They were +getting on capitally, he felt, and it was pleasant to find Miss +Arkwright so much of a woman. She would pay for flirtatious treatment, +he thought villainously, reflecting what a shame it was that lips so +alluring should be unkissed. Lionel, you may have observed, was an +adaptable creature. Fickle? Surely not. He had mapped his course and +was steering strictly according to compass. While Beatrice was still a +grass-widow the more innocent paths of dalliance showed no warning +board, "Trespassers will be Prosecuted." They were not applauded, it is +true--and here he readily confessed his weakness,--but they were not +forbidden. So why, in the strict execution of the charge laid upon him, +may he not try to persuade Miss Arkwright to take a less frigid view of +life? The reader, virtuous soul, may censure: I can only record. Yet, +too, it was something in the nature of a drug to his conscience. When he +had time to think (and he had plenty of time for that) he loathed the +idea of being there under false pretenses, playing the spy. It was all +very well arguing that it was for the sake of Beatrice, but it would +have been an easier task if Winifred had not been so charming. She was +too charming, but it had to be done.... Of course, he ought to have +refused a hint of dalliance, but one step leads to another, and man is +frail. Besides, it had not gone very far ... not far enough to hurt +either him or her. + +One mundane detail must be given in this chapter. The morning after his +arrival he had written to London for a supply of clothes. For the +credit of the Blair side of the family he felt that some of Beatrice's +notes ought to be spent on an adequate wardrobe. They came the day +after, giving color to the excuse that his valet had got drunk and +pawned the contents of his flat two hours after his leaving London. Miss +Arkwright did not seem to think it strange; anything might happen in +that wicked city. But she considered the Homburg hat a little "too +continental." This was before her education had begun in earnest. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE + + +It is all very well to be urged to suspect, for, within reason, nothing +is easier. The world, in the process of our education, deals out so many +hard knocks that speedily we begin to look with dubious eyes on every +stranger--sometimes, alas! even upon our friends. We suspect the motives +of Smith, who recommends a first-rate cigar: does he get a commission? +We suspect Brown, who asks us to drop in any evening: has he a +marriageable daughter? Jones lauds the latest novel: is he the anonymous +author? Robinson advises the purchase of Consolidated Stumers: is he +trying to make us "hold the baby"? Suspicion is epidemic. What the world +wants is a host of missionary spirits to say, "For goodness' sake do +drop suspicion for a while and believe in your fellow man! Smith really +does imagine himself a judge of tobacco; Brown, as a matter of fact, +thinks you quite a pleasant chap, and his daughter is engaged; Jones +never wrote a line in his life, save on a check; and Robinson for once +has inside information. Give suspicion a rest!" Ah! if only the other +fellow would! + +Lionel had been told to suspect, and at first found the task no harder +than you or I should find it. But apart from the strong inducement to +forego suspicion--viz., the physical and mental attractions of Miss +Arkwright--every day made it more difficult to sustain the suspicious +attitude. The early surprises--the "out of bounds" rule, the dumb +servants, the seclusion of his hostess and the like--gave him plenty to +wonder at, rich food for a seeker of garbage. But usage made the odd +seem ordinary, and Miss Arkwright always had an explanation. The +servants had already been accounted for; the prohibition of the village +might be a whim (though of course he was not satisfied with this), her +own seclusion he guessed, from a hint here and there, was due to a +disappointment in early youth. But it was really custom that staled the +infinite variety of the first surprises; he had to accept the routine of +The Quiet House, and could not be expected to whip up a daily supply of +suspicions. One can imagine, perhaps, a Jew in a medieval baron's +dungeon waking peacefully and asking his jailer, "What is it to-day, +Cedric? A tooth out, the strappado, or the rack? Just a tooth? Good." + +The analogy is anything but exact, for Lionel did not get a succession +of thrills. The daily wonder as to _why_ she forbade him the village; +_why_ she did not receive any local god, parson, squire, or doctor; +_why_ she did this or that, dwindled imperceptibly. He did not +consciously relax: he had to adjust himself to the new conditions; but +the effort at adjustment grew less laborious, and soon was in some +danger of ceasing altogether. + +Not that he abandoned his vigilance. Beatrice had enjoined him with +unnecessary and vain repetition to watch her sister. He gladly obeyed. +The English language is susceptible of many interpretations, and who +could dogmatize on the precise value to be attached to the word +"watch!"? Lionel "watched" all the time, but his watching at the end of +a fortnight was very different from the early vigils. He learned nothing +from watching, save that Winifred Arkwright was a delightful creature, +with hair of such and such a color and softness--eyes of such and such a +sweetness, and so forth. Things, you observe, of no importance from +Lukos' point of view, though a chronicler is bound to state them, +however briefly. + +They became good friends. There was no hint of boredom on either side, +no suggestion that the visit was being prolonged a little queerly. +Lionel, you may be sure, did not offer to go: he was obeying Beatrice +(who had not written again, though he sent a daily bulletin to London), +and was in no hurry to study fresh characters. It was no ill reward of +virtue to find a replica of Beatrice to keep his devotion alive. A +brutal phrase,--too brutal. His devotion was there, hidden below the +surface, but necessarily quiescent as long as Lukos lived. That might be +for years; therefore, why not sun himself in Beatrice's rays by proxy? +A statue can partly compensate for the loss of an adored: even a +photograph is better than nothing. But a real woman,--a living +replica ... Lionel thought himself in luck. He mentioned this in one of +his letters, hoping to show how strong and faithful he was. He did not +mention it to Winifred. Even a lay figure has feelings. + +A lay figure ... was she merely that? The question came to him more than +once during that peaceful fortnight. He faced it without a blush, and up +to the present had always been able to give an affirmative answer. His +memory of Beatrice and the unnecessary warning in her letter enabled him +to watch, admire and lightly dally with the rose-weaved chains. He +laughed at the warning: he was a man, of course, and no stronger than +his fellows; but fancy being in danger of falling in love with Miss +Arkwright! In love--real, genuine love ... absurd! Why, he was not in +love with Beatrice. Was he? N ... no.... He was a free man--hurrah! + +At the end of ten days he could utter the mental hurrah with a braver +note: Beatrice was a darling, whom he hoped to see again soon. But in +love? No. In love with Miss Arkwright, then? (In his mind he now called +her Winifred.) No. Of course not. Absurd. Was she not a lay figure?.... +Stay!--that was hardly the choicest of expressions, hardly respectful or +considerate. She was a delightful lady whom it was his painful duty to +watch. But one must not speak of her as a lay figure: that is crude, +elementary ... containing a grain of truth, one admits, but likely to be +misinterpreted by the vulgar herd. "A peerless proxy" would be more in +keeping. + +And the proxy, what of her? How had she fared during her unusual +fortnight? Patently, anything but ill. Under the sun of Lionel's +sympathetic kindliness her virgin coldness melted. They talked together +on every subject--men and women, books, art, music. Their views often +clashed, but interest is sustained by conflict; complete agreement makes +conversation a superfluity. Their conversation rarely descended to small +talk, though more than once it became almost a quarrel. + +A quarrel of friends, be it understood,--a quarrel that left no +bitterness behind, but made the next meeting more stored with interest, +explanation, withdrawal, even partial conversion. Their chief debatable +country was the stage; and at last Lionel had the happiness of winning +the admission that the stage had possibly improved of recent years. A +great admission for her! He paid his debt handsomely by a promise to +read a book (five hundred and thirty-seven pages, eight volumes) on +Christian Science. She gave him the book next day. Alas! it now reposes +in the present historian's drawer, the leaves still innocent of the +paper-knife. + +So a pretty comradeship sprang up between a cloistered lady and an +ineligible worldling. The latter had never a penny, had not so long ago +vowed himself to the service of another, declared upon his honor that +his heart was no one's, lived for the moment on a false-won hospitality. +What would be the end of such a revolting character? A queer sort of +hero, in very truth; but the world is an asylum of lunatics seeking +happiness by a host of roads. You who condemn the road of Lionel are +asked to remember the stony paths he had trodden without complaint. Let +him settle any difficulties of conscience for himself, and be not too +hasty in your judgments. Let him at least have his fortnight of +so-called happiness. If it be not in accordance with your ideas of the +summum bonum, remember that it is not his. A fortnight in an oasis need +not be grudged when the desert lies behind and before. If he has not +learned wisdom you may be sure that he will ere long. Rub your hands, +gentlemen, and look forward to a rare feast of disillusion and +disenchantment! Possibly there may be an exposure, disgrace, even a +prison if we are lucky and have patience. And if you can spare a little +pickle for the rod, be good enough to pass it up! + +As for the other characters in this rural comedy--or melodrama if you +prefer it--their lives have been equally uneventful during the last +fortnight. Tony Wild and Mr. "Bangs" are still occupying rooms at The +Happy Heart, chafing at the lack of events. They have allowed it to be +understood that they are on a holiday, seeking peace. They have +thoroughly explored the neighborhood, and failed to find a hint of +interest in any of the Shereling inhabitants. Even the tap-room yokels +have not produced a stimulating curiosity, and higher society is lacking +in the village. The squire is away, and medical and legal needs, it +appears, are supplied from Dallingham. There is Mr. "Beckett," it is +true; but he plays golf, spending the rest of his time in his bedroom, +repulsing all overtures of friendship. There is the vicarage, of course, +and Mrs. Peters has been prevailed upon to invite them to dinner, for +the vicar is a friendly soul, anxious to make the most of the social +crumbs dropped rarely in his path. Tony and Robert have dined there, +and been round two or three times to smoke a pipe and inspect the roses; +but Mrs. Peters does not diffuse an atmosphere of comfort, and the vicar +himself is an exhausted fountain after an hour. A kindly, cheerful +little man; but sixty minutes' prattle is as much as Tony can bear. +Robert might find a longer period congenial, but he is perpetually +ill-at-ease under his cognomen of Bangs, fearful of betraying himself, +inclined to blush without apparent cause. Indeed, if it were not for +Tony, Robert might have given up the pursuit already. Not that he means +to go back home as yet: liberty is still precious; and adventures, or at +least unfettered repose, may be sought at Brighton or Eastbourne before +he returns to nonentity. But is it worth while waiting at Shereling, +where the mysterious Billy is never seen, where the remembrance of the +strange lady is daily growing fainter? It looks very much as if that +bright spark of romance has been extinguished: how can he hope to blow +it into flame once more? Tony, the incomparable Tony, the man of many +schemes, has nothing to suggest: he only says "Patience," and Robert is +growing restive. + +But why does Tony depart so far from his usual attitude as to say +"Patience"? As a rule, an adventure or an experience can hold him but +for a day or two,--a week is almost unthinkable. And now, at the end of +a fortnight, he still says "Patience"--unruffled, imperturbable, +productive of threadbare platitudes as to the building of Rome, +apparently hopeful. The simple reason is that Tony has not seen his +card-dropping divinity again, and he hates being balked. + +In a word, the pair of them had waited, watched and spied for fourteen +days without result. There had been night vigils as well as by day, but +nothing had been learned. After dusk set in they had sometimes watched +for hours, Tony hiding in a ditch near the front gate, Robert at the +back. The gossip of Miss Arkwright's nocturnal motoring had reached +their ears, and they had built something on this. But never a motor had +they seen approach The Quiet House. One dreadful night they watched till +dawn broke clear and stark, but two colds in the head were all that came +to birth. Their watchings were a failure. + +Miss Arkwright and "Billy" might never have existed. The servants were +useless. Only Forbes and the gardener issued from The Quiet House, +after their day's work was over: both were dumb. Incorruptible, too, for +when the ingenious Tony produced a pencil and paper, meeting the +gardener on the road as if by chance, holding half-a-crown for a lure, +the man made signs that he could not use a pencil. Forbes was of stouter +stuff. Tony waylaid him one evening at half past nine. Thoroughly +disheartened by this time, regretting that he had offered the gardener +so small a sum (for he had afterward imagined that the man might have +been playing a part), Tony unmasked his batteries. "Look here, my man," +he said bluntly, "you are a servant at The Quiet House. I want some +information and am willing to pay for it. If you'll just write down +answers to a few questions I'll give you a five-pound note." Forbes' +eyes glistened, and he took the pencil. Tony's heart leaped as he saw +him diligently scribing. He snatched the paper and read, "I am sorry, +sir, but I can not write." Tony swore, as Forbes passed meekly on. He +was not used to being beaten by a servant. + +To-day they were at the vicarage for tea, and tea alone. The hospitable +vicar had suggested dinner--lunch as a _pis-aller_. But his wife said, +"No," and he was obliged to submit. The previous dinner had caused +domestic friction, and Mrs. Peters did not mean to run any further +risks. She was a lady who had the not wholly unworthy wish to make a +fair show in the flesh: they entertained seldom, but when they did +entertain she was resolved to do things well. Soup, chicken (boiled or +roast), cold lamb (palpably uncut and not an economical remnant to bring +the blush), at least three sweets, and certainly cheese-straws,--these +were the least a self-respecting woman could offer to the vicarage +guests. The vicar, being a sensible man, would have been quite pleased +to "present" (like Mr. Frohman) a simple meal. Soup, a joint with the +usual supporters of potatoes and boiled celery--his own failing--a +bramble tart, and a bit of Stilton,--these were the cates he deemed +worthy of kings. But the housekeeping pride of his lady forbade so +inelegant a repast. "I like my guests to see that I know how things +_ought_ to be done and _are_ done, Charles," she said in a final tone: +"I will _not_ have people saying that the vicarage ..." and the rest. +The vicar had given way with a sigh, reserving himself for the battle he +knew must follow. + +It had come at once. Mrs. Peters, profuse to lavishness over the more +solid items, betrayed a feminine false economy over the wine. There +ought to be wine, of course. Though she was a teetotaler herself, still +she knew that her guests should be offered the juice of the grape. But +on the desirability of spending large sums for liquid that would vanish +in a twinkling she held strong views. "You need not _dream_, Charles, of +wasting money on expensive brands. I saw some invalid port at the +grocer's this morning...." But here her husband showed himself unusually +pig-headed. He grew rigid at the words "invalid port." "No, Clara," he +said resolutely; "I won't have that at any price--even the grocer's. I +believe in good things, or none at all. I'd sooner drink water than poor +wine. We can't afford good port, but we _can_ afford good whisky or +cider. Those it shall be." He was deaf to reason, though his wife begged +him, with tears in her eyes, not to be so inconsiderate. + +Cider it had been, and Mrs. Peters had felt ashamed. The sight of three +men quaffing deeply of the plebeian beverage gave no comfort: they were +doing it to spare her feelings, of course, and she resented the unspoken +charity. Besides, she did not greatly care about her guests. Mr. Wild +seemed singularly purposeless for a young man, and there was a +half-veiled mockery in his speech that grated. Mr. Bangs was clearly of +inferior breeding and did not seem at ease. He talked little and +nervously, starting at the mention of his name. "He can not have a +past," thought Mrs. Peters grudgingly, "but he is certainly not used to +the society of gentle-people. I do wish Charles would not ..." The +dinner was not a success, though the vicar enjoyed the post-prandial +smoke and small-talk. + +So (leaving our muttons to return to them) they were at tea to-day. Or +rather, they had finished tea and were taking idly on the lawn. The +vicar was lying comfortably in a basket-chair, trying to color a +meerschaum. Mrs. Peters was busy with embroidery. Tony and Robert in +deck-chairs were smoking too, contributing their quota to the +conversation. To complete the picture, Brown, the odd-job man, was +delving holes destined to receive the posts of a pergola. Mrs. Peters' +eye wandered from her work and dwelt frigidly on him. + +"By the way, Charles," she said, "did you ever speak to Brown about that +young woman?" + +"What young woman?" asked the vicar lazily. Mrs. Peters recounted the +incident. + +"No, my dear," said the vicar. "You could not tell me her name: all you +had to go on was a voice, and I could hardly catechize him on that. +Besides, it may be a worthy attachment." + +"Very possibly," agreed his wife, though her tone was skeptical. "I have +no objections to that. But while he is at work ..." + +"Awful word!" said Tony, for the sake of saying something. "I wonder +what work is like--real continuous work, I mean." + +"We can offer you plenty," said the vicar cheerfully. "The lawn wants +cutting. You could trim the hedge, too, and----" + +"No thanks," said Tony with a shudder. "Any other time I'd be glad, but +just now I'm too busy." + +"Of course, Mr. Wild, my husband was joking. But don't you think that an +idle life...? Would not work--literary work, for example--be a good +thing for a young man?" + +"I'm too old to begin," said Tony wearily. "Now, a hearty young spark +like my friend Bangs----" + +The spark flickered into a feeble flame of protest and died away. + +"You're wrong, Mr. Wild," said the vicar, taking his pipe out. "Work is +the best thing. You'd realize it if you tried it. Of course, now you're +on a holiday----" + +"_Am_ I?" said Tony. "I'm a kind of bear-leader to Bangs. I'm simply +full-up with work, looking after him--arranging schemes for his +comfort--keeping him out of mischief. Aren't I, Bangs?" + +Robert smiled in a deprecating way. "You--you exaggerate a little. +But--but----" + +Mrs. Peters disliked the cynical frivolity Tony imparted to the +conversation. "Would you mind telling us the nature of some of these +arduous duties?" she asked coldly. + +"Oh, there's a gay lot," said Tony, reflecting. "I've had to order +lunch, for example: Bangs has no ideas. Then I organize walks ... and +deal the hands at piquet in the evenings ... and ... by jove, yes! I +promised to help him telephone to-day, if you wouldn't mind?" + +"Not a bit," said the vicar, the sole possessor of a telephone in +Shereling. He rose and stretched himself. "Come along now." + +But Robert remained in his chair, looking decidedly uneasy. "No, no!" he +said with a frightened manner. "It is nothing. It will keep for a day or +two. There is really no necessity...." He began to stammer and blush, +aware of the eye of Mrs. Peters. + +"You promised!" said Tony reproachfully. Then turning to the lady he +said, "Come, Mrs. Peters! You can't say that I lack energy now! Here am +I, thirsting to get work, and old Bangs keeps me back. And only +yesterday he said that nothing on earth should prevent him from at +last--at long last----" + +"All right," interrupted Robert, in terror of what Tony would say next. +"Come along! Come along! Where is the telephone, Mr. Peters?" + +"In the dining-room," replied the vicar, wondering. "I'll show you the +way." + +They went into the house, leaving Mrs. Peters on the lawn, deeply +stirred. "That man _has_ a past," she determined. "He looked simply +terrified. I wonder if I ought to ask Charles.... I wonder if it would +be right to.... And they are strangers ... one never knows...." She +thought sternly for a moment and then got up, resolution in her +countenance. "It's a duty," she murmured--"a positive duty. And Charles +is so weak." + +The martyr to duty was going to listen at the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +TONY AT WORK AND AT PLAY + + +If the telephone had been in the vicar's study Mrs. Peters might have +watched in vain; for to acquire accurate information through a keyhole +needs practise or unusually keen ears. But the vicar wanted perfect +quiet to prepare his sermons, and it was agreed that the instrument +should be placed in the dining-room. This suited Mrs. Peters admirably, +for there was a dumb-waiter between that room and the pantry. Standing +on the other side of the hatch (which she raised with caution a couple +of inches) she could hear all that passed, secure in the reflection that +a screen concealed the hatch and butler's tray. This is what she heard +as soon as the vicar had left the room. + +"Mr. Wild, I _told_ you that I would rather not----" + +"Duty, Bangs, duty! Remember that! You've allowed your unhappy wife to +mourn----" + +"No, no! I thought it better not to write just yet, in case----" + +"Pure funk, and nothing else. No, Bangs; you _ought_ to let her +know--you ought to have let her know before this. Besides, there's no +danger: she can't spot where you are." + +("Then there is a mystery!" reflected Mrs. Peters, warm with the +satisfaction of a justified eavesdropping. "He has left his wife!") + +"N--no ... but ..." + +"Seriously, Bangs, you must telephone. Every day you delay brings a +possible pursuit closer. Come now! Shall I ring up?" + +"No, no! Wait half a minute while I think of something to say. How shall +I begin? Shall I----" + +"Oh, the usual sort of greeting from a husband to a wife: 'Good morning, +little bunch of fluff!' Or, 'Cheeroh, beloved armful!' Any pet +name--look here, you'd better let me----" + +A confused sound hinted to Mrs. Peters that a struggle for the receiver +was in progress. It ended speedily in a victory for Mr. Bangs. His voice +quavered a number--"Bloomsbury, 843B." Mrs. Peters made a mental note. + +"Hello ... hello ... are you 843B? Yes?... Who's that? _Hello!