CHAPTER VII
The doctor, a few days later, paused in his morning promenade and took avacant place by Claire's side. He made a few commonplace remarks aboutthe voyage, and then leaned confidentially towards her.
"Miss Endacott, I want to speak to you for a moment, if I may, aboutyoung Ballaston."
The sensitive lips quivered a little. Nevertheless she had self-control.
"Well, Doctor?"
"I don't exactly know what has happened, of course," he went on, "butyou two were such pals at first, and now one can't help noticing thatyou scarcely speak. Ballaston hasn't said a word to me. This is all onmy own, but I imagine that somehow or other, he has succeeded inoffending you."
"He has," she acquiesced coldly.
"I don't hold any brief for the young man," the doctor proceeded, "but Ican't help wondering whether you know what he's been through justlately. He's had a wonderful adventure and played his part like a man. Iwon't say a word about the morality of it, or the object of it, oranything else. I'll only say that it was a jolly plucky thing to attemptand he only escaped with his life by a miracle."
"I have heard all this," Claire admitted.
"It is always after an exploit of this sort that one runs a danger ofsuffering from nerves. That's precisely what's happened to youngBallaston. In his stateroom down below he has that Image which he riskedhis life for, and he's adopted the legend about it in a way I shouldnever have dreamed a young fellow with his strength of character couldhave done. You know the legend?"
"I have heard it."
"Well, Ballaston honestly believes that every hour he spends with thisImage is doing him harm morally and that very belief is apt to make himbehave at odd times impossibly. The thing won't last, of course. He'llget used to it, and the idea will pass out of his brain. It is therejust now, and I tell you frankly that I believe it is likely toinfluence his actions."
There was more and more interest in Claire's face, a little tinge ofreturning colour. She leaned forward. The icy note had gone from hertone.
"How extraordinary!" she exclaimed. "I--well, to tell you the truth,Doctor, the other night when we were dancing, when I was offended, Ithought that he had had too much to drink."
The doctor shook his head.
"It wasn't that at all," he assured her gravely. "Now, mind you, MissEndacott, I'm not defending Ballaston. I don't even know what the causeof offence was--certainly I'm not trying to interfere in any way--but heis suffering, and suffering terribly, and it isn't doing him any good tobe cut off from you. If you could just remember that, you might be ableto help him, perhaps more than any one else."
"I will remember," she promised. "Thank you very much indeed."
The doctor took his leave and Claire sat gazing out to sea with akindlier expression in her face. A few minutes later, Gregory left thesmoking room, and, seeing her, was turning the other way. She called tohim softly.
"Mr. Ballaston."
He glanced around in surprise.
"Mr. Ballaston, please come here for a moment."
He approached slowly and stood before her, bareheaded. As she looked athim her pity increased. His eyes were very brilliant but they seemed tohave sunken, and he was certainly thinner in the face.
"Will you sit down and talk to me for a little time, please," sheinvited.
"If you wish me to," he replied diffidently.
"I think that perhaps I was silly about the other night," she went on."I perhaps--misunderstood."
"You didn't," he groaned.
"Please don't say that," she begged. "I want to believe that I did, andI want you to please be nice to me again and be different."
"Has any one been talking to you?" he asked.
"The doctor spoke a few words," she admitted.
"It is sweet of you," he declared dejectedly, "but you mustn't believethe doctor altogether. It isn't exactly nerves. I was never much goodand you're such a child. I'm not good enough now to talk and dance withyou on equal terms. I feel this all the time. For two days I have hatedyou because it is through you I know what I am. And I don't mind tellingyou that I hate you," he went on, "because----"
"Because?" she questioned.
"Because I care for you more than any one else in the world," heconcluded.
She laughed, but very kindly. Her eyes were softer than he had ever seenthem, and there was a new flush in her cheeks.
"It is just as silly for you to say that as the other," she declared,"considering that I have known you exactly--what is it?--eleven, twelvedays. Now, could we talk nonsense, please, or go for a walk. We startagain, and you see--I trust you."
"I shouldn't," he warned her gloomily. "I'm not trustworthy, and you'llfind it out before long."
"I'll wait until I do," she decided. "Come along. This morning I needmovement. It isn't nearly so hot, and there hasn't been any one to dothings with the last few days. We'll play deck tennis on the upper deck,and then go for a swim."
They passed the whole morning together. The doctor, seeing them, wavedhis hand cordially. The captain stopped and exchanged a fewgood-humoured words. Everything seemed to be once more as it should be.Gregory was quite as distinctly the best-looking and most attractiveyoung man on board as Claire was the most charming girl, and nearlyevery one seemed pleased that the little misunderstanding which had keptthem apart was apparently removed. Gossip, not ill-natured, but naturalenough, recommenced. Gregory, heir to a baronetcy, poor, perhaps, butwith a romantic career for a young man, and Claire, whose uncle was apartner in the great firm of Johnson and Company--a most suitableaffair. Late in the afternoon they found a cool corner in the bows, andGregory read poetry. His voice, naturally a beautiful one, with itsslight Oxford peculiarities, fascinated Claire. She listened with joy ashe passed from Shelley to Keats and wound up with Swinburne. Afterwardsthe captain took them into his room for tea and they sat talking untilit was almost time to change. They descended from the bridge together.
