Charles Rex

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER IV

  THE TRAP

  It was an evening of golden silence, and the larch copse in its stillnesswas like an enchanted wood. Now and then something moved in theundergrowth with a swift rustle or a blackbird raised a long ripple ofalarm. But for the most part all was still. No breeze came up thehillside, and in the west a long black line of cloud lay like a barrieracross the sun, so that great rays slanted out over land and sea,transforming all things with their radiance.

  A soft low whistle broke the stillness or mingled with it. A snatch ofmelody came like the strains of a fairy pipe from the edge of the larchwood. Again there came a sharp movement in some long grass near the gatethat led from the open down into the Burchester estate. It sounded as ifsome small imprisoned creature were fighting for freedom. Then in anothermoment there came the rush and snuffle of a questing dog, and old Chopsthe setter came bursting through the hedge that bordered the wood.

  He flung himself through the long grass with an agility that belied hisadvancing years, and in an instant there arose a cry that seemed tothrill the whole wood with horror. The enchanted silence broke upon itlike the shivering of a crystal ball, for as Chops pounced another cryrang clear and commanding from the other side of the hedge.

  "Chops! Back! Back! Do you hear, Chops? Come back."

  Chops did not come back, but he paused above his quarry, and looked roundwith open jaws and lolling tongue. If it had been his master who thuscalled him, he would have obeyed on the instant. But Toby was a differentmatter, and the frantic, struggling thing in front of him was a soretemptation.

  His brief hesitation, however, lost him the game. Her light feet racedthrough the grass with the speed of wings, and she threw herself over thegate and upon him before he could make good his claim. He found himselfthrust back, and the long habit of obedience had conquered instinctbefore it could reassert itself. She dropped upon her knees beside thething in the grass and discovered a young hare caught in a snare.

  It was a very ordinary poacher's contrivance fashioned of wire. Thelittle animal was fairly caught round the body, and the cruel tension ofthe gin testified to his anguished and futile struggles for freedom. Thewire had cut into his shoulder, and his bolting eyes were wild withterror. It was no easy task to loosen the trap, and there was blood onToby's hands as she strove to release the straining, frenzied creature.

  She was far too deeply engrossed in the matter to heed any sound ofapproaching feet, and when the thud of a horse's hoofs suddenly fell onthe turf close to her she did not raise her head. But she did look upstartled when two hands swooped down from above her and gripped thehare with a vice-like strength that stilled all struggling.

  "He will claw you to pieces," said Bunny bluntly. "Shall I kill him? He'sdamaged. Or do you want to let him go?"

  "Oh, let him go--of course!" cried Toby, dragging reckless at the wire."See, it's coming now! Hold him tight while I slip it off!"

  The wire slipped at last. She forced it loose, and the victim was free.Bunny turned to lay him in the grass, and Toby sprang upon Chops and heldhim fast. She was crying, fiercely, angrily.

  "How dare they set that cruel thing? How dare they? He isn't dead, is he?Why doesn't he run away?"

  "He's hurt," said Bunny. "Let me kill him! Let Chops finish him!"

  "No, no, no, no!" Vehemently Toby flung her protest. "He may be hurt, buthe'll get over it. Anyway, give him his chance! There! He's moving! Itwouldn't be fair not to give him his chance."

  "It would be kinder to kill him," said Bunny.

  "I hate you!" she cried back, weeping over Chops who stood strainedagainst her. "If--if--if you touch him--I'll never, never speak to youagain!"

  Bunny came to her, took Chops by the collar, and fastened him with hiswhip to the gate. Then he stooped over Toby, his young face sternly set.

  "Stop crying!" he said. "Let me have your hands!"

  They were a mass of scratches from the hare's pounding feet. He began tolook at them, but Toby thrust them behind her back. She choked back hertears like a boy, and looked up at him with eyes of burning indignation,sitting back on her heels in the long grass.

  "Bunny, it's a damn' shame to trap a thing like that. Did you do it?"