_ Who's +that? Oh, it's you, Jane ... tell your mistress--_hello_! You silly +girl, it _is_ me." ("She's had a fright, Mr. Wild. I ought to have +broken the news more gently.") "What? Do speak up ... yes ... yes ... +you've sat down on the porcelain bowl on the hall table? Confound!... +what for? What _for_, you clumsy ... oh! I frightened +you ... oh ... oh ... I see.... Well, go on.... Yes ... no, perhaps it +wasn't altogether your fault ... yes.... All right ... all right, that's +quite enough. I know you're sorry ... yes.... Tell your mistress I want +to speak to her.... She's in the kitchen? Well, go and fetch her. Don't +hang the receiver up. Yes ... yes.... + +"She's gone to fetch her, Mr. Wild!" + +"The plot thickens, Bangs, I say, shall I take the receiver and +telephone? Rather a lark, you know, your wife expecting you and hearing +me instead." + +"No, no!" + +"I won't address her in terms of affection, if that's all you're afraid +of. Besides, I should rather like to hear what she says to her peccant +husband." + +"Not for anything, Mr. Wild.... Hush! here she is.... Is that +you, Alicia? _Wheeee! Wheee!_... I'm exceedingly sorry, my +dear ... no, I wasn't laughing--something wrong with the wire.... Well, +how are you?... That's good ... I do hope you haven't been +worrying.... What?... Oh ... oh ... ah...." ("She says I'm not +worth worrying about!" "Cover it UP, you fool! She'll hear +you!") ... "Eh?... no ... nobody else here, my love ... quite +alone--quite alone ... the wire...." ("What's that? Magnetic +storm?") ... "Magnetic storm, Alicia! Plug's not firmly in, +perhaps.... Well, you're all right, then? Anything else?... Oh, +_me_! Oh, I'm in capital form.... What?... Yes, that's +all.... What?... Oh, I thought I'd better ring up to let you +know how I was getting on.... Yes ... yes ... I shall come back +presently.... No ... no ... _absolutely_ no.... I can't +possibly tell you my present address ... but you needn't worry. +I'm _quite_ all right ... eh?... No ... I'm not unfeeling--this +is just my holiday. I shall be back in a few weeks. I send you my love. +Good-by." + +"That do, Mr. Wild?" + +"You might send a kiss, eh? Usual thing ... try again--I bet she's not +left the wire." + +"Hello ... hello! You there, Alicia?... _Wheeee!_... I just rang +up--_wheee_--to send you a kiss.... Good-by." + +"So we've set her mind at rest, Bangs. You lost your funk pretty soon!" + +"Well, Mr. Wild, somehow ... it's not quite the same thing talking to +Alicia from a distance ... I felt quite brave!" + +"Perfect hero!... Now we've settled that, let's go and find the dragon +in the garden." + +They found the vicar, but not the dragon, who was lashing her tail in +the pantry, impotent, speechless, aflame with anger. To hear herself +called a dragon, and by a pair of unprincipled adventurers! One of them, +it appeared, was a man who had run away from his wife; the other, an +idle fribble who might be anything. "Thank Heaven I have no daughter in +the house!" thought Mrs. Peters in a paroxysm of resentful propriety. +"Who could feel safe with such men about? And this comes of Charles +picking up chance acquaintances in a common tavern! Oh, I must go and +tell him--expose them at once! The impudent hypocrites!" + +On the threshold she paused. Was it because, despite her justification, +she did not feel anxious to mention the vigil in the pantry? Or was it +due to a wifely consideration for a husband's weakness? She chose to +believe the latter. "Charles will not have the moral courage to expel +them from the vicarage!" she reflected. "He is pitifully craven in such +matters. I must manage it myself.... I had better wait and watch.... +They may have any designs.... Perhaps I had better wait, and then ..." A +smile, terrific in severity and menace, writhed her lips. Some signal +act of vengeance was evidently maturing. "Yes! I will wait!" + +On the lawn she found Tony. Compelling herself to speak without undue +hostility, she learned that the vicar had carried Robert off to inspect +the greenhouse. Mrs. Peters, on the plea of a message, followed. She +could not trust herself with Robert or his accomplice. "Is it he who has +led Mr. Bangs astray, or the other way about?" she wondered viciously. +"They both seem to be _most_ undesirable; but Mr. Bangs is older and +ought to know better. Besides, he has a wife." Had she known of Tony's +matrimonial vicissitudes she would have fainted. + +The odd-job man had just finished his digging, and Tony strolled over to +exchange a word: he never despaired of finding interest in the most +unpromising material. Chats with para-orators, enthusiastic +Salvationists, members of the Junior Turf Club, constellations of the +stage, even housemaids taking in the milk,--all might be, and often +were, instruments in the warfare against boredom. All were fish for his +net. But it must be confessed that his catch had hitherto been of little +value. He had bought a few centimes' worth, paying for it with numerous +rouleaus, and he was beginning dimly to wonder if it was not rather an +extravagant method of exchange. + +"Done?" he asked laconically, and Henry Brown smiled with content. + +"That's a good job jobbed," he replied. "Shifting earth is healthy, sir, +but it takes doing." + +"D'you like it?" said Tony; "I mean, d'you find it interesting and all +that, or do you pant after the higher life? More wages and less work, +and so forth, I mean?" + +The odd-job man shrugged his shoulders. + +"It's my job, sir," he said philosophically. "I can't say it's amazing +interesting, but it's my job, and it's got to be done." + +"Got to be done," repeated Tony, musing. "I suppose it has ... by some +one. Thank goodness it's not to be done by me. Tell me, Brown, what do +you really think of work? Does it bore you or what? Do you think it's a +good thing, so to speak? You needn't mind speaking out--the vicar can't +hear, and I'm a man of the world and all that. Tell me, does work bore +you to tears?" + +The other smiled. + +"Work's kept many a man straight, sir," he said. "I should be sorry to +be without." + +"You really _mean_ that?" asked Tony in surprise. + +"I do, sir. Don't you think the same?" + +Tony did not answer, but reflected for at least a minute. Then he took +off his coat and turned up his shirt-sleeves with a whimsical smile. "I +haven't worked for years," he said: "kept myself fit with developers and +other horrors. Lend me your spade, will you? I want a new thrill." + +Brown laughed, but obeyed. Tony began to dig, steadily and resolutely, +at a spot where another post was to be planted. He did not attack the +task too vehemently, as many an amateur would have done, for he had +brains. But he dug faithfully, and at the end of ten minutes he was more +than hot. He did not give in, however, but dug on till the task was +accomplished. Then he threw down the spade, wiped his forehead and +stretched himself. Brown watched him curiously. + +"Had enough, sir?" + +"For the present, yes," said Tony. "One mustn't suck pleasure to the +dregs. But I'll admit it's not a bad sort of notion on the whole, this +work. In small doses it might even be admirable--a kind of _apéritif_, +you know. But, regarded as a habit ... that would need further +consideration. Where can I find a tap?" + +"Behind that fence, sir...." + +Tony went to cleanse his hands, leaving the odd-job man chuckling. "Rum +customer," he murmured: "a very rum customer, indeed. Oh, very rum! +Everything's rum, when you come to think of it--more than rum.... Things +seem to get rummer every day...." + +Tony thought the same as he stood drying his hands upon the grass and a +handkerchief behind the fence. The tap was screened from the lawn by the +aforesaid fence, from the road by the privet-hedge. And as he dried and +mused, steps, the light tapping of small feet, could be heard +approaching on the other side of the hedge. From a subconscious +strategy--caused by a deep-set mysterious instinct--he waited till the +steps had gone past. Then he peeped through the hedge and nearly +whooped. For, retreating, he observed the neat figure of his damsel of +the visiting-card. Joy was excusable, for he had not seen her again +since their encounter. + +His first impulse was to whistle. This he checked on the score of +vulgarity and bethought him what course would be best. Should he break +through a weak spot in the hedge, leaving comrade Bangs to his own +devices, or should he make formal but hasty adieux and pursue in the +hope of overtaking? The latter was clearly the more correct procedure, +but Tony's heart yearned regretfully over the girl in the road. She +looked such a perfect pet! Luckily he was not called on to make an +immediate decision, for she stopped a few yards farther on and gazed +around. Tony concealed himself in such a way that he might still keep an +eye upon her. What was she waiting for? He was not left long in doubt, +for she gave a low but melodious whistle. The whistle was answered in +the same key. "Brown, by all that's wonderful!" muttered Tony. "The +lucky dog! No wonder he doesn't find work dull." + +If he expected a love-passage he was disappointed. The girl, as soon as +her whistle was returned, flung a piece of paper over the hedge and +walked quickly away. Tony gave the odd-job man time to pick up the +billet and presently strolled round, still drying his hands. + +"Clean, sir?" asked the odd-job man stolidly. After all, the privet was +thick and Tony might not have seen. + +"Yes, thanks.... I say, Brown, I've been thinking over what you said +about work just now. It seems to me that there's quite a lot to be said +for it." + +"Yes, sir?" + +"I should like to know more ... to hear a little more about the +practical side of the question before making up my mind as to its +intrinsic worth. I wonder if you'd care to smoke a pipe and try the +cider of The Happy Heart with me to-night?" + +"Thank you, sir," replied Brown, betraying no surprise, "but I'm afraid +I'm too busy." + +"To-morrow, then...." + +"Busy to-morrow, sir, too." + +"Sunday an off day?" + +"To be frank, sir, I have a young lady...." + +"Ah!" said Tony, hoping to hear something. "I won't press you then. I +wish you luck." + +"Thank you, sir." + +There was a brief silence that Tony felt oppressive. He was the first to +break it. + +"Been engaged long, Brown?" + +"No, sir. Not very long." + +Another silence. The impenetrability of these yokels is not +exhilarating. Tony felt chilled, disappointed. He tried again. + +"I suppose it's almost as engrossing as work, Brown?" + +"Yes, sir; almost." + +He said it without a smile, as if he was quite serious. But Tony +suspected him of being guileful. Clearly it was useless to prolong the +conversation. He sighed. + +"Well, I must look for my friend. Good-by, Brown. Do come and talk to me +about work sometime, when the lady is otherwise engaged." + +"Thank you, sir." + +Tony moved off to find Robert. He was discovered in the kitchen-garden, +pretending to admire vegetable-marrows. Mrs. Peters was hovering grimly +in the rear, a silent watchful figure. The vicar was dilating on the +excellence of marrow jam. After saying good-by, Tony and Robert went off +to the inn. The vicar turned to his wife with a smile. + +"Quite a pleasant afternoon, my dear. I like Mr. Bangs. Mr. Wild, too, +is amusing, though cynical. But we mustn't judge too harshly--perhaps he +has had a disappointment and his cynicism is half-assumed. Undoubtedly +humorous and clever. Some of his shots hit the mark." + +"You think so?" said Mrs. Peters icily. "I dislike them both. Mr. Bangs, +to say the least, is anything but _quiet_; Mr. Wild, I am sure, is a man +who has had a gentleman's education and lapsed. Superficially clever, +perhaps, but vulgar. You made a mistake in taking them up." + +"No, no, my dear! Be a little more charitable----" + +"A _great_ mistake, Charles. But you always think you know best. What I +insist on is principle. Nothing can compensate for the lack of that. +Principle above cleverness----" + +The vicar laughed good-naturedly. + +"Why! what a dragon of virtue----" + +He got no farther. Mrs. Peters suddenly assumed so dreadful an aspect +that he shrank aghast and began to fumble for excuses. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE PLOT AGAIN THICKENS + + +At the end of three more days Lionel was feeling a little ill-used. +There was still no word from Beatrice, and the watching brief he held +began to look like a permanency. A sinecure, you remark disparagingly, +or (with an envious inflection) a soft job. Lionel had a roof above him, +luxurious food, money in his pocket and a pretty hostess: he would be a +churl who grumbled, a witless being who did not know when he was well +off. + +But nevertheless he grumbled. He wanted to be up and doing. Dalliance +was delightful, no doubt, and he could thoroughly enjoy so pleasant a +pastime. But he required a soupçon of the serious to edge his palate for +frivolity, and not a single olive had been sent him from headquarters. +Beatrice might have written, surely: not necessarily a letter, but a +note, a telegram, even a picture post-card was not too much to have +expected. After all, he was a human being trying to do her a good turn. +She might, if she liked, consider him in the light of a dog; but even a +dog demands an occasional pat. + +Yes, Beatrice had been a little inconsiderate. When they met again he +would subtly convey that she had not been quite so perfect in her +handling of the case as she might have been. Not blame--oh, no! that +would be too severe. But a touch of respectful and adoring frigidity--a +hint of polite and ardent disappointment, that was the note to be +struck. It would add to the subsequent reconciliation, or rather +readjustment. Iced champagne, in short, followed by liquor brandy. +Finally (perhaps ... who knows?) a mixture of the two, compounding that +exhilarating beverage, king's peg. + +But that could only be drunk post-mortem.... Poor, dear old Lukos.... +Well, for the present he must sport the blue ribbon.... + +But a dog will have its pat: if the mistress will not give it, another +may; and who can blame the devoted creature if it lingers piteously hard +by a stranger? Again, why blame the stranger, moved doubtless by a +kindly and an unselfish impulse? Why blame Miss Arkwright, in short, for +growing daily more cordial, more appreciative, more anxious to oblige +with the pat? Lionel was obeying the orders of Beatrice, to watch and do +the bidding of his hostess; he could not be expected to damp her +graciousness, check her enthusiasm: had he done so, he might have sealed +the source of some important information. He must endure the pat, suffer +it, permit, accept, not refuse; but ... welcome? + +He was talking to her in the garden one afternoon. They had begun the +conversation on some trivial theme, soon tossed aside for a subject of +substance. It was not long before they were on the time-worn topic, the +war of the sexes. Miss Arkwright, it appeared, was a suffragette--not +militant, certainly, but convinced and ardent. She expressed surprise +that Lionel did not take similar views. "For you," she said sweetly, +"are a reasonable fair-minded man. And I should think," she added +mischievously, "that you have many friends who might convert you." + +"It isn't my brain that wants conversion," he replied meditatively. +"Most of the arguments are on the women's side. Logic tells me they +should have the vote; feeling--and by feeling I don't mean prejudice or +bigotry, but something deeper--recoils from the idea of women in +parliament. And it would mean that in the long-run. Let us keep them out +of the dirty work." + +"They might cleanse the stables." + +"I'd rather not. We're cleansing them gradually, one hopes: at any rate, +it's not a woman's job." + +"Our view is that _all_ jobs should be women's." + +"Impossible." He shook his head. "I'm one of the old-fashioned believers +in the home as woman's sphere----" + +"And the thousands of unmarried workers? You forget them." + +"Hard, I grant you, but they're a minority. Most women have the home +sphere. Mind, I don't believe in inequality as regards laws: they should +be the same for both." + +"Yes," she said with a bitterness that surprised him, "look at the +inequalities of divorce, for instance." + +"We'll discuss that presently. Look for a moment at the reverse of the +medal. Hasn't woman got the pull in influence? Can't she sway men +without the vote?" + +"A pretty woman or a clever woman can. Not the others." + +"Ye--es. Sex counts." + +"So you leave us the weapon of the coquette? That's what it amounts to. +Is that a desirable weapon? Besides, it's double-edged." + +"Rather a crude way of putting it," he said a little uncomfortably. +"Nature has given you a power you can use for good. Why not use it?" + +"But is it so powerful?" + +"On dit." + +"What do _you_ think?" She bent forward, leaning to him, smiling +audaciously in his eyes. Lionel would have been more than human if he +had not felt flattered. This delightful creature, whom at a first +meeting he had thought prudish and narrow, had developed amazingly. +Companionship for a fortnight with a gay man of spirit and address, who +did not lack a generous nature, had brought the bud to blossom. Now as +she smiled on him with inviting eyes he felt strongly tempted to +complete her education with a kiss. He temporized. + +"What does it matter what I think?" + +"It may matter a good deal," she said with a meaning he could not +fathom. + +"Tell me." + +She explained herself curiously. Instead of speaking she was silent for +a moment, as if choosing a course. Then with a friendly abandon she +rested her hands lightly on his shoulders and said, "No. You shall tell +me." Then she waited for the inevitable kiss. + +Man is a strange animal. (I apologize for this truism, but, really, +Lionel himself must be my excuse.) A man may be a savage, a knave, a +brute, but beneath every human bosom there lurk some seeds of nobility, +however few and atrophied. Juvenile literature abounds with _loci +classici_. The thief who breaks into the night nursery is subdued by the +innocent prattle of Baby Tumkins; the drunken osler in the "Pig and +Whistle" is sobered by the consumptive angel who lisps, "Daddy, dear +daddy, do come home!" The blasphemous ravisher, mad in the hour of +victory, is tamed by the sight of a locket ("Heavens! how came this +here? Tell me, girl!") and drops his prey with an oath that is half a +prayer. And so on ... one need not accumulate examples. + +Lionel did not kiss Miss Arkwright. Though he had dwelt on the +possibility, hoped for it, almost schemed and certainly desired; though +he had decided that his grass-bachelorship permitted such a kiss as was +now offered, he refused. Why? Partly, no doubt, because a kiss won by +half-forceful methods is worth more than a tribute freely offered; +partly because the offer tends to congeal the blood and curb the +desire--the ideal has stooped and taken a few inches off her goddess +statue; partly, too (the moralist will be glad to note), because he +remembered Beatrice. + +Seeds of nobility? One must suppose it. Perhaps a sense, dim-recognized, +that the cheapening of ideals by frequent draughts at wayside fountains +lessens the value and appreciation of the ultimate prize. Men find it +hard to resist a drink. If they could look forward with assurance to +the final realization of their hopes there would be fewer loveless +marriages, fewer abandoned maidens, fewer degenerate men. But they feel +that youth slips by--the ideal woman is hard to find, harder to win: why +not sip the pleasant fountain that will slake them for a moment? So, +_vogue la galère_! We will have one swig before we die--a good swig to +drown regret: if we find it is not Veuve Clicquot but only muddy ale, at +least we can get drunk on one as well as the other. + +These profound reflections did not present themselves so lucidly to +Lionel as to the temperate reader who never gets drunk--never so much as +sips. He comprehended them vaguely, unconsciously almost, in the +thought, "Oh, damn! she's not Beatrice--she's not Beatrice--I can't." A +man of unsettled purpose, you perceive, who had mapped his course of +pleasure and then forsaken it, vacillating, lukewarm, halting between +two opinions. "The evil that I would, I do not!" he thought in humorous +astonishment at himself; and then aloud, "I am at a loss for words." + +He felt rather a fool, but was pleased to note that Miss Arkwright +looked neither ill-at-ease nor disappointed. He searched her countenance +for a hint of contempt, but found none. Dropping her hands with an +unaffected laugh she said, "You are duller than I thought, Mr. Mortimer. +Come! let us go and see if they have brought tea out yet." They turned, +and suddenly her face flushed scarlet. She drew in her breath sharply. +Forbes was coming across the lawn, followed by the ambassador. + +She ran forward and shook hands, murmuring something Lionel did not +hear. Then, as Forbes retired, she introduced the two men: "Mr. +Mortimer--Mr. Beckett." Lionel surveyed the ambassador with curiosity, +his late-lulled suspicions once more awake. What was he doing here? Mr. +Beckett returned the scrutiny something in the manner of a jealous lover +who would like an explanation of a stranger's presence. But he was a +diplomatic gentleman, and it was with a slight laugh, merry and sincere, +that he held out his hand. + +"We have met before," he said in a friendly fashion, "but under less +happy auspices. Mr. Mortimer, you saw me under a cloud. I was +exceedingly rude. You who are a golfer will readily find excuses, I +hope. I am very sorry." + +Miss Arkwright's eyes looked anxiously upon them. When had they met and +where? How odd that he had never mentioned it once! She must hear the +story of their meeting; and "rude"--what did he mean by that? + +Lionel smiled and referred her to the ambassador. He, genuinely anxious +to atone for a foolish contretemps, did not spare himself in the +recital. Miss Arkwright laughed gaily over the tale. + +"Men are so silly," she said merrily as he finished. "Fancy getting +angry over a game of golf! And all by yourself, too! If there had been +some one to vent your rage upon----" + +"Alas, there was!" said Mr. Beckett, with a whimsical glance at Lionel, +who, despite himself and his suspicions, felt drawn toward the enemy. It +was a friendly party of three that walked toward the summer-house. + +On the whole, tea was a successful meal. Miss Arkwright led the +conversation--monopolized it, almost; hardly pausing for replies, +agreement, or contradiction. She looked splendid, her color heightened +with pleasure, excitement, or kindred emotions. Lionel, who had studied +her attentively for no short period, had never seen her in such a mood. +She was gay and charming, unusually ready with the froth of sparkling +small-talk. Any one meeting her for the first time would have believed +her a clever _flaneuse_, a butterfly with brains and beauty, living +solely for the moment. But Lionel, who knew her better and had some +secret knowledge of her possibilities for intrigue and conspiracy, found +himself questioning. Was she nervous? And if so, of what? + +Mr. Beckett had little opportunity to display his social gifts. The +abilities, doubtless great to secure his present office, perforce lay +hidden. But the few sentences he uttered, by way of confirmation or its +opposite, were enough to show him as a man of original thought, some +wit, and in close touch with the affairs of nations. An old man, he bore +his years lightly; though the mask of frivolity he assumed out of +compliment to his environment was occasionally dropped in moments of +repose. At such moments he appeared tired--not physically, but of +mundane trivialities. + +At last Winifred rose. "You know my routine," she said brightly to +Lionel: "I must vanish speedily. No! don't move. Stay here and smoke. I +shall escort Mr. Beckett----" + +"You still, then----" began the ambassador, rising at the hint. She +interrupted him bruskly. + +"Still--still--still! Are we not always 'stilling'? I wonder that a man +of your experience finds anything remarkable in that. Oh, do not +interrupt!"