"To-night," Claire exclaimed happily, "we dance."
Gregory made no reply. For a single moment a little shiver seemed topass through him. She turned and smiled reassuringly.
"I am looking forward to it so much," she murmured. "I'm sure we areboth going to love it."
The doctor swung by as Gregory was changing for dinner. Gregory hailedhim.
"Just one moment," he called out.
The doctor paused and put his head in the stateroom--a large one on theupper promenade deck and easily accessible.
"I want to thank you," Gregory said earnestly, "for speaking to MissEndacott."
"Everything all right again?" the other asked, smiling.
"Quite, thanks to you," was the well-satisfied reply. "I hope to God Idon't give myself away again! Come in and have a look at my evilgenius."
The doctor came a little farther into the room and examined the Imagethrough his eyeglasses.
"Jove, it's amazing," he exclaimed; "amazingly powerful!"
"Diabolically!" Gregory muttered.
The doctor was clearly fascinated by the Image. His fingers passed overit with the soft touch of a connoisseur. He stood back and viewed itfrom another angle.
"Ballaston," he said, "there isn't a sculptor in the West to-day whocould produce a piece of work like that. It's stupendous!"
"I think I shall tell my steward to send it down below into safekeeping, somewhere," Gregory suggested, turning away and lighting acigarette. "Don't you think it would be a good idea?"
The doctor shook his head.
"I think it would be a damned bad idea," he answered. "Now, look here,young fellow," he went on, putting his hand on Gregory's shoulder, "howold are you?"
"Thirty-one."
"If at your time of life," the doctor continued, "you once begin to giveway to what your brain and real consciousness tell you is an idea,you'll be a victim to what they call 'nerves' all your life. You'venever been affected before like this, have you?"
"Never," Gregory dec
lared earnestly. "One doesn't want to talk aboutoneself, but I got my medals in France, and a jolly close shave of thebig thing. I've shot big game and I've come out of tight corners once ortwice without turning a hair. That's why I don't understand this."
"Good!" the doctor exclaimed. "That confirms me in what I was saying.Square up to it, man! Don't be all the time flinching away, like you arenow. Look at it. Look at it with me, arm in arm. It is just a damned butwonderful representation of wickedness. There is nothing alive about it,except its art. It isn't going to do you any harm, and it isn't going todo me any harm. Let it stay where it is."
Ballaston fastened his tie slowly, considering the advice thoughtfully.
"You mean that, Doctor?" he demanded. "You see, when I'm sane, I havethe utmost respect and--I can say it to you--affection for MissEndacott. She's only a child, of course, but she's wonderful. It's sucha horrible thought that I might----"
"Chuck it!" the doctor interrupted tersely. "You won't. Remember, if yougive way now you will give way all your life. Come in and have a lastdrink with me before you turn in to-night and I bet you'll be jolly gladyou've stuck it out.--I must get along now. Got a patient expecting mebefore dinner."
He swung off, large, buoyant, diffusing an atmosphere of confidence.Gregory finished his dressing, strolled along the deck, and found Mrs.Hichens and Claire. He took them all into the little lounge where theydrank cocktails together. Gregory was suddenly in joyous spirits, andClaire thoroughly responsive. They made plans for the next few days andended up with a race round the deck, the course being kept clear by alittle handful of amused passengers. The captain, coming upon them,breathless, just as the bugle sounded, invited Gregory to his table fordinner, and Gregory, his unsociability altogether dispersed, proved amost attractive guest. Of his own exploits he tried to talk as little aspossible, but the Ballastons had been a family well known in sportingand political circles for generations, and there were plenty ofanecdotes to be told of English life for Claire's amusement. A generalengaged him in kindly reminiscences of France, and he found an oldEtonian, and a junior diplomat on his way home from Japan. They sat attable until long after the others had left, and the music had alreadycommenced when they trooped up the gangway.
"What a wonderful evening!" Claire exclaimed delightedly. "And now weare going to dance!"
The orchestra welcomed them back again with kindly smiles. The lanternswhich enclosed the little space of deck were like fairy lights. Themusic streamed out to them, even its ordinary melodies somehowbeautified by their own sense of well-being and the glamour of theirsurroundings. Claire danced from pure love of graceful movement, fromthat age-long impulse of rhythm which passes behind history into legend;Gregory, a born athlete and light-footed as an Indian, suffering nothingfrom his ignorance of the more modern steps. Once or twice they rested,but always impatiently, always with their senses tingling with the joyof rhythmical motion. It was not until the end of the programme thatClaire realised suddenly that her companion had been dancing during thelast few minutes with unusual stiffness. He was pale and breathing morequickly than usual.
"How selfish of me!" she exclaimed. "Of course you are tired! Let us sitout for a few minutes--somewhere where the music doesn't haunt us."