  "I? No. I'm not a poacher." Grimly Bunny made reply. That flare of angermade her somehow beautiful, but he knew if he yielded to the temptationto take her in his arms at that moment she would never forgive him."Don't be unreasonable!" he said. "You'll have to come and bathe yourhands. They can't be left in that state."

  "Oh, what does it matter?" she said impatiently. "I've had much worsethings than that to bear. Bunny, you believe in God I know. Why does Helet things be trapped? It isn't fair. It isn't right. It--it--it hurtsso."

  "Lots of things hurt," said Bunny.

  "Yes, but there's nothing so mean and so horrible as a trap. I--I couldkill the man who set it. I'm glad it wasn't you." Toby spokepassionately.

  "So am I," said Bunny.

  He crumpled the wire gin in his hand, and dragged it up from the ground.

  Toby watched him still kneeling in the grass. "What are you going to dowith it?"

  "Destroy it," he said promptly.

  She smiled at him, the tears still on her cheeks. "That's fine of you.Bunny, I haven't got a handkerchief."

  He gave her his, still looking grim. She dried her eyes and got up. Thehare, recovering somewhat, gave her a frightened stare and slipped awayinto the undergrowth. She looked up at Bunny.

  "I'm sorry I was angry," she said. "Are you cross with me?"

  He relaxed a little. "Not particularly."

  "Don't be!" she said tremulously. "I couldn't help it. He suffered sohorribly, and I know--I know so well what it felt like."

  "How do you know?" said Bunny.

  Her look fell before his. She made an odd movement of shrinking. He puthis arm swiftly round her.

  "Never mind the wretched hare! He's got away this time anyway. And I'mnot at all sure you didn't have the worst of it. Feeling better now?"

  She nodded. "Yes, much better. I like you, Bunny, but I can't helpthinking you're rather cruel. You didn't want to kill the poor thing?"

  "I think it was rather prolonging the agony to let him live," said Bunny."Let me see your hands!"

  She tried to hide them, but he was insistent, and at length impulsivelyshe yielded.

  "You must come down to old Bishop's and bathe them," he said.

  She shook her head instantly. "No, Bunny, I'm not going to. I'll run downto the lake if you like. There's sure not to be anyone there."

  "All right," said Bunny, but he lingered still with his arm about her."Will you kiss me, Toby?" he said suddenly.

  "No," she said, and swiftly averted her face.

  His arm tightened for a second, then he felt her brace herself againsthim and let her go. "All right," he said again. "We'll go down to thelake."

  She threw him a swift glance of surprise, but he turned away to releaseChops and unfasten his horse without further discussion.

  Their way lay along a grass ride that ran beside the larch wood. Bunnywalked gravely along, leading his horse. Toby moved lightly beside him.

  Behind them the silence closed like the soft folds of a curtain, but itwas not a silence devoid of life. As they drew away from the place, a manstepped out from the larches and stood motionless, watching them. Awhimsical smile that was not without bitterness hovered about his mouth.As they passed from sight, he turned back into the trees and walkedswiftly and silently away.

  It was nearly a mile across the park to the lake in the hollow, and theboy and girl tramped it steadily with scarcely a word. Chops walkedsedately by Toby's side, occasionally poking his nose under her hand.Bunny's face was stern. He had the look of a man who moved with adefinite goal in view.

  They came to the beechwood that surrounded the lake. The Castle from itsheight looked down over the terraced gardens upon one end of the water.It was a spot in fairyland.

  They came to a path that led stee
ply downwards, and Bunny stopped. "I'llleave my animal here," he said.

  Toby did not wait. She plunged straight down the steep descent. When herejoined her, she was at the water's edge. She knelt upon a bed of mossand thrust her hands into the clear water. He stood above her for amoment or two, then knelt beside her and took the wet wrists very gentlyinto a firm hold. She made a faint resistance, but finally yielded. Helooked down at the hands nervously clenched in his grasp. He was older inthat moment, more manly, than she had ever seen him.