--for he made a deprecating gesture, opening his mouth to +speak--"I will hear no excuses for banality. 'The ringing grooves of +change' is pure fallacy; change is absent; only the grooves remain. We +are what we are. As it was in the beginning, is now, and--do I shock +you?" she asked abruptly, turning to Lionel. + +"Surprise; not shock," he smiled. + +"Then you owe me a debt of gratitude. Surprise is one of nature's best +gifts, but at our mature age she is parsimonious. Don't you agree, Mr. +Beckett?" + +He, too, smiled, but mournfully. + +"I have more need to count my birthdays than you," he said. "If your +surprises are few, how many can I hope for?" + +"_Nil desperandum!_" she said cheerfully and less self-consciously, +taking him, comrade-like, by the arm. "Come and find your motor: perhaps +a surprise is waiting--some ragamuffin may have put a penknife through +the tire!" + +"I hope not!" he said more briskly. "As it has only just come from +London this afternoon to take me back after my holiday, I don't want to +be balked at the outset. Well, good-by, Mr. Mortimer." + +"Good-by," said Lionel, shaking hands. "No chance of seeing you down +here again presently, I suppose?" + +"Who knows?" said Miss Arkwright vivaciously, taking the words from his +lips. "A dashing adventurer like Mr. Beckett, whose only serious +business is golf----" + +She did not finish the sentence, but led him off, protesting that the +slander was ill-deserved. Lionel watched them disappear, heavy with +thought. + +Miss Arkwright did not come back. He was glad of her absence, for he +could only think, and think, and think again what it all meant, trying +to find some key to the perpetual problem. There were Beatrice, Winifred +and the ambassador forever whirling through his brain, suggesting, +perplexing, questioning. Where was the clew? If only he could put his +hand on some definite idea, some shred of coherence in the whole amazing +scheme! Beatrice had warned him that her sister and "Mr. Beckett" were +conspiring. Good: that was definite, and the ambassador's visit was +proof of fellowship--in what? High politics? The life of Lukos? It +seemed so unlikely in this pleasant English garden, but the facts were +stubborn. Then he had not heard from Beatrice. He had thought she and +Winifred might be identical.... Stay! he had discarded that.... Let us +begin again from another point. Why had Winifred invited his amorous +interest? She--but Beatrice had warned him--unnecessarily, had been his +foolish thought--against the wiles of Winifred. Her seductive friendship +had been simply a trap ... but, no! the remembrance of his recent +delectable danger, the sincerity of her--love? the faith of her +eyes--all denied a trap. Winifred could not be a conspirator; at worst +she must be a half-hearted conspirator who had begun to sympathize with +her enemies. But if that were so, she must soon be on the side of +Beatrice, of whom she would speedily be jealous! His brain reeled. + +The sum of his perplexed musings was that he must keep his eyes open,--a +poor result for so much mental effort. That, however, was all he +achieved by dinner-time, and he sucked small comfort therefrom. "I am +not made for detective work," he reflected gloomily as he played with +dinner. "I went into this adventure too light-heartedly. I thought it a +game.... So it is, and deucedly exciting now, but I don't seem to have +mastered the rules. A blind man in a total eclipse looking for +something that isn't there,--that's Lionel Mortimer, Esquire. Old man, +you'd better have a drink." + +Sensations were crowding thick upon him. His uneventful fortnight was to +bear a heavy interest within a few brief hours. In the library, after +further futile pondering, he tried to distract his thoughts with books. +It was a failure; he could not concentrate his attention on printed +words for more than five minutes together. Always he came back to +Beatrice and the ramifications reaching from Constantinople to London +and thence to Shereling. With a grunt of dissatisfaction, he got up at +last at eleven o'clock and knocked out his pipe upon the hearth. As he +did this he heard a slight crunch as of a foot upon the gravel. He +turned quickly toward the French window and saw that he had forgotten to +draw down the blind. He saw something else as well. For a brief second +Lionel had a glimpse--the barest glimpse--of a white face pressed +against the pane, _watching_. The face vanished almost before the retina +had time to record the impression, but he knew two things at once--it +was a man's face, and a man he had never seen before. + +Lionel did exactly what you and I would have done. He stood stock-still +for a moment, his heart clop-clopping against his ribs as if intent on +bursting its way through to the light, hammering a Morse message--"You +are badly frightened, you are badly frightened, you are badly +frightened." "Yes," said Lionel, after three seconds' pardonable +collapse, "I _am_; but I'll try to frighten the other chap!" And with +laudable swiftness he ran to the window, threw it open and called, +"Who's there?" + +Of course there was no answer. With a thawing of the faculties he ran +back, seized the poker and turned off the light. Then he stepped outside +to look for the night-prowler, longing for some tangible flesh to beat +into a pulp. + +The night was starless. Not a breath of wind stirred the leaves. Not a +bird twittered a hint of ambush. Not a sound on gravel or swish of +dew-laden grass brushed by a spy's foot promised vengeance. Aglow with +eagerness now that action was possible and a clew at hand, he walked +round the house, eyes and ears alert for the marauder. There was nothing +to be seen. It was only too clear that the watcher by night had escaped +the moment he was seen, and no good purpose could be served by a random +pursuit in the dark. Lionel went back to the library, secured the +windows and lighted a fresh pipe. + +Of course he could not arouse the house. If, as seemed certain, this +watcher were a Turkish spy, it would be absurd to enlist Miss +Arkwright's aid. Better to say nothing, still watch--but even more +narrowly--and ... go to bed. + +It was a quarter to twelve when he went up-stairs, still smoking. His +bedroom lay at the end of a short passage. Anxious not to disturb any +one at that unseasonable hour, he took off his slippers at the foot of +the stairs and advanced in his "stocking-feet." Without the slightest +noise he tiptoed along the corridor. Just before he reached his room +another door was opened, very quietly indeed, upon his right. A line of +light cut the blackness, and Lionel stood still involuntarily, without +purpose, waiting, expectant of something, he knew not what. The door +opened wide, and a girl in a pretty pink dressing-gown came out. It was +not Winifred who threw up her hands at the sight of the waiting Lionel. +It was Mizzi. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THRILL UPON THRILL + + +This time Lionel had himself well in hand: he was ready for anything. It +was no occasion for tenderness or chivalry: brusk silent action was the +cue. Seizing the stricken Mizzi by the arm with one hand, he clapped the +other over her mouth to prevent a scream. Then half-pushing, +half-dragging, he forced her along the few remaining yards that +separated them from his bedroom. She struggled at first, but soon +realized her helplessness and allowed him to have his way. When he had +her safely inside, Lionel locked the door quietly and sat down in high +feather on the bed. He felt he was beginning to earn his salary at last. + +"Do sit down," he suggested politely. "We must have quite a long +conversation before we part. I can recommend the armchair." + +Mizzi shrugged her shoulders philosophically and obeyed. She was +breathing a little quickly from the capture; but Lionel noticed that she +was as charming as ever, and his heart harbored a rebellious thought. +"Hard luck that I seem to be always trying to snare a pretty girl!" he +mused. "Well, it must be no nonsense now, my friend. Saint Anthony, +forward!" He studied Mizzi's face attentively for a minute, and then +asked bluntly, "Now, will you kindly tell me what you have done with +those papers?" + +"What papers?" she asked with surpassing innocence. "I have no idea what +you mean." + +"Oh, don't be silly!" he said impatiently. "Why need we beat about the +bush? You know well enough. Explain." + +"I know this," she said viciously, "that you find me coming from my +room, fall upon me like an Apache, drag me here at this unseemly hour +and lock me in! And you ask me to explain! The explanation is due from +you. Have you never heard of _les convenances_--what you English call +Mrs. Grundy?" + +"She's snoring now," he smiled. "I shan't wake her." + +Mizzi rose with dignity and marched to the door, nose in the air. "If +you are a gentleman," she said scornfully, "you will release me at +once." + +"Afterward," he replied without moving. He sensed his triumph already. + +"After what?" + +"Your explanation." + +She sat down again and looked keenly at him, as if trying to divine the +strength of his determination. "I have nothing to explain," she said +presently. "If I had, you could not compel me. If you attempt it I +shall scream." + +"Quite worth trying," he said urbanely. "Start now. I haven't the least +objection." + +Mizzi remained silent for several minutes, debating the point. Then she +laughed frankly, as if admiring his coolness. "Ah! that's better!" he +approved. "Now, perhaps, we shall get on." + +"But no!" she said quickly, "I shall not scream, because I am quite +capable of taking care of myself. But I will tell you nothing. What +next, monsieur?" + +Lionel got off the bed and began to fill a pipe in leisurely fashion. +"You don't mind me smoking?" he asked formally. "It always helps me." He +struck a match and lighted the tobacco, apparently preoccupied. "What +next? you ask. This. Have you ever seen that Pinero play, _The Gay Lord +Quex_?" + +She shook her head, puzzled. + +"Ah! that's a pity, for I am going to borrow a hint if you are +difficile. If you refuse to confess I mean to keep you locked up here +till the morning." + +"And then?" + +"Then I shall ring for my shaving-water. And where's your character?" + +She bit her lips. "I mistook you for a gentleman." + +"Ah! that was the fault of the top hat. I'm really a detective and can't +afford the luxury of sentiment." + +Mizzi nibbled a finger-nail, and watched him with sparkling eyes. It was +clear that she was not at ease, that she had not expected to find him so +ready with a plan, so determined in dishonor. Being a woman, it is +probable that she did not altogether blame him. Lionel smiled, reading +her, as he thought, like a book. + +"Well, what is it to be?" + +She made a disconsolate gesture. + +"You are too strong," she said, and smiled in pitiful appeal. "Ah, +monsieur! once you would not have----" + +"That line is useless," said Lionel brutally. He was playing for high +stakes and could not afford to waste a trick. "Once I flirted and had +the pleasure of a kiss. Never again, my pretty schemer! So don't try it +on!" + +She looked bewildered. + +"You misunderstand me cruelly. But as I am to be beaten, let us get to +business. What do you wish to know?" + +"Where are the papers?" + +She did not attempt to parry now. "They are not in this house." + +"That is a lie." + +She shrugged again. + +"Monsieur is not discriminating. I tell you the truth. I took the papers +and have hidden them. They are not here. If you like, here are my +keys"--she held them out--"you may search my boxes." + +He looked steadily at her. There was no wavering in her tone, no +weakness in the eyes or mouth. Belief was imperative. + +"Very well," he said. "Where have you hidden them?" + +"I will not tell you that." + +"You know the penalty?" + +"Yes, and I do not care. I tell you so much, but not that." + +Her voice was so inflexible, so cold and so indifferent that he felt +defeat at hand. + +"Leave it for the present, then. Have you sold them?" + +"No. They would not pay the price." + +"And you are waiting till they increase their offer?" + +"Perhaps." + +"Perhaps!" he echoed. "But you mean to sell them?" + +She smiled faintly. + +"Perhaps. I may have stolen them for other motives than money. Enough +that I stole them and will not tell you where they are." + +He changed his line of attack. + +"To-morrow I will have you arrested for theft." + +"No," she demurred. "You have no proof--no witness. The papers will +_never_ be found unless I choose. Besides, you dare not have me +arrested: you know this is not a police matter." + +"True," he admitted, for her knowledge made it useless to bluff. He +paused and thought, Mizzi smiling maliciously from the armchair. The +pendulum of victory was swinging to her and she could afford to smile. +"Look here!" said Lionel, remembering another weapon. "Will you sell me +them? I'll give you your price." + +"I will _never_ sell them to you," she said, still with inflexible +determination. "Do not suggest it again, please. It would be a waste of +time." + +Lionel was baffled, beaten at every point in the game, and he knew it. +"Confound it!" he thought savagely, "I fancied I held the key of the +situation in my hands, and I am no further on. I am deeper, in fact, for +I know that Mizzi is here and I do not know why.... Ah!" he cried +suddenly, determined to have one thing decided for good and all. "You +have won to-night, I allow--I have no hold on you to make you +confess--but there is one thing that you have done for me--one suspicion +that your presence here has made almost a certainty--one resolution of a +doubt that I can thank you for, however painfully--" + +"And that is?" she asked with polite interest. + +"This. I have come to the conclusion that the whole business is a game. +I don't understand it in the least, but it's a game none the less, and I +have been a dupe. I am sure now that Miss Blair and Miss Arkwright are +the same person. What do you say to that?" + +Mizzi did not so much as flicker an eyelash. She looked at him with a +lazy amusement. + +"_Herr Gott!_" she said with a scorn that seared his unbelief forever. +"If you think that you will think anything. Miss Arkwright and Miss +Blair the same!" and she went off into an uncontrollable peal. + +Lionel would have dearly liked to shake her, but in the midst of his +defeat he realized with a glow that she had won a Pyrrhic victory. "She +won't tell me what I ask her," he thought deliriously, "but she has +convinced me of Beatrice's innocence. That is something at all events!" +and he, too, began to laugh so infectiously that Mizzi stared in +amazement. They laughed like two good friends, and it was in an +excellent humor that Lionel at last got up. + +"Congratulations!" he said courteously. "You have beaten me, I confess. +I can not give you in charge, unfortunately, and I do not see that any +good purpose would be served by keeping you here all night. If I did, I +would do so without hesitation. But I warn you that I shall ask Miss +Arkwright to-morrow for an explanation of your presence." + +"I hope she will give you one," said Mizzi, rising with twinkling eyes. +"Thank you, Mr. Mortimer. I hardly expected you to be generous, but I +felt sure you would be sensible." + +He laughed good-humoredly and walked over to the door, she following +with a demure air that was something of a trial to Saint Anthony. He +fitted the key, turned it, and opened the door with a little bow. The +bow was never perfectly finished, for framed in the doorway he beheld +the figures of his hostess and Mrs. Wetherby. They had evidently been +on the point of knocking, for Miss Arkwright's right hand was raised in +the air: the projected knock had assumed the similitude of a +blessing--or a curse. + +Mizzi fell back in unaffected horror. Lionel, the sport of fortune, was +past surprise. He only stood and waited. + +"_Mizzi!_" said Miss Arkwright--one can not think of her as Winifred in +such a deplorable situation: she radiated outraged respectability. +"_Mizzi!_" + +The unhappy innocent was almost incapable of speech. Before Miss +Arkwright's cutting dissyllables and Miss Wetherby's damnatory mien she +was crushed. Lionel felt really sorry for her. "It is not my fault, +madame," she mumbled. "Believe me, it is not my fault! This gentleman +trepanned me. I am innocent. Is it not so, Mr. Mortimer?" + +"She speaks the truth," said Lionel calmly. "I kidnaped her and locked +her in. I suppose that sounds unlikely, but it is a fact: I alone am to +blame. Does one apologize for this sort of thing? If so, I am very +sorry, but----" + +Miss Arkwright silenced him with a gesture. Her looks were serpents, +her attitude was a virgin horror of man. She pointed imperiously to the +corridor. "Go!" she hissed (yes--yes: "hissed" is melodrama, but she +_did_ hiss), and Mizzi scuttled whimpering into the darkness. For a +moment there was silence, but when the luckless girl had disappeared she +turned again to Lionel. "Now, sir, be good enough to give me your key." + +"My _key_!" he repeated in amazement. "Why?" + +"Because I mean to lock you in for the night," she said sternly. +"Without that degrading precaution we can not feel safe." + +Mrs. Wetherby said nothing, but nodded a grim approval. + +"I recognize your claims as hostess," replied Lionel amicably, "but, +really, this is carrying the thing too far. I am not the vulgar +intriguer you suppose--I merely kidnaped that charming----" + +"If you refuse," interrupted Winifred with basilisk eyes, "I shall ring +for Forbes and have you turned out of the house at once. Do you +understand?" + +Lionel sighed. + +"I ought to have known," he said, "that a woman judges by emotion, not +reason. In the morning perhaps I shall be able to convince you of my +innocence." He gave her the key, which she snatched with unnecessary +vehemence. "Good night. Thank you for an uneventful evening." + +She ignored the insolence, which he justified to himself by her +unreasonable suspicions. Leaving him in a nonchalant attitude, she swept +out like an offended princess, her satellite following in an eloquent +silence. Lionel heard the key turn dismally in the lock, and then the +sound of footsteps retreating down the passage. He laughed gently to +himself. + +"Good lord, what a muddle!" he said, "and what an evening! First, the +face at the window (what a title for a melodrama!--Dash it! I've seen it +already on the posters!); second, the appearance of Mizzi; third, +discovered by Winifred. Climax after climax, and I was beginning to +think myself bored. _Bored_ ... ye gods!... all I need at the present +moment is bed: I've done enough thinking to scour my brain-pan for a +year." + +He undressed rapidly and got into bed. As he pulled the clothes about +him he chuckled, remembering Winifred's face. Then he grew grave. +"Sacked to-morrow, old boy!" he muttered. "Marching orders at breakfast +and no mistake! But before I go I'll ask her straight out what little +Mizzi is doing here." And then he turned over and was soon asleep. + +But the horn of plenty still had some gifts to shower upon him: the god +of mischances had not yet exhausted his store of thrills. About five +minutes, as it seemed, after his retiring--it was really an hour and a +half--Lionel was roused from a deep slumber by a knock. He sat up in +bed, blinking heavily, wondering if his senses had deceived him, whether +he was dreaming or awake. For a moment he sat listening, and then the +knock was repeated, distinct beyond the possibility of mistake. +"Confound it!" he muttered in an ill temper; "they might give me a night +off now.... To-morrow I'll hang a placard on my door--'Conspiracies +attended to from nine A. M. to eleven P. M. Kindly note hours of +consultation.'