They found two chairs in a retired corner. Gregory seemed to have thrownoff his reserves, to have become once more fluent and discoursive. Hisvoice, lowered because of occasional promenaders, had developed analmost passionate timbre. There was a light in his eyes which halfpuzzled, half thrilled her. His hands sought her fingers underneath therug which they shared. She suffered him to hold them for a moment beforeshe drew them gently away.
"I have never forgotten," he told her, "how I saw you first. You cameinto that crazy old warehouse with its piles of silks and rugs andcarpets, and shelves of jade and china, and its quaint odour, theperfume of China and the East. You threaded your way through that groupof Chinamen in that spotless white dress of yours, in the hat with theyellow flowers, like something fresh and sweet from a new world--from aworld where the sun didn't bake and shrivel everything to dust, or thosedank, humid mists make slime of the ground underneath."
She laughed softly.
"I think the poetry of this afternoon is lingering in your brain," shesaid. "Still, I dare say it was strange to see an American girl with aNew York frock amongst all that medley. You must have thought our littlehouse stranger yet. Can you imagine my uncle, surrounded with all thosebeautiful things, living between bare walls and with oil-cloth upon thefloor, and--am I very greedy--with such a terrible cook? Are you shockedat me for my materialism? You know I never pretended to be anythingelse. I love life as it comes to me day by day, with just the things itbrings."
"And I love life as I find it now," he whispered. "It seems toowonderful to think that you too are on your way to England, and thatwe're going to be almost neighbours."
"But you are never at home," she reminded him, with a smile.
"I've had nothing to keep me at home," he rejoined. "In the future itmay be different. Already I begin to feel that my love of wandering isfinished."
"Perhaps," she suggested softly, "we had better dance."
She rose to her feet and he acquiesced at once. As he leaned towardsher, his face as white as marble in the moonlight, he was undoubtedlyhandsome, yet once again she caught a glimpse of something in his eyeswhich filled her with a vague uneasiness.
"Yes, we'll dance," he assented. "You're teaching me to understand whatdancing means. The last time--when was it?--Alexandria, I believe----"
He stopped abruptly, confused by a turbulent flood of memory. They movedaway to the music, in and out of the string of lights, rocking now in anunexpected night breeze. Claire danced still with the joy of heryouthful strength and gracious temperament. Once or twice, whenGregory's arm seemed to be drawing her a little closer, she freedherself slightly. Once she caught a flash of that disturbing glint inhis eyes, but she only laughed at her own uneasiness.
"Please don't look so terribly in earnest," she begged him. "Dancing isone of the happiest things in the world. We must keep that feelingalways with us."
The music came to an abrupt finish. Claire looked across at the leaderof the orchestra in dismay, but it was too late for intervention.Already the first notes of "God Save the King" had been struck.
"Well, it has been lovely," she declared. "I suppose I must go and lookfor Mrs. Hichens."
"Come and have a lemon squash first," he begged.
The steward served them out on deck. Gregory drank a whisky and soda asthough it had been water.
"Let's sit out for a time," he suggested. "It is too warm to sleep downbelow. I'll fetch some more rugs."
She shook her head and rose regretfully to her feet.
"It has been delightful," she admitted, "but after all it is eleveno'clock."
They strolled along the deck. Suddenly he gripped her by the arm. Theywere passing his stateroom. Perkins was moving about and the light waslit. He pointed in through the wide-open door, only a few feet away.
"Let me show you my evil genius," he begged.
She hesitated for a moment. Then, with the steward smilingly standing onone side for her to enter, her hesitation seemed ridiculous. She crossedthe threshold as Perkins disappeared with a suave good night. Gregorystood by her side and pointed to the Image. She gave a little gasp. Forseveral moments neither of them spoke. They both gazed at it intently;Claire with wondering horror; Gregory fighting against some sympatheticsuggestion in the cynical brutality of the thick mocking lips.
"What a ghastly thing to own," she cried.
The hand which had been holding her arm was suddenly round her waist.
"Look at it by moonlight," he whispered in her ear.
The forefinger of his other hand touched the switch. They were almost indarkness. His eyes suddenly seemed to be blazing into hers. She felt theburning of his lips even as they drew near. There was something sweetbut vaguely evil in his tone.
"C
laire, you are adorable!"
She wrenched herself free--free from arms which had seemed to be closinglike a vice round her, away from lips whose very proximity seemed toscorch. She staggered through the door. As she stood there on the deck,the light flashed out again, and Gregory, suddenly, it seemed, almostcalm, stood upon the threshold, a courteous but sardonic farewell uponhis lips.
"Good night," he said. "You realise now, perhaps, what it is for a manto live with so evil a thing."
She swayed as she neared the companionway and steadied herself in herdescent by the banisters. When she reached her room she locked the doorbehind her and threw herself upon the bed.--Gregory had moved back intohis stateroom. His fist, hard and clenched, was within a few inches ofthe leering mouth.
"You damned swine!" he exclaimed, with all his calmness gone, a hoarsefury breaking his voice. "You--you accursed spirit!"
His voice suddenly failed. An overpowering impulse seized him. He tookthe Image into his arms, rushed through the open door across the deck,and leaned over the rail.
"Find your own hell!" he shouted, and dashed it downwards.
Stolen Idols Page 7