CHAPTER VII
Endacott laughed cynically but not altogether unkindly when Claire hadfinished her carefully prepared little speech that night after dinner.Their coffee had been served as usual out of doors under the cedar treeand Claire had returned with her uncle to the study, still pleading thecause which the events of the afternoon had made to her almost vital. Hewent at once to the sideboard and helped himself to a whisky and soda.
"It is fortunate, Claire," he said, "that I am a person of eventemperament; fortunate for you, perhaps, that I appreciate your presencehere and your companionship so much. I have listened to you, I think youwill admit, with patience. I shall now be as frank with you as I waswith your Aunt Angele last evening."
He took a long gulp of his drink, uncovered a tobacco jar and filled hissmall pipe. Afterwards he exchanged his dinner coat for a dressing gownwhich had been placed on a chair in readiness, tied it round him andseated himself at the writing table. He dragged the steel-clamped cofferof manuscripts to his side and produced the key from his pocket. He didnot at once open it, however. He swung around and faced Claire.
"You women," he pronounced, "stir my anger with these violentpartialities. God knows your Aunt Angele has nothing to love thoseBallastons for. Yet she in her pleading was even worse than you. Fatherand son, they are both of the same mould; selfish, intolerant, proud,good to look at, if you will, but parasites in the great world of deedsand thoughts. I will grant them courage but I deny them principle. I askmyself in wonder why I find you pleading for them? Well, I know. Theyhave the gifts women love, the gifts which make women miserable. Fools!Your Aunt Angele is a fool! You are a fool!"
"I don't think we are anything of the sort, Uncle," she retortedbravely. "I can't even see that it is foolish to ask a perfectlyreasonable thing for people whom you like. Sir Bertram may be everythingthat you say. I only know that I like him. I don't like bad people as arule, but I like him."
"And what about the son?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing, his thin butbushy eyebrows coming together.
"I like him too," she declared stubbornly. "I was very angry with him onthe steamer coming over, but since then I think that I understand himbetter."
"You are not fool enough to be in love with him?" he asked.
She stood for a moment without replying. The hand which was gripping theback of the chair against which she was leaning moved convulsively. Hereyes were a little misty, her tone, when she answered, almost indignant.
"That is a horrid question to ask, Uncle," she declared. "You may be avery learned man, but you know nothing about girls--American girls,anyhow. We don't fall in love. We leave that to the men. Of course Iknow that Gregory Ballaston is of the same type as his father and theynaturally are not the type which would appeal to you, but I like him. Ilike to play tennis with him, I like to have him talk to me, I like hisfriends. He treats me charmingly. And I love dear Mr. Henry. I havenever spent a more interesting hour than I spent with him thisafternoon. He is delightful--a wonderful personality. To me it is atragedy to think that they are going to lose their home. If the story ofthis treasure is true and you can help them to get the jewels, why don'tyou? You don't want the money. You said the other day that you had morethan enough. They have one of the Images. The other one Gregory riskedhis life to obtain. You don't want yours. Let them have both and tellthem how to get the jewels."
Endacott puffed at his pipe steadily. He had the appearance of seriouslyconsidering the matter.
"You talk well, child," he admitted. "You remind me of your father. Youtalk sense too. That pleases me. You shall have the truth from me, atany rate. I believe in the treasure. I believe that in twenty-four hoursfrom now I shall know exactly how to obtain it. When I know how, I willreconsider the whole matter impartially. I promise you that. It ispractically what I promised your aunt."
She made a little movement towards him, a gesture, an exclamation ofgratitude. He waved her back.
"Let me warn you," he continued, "my present inclinations are to devotethe treasure which I may discover to building a university in Pekin forthe benefit of young Englishmen and Americans who wish to study theinner history and the truth about the greatest nation in the world, and,if the treasure should realise sufficient money, to build others inBoston and London for the benefit of the young Chinese. Ask yourselfnow, would not the money be better spent in that way than in handing itover to this piratical, degenerate family, to gamble away on horses andwomen and every manner of extravagance; to breed another generation ofdissolute Ballastons who would lead the same life, and another verylikely after them? What do you think, Claire?"
The girl answered without hesitation.
"I would rather the Ballastons had the money."
"You won't argue the matter?"
"I can't. I would rather the Ballastons had the money. A part of it, atany rate, belongs absolutely to them."
"Although Wu Ling actually won back the statue Gregory took home withhim?"
She hesitated this time, but only for a moment.