--Hello!" he said aloud; "is anybody there?" + +The door opened a few inches, but no one entered. Lionel was too bored +to speculate whether it might be Mizzi, Winifred or some unknown +Oriental with turban and simitar. He was prepared to accept anything, if +only he might be allowed to go to sleep. "Hello!" he repeated; "who is +that?" + +"Me," said the voice of Miss Arkwright. "Are you asleep, Mr. Mortimer?" + +"Yes," said Lionel, grinning in the darkness--"sound asleep." + +A species of cluck was heard from outside the door, but whether the +strange sound indicated amusement or wrath he could not determine. He +was wide awake now, determined to exact vengeance for his cavalier +treatment. + +"Some one," continued the voice, "is prowling round the house. A thief, +I suppose. He seems to have a ladder." + +"Oh!" said Lionel, in the dispassionate tone of the village idiot. "Oh!" + +Again there was silence, save for a repetition of the curious cluck. +Presently Winifred said in a voice that trembled with indignation, "Is +that all you have to say?" + +"You might give him my kind regards, and ask him to leave this room +untouched," said Lionel, beginning to enjoy himself. He could picture +Winifred biting her lip. "Good night, and pleasant dreams." + +"You are a _man_, and my guest," said the voice bitterly, "and you leave +us at the mercy of a possible murderer----" + +"Not a guest," he corrected, "but a prisoner. If you require a man, why +not ask Forbes? You were ready enough to use him just now." + +Again there was silence. When she spoke again it was in the meekest of +tones--so meek, indeed, that he scarcely recognized it as Winifred's. + +"Mr. Mortimer, I am very sorry. Please be generous. I threatened you +with a weapon I did not possess. Forbes sleeps in the village." + +Lionel could not repress a laugh. He had been bluffed, but bore no +malice. Enough of vengeance had been exacted. He could accept the +capitulation without loss of dignity, for Miss Arkwright--most +properly--had been obliged to ask his help. + +"A moment," he said, "and I shall be with you." + +Jumping out of bed, he hastily put on his dressing-gown in the dark. +Then he opened the door and joined Winifred in the corridor. She was in +a dressing-gown, too, and looked charming _en déshabille_, her glorious +hair unbound. But no time was allowed for more than a glance of +admiration. Taking him by the arm, she hurried him along, explaining how +she had not gone to sleep, but had lain thinking. "My light was out, of +course," she said; "and this marauder, whoever he is, must have thought +all the household asleep. I watched him cross the lawn and presently +bring back a ladder from the potting-shed. He reared it against the +window of an empty room. I at once came to you. As soon as he has +discovered his mistake he will probably try another." + +"Then shall I go down-stairs and capture him as he descends?" suggested +Lionel. + +"Let us see first from the window," she said. "We must make sure." + +They entered her bedroom together and walked softly toward the window. +The blind was up. + +There was no moon, but the faint promise of the dawn lent a dim light, +by which objects, grotesquely shadowed, could be distinguished. When +they reached the window Lionel saw the top of a ladder resting against +the sill. + +"You're right!" he whispered. "Now, I'm off outside!" He turned to go, +but was detained by a pressure on his arm. + +"No, no!" whispered Winifred. "I can not let you--there may be a +gang--you might get hurt----" + +"Nonsense!" + +"I insist!" + +"Then why----" + +"You must _not_ go! Throw something instead----" + +"Absurd! I----" + +"I beg you!" she entreated, and her voice was so timid that once again +Lionel's heart failed. "All right!" he said. "Give me something heavy. +I'll fling up the window suddenly and surprise him!" + +She pressed his arm gratefully and glided across the room. The next +moment she was at his side, offering the water-jug. + +"Capital!" whispered Lionel. "Drench him first, then stun him with the +jug. Any other trifles to bestow? Soap--hair-brushes--a boot or two? Any +little knickknacks----" + +"The ladder is moving!" + +It was being shifted a few inches, apparently to a better foothold. +Lionel seized the jug and made ready for action. + +"Cigar or cocoa-nut, lidy?" he whispered joyously as he threw up the +sash. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE THORNY PATH + + +"Dinner _as_ usual, sir?" said the landlord of The Happy Heart, looking +into the parlor where Tony and Robert were playing piquet. + +"Please, Mr. Glew," said Tony. "Seven o'clock as usual. Oh, by the way, +have you got such a thing as a lantern?" + +"A lantern!" interjected Robert in surprise. "Why, what----" He was +checked by a kick under the table. + +"I dare say I can find you one, sir," said the landlord. "We don't need +'em these summer nights, but I'll be bound there's one knocking about +somewhere." + +"Thanks. My friend and I are enthusiastic collectors of butterflies and +moths. We mean to try for some of the latter to-night; so, if we are not +in till late, you won't be surprised or imagine burglars." + +"Bless you, no, sir!" said Glew, and went out to look for the lantern. +As soon as the door closed Robert began to speak. + +"Don't think me censorious, Mr. Wild, if you please; but, really now, +was there any need for that?" + +"The lantern? Rather! We may have to----" + +"No--not the lantern. The--the perversion----" + +"Oh! you mean the lie. Don't apologize, Bangs, old chap! you haven't +offended me in the least. I like people to say what they think.--Well, +the lie.... Yes, I think it was necessary. Conspirators can't stick at +trifles. Besides, it's on _my_ conscience, so there's no need for you to +worry." + +"But wouldn't an excuse----" + +"Have done equally well? Possibly, though I never save the ha'porth of +tar. And an excuse would have been only a lie in another form--just as +culpable. But don't let's worry over this: I want to tell you of the +plan of campaign." + +Robert subsided, content to have recorded a protest, however mild. He +loved adventure; but, being a man trained in meticulous accuracy, he did +not take kindly to deception--verbal deception, at any rate. The path of +an adventurer he had found a trifle thorny, trodden by a man of +conscience, but still he had enjoyed it and hoped to tread it still +further. But he was careful to leave most of the talking to his comrade. + +"While you, Bangs," pursued Tony, leaning against the mantelpiece, "have +been living the lotus life and acting slugabed, I have been working +hard. Ever since I got a hint that Brown was in touch with The Quiet +House I have been following him like the proverbial sleuth hound. I have +discovered--at the expense of torn trousers and soaking feet--that he +keeps tryst nightly with that charming bit of womanhood I spoke to +once--and only once, alas! He has a private entry over the wall, having +driven some large nails into the outer side, well off the beaten track. +Up there the gay Lothario climbs--drops into the garden--meets his +divinity, and _voilà tout_!" + +"What happens?" asked Robert eagerly. + +"The usual thing, Bangs. Exchange of kisses and confidences--which I, +alas! can hear but imperfectly." + +"But you don't listen!" exclaimed Robert, scandalized. Tony sighed. + +"I have to steel myself. In high politics, you know ... but, of course, +I shall never tell." + +"Oh!" + +The disappointment was obvious, and Tony laughed. + +"No, old fellow, love's young dream and so forth must be respected. +Honestly, I've only watched, hoping to get a clew--perhaps some +conversation with the girl when Brown goes home. No good! No earthly +good! Brown sees her safe to the house and then comes back. He stands on +a convenient garden roller and climbs. Then he drops, and off home. +Ditto me, disgusted, envious, lacking information. To-night I mean to +move." + +"Yes!" + +"We'll lie in wait, Bangs, and have a word with them. A coil of rope and +a sack--those shall be our only tools. While Brown is talking we'll try +to slip the sack over his head and tie him up. I don't think the lady +will scream, for it seems to me that there's a kind of counterplot +afoot--either against Billy, the Turkish government, or Miss Arkwright. +(I still feel sure she is not Miss Arkwright, but a maid of sorts.) Now, +if I'm right in my conjectures she won't be keen on advertising Brown's +presence to her mistress. If I'm wrong and she _does_ scream and help +comes, we must bolt to the wall and clear out at once. If we succeed, +we'll have a talk with her and try to find out something. I'm tired of +waiting in the dark. Now, are you game to help?" + +Robert wagged his head nervously. + +"Of course, Mr. Wild, I'm as ready for adventure as I ever was. But--but +this is a serious business. It--it might mean prison!" + +"It might," agreed Tony; "but I don't think it need if we're smart. +Anyhow, we must be prepared to risk a little for a great adventure. If +we're cute about the sack business I think I can manage the roping part +all right. You would have to hold the lady." + +"B-but----" + +"She's awfully pretty ..." + +"That is no inducement, Mr. Wild. You forget----" + +"Come, Bangs, none of your 'perversions!' I don't forget anything. How +many chaps half your age would jump at the chance of capturing a +beautiful anarchist!" + +"I am not an old man yet, Mr. Wild," said Robert with some heat. "You +misunderstand me. I love romance and can take an interest--a detached +interest, of course--an appreciative and artistic interest in a pretty +woman. What I am thinking of is the law. But, since you put it like +that, I will come and risk it." + +"Good," said Tony, concealing a smile. "Don't let your interest be too +detached, old boy, or she may get away into the house. Grip her firmly +by the wrists." + +They spent the rest of the summer evening in maturing their plans and +piquet. Having given his word Mr. Hedderwick scorned to withdraw, though +it was plain that he did not relish the prospect of a night attack. +Tony, in addition to the lantern, procured some rope and a sack from the +landlord. "To put the moths in, Mr. Glew," he said brightly by way of +explanation. + +"_To put the morths in!_" repeated Glew in a dazed fashion. "To put the +MORTHS in! TO PUT THE----" + +He was still repeating the formula when the adventurous pair set out. + +It was a quarter past ten, thirty minutes before the odd-job man was +wont to meet the lady of his heart. They reached The Quiet House in some +ten minutes, and then skirted the wall for a short distance, till Tony +stopped with a whispered "Here we are!" It was in a bridle-path that +they found themselves, about eighty yards from the main road that ran +through Shereling. Tony crouched down behind a convenient clump of +bramble and lighted the lamp. + +"I'll light you up the wall," he said softly. "When you get to the top, +hang by your hands and drop quietly down. There's soft grass ten feet +beneath you. As soon as you're up I shall put out the light, for I know +the way by heart now." + +With a resentful obedience Robert observed the big nails that had been +driven into the brickwork by the amorous Brown. Heartily wishing himself +at home--or at least in the snug security of The Happy Heart--but loath +to plead his years or cowardice, Mr. Hedderwick put his foot on the +lowest spike, grasped one above his head, and began the ascent. To an +active boy it would have been a trivial feat; to an elderly adventurer +it was full of pain, and in spite of an heroic spirit he was more than +once on the point of climbing down again. Something, however, forbade +the refusal of the adventure: curiosity or shame held him to his word. +The glimmer of Tony's lantern following--nay, leading him ever upward, +shone like a beacon of promise in the dark. The thought spurred him, and +it was not until he had one leg across the top of the wall that he +reflected on a change of simile: the light might rather be a +will-o'-the-wisp luring him to destruction or disgrace. For a moment his +courage failed. + +"Mr. Wild!" he whispered despairingly, "I'm----" + +The light went out. + +"All right?" said the cheering voice of his fellow criminal. "Good. I'm +coming." + +He began to follow, rope, sack and lantern coiled over his shoulders. +With a groan of resolution Robert wiped the sweat of fear from his +forehead and dropped lightly to the ground. + +Tony joined him a moment later, breathing a little quickly from the +climb. Without a word he walked cautiously forward, Robert close behind, +until they reached a thicket of elder-bushes. Into the heart of this +they crept, making as little noise as possible. Presently, when Tony +judged they were so placed as to be secure from observation, themselves +able to observe, they halted. "May as well sit down," whispered Tony; +"quite likely we shall have to wait a bit." He spread the sack upon the +ground and the two of them established themselves upon it, clasping +their knees. + +The night, most luckily, was fine. There was no hint of rain, and little +dew was falling. There was no moon, and the fitful starlight only served +to display the immensity of the darkness, the monstrous tree-shapes +looming threateningly on them, the overwhelming horror of The Quiet +House. Black against the dark background of the sky it reared its bulk +above them, seeming to menace the guilty pair with nightmare terrors, +starting ghoulish fancies, prosaic fears of the police, a child's dread +of the dark and all its goblins. It was so silent, powerful, unknown. +Mr. Hedderwick's flesh crept with a chill that was not climatic, and +instinctively he huddled closer to his companion. + +"Can we smoke?" he breathed. + +"No. _They_ might see the glow." + +"They," of course meant Brown and his accomplice; but, uttered beneath +that lowering sky, those gloomy trees, in the atmosphere of intrigue and +hypothetical bloodshed, the words assumed an awful import to Mr. +Hedderwick. Romance cut with a keener edge across his quivering soul. He +was getting his fill of adventures, and with an unfeigned zeal he now +wished himself safe at Bloomsbury, even at the price of a Caudle's +welcome. To think that he, a middle-aged--no! an _old_ man, with a good +wife--yes! a _good_ wife, though sometimes a little overbearing--a +churchwarden of Saint Frideswide's and all the rest--to think that he +could be so harebrained and ungrateful as to embark on such an +enterprise! It was incredible: he must be dreaming.... No; it was real. +His right foot was in agony: it had gone to sleep. + +"Ouch!" he said, stretching it. "What's the time, Mr. Wild?" + +"Can't see. Daren't light a match. 'Fraid they're late. Shut up." + +Time passed heavily to the unhappy man. A schoolboy, condemned to a +caning, can face the prospect with a decent front if only the punishment +is not deferred. "Cane me, if you must!" he would say, "but get it over +and let's have done with it!" A fair request, provided the culprit be +not a hardened nature whom it is policy to keep in suspense. In such a +case the Third Degree may be justified. But suppose your culprit to be a +sensitive shrinking nature, to whom the waiting is worse torture than +the actual pain itself, is it not a refinement of cruelty to keep him on +the tenter-hooks? Robert Hedderwick was of such, a gentle, kindly, +romantic, imaginative fool. You who scorn his folly might pardon, could +you but enter into half his feelings as he waits amid the elder-bushes. + +At eleven o'clock there was promise of incident to cheer their hearts. +From the other side of the house they heard a voice call sharply, "Who +is there?" No answer was returned, but before the echoes died they saw a +dark figure run silently across the lawn and clamber up the wall where +they had made an entrance. Breathlessly they watched, and in another +moment a second figure, carrying some lethal weapon, walked sharply into +the field of vision. The newcomer made a tour of the house and part of +the garden, but did not disturb the anxious watchers in the elders. As +soon as he had disappeared Robert whispered, "What now? Shall we go +after the man who climbed?" + +"No," replied Tony, whispering too. "I don't understand this. It's a +different program. Looks as if something is up. Better wait." + +His companion sighed, for he had hoped release was at hand. Instead, he +resigned himself to waiting. + +An hour crept by with feet of lead. To the amateur plotters it seemed as +if time itself were standing still. Robert thought it must be two +o'clock at least, but Tony's common sense guessed it to be near +midnight. Once the churchwarden ventured to suggest that honor was +satisfied, curiosity likely to be disappointed; why not retire? Tony +refused doggedly: + +"I'm going to see it through now if we wait till five o'clock. No more +lost chances!" + +Robert groaned and rubbed his leg. + +It was half past one when Robert, half asleep, conscious of nothing but +discomfort, felt Tony plucking at his sleeve. He roused himself +irritably, almost forgetful of their errand. Then, in the dim +foreshadowing of dawn, he saw the outline of a man on the top of the +wall. He awoke fully on the instant, clutching his fellow sufferer in +pure fright, staring with wide-open eyes. The man dropped nimbly down +upon the grass and walked noiselessly across the lawn. + +They watched him eagerly, feeling that their sufferings were about to be +rewarded, wondering whether they ought to follow or wait. If the first, +they might be discovered; the second, they might lose him. For once in +his life Tony was at a loss. He had reckoned on Brown's arrival, but not +at a different hour, pursuing a new course. What was the best plan? + +Fortunately the period of suspense was short. The figure, which had +disappeared for a moment round the corner of the house, came into view +once more. It still moved with surpassing stealth, but now it was +carrying a long unwieldy object in one hand. It was a ladder. Tony +nearly whistled when he saw this ominous contrivance, and Robert +quivered with a satisfying impatience for the coming drama. Were they to +see a new version of _Romeo and Juliet_, or was it merely a vulgar +burglary? + +The man paused, surveyed the blank unlighted house, and then reared his +ladder against a window. He climbed rapidly up, but after a brief +inspection descended with equal swiftness. He raised the ladder with no +obvious effort, carried it some little distance along, and placed it at +another window. It was clear that he was correcting a mistake. + +"What"--began Robert in a thick whisper, but Tony clapped a hand on his +mouth, fearing lest the faintest sound might betray them. Not that there +was any real danger, for the night-prowler was twenty yards away, the +wind had begun to rise, and the tree branches were sighing loudly enough +to drown a human murmur. But Tony meant to run no risks: he was +determined to see the play through to the end. Not the quiver of an +eyelash must betray them. At all costs, silence. + +They saw Brown--for who else could it be?--rear the ladder, then shift +it a little to get a better foundation. He tried it with his hand to +make sure that it was firm. At last, satisfied and resolute, he placed +one foot upon it and began to climb. The watchers held their breath, +unconscious of the drama within a drama about to burst upon them. Robert +was trembling, his mouth still covered by Tony's precautionary hand. +Brown was on the second rung, when the window above was suddenly flung +open. The mysterious Billy leaned out, jug in hand. "Good evening!" he +said distinctly, in pleasant gentlemanly accents that reached the +watchers in the elders: "good evening. Have a drink?" + +The wretched Brown was so _bouleversé_ by the unexpected apparition that +he stood fast, gaping wonderfully, upon the second rung. It was lucky +that he had climbed no higher, for the cascade that fell with unerring +aim fairly upon his countenance was the best part of a gallon of water. +Apart from the hydraulic force exerted the wanton suddenness of the +attack must have dashed him to the ground. He fell prone upon the grass, +striving to disburden himself of an unwanted draft, pitiable, a +spluttering ruin of a conspirator. + +"_Glwhtt!_" said Robert from behind the hand of Tony. He was nigh to +bursting with suppressed emotion. "_Glwhtt! oh! glwhtt!_" + +Tony, too, found it hard to keep himself in hand. Despite his +disappointment at beholding his fair hopes frustrated, it was no easy +task to check the laugh. To see a man, bold, confident, assured of +success, in one moment converted into a sodden and convulsive mass, +weltering upon the lawn--it was catastrophic. If incongruity be the +basis of the comic spirit, it was here with a vengeance. + +"With a vengeance." The thought was impelled by the quick hurry of +events. Brown, after gaspy flounderings for half a minute, recovered +himself and stood erect. He shook an Olympian fist in powerless wrath +toward the window, breathed a crimson oath that might have scorched the +stars, and ran blunderingly toward the wall. He made for his point of +entry by a straight path and dashed blindly through the elders. In his +headlong course he trod convincingly on Robert's fingers, but sped on, +heedless of the yelp of pain. "_Ahoo!_" whooped Mr. Hedderwick, leaping +in his agony, unrecking of the consequences. "_Ahoo! Ahoo!_" He was +wringing his hands in an ecstasy of anguish as Lionel came bursting from +the house, a heavy walking-stick in his hand. + +"The wall quick!" said Tony, seizing him by the arm. They had a start of +thirty yards: Brown was over the wall and out of sight by this time, and +there was still hope of escape. Had Tony been alone he would have got +away, for they reached the wall well ahead of the frantic Lionel, aflame +for blood. But chivalry forced him to let Robert climb first. "Up you +go!" he said, thrusting the adventurous churchwarden upon the roller. +There were no spikes to help or hinder on the inner wall. Robert caught +hold of the top bricks and scrabbled piteously with his toes, searching +for a foothold. Tony shoved fiercely from beneath, the thought of prison +or the bowstring beating in his brain. With a heave of which he scarce +thought himself capable he boosted Robert high in the air. Mr. +Hedderwick flew up like a ball of india-rubber, rolled on to the top, +and fell over the other side with a wail of apprehension. Luckily the +mud was soft. But just as he touched the mud, Lionel came up with his +quarry and seized him by the collar. Tony turned and struggled like a +wildcat, but he was no match for the other. Lionel shortened his stick +and drove it upward. With a grunt of pain Tony collapsed. "Whew!" said +Lionel, vastly pleased as he contemplated the fallen foe. "There's one +of 'em, anyhow. I hope I haven't killed the brute." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A TELEGRAM AND SUNDRIES + + +The twelve-year-old son of Mr. Glew, who, in the intervals of school and +expiating the inevitable offenses of youth, was utilized to carry +telegrams, came whistling up the drive of The Quiet House. He rang the +bell, and in the fulness of time the summons was answered by a man +servant who had been engaged the day before. He was called Jones. +"Hello! young cock-sparrow!" said Jones cheerfully. "Brought a wire? +Who's it for? Her Imperial Highness or me?" + +"Name o' Mortimer," said the youthful Glew. "Catch hold!" + +"Mortimer's on the lawn, sunning himself," said Jones. "Better take it +straight round." + +"I'm employed to hand telegrams into the house," said the boy with all +the dignity of a government servant. "It's your business to see ole +Mortimer gets it." + +"And it's my business to give a clip 'side o' the 'ed," said Jones, +riposting. "So if you don't want a thick ear inside of a jiffy, my lad, +off you go." + +Master Glew obeyed, soothing his outraged independence by a cry of "Yar! +red-nosed beef-eater!" as soon as he was out of reach. Jones, regretting +the ungiven clip, banged the door, and the libel-loving Glew went +pleasantly on his way. + +He found Lionel in the summer-house and delivered the yellow envelope, +waiting dutifully to see if there was a prepaid reply, hoping for a +possible douceur. In this he was disappointed; for although the +telegram seemed to give unbounded pleasure to the recipient, no money +changed hands, and Master Glew retired, embittered and pessimistic. As +soon as he was alone Lionel read and read again the flimsy slip that +conveyed so much. The words danced before him in the sunlight: + + "Lukos has died of measles. Stay where you are and keep + watching. Beatrice." + +Lukos dead! Then the path was clear, and he was free to hope, free to +pursue, to strive with all his heart and soul to ... to do what? Why, +make love to her, of course, and presently ask her to marry him. +"Marry" ... The word came on him with a stunning shock, as it does to +every free bachelor when he sees the wedding-ring as a reality within +his grasp. However much we long to persuade the beloved object to the +vow--however much we have striven, hoped, schemed and waited--still, when +the time comes of a verity, and at last we can confidently say, "I am to +be married to-morrow!" or next week, or a year hence--then, in the midst +of our ecstasy, there comes a whisper, "_Married! Tied! Shackled!_" We +welcome our chains, of course,--we would barter our souls for the lovely +fetters; but there always comes, if but for the briefest of seconds, the +appalling thought, "Freedom has gone forever!" Is there a single husband +who, during the period of courtship, has never been "afraid with any +amazement"? + +The thought, the fear, came to Lionel as to the rest of us, and for an +instant he felt like taking to his heels. Then he smiled as a grown-up +upon a child, naturally timid and ignorant. Next, his face fell, as he +harped back to his theme. He was to "make love" to her. + +To a man of his stamp making love is not a difficult matter. To a man +like Tony it is a second nature--the breath of life--a perennial +pastime. But making love is not the same as loving, and to make love to +Beatrice would be an insult. He admired Beatrice so much--respected +her--was anxious to serve her, to obey her slightest whim,--thought her +the best and most desirable creature he had ever known. But if he did +not love her, it would be a base thing to pretend, to use her as a toy. +Did he love her or not? He wanted her--oh, yes! he wanted her as he had +never wanted any one else in his life. There had been others, of course, +with whom he had dallied--for instance, Mizzi. There had been one or two +in whom he had taken a more serious interest, like Miss Arkwright. With +the latter he had more than once imagined himself to be in love--he had +dwelt delightfully upon the possibility--had gone to bed reflecting, +"Dash it! Beatrice has forgotten me. Winifred's a darling! Why not?" And +then when the kiss had been offered, he had refused. Well, in that lay +hope of a greater certainty. He had refused the kiss--had he +not?--because of Beatrice. Therefore he loved her. Therefore he must +make love to her. Therefore he must ask her to marry him. Marriage! +Whew--w--w! + +"Oh, you vacillating ass!" he groaned to himself, getting up and +stretching his arms as if to free himself from the enmeshing subtleties. +"Why can't you be content to believe yourself in love and go straight +ahead now that the path is clear? Why can't you be an ordinary, sane, +matter-of-fact lover, and ask the dear woman if she'll marry you and +help you to help her, the world and yourself? Yourself, who need it +badly. Why--why--why can't you be reasonable?" He shook his fist +savagely at the heavens. "Why worry your brain about these intricate +analyses? Why? _Because_, my boy, she deserves certainly, and, by +George, she shall have it!" + +He sat down and read the telegram once more. "Poor old chap!" he +thought. "Dead ... and of measles. Lord! it's hard not to laugh. A man +who plotted and shook the chancelleries, in daily danger of poison or +the sword, to die of _measles_! What a world of oddities! Poor +devil ... I wonder how she takes it?" + +The remembrance of the forced marriage led him to think that she could +not feel it too cruelly. No doubt she had liked him--had even felt +affection for him. But the compulsion of wedlock and the death of her +only son would not but make the tie more light than usual. "Let's hope +so, anyway," he growled to himself, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. +"Lionel, you were selfish to talk of love so soon. More especially when +you don't know yet if you love her or not." + +Miss Arkwright came across the lawn. There had been no more talk of his +departure. Since his noble rescue--five nights agone--it had been +impossible to be harsh. There had been an interview next morning in +which considerable frankness had been displayed on both sides. Miss +Arkwright had asked him to repeat his explanation of Mizzi's presence in +his bedroom, and this he had done cheerfully enough. In return, he had +inquired what Mizzi was doing there, and had accused his hostess of +conspiracy. "I feel," he had said, "that it is time we understand each +other. Cards on the table, please. As you may know or guess, I came here +to watch you, believing you to be in the service of the Turks." + +"Absurd!" Winifred had replied. "I can not explain all now, but my +sister is mistaken. Mizzi applied for a situation through a registry +office, and only came the night you discovered her. I have questioned +her, and though I believe your explanation of her presence, it is best +for us all that she should not stay.--Oh, I have taken care that she +shall not suffer financially.--I am sure your suspicions of her are as +groundless as my sister's of me. In any case, I have no intention of +conducting an inquiry into so flimsy a charge. Now we know where we are. +If you will be pleased to prolong your stay, I shall be glad. Perhaps +you will learn to believe in me at last." He did not believe her in the +least, but the knowledge that he was no longer there on false pretenses +was no small solace, and he stayed on. + +"Well," said Miss Arkwright, approaching, "let us go and look at our +prisoner. Have you seen him this morning?" + +"Not since breakfast," said Lionel, rising. "What is his job to-day?" + +"Digging and wheeling," answered Miss Arkwright with a smile. "I am told +that he shapes well." + +They walked round the back of the house, and presently came upon a +second lawn. Across this was laid a narrow footway of planks. As they +approached a figure was seen wheeling a small barrow of earth toward an +embryonic flower bed. The figure came to the end of the causeway, upset +his load with a professional side-twist, and then wiped his brow. "I +believe that is always done," he said apologetically to the lady, who +had halted with her cavalier: "one picks up a wrinkle here and there. +Your gardener, for instance, showed me how the navvies unload their +barrows, correcting my natural impulse to upset it straight ahead." + +"Do you feel tired?" asked Miss Arkwright critically: there was no +sympathy in her tone. + +"The masses are used to that," answered Tony. "In time, no doubt, I +shall learn the trick of doing the maximum of work with the minimum of +effort. No, I can't say I am especially tired; it's rather a healthy +feeling on the whole." + +"You're making a bit of a mess of the lawn," observed Lionel, his glance +falling on a scarred patch. + +"Ah! that was in the apprentice stage," said Tony airily. "The barrow +ran off the plank, and this narrow wheel cuts. Of course I am always +open to learn, and if you----" + +"Mr. Mortimer is a guest, not a serf," Miss Arkwright reminded him. Tony +bowed. + +"I apologize. For a moment I had forgotten class distinctions. Beg +pardon, mum! By your leave, sir! I must be gettin' back to my job." + +He trundled the barrow briskly out of sight to where a mound of soil +awaited his efforts. He was soon back, however, and another load of soil +was deposited dexterously upon the growing bed. + +"You're still obstinate," said the lady, smiling. + +"Meaning----?" He paused, shovel in hand. + +"That you won't give any account of yourself." + +"Why should I?" asked Tony innocently. "I am the slave of a perfectly +charming despot"--he bowed again with grace, despite his costume and the +mud stains. "I am well housed and fed. I have nothing special to do. I +am regaining the rude health of youth----" + +"But you have to _work_!" Lionel reminded him with a laugh. "And judging +from your hands I don't think you've done much of that in your life." + +Tony waved one of the despised hands. + +"It is a popular error to speak of manual laborers as 'the working +classes.' There is such a thing as brain-work--no! I don't press the +point. As a matter of fact, I am rather attracted by this kind of +work--for a change. Perhaps, when I regain my freedom, I shall then take +up some sort of work as a hobby." + +"You can be free as soon as you like," said Miss Arkwright carelessly. + +"Ah! but at a price! You want the secret of my life. I shall only tell +you the tragic story when you tell me something of yours. Meanwhile I am +quite content to labor here on parole. It is true that I am forbidden +the village--I am not even near enough the wall to pass the time of day +(is that the local phrase?) with the outside world. But until I know +more I am not anxious to leave the most delightful tyrant I have ever +met." + +"You ought to think yourself lucky," said Lionel, "that you're not +cooling your heels in jail." + +"By all accounts," said Tony blandly, "I might retort with a _tu +quoque_." + +"What do you mean?" asked Lionel, puzzled. "What do you know of me?" + +Tony shrugged. + +"That is part of the feuilleton," he said. "As soon as you like, we +shall exchange stories. Meanwhile, permit the horny-handed aristocrat to +pass along." + +He went off again, whistling, leaving his questioners unsatisfied. In +spite of the mystery of his presence, in spite of the recent struggle, +both Lionel and his hostess felt an instinctive liking for Tony. It had +been Miss Arkwright's idea to set him to work. After the capture Lionel +suggested a medieval treatment of bread-and-water in a locked chamber. +Police proceedings were naturally out of the question. But Miss +Arkwright was original in her methods, and after an interview with the +unabashed intruder, had given him a choice of penalties. Either he might +elect for the modern equivalent of the deepest dungeon beneath the moat, +or he might work in the garden on parole. She saw he was a gentleman, +and suspected him of being an interesting addition to The Quiet House. +So Tony was admitted to the drawing-room on an equality with themselves. +The mornings and afternoons he spent in forced labor, a victim of the +_corvée_; his mid-day meal and "four o'clocks" were harmoniously eaten +in the potting-shed. It was curious to observe a grimy navvy enter by +the back door, to appear in the drawing-room later dressed in a lounge +suit, with hair carefully parted. When he played or sang to them it +seemed still more incongruous, but they were all adaptable creatures and +there was no constraint. + +This morning it was very hot, and Lionel and Winifred went back to the +hammock-chairs in the shade. The heat made the air flicker like waves, +and even the midges seemed too lazy to come out. A universal torpor hung +heavily in the atmosphere; one thought regretfully of slaves in offices, +clerks on stools, perspiring operators in factories. For, whether it be +hot or cold, work has to be done by all save the leisured classes. And +even they are sometimes compelled to exert themselves either by force of +circumstances or a sense of duty. + +It was the latter spur that roused the Reverend Charles Peters to get to +work on his sermon for next Sunday. True, there were still three days' +grace; but it had been his immemorial custom to begin to write his +sermon on a Wednesday, and nothing short of a new heresy in the +morning's newspaper could have kept him from his desk. Whether the +garden tempted him to dally amid roses, or a keen frost suggested the +pleasures of a brisk walk--whether he felt _disponiert_ and stored with +telling phrases, or empty as a sieve with the wind blowing +through--whether his digestion was in first-class order or cried aloud +for a liver-pill,--whatever conditions obtained, duty and habit drew +Mr. Peters to a task not uncongenial. So, on this morning he went to his +work as usual, despite the heat, not slothful enough to delve in a +well-filled drawer and read over some "cold meat" for his parishioners. +He established himself in the dining-room--luckily, as it proved--for +his study was being "turned out." + +As a preliminary he threw open both windows and removed his jacket and +waistcoat. Then he lighted a pipe and settled down to arrange his +thoughts. He had not been meditating for more than ten minutes when his +wife came in. + +"The milkman's account, Charles," she said. "Can you settle it now?" + +"Certainly, my dear," replied the vicar, unlocking his cash-box. "It's +extremely hot this morning, isn't it?" + +"It is," agreed Mrs. Peters, waiting for the money. "But, Charles----" + +"Yes, my dear?" + +"Do you think it quite seemly to be writing your sermon in +shirt-sleeves?" + +"It's extremely hot, Clara." + +"Yes. But a _sermon_, Charles!" + +The vicar laughed. + +"Would you have me write it behind stained-glass windows, with incense +burning round me?" + +"A strict Evangelical----!!!" + +"I was only joking, Clara," said the vicar quickly. "Of course, I +shouldn't dream of----" + +"I do not think one should be flippant under such circumstances. +Shirt-sleeves and a pipe! My dear Charles----" + +The vicar moved a little restlessly. + +"My dear Clara, the day's very hot and I'm doing nothing to be ashamed +of. If the bishop of London called I'm sure he'd say----" + +"Mr. Bangs," said the housemaid at the door, and Robert entered with a +troubled mien. + +The vicar made a dash for his discarded garments and performed a Protean +act with amazing speed. His wife, true to her salt, interposed between +her husband and the visitor, making a few banal remarks about the +weather. She did not shake hands. + +"Excuse me, Mr. Bangs," said the vicar, blushing despite his late +assertions of independence. "You find me trying to keep cool under +adverse conditions. Had I known----" + +"The weather is very sultry, is it not?" said Mrs. Peters, with a glare +that said, "I told you so!" + +Robert surveyed them with a wild and unreceptive eye. He looked, so +thought the vicar's wife, like a man dogged by the officers of the law. + +"I called," he said quickly, "because I wanted your advice and help." + +"Certainly, if I can be of any use," replied the vicar. "Clara, my +love----?" + +His tone indicated a request that she would leave them. To the vicar's +intense surprise, his love made no sign of compliance. "Perhaps I had +better stay, Charles," she said grimly. + +"But, Clara----" + +"I--I should like to speak to your husband alone," said Robert, nervous +but determined. "You see, it is very private----" + +"Of course, Mr. Bangs. I quite understand. Perfectly natural. My +dear----" + +"I think not, Charles. Mr. _Bangs_ will understand why." + +"I don't at all," said Robert, dismayed and puzzled. "I have come here +for advice and help. As a matter of fact, I have to make a +confession----" + +The vicar shrank. + +"I do not hear confessions," he said. "I do not approve----" + +"Evangelical," snapped Clara. (Yes: there are vicar's wives who snap, +and she was one.) + +"I don't understand," repeated Robert wearily. Then suddenly a light +broke on him, and he laughed. It was his first laugh for five days. "Oh, +I see! I don't mean _that_ kind of confession. This is purely a personal +matter--man to man." + +"In that case, my love, I think----" + +"No," said the resolute woman. "I am determined that you shall not be +imposed on any longer. I have kept silence, perhaps too long. Mr. +_Bangs_, yesterday I telephoned to Bloomsbury 843B." + +"_What!_" said Robert with a moan. "You telephoned _there_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +STILL RUNNING + + +With a glance of triumphant contempt at the bladder she had pricked so +easily, Mrs. Peters turned to her husband. "I think, Charles, that I +can safely leave you now to hear Mr. Hedderwick's explanation. I have +no wish to be present during a painful scene; besides, I am wanted in +the larder." + +"_Mr. Hedderwick!_" repeated the vicar blankly. "What do you mean, +Clara? I can not understand--I have no idea--you must----" + +"He will tell you," said the lady, vouchsafing nothing further. After +all, she had had a fair share of the lime-light, and there was no need +to risk an anticlimax. "If you had only listened to me when I warned +you ... but there! men are all alike." + +She swept from the room, and the bewildered clergyman appealed to the +heap in the chair. + +"Mr. Bangs--Mr. Hedderwick, perhaps I ought to say--will you be kind +enough to tell me what it all means?" + +Robert raised a stricken head. + +"I thought, Mr. Peters, that things were bad enough when I came. Your +wife's news proves to me that I am wrong. My name is not Bangs, but +Hedderwick." + +"So I gathered," said the vicar uncomfortably. "I think you owe me an +explanation of your reasons for adopting a false name." + +Robert glanced wildly at the clock. + +"There is no time to go into details now. She may be here at any minute. +But for the moment, Mr. Peters, please accept my word that I am involved +in no disgrace--no shameful action. I am a churchwarden----" + +"You really are?" There was excuse for the implied doubt. + +"I really am, and innocent. My fault is an excessive love for romance +and a temporary desertion of my wife. Oh! do not misunderstand me!" he +begged, as he noticed an ecclesiastical stiffening. "I simply ran away +for a short holiday--I meant to go back very soon! Surely, surely, you +can understand! You are married--I mean, a clergyman in the exercise of +his duties must have a wide knowledge of the world--a certain +sympathy...." + +"I can understand," said the vicar thoughtfully, perhaps flattered at +the tribute to his worldly knowledge. "I can not praise--possibly can +not sympathize; but at least I may fairly claim to understand." + +"Thank you--thank you! Well, to be as brief as I can (and every minute +is precious!), my friend and I had reason to suspect the occupants of +The Quiet House----" + +"Ha!" The vicar pricked up his ears. "Certain hints and whisperings have +drifted round to me in the course of my parochial visiting, but----" + +"Please, _please_, don't interrupt. You forget the London train! Mr. +Wild and I entered The Quiet House garden by night to watch----" + +"Surely that----" + +"Yes--yes--yes! Most reprehensible, but you do not know all. We watched, +were discovered, and in making our escape Mr. Wild was captured. I have +not seen him since." + +"What!" + +"For five days I have been alone, miserable, in doubt and anguish. I +have wondered, waited, made cautious inquiries. Nothing has happened. +What am I to do?" + +"You suspect----?" queried the vicar in delightful horror. He felt his +hair bristling in anticipation. + +"I do not know ... I can not guess. They say it is high politics--the +Turkish government.... A spy.... I do not know what to believe. What can +I do?" + +The vicar, who prided himself on being a business man, mused for a +moment, chin on hand. + +"Suppose," he said brightly, "that Mott, the local policeman, applied +for a search-warrant?" + +"I would rather not invoke the aid of the police, if possible. There may +be nothing serious after all, and in that case we should look +ridiculous. Besides ... I wondered if you could call?" + +The vicar seemed pleased, but apprehensive. + +"Of course," he said, "I would face any danger if necessary and for a +good cause. But I have my flock to think of.... If matters are as +serious as you suggest, might there not be a second kidnaping? One +hesitates to be melodramatic, but the possibilities of...." + +"They would not dare to touch a minister of the church. There would be +an outcry----" + +"True ... true ... but would they admit me? I have called and been +denied. Do you think----" + +He paused, as a motor-horn sounded from the road. The noise of the +engine was plainly heard. A moment later and the gate leading to the +drive opened. The vicar walked to the window. + +"Who can this be?" he said in surprise. "A motor-car, and in the +morning! I hope he'll be careful of the borders." + +Robert joined him at the window, his heart filled with anxious +questioning. As he watched the car drive slowly in he clutched the +vicar's arm. "She has changed her plan!" he gasped. "It's my wife! You +must hide me quick!" + +"B--but," stammered Mr. Peters, "there's no sense in that! Pull yourself +together, Mr. Bangs--Mr. Hedderwick, I mean. You say you have done +nothing wrong. Why not face her and get it over at once like a man?" + +Robert, pallid in face and soul, gripped him more tightly, his knees +shaking. The desperate need of the moment scorned the veneer of +discretion. "You said you understood," he hissed fiercely. "Do you +always stand up to Mrs. Peters?" + +The vicar avoided his eye, but his answer brought hope to Robert. "Come +along!" he said briskly, going to the door. He threw it open, and was +disappointed to find his wife in the hall. That way of escape was +blocked. "A caller, my dear!" he said, trying to cover his +embarrassment. "If I'm wanted, I shall be in here." He returned to the +room and closed the door. "You're caught, Mr. Hedderwick, I'm afraid. +I'm very sorry, but you'll have to face it, after all." + +"No, no!" said Robert. "Isn't there another door--a window?" + +"The chauffeur's outside. Yes; by jove! there's the buttery hatch. +Behind the screen! Get through that and out of the pantry window! It +opens on the back. After that you must look out for yourself. I won't +tell any lies on your behalf, but--but I'll try to give you a--a +sporting start!" + +Robert breathed a blessing on his head. Then, with some ado, he lifted +the hatch and crawled through. The vicar closed it behind him, heard the +pantry window open with a noiseless chuckle, and then braced himself to +face a pair of indignant ladies. He had not long to wait, for, a minute +after Robert had gained the road, Mrs. Peters introduced his visitor. +Mrs. Hedderwick glanced round the room much as a terrier who has been +told there is a rat about, and without waiting for apologies or +declarations, said with an extraordinary bitterness, "Where is my +husband?" + +"He was here a moment ago," replied the vicar, nervous, but not without +a certain enjoyment of the scene. "I suppose that you are looking +forward to--a reunion--a----" + +"I am," said Mrs. Hedderwick with a vindictive quietness. "Where is he? +Hiding under the table?" + +"My dear madam," expostulated the vicar, suppressing a wish to get there +himself, so alarming was her eye, "do you imagine----" + +"I want to know where he _is_!" interrupted the lady, still dangerously +calm and determined. "Mrs. Peters most kindly--_most_ kindly telephoned +to say that he was in Shereling, and she has just said that she left him +here. Where is he?" + +"He has gone," said the vicar dreamily, looking out of the window and +wondering whether Robert had reached The Happy Heart. A good runner, he +reflected, might perhaps have succeeded, but Mr. Bangs was no longer +young. + +"_Gone!