"You mustn't be angry with me, Uncle, but I have always had it in mymind that Wu Ling is a Chinaman and that he dealt the cards."
Endacott sat quite still for a moment, gazing at his niece. Then he didwhat was for him one of the rarest things in life: he began to laugh. Helaughed until the tears stood in his eyes, until he was compelled toremove his spectacles and wipe them. When he had finished, he tookanother gulp of his whisky and soda.
"Claire," he said, "you please me. You have done your cause no harm, atany rate. Now listen. Andrews and the servants know, but I forgot totell you. I am leaving for London by the 7:40 train in the morning."
"Going to London!" she exclaimed.
His face, now that the fit of mirth had passed, seemed unnaturally sternand strained.
"There is still one visit which I must pay to the British Museum," heconfided; "one sentence alone which troubles me. I know where to lookfor the key, however. I shall return by the five o'clock train. As Ihave promised you, I will then, so soon as I am sure of the treasure,make up my mind as to its disposition. You had better go to bed now. Letme repeat that you have done your cause no harm by our conversation thisevening. On the contrary, you have probably done good, but I wish now tobe alone. Good night!"
She came over and kissed him, thankful for that episode of humour,somehow or other aware of a vein of more complete humanity in him duringthe last hour. He accepted her salute perfunctorily, patted her hand andwaved her towards the door. As soon as she had departed, he turned thekey in the coffer.
For at least a couple of hours Endacott worked in peculiar fashion.Stretched out before him was the sheet of paper upon which he waswriting, above it the manuscript, yellowed with age, which he wascontinually studying. On his left were the Chinese dictionary, avellum-bound manuscript dictionary of phrases, having the appearance ofgreat age, and a collection of notes mostly compiled at the BritishMuseum and secured with a paper fastener. On the sheet in front of himwere set out the letters of the Chinese alphabet. At times he slowlytransposed these. One whole sentence had already taken to itselfconcrete shape. Then, in the midst of his labours, he suddenly paused.His pen remained stiff, his head was upraised. He listened. Outside itseemed to him that the breathless calm of a hot summer night had formedthe background for a slight noise, the faint rattle of a pebbledisplaced; a footstep, it almost seemed. He listened again. The night,though light enough, was moonless, and he could only see a few yardsthrough the window. He opened the left-hand drawer of his bureau, thrusthis hand into its furthermost recesses, and drew out a small revolver.Then he rose stealthily to his feet and hesitated. He had not passed thegreater part of his life in an undisciplined country without learningcertain precautions. To stand in front of that window was to exposehimself, a clearly defined mark for assault, if indeed there should bemarauders about. He leaned over and turned out the electric light,crossed the room swiftly with the revolver in his hand, and passedthrough the wi
ndow into the garden. He stood still, listening, with hisback to the wall. There was an owl calling plaintively in the littlegrove of trees between the miniature park and the kitchen garden. Thensilence--the faint barking of a dog a long way off--silence again, andat no time anything unusual to be seen. Nevertheless he lingered.Pebbles can scarcely become detached without human agency. His eyestried to pierce the shadows. There was a dark shrub near the wirefence--or was it a shrub? He was suddenly convinced that it was thestooping figure of a man. He started forward, crossing the lawn withswift footsteps which gradually slackened. As he grew nearer he wasdisillusioned. The shrub took to itself shape. Its similitude to a mandisappeared. He stood and looked around him. Behind was the gloomyoutline of the house, with one light burning in a top window from theservants' quarters. Of the village one or two roof tops alone werevisible, but the lights had long since been extinguished. Around him wasa dimly seen vista of trees and shrubs and flower beds, a perfume in theair--but silence. He walked slowly towards the house, the butt of hisrevolver still gripped firmly in his hand. There was nothing to be seennor any sound to kindle anxiety, yet he was never devoid of thatuncatalogued sense which bespeaks the close presence of somethingconcealed, something inimical. He took to walking in circles. He wasimagining always some one stalking him from the rear. He reached thestudy windows, however, without tangible sign of any intruder. He pushedthem open and entered. The room was in darkness. He found his way to theswitch and turned on the light. Instantly all his vague premonitionsmaterialised. The papers upon his desk were in disorder, the curtain infront of the Soul had been dragged aside, although the Image stillremained there, smiling down upon him. He switched on another light andlooked round the room searchingly, his firmly held revolver followinghis eyes. The room was empty. He looked towards the window. Almost atthat moment he heard the soft swinging-to and closing of the gateleading from the back avenue. The intruder had apparently taken alarmand departed.
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