_" ejaculated both ladies together, and for once in his life the +amiable clergyman had the satisfaction of communicating dramatic and +exclusive news. + +"Gone!" repeated Mrs. Peters. "Oh, Charles! Where? How?" + +"Gone!" said Mrs. Hedderwick, with a rising inflection. "You have +helped----" + +"How could I detain him?" urged the vicar, retreating behind a chair. +"Why blame me? Could I be expected to keep him here by force? If Mr. +Hedderwick preferred to depart by the buttery hatch----" + +"The buttery hatch." + +"Let me show you," said the vicar helpfully, thinking that a +reconstruction of the crime might divert a morbid interest in himself. +"You see here it is, behind the screen. Mr. Hedderwick opened it, +climbed through----" + +"I do not believe it! It is too small for----" + +"My dear madam," expostulated the vicar warmly, annoyed at having his +veracity impugned, "I assure you it _was_ so. Try for yourself!" + +In her rage Mrs. Hedderwick raised her arm as if to strike the impious +suggester. Mrs. Peters interposed, as the vicar quailed, and the +situation was saved. + +"Charles! What an indelicate thought! Imagine a lady like Mrs. +Hedderwick _crawling_----" + +The vicar had been through an anxious quarter of an hour. His nerves +were on strings, and at any moment the tension might prove too strong. +Had he been master of himself--had he possessed no sense of humor--had +his late guest not presented so ridiculous an appearance in his exit, +all might have yet been well. But the image projected upon his brain by +the words of his wife (who had but an imperfect sympathy with comedy) +was too much. He did not roar aloud, as he could have wished, but he +buried his face in his hands and leaned upon the mantelpiece. The +heaving of the shoulders gave evidence of his emotion. + +"I think," said Mrs. Hedderwick, after a dreadful pause, "that your +husband is hardly himself." + +"I will attend to him presently," replied Mrs. Peters with menacing +sympathy. "Come, Mrs. Hedderwick: I am sorry you should meet with such a +disappointment. Your best course would be to drive to The Happy Heart, +where I understand the fugitive is staying." + +They left the room, without deigning to bestow any further notice on the +vicar. He, unhappy man, pulled himself together too late. He wiped his +eyes and rushed after them to offer seemly apologies. But as he reached +his garden gate he saw the motor drive off. Behind the chauffeur were +seated Mrs. Hedderwick and his wife. Mrs. Peters was resolved, if +possible, to be in at the death. + +"After all," thought the vicar when he realized that he could do nothing +to reestablish himself, "why shouldn't I, too, see what is going to +happen? Hedderwick suggested I should call at The Quiet House.... I +might try again.... His suspicion, surely, can not be founded on fact, +but at least it will be interesting--nay, a positive duty! If a fellow +creature wants our services, we ought to spare neither time nor +trouble--well, Brown! what is it?" + +"Beg pardon, sir!" said the odd-job man, touching his hat. Mr. Peters +noticed with astonishment that he was in his Sunday clothes. "I want to +give notice!" + +"I can't be bothered with that now," said the vicar impatiently. "I am +particularly busy. Come to me----" + +"I am sorry, sir, but I want to go at once," he said, interrupting the +vicar. + +The latter stared. + +"But that's most unusual and inconsiderate. If you want to go, a week's +notice----" + +"It's too important for that, sir. Of course I am ready to forego my +week's wages, but go I must." + +"Not a death in the family, I hope?" said Mr. Peters, subduing the +impatience of his tone. "If so, I'm very sorry, and of course----" + +"No, sir: nothing serious--serious in that sense at least. I am sorry to +have to give notice in such a hurry, but it must be done." + +"Very well," replied the vicar, resuming an every-day voice. "Legally, +of course, you couldn't demand your wages; but I have no intention of +standing on the letter of the law. I might as well pay you now. Let's +see----" He searched his pockets for change. + +"Thank you, sir," replied the odd-job man. "You're very good to be so +reasonable, and I wish I could oblige you by staying. Instead, if you'll +kindly put a sovereign in the poor-box for me, I shall be satisfied." + +"Eh--eh!" stammered the vicar. "Has all the world gone mad this morning? +A sovereign in the poor-box, from my gardener! Wh--what----" + +"A little mad, sir?" smiled Henry Brown. "Perhaps there's some excuse. +Good-by and thank you." + +He touched his hat and left the Shereling garden forever. Mr. Peters +stared dumbly after him. He could make nothing of it, however, so he +came to the sensible resolution of setting out on his investigations at +once. Taking a stick in his hand, he trudged toward The Quiet House. +Here, by the way, he was told there was nobody at home. + +Henry Brown, whistling a cheerful strain, betook himself to The Happy +Heart. He found the motor-car standing outside, the chauffeur indulging +in a cigarette. Voices from the parlor indicated that the landlord was +trying to reason with two ladies, neither of whom seemed to be amenable +to treatment. + +"But he's gorn, I tell you, ma'am," said the voice of Mr. Glew +despairingly. "Ran in here, he did, a quarter of an hour ago: out again +in five minutes----" + +"I think you are prevaricating, Glew," said the acid tones of Mrs. +Peters. "Your manner is not straightforward at all this morning----" + +"And we shan't be satisfied till you have shown us his room," added Mrs. +Hedderwick. "So there!" + +As the landlord resumed the mournful chant, apparently relying on +tautological emphasis rather than reasoned argument or ocular +demonstration (a suggestion that seemed unwelcome), Henry Brown smiled +and passed into the bar. Addressing the Boots, a "lad" of sixty-three, +who acted as barman, beater, stable-boy, or butler as occasion or the +seasons demanded, he said, "Is Miss Schmidt ready?" + +"B'leeve so," said the Boots. "But I'll tell her you're here." + +He went out, but returned shortly, followed by Mizzi, who was dressed +for traveling. "Ah!" said she, with a radiant smile of welcome. "I have +not kept you waiting long, have I?" + +"Five days," answered Henry, to the astonishment of the Boots. "Five +wasted days. Can't think why you wanted to stay here all that time. +After being----" + +He paused. He was about to say "sacked," but from consideration of his +audience, refrained. Mizzi thanked him with a laugh. + +"Ah!" she said very cheerfully. "The separation--shall we say?--was due +to--guess!" + +"Dunno," said Henry, watching her fasten her glove with admiring eyes. + +"Jealousy!" she flashed, with a ripple of merriment. "Think of it! +_Jealousy!_ Even I could have hardly credited it. But I bear her no +ill-will. On the contrary, I regard her as more human and could love her +still more. (Bother--_bother--r--r_ this glove. Can you----?") + +"But why did you wait?" he grumbled, fastening the glove and taking as +long as he could for the pleasure of pressing her dainty wrist. + +"I will be frank," she said, laughing temptingly. Henry dumbly cursed +the Boots. "Curiosity! I wanted to watch a little longer. But I foresee +the end of the play and am ready to go. Let us be off!" + +"Your luggage has gone to the station?" + +"Yes, and it is time we followed. Come!" + +"A kiss first," said Henry, hungrily bending forward. + +At this moment Mrs. Peters, Mrs. Hedderwick and the landlord (the latter +still emitting "But he's gorn--varnished, I tell you!") came from the +parlor. They halted on observing the obvious sweethearts standing in the +passage. Mrs. Peters, her finest instincts revolting from such a naked +display of animalism--and in the morning, too!--at once relinquished the +lacquered Mr. Hedderwick for a more congenial theme. + +"_Brown!_" she ejaculated in tones that would have chilled a satyr. +"_Brown!_ how disgusting! Go to your work at once!" + +The odd-job man could not restrain a natural blush, but he was man +enough to stand his ground. The presence of Mizzi confirmed his courage +and quickened his wits. + +"Mr. Brown, if you please, ma'am," he said quietly but with resolution. +"I've left your service and am my own master now." + +Mrs. Peters, justly annoyed at being thus spoken to by a menial, changed +her line of attack. + +"So this is the explanation!" she said, wishing she had a lorgnette for +Mizzi's benefit. She surveyed her with a severity that ought to have +appalled. The survey gave her no comfort, for Mizzi was dressed to +perfection. "So this is the young woman!" + +"A deplorable exhibition," said Mrs. Hedderwick dispassionately. "The +lower classes--" + +The young woman gave a most impertinent laugh, and said, "Come, Henry! +We shall miss the train!" + +They left The Happy Heart; and the landlord, who had recovered breath, +but not a fresh inspiration, during the interlude, took up the tale +again. + +Outside, the odd-job man, whose face was flushed, swore. "I wish they +were men!" he said vindictively: "if they were, I'd teach 'em a lesson +in manners. By jove! I'd like to get even with----" + +"Do not worry," said Mizzi soothingly. "After all, I _am_ a young woman. +Mesdames would give their ears to be the same." + +Henry stopped dead, an idea having come upon him. With a growing light +in his eye he surveyed the motor-car and the chauffeur, who in turn +surveyed Mizzi with a gathering admiration. He even threw away the +cigarette. + +"I say," said Henry, "this isn't a private car?" + +"No," said the chauffeur, glad of a chance further to admire this +enchanting damsel. "General Motor-Car Company. Druv the ole gal down +from London s'morning. Made me crawl, too." + +"Driving her back?" + +The chauffeur suppressed an instinct to spit disgustedly and said, "Yes, +wuss luck." Mizzi observed them, wondering. + +"What would you take," said Henry, breathing hard, "to drive us back +instead?" + +The chauffeur shook his head. + +"I'd lose my job." + +"Five pounds?" hinted Henry. + +"A job's a job." + +"I'll find you another." + +"Garn!" + +"Straight! I'm Henry Brown, taxicab proprietor, Bloomsbury. Is that good +enough?" + +"_And_ a fiver?" stipulated the chauffeur, avaricious but cautious. + +"Here you are," said Henry, diving into his pocket. A note changed +hands, and the chauffeur assumed a bland demeanor. "Jump in!" he said +concisely; "it's a bet!" + +"Oh, but----" objected Mizzi, hanging back. + +"_Romance!_" whispered Henry. "You said you liked it! Quick! Quick!" + +She jumped in, smiling happily. + +"You are a dear!" + +"And you're a darling!" he said, getting in beside her and shutting the +door. "Now, William, give 'em the horn and then London!" + +_Honk! Honk!_ + +"Once more!" + +_Honk! Honk!_ + +Mrs. Hedderwick appeared fretfully at the porch. "Do not make that +exasperating noise!" she commanded. And then--"_What!_ what +impertinence--what----!" + +"Higher up, William!" said Henry peacefully. + +"Good-by, madam!" and he raised his hat. "There, my little foreigner; +will that do?" + +"Oh, Harry dear!" + +And Harry dear had no time even to say "Good biz!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +CERTAINTY--AHA! + + +Let us go back a couple of hours and see what has been engaging Miss +Arkwright and Lionel since their interview with Tony. They are still +reclining in the hammock-chair, which they have been obliged to move, +more than once, retreating before the all-conquering sun. They have +talked for a space, but nothing of their conversation is worthy of a +recorder's pen, and at last they have fallen silent, each occupied with +busy musings. Lionel, of course, has had plenty to think about since the +early telegram--new schemes to mature, fresh hopes to be weighed, old +difficulties to brush aside or evade. Winifred's silence, too, is not +extraordinary. Apart from her secret history--and she must have a +secret, to be sure, if not a dozen--there is matter for consideration in +her present _milieu_. Putting aside the trivial incident of the +five-days'-old attack (and an intriguer can not spend much time on +trifles, especially when they end happily), there is the problem of Tony +to be pondered over. But, at the worst, he can only be looked on as a +light-hearted dilettante, whose greatest misfortune is the curse of +wealth. Such, at least, is Winifred's shrewd guess, and we know how near +the mark the arrow has fallen. Then, Lionel ... what shall she do with +him? Is it better to keep him with her longer, a cheerful gentleman who +seems quite content to waste his time in her company, despite the +chilling fact that he appears equally content to chaff their prisoner if +she is busy in the house? Or shall she send him away? + +Winifred stole a glance at Lionel, pondering with knit brows, and +permitted herself a smile that was unseen by him. Was she thinking of +his pursuit in the garden, the hurled water-jug, or the exposure of +Mizzi? Perhaps the latter; for the smile was followed by a delectable +frown that did not mar the poetry of her face. It seemed, indeed, to act +but as a foil, enhancing the smile that followed again like a victor,--a +victor that has retreated, only to return. + +As she wondered and smiled, Forbes came across the lawn and handed the +morning's letters on a tray. The post had just come in. + +"Three for me," said Winifred, picking up the letters. "And one for +you." + +Lionel took it with a lazy gratitude. What had letters to do with him +this heavenly morning, when he had had a wire to say that his mistress +was free? How much better to pursue the current of his thoughts and try +to make up his mind, once and for all, whether he loved Beatrice enough +to ask her to marry him! Without glancing at the postmark or handwriting +he murmured, "Excuse me!" and tore open the flap. The first few +sentences made him sit bolt upright in his chair. "Good heavens!" he +murmured, reading hastily on. His face grew dark, and the jaw set +ominously the more he read. Winifred, watching him with a stealthy +interest, had not yet opened her budget. + +"I hope it is no bad news?" she said with a soft sympathy. + +"The worst," said Lionel with a grim absence, not looking up. Presently +his face cleared and he smiled. "That is," he corrected himself, with a +hasty glance at her, "I mean the best. Yes, certainly the best." + +Winifred bit her lip and looked away with a puzzled discontent. What did +he mean? The worst and the best ... strong words for a man of his age to +use. The "worst" and the "best" should only be applied to strong +emotions, such as are caused by love, money, or honor. Which of these +potent stimulants was at work? + +"I am going in," she said suddenly. "Please don't get up. If I can be of +any help in any way, you must let me know. But I ... I am glad your news +is 'the best.'" + +She went into the house, leaving Lionel to his letter. This was it. + + "BLOOMSBURY, LONDON. + + "MY DEAR FRIEND,--The cable announcing Lukos' death came + to-night at seven. As soon as I had recovered from the shock I + wired the news to you, but I do not expect that the telegram + will be delivered till to-morrow morning. And now, at half past + eight, I am sitting down to write very hurriedly, to tell you + of my plans. + + "I mean to go straight to Constantinople within two days. Why? + To make sure, in the first instance--to find out for myself if + he is really dead, and if it was 'measles' or something worse. + I feel that the news must be true, but I must make certain. If + it _is_ true, then perhaps I can do something by way of + revenge. You, I hope, will still befriend me by trying to + regain the stolen papers. They may be of use to England yet. If + not to England, then to me--a woman who has lost her husband. + This is no time to assess my love for him, but I owe something + at least to his memory, and the debt shall be paid. + + "I must see you before leaving, and I hope to come down to + Shereling to-morrow. Please tell my sister. You know our + differences, but I am sure she will sympathize and help me. + Yes; I am sure. I believe now that I was wrong in suspecting + her--my information was untrustworthy, but I had every excuse. + In haste.--Your friend, + + "BEATRICE BLAIR." + +Lionel's heart leaped as he read a second and a third time the words of +comfort. At the first casual glance he could only understand that +Beatrice was going out of his life, perhaps forever, and he plumbed +depths hitherto undreamed of. But after the blow came the reaction and a +saner grasp of the true importance of her news. He was on fire, yet +coldly logical. The white heat of his heart and brain told him that here +at last was hope realized, the goal reached, the attainment of +certainty. The knowledge that he could not bear to lose her told him +that he loved, and that his love was worthy of a declaration. He +breathed a prayer of thankfulness. + +Doubt of a prosaic nature was swift to follow. He loved her and must ask +her to marry him. Yet, how could he ask her? He had not a penny in the +world save what she had given him as her paid employee. How could he ask +her to wed and coolly propose to live on her income? Lionel made short +work of that. "I know," he said to himself, thinking swiftly but with +honest logic, "that I am not mercenary. I would marry her in rags if +she'd have me. As she happens to have money, so much the better. If by +good luck she loves or learns to love me, she will not think me +mercenary. Why should a pair of lovers wait when the only obstacle is a +convention?--a convention good enough in itself (a proper discouragement +of the ordinary place-hunter and hypocrite)--but a convention none the +less. The exception shall prove the rule, for neither she nor I could be +accused of conventionality." + +He laughed aloud. Still, there was a kind of discomfort in the laugh, +for the conventions of a thousand years or more can not be laughed away +in a moment, be the iconoclast never so hardy. In spite of his honesty +and brave words, Lionel, in the dim recesses of consciousness, knew that +he wished he could have said, "My dear, I love you and can afford to pay +for a home!" He knew that from the idealist's standpoint he was right, +but the purest cups of nectar may reveal an acid in the lees. Still, he +drank his nectar and was very glad. + +Presently his face grew graver. "I must wait though," he reflected. "One +can't propose the moment one hears she is a widow--too indecent. +Besides, she may not love me.... I must give her time.... At least, +though, I'll go with her to Constantinople. If she won't think of me as +a husband or lover, by jove! I'll be her dragoman! She mustn't go there +alone.... And now, let's break the news to Winifred." + +He found Miss Arkwright in the library and told her of her sister's +intention to come down to The Quiet House. To his disgust she began to +make difficulties. + +"You know, Mr. Mortimer, that we do not agree on her choice of a +career----" + +"Yes, yes," he said impatiently. "I know all that. But this is a serious +business. She is going to Turkey in a day or two, and wishes to see me +before leaving. Surely----" + +"She does me the honor of suspecting me of conspiracy," returned Miss +Arkwright slowly, but with a resentful gleam. "I have told you that she +is mistaken. Why should a conspirator lend her hospitality?" + +"She acknowledges her error," said Lionel. "You must forgive much to a +woman who has suffered so cruelly as she." + +"I will not," said Winifred deliberately. "I have not said much to you +on the subject, but now I will not conceal from you that I have been +deeply wounded." + +"Are you not great enough to forgive?" he urged, fair play telling him +that she had a right to feel indignation--if she were innocent! He tried +in vain to find a melting in her eye. + +"No," said Winifred, still very deliberately and coldly. "I am a woman, +and can not forgive her lack of trust as yet. I will yield so far as to +allow her to come here and see you, as she is going abroad, but I will +not see her myself." + +"Your sister?" he suggested, still hoping. + +"No," repeated Winifred. "On that I am immovable. Be content and--leave +me!" + +Her voice trembled over the concluding words, and the next moment she +buried her face in her hands, leaning forward over the table. There were +no sobs--no tears escaping from that indomitable lady, but her attitude +was eloquent of tragedy. Lionel was not so foolish as to attempt +consolation. He left the room, hoping to soften her before Beatrice came +down. + +The morning dragged wearily, but at last the luncheon-gong sounded, and +Lionel went to the dining-room. Winifred joined him at the meal, but +neither had much to say. Lionel, though understanding her resentment, +could not excuse it, and his attitude in consequence was chilly. +Winifred, reading his condemnation, made no effort further to justify +herself, and both were glad when the meal came to an end. Before leaving +the room she said, "If you prefer to see my sister in the house, the +library will be at your disposal." + +"I prefer the garden," he replied stiffly, and he thought he caught a +smile. + +"Suppose it rains?" + +"There is The Happy Heart." + +"But your promise still holds," she reminded him. + +"If Miss Blair prefers the inn," said Lionel with polite determination, +"we go there. That, of course, will cancel the promise, and you will not +see me again. In case she does," he added more softly, "I had better say +good-by now. Thank you for many kindnesses." + +"There is nothing to thank me for," she replied, looking confused. + +"There is. And I wish you would give me one thing more for which to +thank you," said Lionel, taking her hand. Her eyes dropped. She blushed, +but did not free herself. + +"And that is----?" she murmured. + +"It would be a great happiness to see you and your sister reconciled." + +She wrenched her hand away. + +"Do not ask me that again," she replied, seeming both disappointed and +pettish. "I have given you my answer already. Now, please, will you be +kind enough to tell the prisoner I wish to see him. He can stop work and +change. I will wait for him in my sitting-room up-stairs." + +Lionel went in search of Tony. He found the latter pocketing his pipe, +preparatory to a fresh attack upon the mound of earth. "Miss Arkwright +says you can stop," said Lionel genially. "You may go and get clean; she +wishes to see you." + +"What about my work?" objected Tony. "You know, old friend--forgive me, +but I seem to have known you for years--I am making quite a good job of +that bed. _Exegi monumentum ære perennius!_ What? That's about all I +have left of a thousand-pound education. What I mean to say is that +future generations may come and look at my flower bed as being the +beau-ideal--the standard--the Super-bed, and so forth. Honestly, I'm +beginning to be quite proud of the little chap--it's a most promising +child. I say, between old schoolmates and that sort of jolly palaver, +what does she want me for?" + +"Haven't a notion, friend of my youth," said Lionel sympathetically. +Knowing nothing of Tony, he felt nevertheless an attraction and a mutual +bond. "You'd better do as she tells you." + +The bed-builder arose. + +"Of course. I say, do you think she'll let me stay here for a bit +longer? What I mean is, has she any intention of carting me at once?" + +"I haven't a notion." + +"You see ... here's the bed ... some one must finish it. I should hate +to think of another artist putting in his oar. The bed, in short, +worries me." + +"Ask her to take you on as gardener," suggested Lionel, smiling at the +absurd creature. + +"I wonder...." Tony moved off with dragging dissatisfied steps. After +progressing a few yards he turned. There was hesitation in his voice and +manner. + +"I--I say, oh, companion of my infancy, I wonder if you'd mind me asking +you a question? Of course, we've not been introduced and all that, and I +hope you'll not regard it as a liberty, faux pas, double entendre, or +what-not. But do you mind telling me if you're engaged to her?" + +"Lord, no!" said Lionel, mightily surprised. "Not the least intention of +trying. If that's all your trouble, go in and win. And good luck to +you!" + +"I say," observed Tony with a most engaging smile, "you're a blind ass, +old yoke fellow of my youth; but you're no end of a sportsman. One more +question--I promise that I'm quite a decent chap, though appearances are +against me--is she engaged to any one else?" + +"Not that I know of." + +"The planet Jupiter is in conjunction with Saturn, or words to that +effect. Whatever the stars are, I seem to be in luck. Oh, of course she +mayn't look at me, I know. We must give her time to appreciate my many +excellences--not dream of rushing things. But she has made my few days' +stay so pleasant, that common gratitude----" + +"No: don't spoil it!" said Lionel, reading something beneath Tony's idle +chatter; "you don't mean that." Tony looked at him and changed his tone. + +"What I do mean," he said sincerely, "is that she's a perfectly top-hole +creature. She's taught me a few things--not excluding work, in which she +must share the credit with others--during the last few days. I want to +extend the lessons. Well, I think a little soap and water might be +rather a promising start. Where am I to see her? Up-stairs?" + +He strolled off whistling cheerfully, bearing Lionel's good wishes. The +latter was in a good humor with all the world to-day: he felt like +giving a sovereign to every child, and a five-pound note to every +grown-up. "If ever I make a hit with my plays," he thought, "I'll give +the vicar a peal of bells and Mrs. Peters--what on earth could I give to +Mrs. Peters? I suppose a calf-bound set of her husband's sermons would +be the most acceptable souvenir, unless she's human enough to enjoy +diamonds. Yes, I think it might be diamonds." He smiled at his happy +visions, and walked back to the hammock-chair to wait till Beatrice +should appear. + +He did not know, of course, whether she was coming by rail or motor, and +therefore did not trouble to look out possible trains. He was quite +content to wait patiently for her in that delightful garden, knowing now +that he loved her, and hoping she might love, or learn to love him. But +though he was content and patient, he could not distract himself, or +spend the lagging hours with books or newspapers. He tried, indeed, but +failed. After reading a few lines he found his attention wandering: he +could not compel his brain to follow the paltry adventures of Mudie's +heroines, or the stupendous feats chronicled in the daily press. +Instead, his thoughts flew back to that lucky rescue in the Strand, to +the wondrous hours with Beatrice in the theater or in the Bloomsbury +flat, to the mad adventure of the magnanimous churchwarden, to the +thousand incidents of the past adventurous month. He could not read, but +tobacco was no hindrance to the brave play of memory and imagination, +and with a luxurious smile he lighted a pipe and drowsed. Presently, +between the nicotian clouds, he thought, "I must make Winifred be +friends. What scheme shall I try? Winifred is a dear, too, though she +has a woman's resentment. What can I do to make them all happy--to make +every one happy? Winifred ... Beatrice...." + +The besotted lover, overcome with his soul's reaction, the June sun and +a crowded morning, fell asleep.... + +He was roused by a touch upon the shoulder. He awoke and blinked lazily +toward heaven. Beside him stood an angel in a lavender linen frock, and +a lavender hat with a daring touch of black, carrying a lavender parasol +with a white handle. It was Beatrice at last! + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE GOD OF THE MACHINE + + +Lionel stared dumbly for a moment, not completely realizing what had +happened. Then he jumped up with a wry smile. "You must think me a poor +watcher," he said, inwardly cursing his sleepiness. "I was so busy +waiting and thinking of you that I suppose I must have--I imagine I +have--that is, I fell asleep. Did you come by train?" + +"Yes," she said. It would be idle to say "in the well-remembered tones." +Her voice was identical with Winifred's: her appearance, gesture, +carriage--all were Winifred's; but the telepathy of love told Lionel the +myriad differences between the sisters, differences impalpable, +impossible to define or even hint at, but differences that were real, if +psychological. "I came by the four-thirty, and walked from the station." + +"Then--good heavens! what time is it?" + +"Six o'clock," she said with a smile. "How long have you been asleep?" + +"It must be at least three hours," said Lionel in rueful amazement. +"Fancy wasting three hours of a day like this in sleep! But don't let us +waste any more. Tell me all about yourself, your plans, everything. You +are well?" he added anxiously, though the question was needless. + +"Perfectly. And you?" + +"Quite fit, thanks." And a silence fell between them. It seemed odd that +there should be a silence, for so much had happened since they last met. +Lionel had been living in a penny novelette, and her fate could not have +been much more fortunate. Yet now they seemed to have nothing to say +beyond the commonplaces of friendly acquaintanceship. It was Lionel who +broke the silence. + +"You must let me say that...." He stopped. He could not honestly say he +was sorry for the death of Lukos, so he changed the form of his +statement: "--that I am sorry for your trouble. You know it already, but +I should like to tell it you.... I suppose it must be true?" + +"Thank you," Beatrice replied evenly. "Yes, I expect it is true; but, as +I wrote to you, I am going to make sure." + +"Is that wise?" + +"Perhaps not, but I mean to go." + +Lionel did not attempt to argue with her, to reason or persuade. The +finality of tone and his knowledge of the woman made him give up at once +any thought of such a useless effort. "But I go with her," he resolved, +"either as husband or servant. And if she won't take me, I'll go on my +own if I have to steal a ride under the train!" + +"Did you call at the house?" he asked. + +"I came straight across here, seeing you the moment I entered the gate. +Perhaps I had better see my sister before we begin to talk. Our +conversation may be long." + +Lionel moved uneasily. + +"I am sorry to say," he began, "that your sister feels anything but +well-disposed toward you. She resents your suspicion, and ... and...." +he stuck fast. + +"Refuses to see me?" she suggested. + +He nodded. "I have hopes of winning her over yet, but...." + +"If she has said 'No' she will stick to it," said Beatrice, digging her +parasol into the lawn. "She can be a darling, but she can also be +pig-headed. What do you think of her?" she added quickly, turning upon +him. + +"Charming," said Lionel. "Except for this unfortunate weakness. And +there is some excuse even for that." + +"Do you consider her pretty?" It sounded an odd question, but oddities +were lost on him now. + +"Yes; very pretty." + +"As pretty as I?" asked Beatrice. + +"Quite," he laughed, beginning to feel more at home, "but in a different +way. And I prefer your way," he added with sincerity. + +"That is a little crude," she smiled. "I expected a more delicate +compliment from a man of your education. Please pay me one at once." + +To be asked for a delicate compliment at a moment's notice must be much +the same as if the _Punch_ editor were asked for a joke instanter. You +can imagine Mr. Seaman being introduced with, "This is Mr. +Seaman--_Punch_, you know." "How charming! Please, Mr. Seaman, be good +enough to be funny," and the resulting _débâcle_ of Mr. Seaman. Lionel +felt empty of all wit and ideas. He simply looked at her and shook his +head. + +"I am sorry ... you have silenced me." + +She smiled provokingly. "Try!" + +He shook his head again with a sudden sadness. As he observed her, +devotedly absorbing every detail of her dress, her charming attitude, +her delicate color, the dainty foot in the lavender stocking and trim +black shoe pushed seductively forward, the glorious hair, and brilliance +of her eyes, the incarnation of youth and joy (and he excused her that, +remember, for the compulsion of her marriage), he groaningly realized +that his late logic would not hold. He loved her and wanted her: he knew +that he would not be mercenary in asking, but he felt he could not after +all. To think of asking for such a lovely creature, without a penny of +his own--he could not do it. He was wrong, he told himself, and felt +that his ideals were true, but it was impossible. His face grew grim as +he looked at her. The smile faded from her lips. + +"What is it?" she said softly. "Is anything the matter, my ... friend?" + + +He was near the breaking-point, and had that moment continued he might +have told her all. But an interruption--a twentieth-century +interruption--saved him. + +From the deeps of the air was heard a dull humming. The noise increased +every moment, and Beatrice looked perplexedly about her. "Do you hear +it," she asked, "that curious noise?... Like a gigantic bee...." + +Lionel had heard a similar noise before and was not perplexed. "It must +be an aeroplane," he said reassuringly: "it sounds as if it were quite +close. Perhaps that clump of trees hides its approach." + +His surmise proved correct, for in a brief space the machine soared into +view like some beautiful bird. "There it is!" they cried together, +standing like two delighted children watching a kindly rock from the +_Arabian Nights_. "Why! what is it going to do?" continued Beatrice, +speaking as if the monoplane were a living creature. "See! it has +changed its course ... it is circling round like a bird of prey." + +"It looks as if he meant to land," said Lionel, "and was seeking for a +suitable place. Yes, by jove! he's found it. Now watch!" + +The air-man had shut off his engine, for the buzzing ceased, and he came +down to earth, with a graceful swoop that enchanted Beatrice, on a bit +of level pasture two fields away. "Come on!" cried Beatrice excitedly. +"Let's go and have a look! I've never seen an aeroplane close to." + +Lionel smiled at her enthusiasm, and they set off at a brisk pace. +Leaving the garden by the little wicket at the back, they crossed the +tiny stream, dignified by the name of Shere, and walked on, chatting +happily till they were close upon the air-man. They could see him +walking round his machine, examining it with a parent's care, pulling +here, patting there, testing the tension of a wire, inspecting the +engine. Suddenly Beatrice stopped short. "Bother!" she said impatiently. +"I've left my hanky in the garden. I wonder if you'd mind----" + +"Of course," said Lionel, glad, you may be sure, of the lightest +service. "You go on and learn to fly. I'll join you in five minutes." + +He left Beatrice and ran back to the garden. But in spite of the most +careful search he could not see any trace of the handkerchief. He +searched the lawn, the chairs, the drive, but no handkerchief was +visible. "She must have lost it in the train," he thought, "or dropped +it on the road. Well, that's soon remedied." + +Going into the house, he rang the dining-room bell. It was answered by +Forbes. "Get me a clean handkerchief, please," said Lionel. To his utter +amazement Forbes said "Yes, sir," and prepared to leave the room. + +"Hi!" said Lionel, and Forbes stopped, flushing a dull red. Lionel +pulled himself together with an effort. "Excuse me, Forbes," said he, +striving to speak calmly: "I understood you were dumb. Has the age of +miracles revived, or what?" + +Forbes bowed discreetly. + +"Our local doctor is a very clever surgeon, sir," he replied blandly. "I +think you said a handkerchief, sir?" + +He disappeared.... + +"Cleverness, Forbes," said Lionel when the footman returned, "is not +confined to doctors. I congratulate you ... on the recovery of speech." + +"Thank you, sir," said Forbes with a well-bred humility. "I find it a +great blessing, I own. It opens out a new world." + +He held the door, and Lionel passed out, his brain sagging heavily. A +few minutes later he rejoined Beatrice, who had more surprises in store. +She was chatting merrily with the air-man as he came up. + +"This is great luck!" she said cheerfully to the astonished Lionel. +"Here's an old friend of mine dropped from the skies--yes! +literally!--to pay a friendly call. Let me introduce you: Mr. +Mortimer--Mr. Ashford Billing, my late manager." + +"Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Billing," said Lionel mechanically. "I've +heard your name before." + +"And I yours, Mr. Mortimer," replied Billing with genuine heartiness. +"It's a real pleasure to meet a man who can write like you." + +"I don't understand," said Lionel. "How can you know anything of my +work? It's not attracted much notice yet." + +Billing laughed. + +"Shall I tell him?" he asked, turning to the lady. + +"Bags I!" said Beatrice, laughing: "that must be my royalty, or +commission, if you prefer it. First of all, let me explain his presence. +He called on me this afternoon and found that I was out----" + +"_As_ usual," interrupted Billing. + +"And learned where I had gone from my servant. Then, being in a +hurry----" + +"Wanted to try to persuade her to sign a new contract," said the +irrepressible Billing, "but she won't. Perhaps you can make her realize, +Mr. Mortimer, that if she retires the stage will lose one of its +brightest jewels." + +"Oh, keep that for the publicity agent!" she begged. "I've told you I +mean to retire, and that's final. I want to tell the _news_. Well, Mr. +Mortimer, the impetuous man couldn't wait, so he went down to Brooklands +and flew here----" + +"Quicker than the train," smiled Billing. "American hustle and all +that----" + +"And now he tells me--as a casual item of information--that he's going +to produce your play." + +"_What!_" said Lionel. + +"Yes--yes--yes! Isn't it splendid? Now, Ashford, you can tell the rest." + +"Guess there isn't much left to tell," said Billing, still smiling. +"Well, sir, Miss Blair told me about your play a month ago now. My +reader reported favorably on it, and I read it myself. I think it will +go, Mr. Mortimer, if I'm any judge; and when you get back to London we +can fix up the contract. I hope it will mean something hot for both of +us." + +Lionel turned, incapable of speech, to Beatrice. He thanked her with his +eyes, but more than thanks lay in them, and Billing noticed the mutual +look with an inward groan. There was silence for a moment. Then Billing +squared his shoulders, and in a matter-of-fact voice said, "Well, I +calculate I must be getting home." + +Beatrice protested. There was not the least hurry. There was no sense in +this flying over to see them and only staying for ten minutes. He must +stop and have dinner: why not sleep?... + +"You forget I don't know your sister," he replied with a peculiar smile. +Beatrice blushed. Lionel did not notice the blush. He was too busy +thinking of the new vistas that opened before him even to hear what they +were saying. He despised the flying man, for did not he, Lionel, tread +upon the air? + +"I'll arrange that somehow," said Beatrice quickly. "Ashford, you really +must stop. I want to talk to you." + +"Excuse me," he said with a queer smile that was not of joy, "but I +guess I know better than that." His voice sank. "My dear, I wish you +luck!" + +"Oh, Ashford, dear!" she whispered, "I'm so sorry ... I'm so sorry...." + +"That's all right," he said more cheerfully. "Now, I'm really going, +never to worry you again. Hello! what's this?" + +His exclamation of surprise caused them to turn and look toward The +Quiet House. + +From the wicket-gate had issued the figure of a man running. He wore no +hat, and though apparently elderly, was progressing at a very fair rate +of speed. But he had not run more than twenty yards before another man +came bursting from the gate. + +"Why, it's the prisoner!" gasped Lionel, "and good heavens!--yes!" He +turned swiftly to Beatrice. "It's the churchwarden! What on earth is he +doing here?" + +"So it is," replied Beatrice without emotion. He wondered at her +self-control. "They seem to be in a hurry." + +Robert was evidently in a very great hurry, but Tony had the advantage +in years and sprightliness. He caught his quarry in a very short space, +and seized him by the shoulder. Then the pair of them stopped, Robert +obviously unwilling, and began to talk with much gesticulation on both +sides. The onlookers of course could hear nothing of what was said, but +from the pantomime Tony appeared to be expostulating, advising, +entreating. Mr. Hedderwick seemed to be in a condition of irate panic. +As a matter of fact, Tony was remonstrating with his comrade-in-arms for +his cowardice, and urging him, for the sake of himself and the sex, to +make a stand for the rights of man. "If you give in now, after your many +heroisms with me," said Tony warmly, "I shall be ashamed of my pupil and +disown him. Come! though you _have_ run, it's not too late for a +recovery." + +"You don't know my wife!" panted Robert. + +"I do--I've spoken to her for three minutes, and I can guess what she's +like. I know something about women, and I feel sure that if you stand up +to her now you'll be boss in your house for good. If not, she will. It's +now or never." + +"You--you're not joking, Mr. Wild?" said Robert piteously. + +"I'm really serious. Now, come along with me and talk to these people. +We'll let your wife catch us here. An audience ought to give you +courage. Mind!" he added, holding Robert by the arm as they began to +walk toward the aeroplane, "there must be no weakening, however terrible +she may appear. Be a man, and you'll triumph!" + +It was all very well to urge him to be a man, but Mr. Hedderwick had +been through a very tense six hours. When he escaped from the vicarage +he rushed straight for The Happy Heart. There he instructed Mr. Glew in +a sentence of some five hundred words, without so much as a comma +intervening, that he meant to retire to his room at once, that he was to +be denied to all callers, that casual inquirers were to be told that he +had gone to the station, that on no account must any one be allowed to +come up-stairs, and that information was to be given when the coast was +clear. "I'll explainitalllaterglewwhenihavetimebutrememberthatit's +afiverinyourpocketifIcomethroughto-daysafe," he babbled, dashing furiously +up-stairs. "Right, sir," responded Glew, a creature to whom the word +"fiver" was all that was necessary by way of present explanation. +Robert's bedroom door slammed and was locked behind him long before the +"Right, sir" had died away. + +The visit of Mrs. Hedderwick and the vicar's wife made matters fairly +clear to the landlord; but, true to his salt and interest, he persisted +in the tale that Robert had gone to the station. His story was +disbelieved. This was not to be wondered at, considering the paucity of +his inventive powers and imagination; for Glew did not adduce a particle +of corroborative detail to support his statement. The ladies simply +declined to give him credence, and demanded to be shown Mr. "Bangs'" +bedroom. Foiled in this amiable purpose, the determined pair announced +their intentions of waiting in the parlor till the victim appeared. The +landlord's renewed protests and offers of affidavits had no weight with +them, and they sat down with an awful dignity. + +At two o'clock Mrs. Peters' weariness conquered her curiosity, and she +went home, offering unbounded sympathy and a bed for the night. The +sympathy was accepted, the bed declined, Mrs. Hedderwick declaring she +would remain at the inn, if necessary sitting up in a chair till +morning. + +Glew had no wish for this, and cast about him for means of getting rid +of the undesired guest. At six o'clock he sent his hopeful son +up-stairs, himself keeping guard over the parlor from the bar opposite. +Young Glew found Robert desperate: he had not thought his wife capable +of such obstinacy. + +"Dad says," began the interested youngster, "that he'll go in and talk +to the lady--keep her occupied like--if you'd care to risk it and slip +out." + +"I will!" said Robert on the instant. Anything was better than this +terrible suspense. "Let me see ... there's a train in half an hour or +so ... I'll go to the station. No! I won't! Wait a minute!" + +He changed his resolve, partly from quixotic, partly from selfish +reasons. He did not like to leave Tony to an unknown, unguessed-at fate; +and he also felt very strongly that he would like that judicious +schemer's advice on his next steps. He resolved to risk all and boldly +apply for admittance to The Quiet House. If matters there were really +serious ... well, at all events they could not be much more serious to +him than the present _impasse_. "I'll do it!" he declared with a sudden +resolution. "Boy! when you get your father alone, tell him I've gone up +to The Quiet House. I'll write to him from there. Now go down and ask +him to talk to my--to the lady. Beg him to stand in the doorway and fill +it up. I'll creep quietly past in ten minutes' time." + +The boy obeyed, and after ten palpitating minutes Robert stole +cautiously down-stairs. True to his promise, the landlord's bulky figure +blocked the parlor door, his voice raised in mournful reiteration and +appeal. Robert reached the fifth step from the bottom without making +the slightest noise. But the stair-rod of the fifth step had worked +loose: the carpet slipped, and he tumbled down with considerable uproar. +Luckily he was unhurt by the fall; but the landlord's sharp turn of the +head and expression of dismayed surprise, coupled with the din, roused +Mrs. Hedderwick's suspicion. "What is that?" she demanded querulously, +trying to push past the landlord. At the terrific tones Robert jumped up +and took to his heels. + +His wife had common sense and did not attempt to follow, knowing she +could not hope to catch the fugitive. She knew, too, that Glew was +incorruptible. But as the landlord walked out to block the passage and +observe the escape with a sympathetic eye, she turned to Master Glew and +said decisively, "Here is half-a-crown if you can tell me where he has +gone." + +"Quiet House," said the guileless lad without hesitation, and pocketed +the coin. Mrs. Hedderwick left the inn at once. + +After inquiry from a passer-by she reached her destination, a quarter +of an hour behind the peccant Hedderwick. She walked up the drive, and +beheld the unsuspecting Robert pouring out his grief to Tony. They were +sitting in the hammock-chairs. + +Robert gave a cry and fled once more. Tony courteously waited and +implored Mrs. Hedderwick to sit down and rest. "There is a +misunderstanding," he said urbanely; "it shall be my pleasure to set it +right." Filled with shame of his sex, determined to vindicate Robert's +manhood and obtain for him a peaceful mastership, he ran after him, +catching him outside the grounds as has already been described. + +Mrs. Hedderwick, however, was not content to wait. She did not run--no! +no! perish so undignified a thought: but she proceeded very swiftly +indeed in the wake of Tony. "A smooth-spoken hypocrite!" she thought +ungratefully, remembering Mrs. Peter's description of Robert's +accomplice during their mutual vigil. "If I only get a chance I'll give +him a piece of my mind, too!" She ran--I apologize: she proceeded very +swiftly--through the garden, and presently saw Tony disappear in the +distance through a wicket-gate. At a convenient interval of time she +followed. In front of her, a field ahead, she saw Tony and her husband +standing still, their arms waving furiously. In a moment they began to +walk on again, toward a little group which she now observed for the +first time. Mrs. Hedderwick slackened her pace, not because her desire +of vengeance was cooling, but because she did not wish to appear in a +panting state. She saw the two men come to the group, and some +handshaking followed. "The wretch!" she thought. "Some of his wicked +friends, I suppose!" A few moments later she joined them. They looked at +her with interest, and she returned the gaze unflinchingly--an iron +woman. Beatrice came forward. "Mrs. Hedderwick, I think we have met +before." + +It must be admitted that Mrs. Hedderwick behaved well. There was every +excuse for a scene, and no possible excuse (unless one know his dull +life) for Robert. Mrs. Hedderwick merely looked coldly at Beatrice and +said, "We have, but I prefer not to remember it." Then she turned to her +husband, "Come, Robert!" + +Mr. Hedderwick was pale, but determined. Tony's reassuring and +stimulating words, together with a short breathing-space, had put +courage into him. Besides, during the last minute he had conceived an +idea. So, though he trembled internally, his voice was calm enough as he +replied, "Alicia, I am not coming just yet." + +Tony took Beatrice by the arm. "This isn't our scene," he whispered. She +obeyed the hint; and she, Lionel, Tony and Billing retired a few yards +to the aeroplane, out of ear-shot. "Is it fair to leave him?" asked +Beatrice; "he looked very frightened, poor little man!" + +"Yes--yes!" said Tony decidedly; "he must do this on his own--sink or +swim. I think he'll be all right, now that I've stiffened him. Let him +alone." + +Mrs. Hedderwick appreciated the withdrawal, but it did not soften her +mood. "What do you mean, Robert?" she said coldly. "You are my husband, +though you did desert me cruelly. You must come." + +"I come on conditions," said Robert stoutly, though his knees were +quaking. "I mean to be master of the house in future--to do exactly what +I like and when I like--to go to Brighton, if I choose----" + +"Don't be absurd," said Mrs. Hedderwick. + +"I mean what I say," he reiterated. "I'm--I'm still very fond of you, +Alicia, but I must be master----" + +"Don't be absurd," said Mrs. Hedderwick, still unmoved. "You will come +home with me to-night." + +She advanced and took his arm in a wifely grasp. Robert, feeling the +chains imminent, resolved to play his last card. It was his sole +remaining hope of freedom. Bruskly he freed his arm. Then with +incredible agility he ran to the aeroplane and scrambled into the +pilot's seat. "Now, then!" he said grimly; "you admit that _I_ am to be +head, and I'll come down. Otherwise I'll start this infernal machine. I +don't much care what happens." + +"Robert!" screamed his wife, shaken out of her composure. "Oh, Robert! +come down!" + +"Not till you promise!" he said, fumbling at unaccustomed levers. "Here, +sir! how do you start it?" + +"You fool!" shouted Billing, alarmed, as chance directed Robert to the +object of his search. "Stand clear!" he screamed, fearing the propeller +would start and hit the bystanders. He pulled Beatrice aside, and Tony +did the same for Mrs. Hedderwick. "Stop it, you fool! No!--the other +lever! The machine will be up in a minute." + +"Promise!" screamed Robert, like one possessed. He was playing for life +now, and was past caring. + +"I--I promise!" wailed Mrs. Hedderwick, as the propeller began to move, +and then at last Robert obeyed the frantic instructions of Billing and +stopped the engine. He descended with all the honors of war. + +"You will excuse us," he said with a pale smile, taking Mrs. Hedderwick +by the arm. "We are stopping at The Happy Heart to-night. Perhaps, +to-morrow...." + +He retired at the right moment, his wife beneath his manly protecting +arm. "There! there!" he whispered soothingly as they walked off; "it's +all right now, my love! You mustn't be frightened." + +"Oh, Robert!" said Mrs. Hedderwick. "How could you--how _could_ you do +it! I--I didn't know you had it in you!" + +Robert expanded a hero's chest. + +"My dear, love is proverbially blind." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE USUAL THING + + +Beatrice and the three men watched the passing of the Hedderwicks in +amused silence. When they had disappeared from view Billing said, "Well, +that's done ... and now, Miss Blair, I'm really going." + +"Me, too," said Tony lightly. "I mean to have a shy for that +seven-thirty train." + +"Then you're determined?" said Beatrice to both men. Billing nodded with +a smiling melancholy. Tony smiled more cheerfully. Though this interview +with Miss Arkwright in the afternoon had opened his eyes, he was not so +hard hit as the air-man: things had not had time to go so far. + +"I'll just wait and see the machine start," he said. "Then ho! for the +station and prosaic London once more!" + +"If you like," said Billing, "I'll take you back to Brooklands with me. +This is a two-seater. Unless you've a bad head for heights." + +"I've fallen from too many to mind," said Tony ruefully. "My biggest +drop occurred this afternoon. Thanks very much. If you'll give me time +to collar a coat and a rug, I'm your man." + +He ran off, leaving them chatting, but he was back in a very short time +bearing the necessary articles. "I bagged the first I could lay hands +on," he explained, getting into the overcoat. "I hope nobody----" + +"Er--the coat happens to be mine," said Lionel pointedly. He liked Tony +very well, but could hardly stomach so unblushing a theft. "Sorry, old +chap, but I may want----" + +Tony put both hands on his shoulders and gazed deep into his eyes. + +"Little man," he said calmly, "listen to your wise old uncle. You +_won't_ want it. Take it from me that you _won't_ want it. I'll send it +back to-morrow. That will be in heaps of time." + +"Time for what?" said the puzzled Lionel, smiling out of sheer sympathy +with the quizzical glance. "Oh, well--take it and be hanged to you!" + +"Thanks," said Tony. Then he took off his cap and advanced to Beatrice. +"Good-by!" he said brightly. "Thanks a thousand times. I'll send you a +picture post-card announcing my safe arrival." + +"And another to say when you've started work!" said Beatrice, smiling a +little mistily. "Don't forget that!" + +"I start on Monday," he replied. "Don't know what it will be +yet--perhaps aeroplanes, perhaps politics, possibly poultry farming. But +it's going to materialize. Good-by, and--the very best!" + +Billing, who had said good-by, was already in the pilot's seat. "Come +on!" he grunted mournfully, knowing he was bidding farewell to hopes +managerial as well as amatory. Tony climbed up behind him and tucked the +rug well round. "Let her go!" he said cheerfully. In obedience to the +order Lionel gave the propeller a swing, the engine started, and in a +few seconds the aeroplane began to run swiftly over the ground. +Beatrice drew close to Lionel and put her arm through his. It seemed +such a natural thing that he felt no surprise whatever, but only a +tumultuous happiness. Together they stood watching the machine as it +took the air and soared up in the magic of mechanical flight. They waved +a final adieu, and Tony flourished his cap. + +"What would you say," shouted Billing when they had risen a hundred +feet, "if I let her drop suddenly?" + +"Shouldn't have cared a week ago," shouted Tony in return; "you mustn't +now." + +Billing grunted unintelligibly and gave his undivided attention to the +pilotage.... + +On the dull earth below Beatrice and Lionel were walking silently toward +the house. They were still arm in arm, but no word was spoken till they +had reached the shelter of the garden. Then Lionel stopped and took her +by the hands. "Ah, Beatrice!" he said. + +"Not yet! Not yet!" she breathed, holding back and inflaming his passion +the more. "Wait a little! You mustn't say anything yet! Let us approach +it sensibly and in a rational balanced mood if we can." She broke from +him and laughed merrily. "Let us go in and have dinner first. Afterward, +we can talk in the garden." + +"Tell me one thing," he said impetuously, "and I will be patient. Was +there ever a Lukos?" + +"I will tell you two things," she said, laughing a little wildly. "You +ought to know them before you speak. With them you must be content for +an hour. There was no Lukos, and Miss Arkwright and I are the same +creature." + +He had suspected it a hundred times, and a hundred times he had found +fresh evidence to discredit the suspicion. He knew it must be true, +though he could not grasp it yet. But he did not care. The fact that he +had been hoodwinked and made a plaything did not trouble him in the +least. All he was conscious of was that she was free. He laughed +quietly, now completely master of himself. + +"That will do to go on with," he said; "now let us be sensible, as you +suggest, and have dinner." + +The meal was a great success, despite the presence of Forbes, who +hovered about them like a benignant and sympathetic butterfly. Lionel +could hardly help smiling at him, remembering his recent slip and the +sudden recovery of speech. Forbes seemed entirely unconscious, handing +the plates with an air that was almost fatherly; and Lionel regretted +the obvious necessity of his dismissal in the roseate and +fast-approaching millennium. He was not impatient now, perfectly +disposed to laugh, eat, drink, be merry and take a fair share in the +conversation that sparkled between them. It was a talk as of old, when +they spoke freely and lightly of surface themes--the play, the latest +book, the morning's news--the clash of wit and opinion sounding bravely +through the room. + +They smoked a cigarette each over their coffee, but still the talk was +of mundane matters, though neither was ill at ease. There is a telepathy +of souls that can send true messages beneath the cover of human speech. + +At last Beatrice said, "Let us go into the garden," and he rose briskly +at the command. She allowed him to help her with her cloak, and then +said, laughing: "But Tony has your coat! What will you do?" + +"I shan't need one," he replied. "It's a lovely night." + +"You will," she insisted. "I can't have you catching cold. I'll tell +Forbes----" + +"No, really," he protested, and threw open the door. "See, what a +glorious night it is! There's not the least need." + +She did not press the point, for indeed it was a night for lovers. There +was not a breath of wind in the air, no sound of the works of man to mar +the stillness. From a distant field came the dim wheezing of a +corn-crake; nearer at hand a nightingale was beginning his epithalamic +welcome. A light dew was falling, but nothing to hurt a lover and his +lass, full of health and joyousness. The trees did not even sigh a +greeting: the solemn hush made them imagine that nature herself was +holding her breath in friendly expectation, waiting to hear the old tale +in the newest words, ready to break out into a chorus of free +congratulation. Already Lionel could hear the leaves whispering the gay +tidings, every blade of grass passing on the news, the grasshoppers and +glowworms waking their more sleepy fellows to tell them Beatrice was +here and had said she loved him, the birds waiting happily in their +nests till the first kiss sounded, and then tucking in their heads with +a jolly "So _that's_ all right at last!" He wanted to say "Thank you" to +the world of beasts and trees and flowers, and presently to the world of +men and women. + +"Smoke, do!" said Beatrice, as he dragged a couple of the chairs upon +the gravel. "And don't interrupt more than you can help. I'll tell you +the essential facts as shortly as I can. Details we can talk over +later ... if there is to be a 'later.'" + +He lighted a cigarette and was silent. + +"Most of the tale I told you," she began abruptly, "was all lies. Some +was true. I was, for instance, well-off as regards money, when I was +left an orphan at sixteen. I was brought up by some hateful relations +and launched two years later. I got sick of society in a couple of +years, and cut it for pleasanter paths. I tried painting, but it bored +me. Then the stage--that part was true--and made a success.... + +"It wasn't enough. I wanted more interest, more reality in life. I +didn't find it--I haven't quite found it yet, but I think I'm on the way +to it. I wanted romance, too. I also wanted fun. Oh, yes! I wanted a +lot, there's no doubt about that.... Presently I determined I wanted a +husband.... + +"Does that sound odd from a girl's lips? Well, it's true, and I don't +care much about anything except truth just now. I set to work +deliberately to find some one I could love and who would love me. Are +you shocked?" she asked quickly. + +"No," he said quietly, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "Go on." + +"So I went husband-hunting. Not much need, you may say, for a girl on +the stage to do that. Of course I had plenty of men running after +me--some beasts, some good sorts. They didn't do. I wanted something +worth loving; a man who was strong, but human; a man with a sense of +humor and not too grown-up for romance--a kind of Admirable Crichton, in +fact. I didn't find him--at all events, not at first. + +"This Turkish tale I made up for two reasons,--one, the purely +irresponsible childish enjoyment of a fairy tale--a lark, if you like! +Two, for a test. If my projected benedict could swallow that--believe +it, if possible, but at all events not refuse it because it looked so +silly--well, he would do on the romantic side. But he had to be a man +and a strong man, too; hence the invention of Lukos for a further test." + +"A pretty hard one," he interposed. + +"Pretty hard," she agreed, "but I meant to have the best. I tried the +tale on two or three men who seemed good sorts, during a period of three +months or so. They all failed for ... one reason or another. Then, by a +lucky chance, you came and succeeded. That's all." + +"And Mizzi?" + +"My faithful helper and plagiarist. She got bitten with the romantic +notion too, and set her lover a somewhat similar task. She invented the +burglary." + +"Tony Wild?" + +"Luck," she confessed. "I worked the broad outlines of the scheme, but +added to it as circumstances helped. The ambassador was an old friend, +and I used his presence here to give verisimilitude. He didn't know, of +course, and the day he caught you here I was afraid my schemes would be +blurted out by his calling me 'Miss Blair.' Luck helped me there." + +"Hedderwick?" + +"Sheer madness. I wanted a new adventure that night, and risked the +police court. I trusted to my wits to get us out if caught. If not, +well, 'the papers have been stolen!'" + +"The dumb servants?" + +"The gardener really is dumb. Forbes I gave five pounds a week to sham, +for safety's sake. I couldn't risk his talking in the village. I've only +had this house two months--I wanted it for perfect rest. I didn't come +down here every day--just when the mood took me. I used to motor up to +London at night, sometimes sending the car back empty (Forbes drove), +sometimes coming myself. When you were here I used to leave the car a +mile away and walk." + +"Alone!" + +"Oh, yes," she smiled. "I always carried the revolver for protection. +That was true in a sense. I was never interfered with, though I had some +trouble at times dodging Tony, Brown and Mr. Hedderwick. It was exciting +work." + +He laughed, at her courage and his ignorance of her. She laughed gaily +in return. + +"Is that enough?" + +"Not quite," he demurred. "Why were you so angry with Mizzi that night +you caught us?" + +She blushed. + +"Ah! I am ashamed to tell you that. One day perhaps I shall ... not +now." + +"I kissed her, you know," he said frankly. She sat up. + +"When?" + +"In London, the first night." + +"Not since?" + +"Never." + +She sat down again. + +"A proof of humanity," she smiled. "She's quite charming, I know. Is +that all?" + +"Not yet. Wasn't it very hard to keep up the two rôles?" + +"Hard, but, not so very hard to a woman who has brains and is an +actress. It was interesting, and I enjoyed watching you." + +"Tell me; suppose I had kissed Miss Arkwright. Would you have forgiven +me?" + +The answer came quickly. + +"Yes. But I'm so glad you didn't!" + +"I, too," he confessed. And then, "I think that's all." + +There was a complete silence for half a minute, while he struggled to +find words to say to this most lovely woman. He could find none. Each +knew the other's heart already, and words seemed vain and meaningless. +"Oh, Beatrice darling!" he said, almost with a sob, "don't keep me +waiting any longer! I want you! I want you!" + +"Lal, dearest!" she said. + + * * * * * + +"And this is the end," she said presently with a little sigh. "We shall +just get married and settle into stodgy conventional people. It sounds +flat, doesn't it?" + +"Why should it be the end? We can be happy and ourselves, too. We can +still have romance, adventures, though youth passes----" + +She shook her head. + +"No; we shall have happiness, but never the same as this. We have been +lucky and had the most splendid fun. But now, whether we wish it or not, +we shall have to grow up and try to find out what life is." + +"Well, we'll bargain for one adventure a year, at least," he stipulated. +"Old or young, we'll have that!" + +"We must earn it, Lal!" she said with a wise smile. "We've no right to +such happiness unless----" + +"Make me your debtor now!" he said, clasping her more closely. +"Beatrice, darling, I love you! Do you realize it? I love you!" + +She breathed one word, the most perfect pledge a man could hope for. + +"Egotist!" + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gay Adventure, by Richard Bird + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GAY ADVENTURE *** + +***** This file should be named 33823-8.txt or 33823-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/8/2/33823/ + +Produced by David Clarke, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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