  "What's the matter, little girl?" he said softly. "What are you afraidof?"

  "Nothing," said Toby instantly, and threw up her chin in the olddauntless way.

  He looked at her closely. "Sure?"

  The blue eyes met his with defiance. "Of course I'm sure. That horridtrap upset me, that's all."

  He continued to look at her steadily. "That isn't why you won't haveanything to say to me," he said.

  Her colour rose under his gaze, but she would not avoid it. "Does itmatter why?" she said.

  "It does when I want to know," he answered. Again his look went to herhands. "How the little brute scored you! So much for gratitude!"

  "You don't expect gratitude from a creature wild with fright," said Toby.

  She spoke rather breathlessly, and he saw that she was on the verge oftears again. He got up and drew her to her feet.

  "Let's walk for a bit!" he said.

  She stood as one in doubt and he felt that she was trembling.

  "I say--don't!" he said suddenly and winningly. "I won't do anything youdon't like, I swear. You shan't be bothered. Can't you trust me?"

  She made a little movement towards him, and he put his arm round hershoulders. They turned along the greensward side by side.

  "It was awfully nice of you to come," Bunny said in that new gentlevoice of his. "I didn't mean you to get there first, but old Bishop is solong-winded I couldn't get away."

  "It didn't matter," said Toby with a nervous little smile.

  "It did to me," said Bunny. "It would have saved you that anyway."

  "But you'd have killed the hare," she said.

  "Not if he hadn't been damaged," he said. "I'm not a brute. I don't killfor the sake of killing."

  She looked incredulous. "Most men do. Don't you hunt? Don't you shoot?"

  "Oh, you're talking of sport!" said Bunny.

  "Yes, it's called sport," said Toby, an odd little vibration in hervoice. "It's just a name for killing things, isn't it?"

  Bunny considered the matter. "No, that's not fair," he decided. "Sport issport. But I prefer to walk up my game and I never countenance diggingout a fox. That's sport."

  "There are very few sportsmen in the world," said Toby.

  "Oh, I don't know. Anyway, I hope I'm one of 'em. I try to be," saidBunny.

  She gave him a quick look. "I think you are. And so is Jake."

  "Oh, Jake! Jake's magnificent. He's taught me all I know in that line.I used to be a horrid little bounder before I met Jake. He simply mademe--body and soul." Bunny spoke with a simple candour.

  "P'raps he had good stuff to work on," suggested Toby.

  Bunny's arm drew her almost imperceptibly. "I don't think he had. Myfather was a wild Irishman, and my mother--well, she's dead too--but shewasn't anything to be specially proud of."

  "Oh, was your mother a rotter?" said Toby, with sudden interest.

  He nodded. "We don't talk about her much, Maud and I. She married asecond time--a brute of a man who used to run the Anchor Hotel. They wentto Canada, and she died."

  "The Anchor Hotel!" said Toby. "That place at Fairharbour down by theshore?"

  "Yes, Maud and I were there too at first. I was a cripple in those days,couldn't even walk. We had a fiendish time there--till Jake came."

  "Ah!" Toby's blue eyes suddenly gleamed. "Did Maud marry Jake to getaway?" she asked.

  Bunny nodded again and began to smile. "Yes. We were in a beastly hole,she and I. Something had to be done."

  "She didn't love him then?" questioned Toby, almost with eagerness.

  "Oh no, not then. Not till long after. Jake and I were the pals. He wasalways keen enough on her, poor chap. But Charlie complicated mattersrather in those days. You see, Charlie came first--before she ever metJake."

  "Charlie?" said Toby quickly.

  "Lord Saltash. You knew he was an old friend, didn't you?"

  "I didn't know--that he--and Maud--ever loved each other." Toby haltedover the words as if they were somehow difficult to utter.

  Bunny enlightened her with a boy's careless assurance. "Oh, that's a veryold story. They were very fond of each other in their youth. In fact theywere practically engaged. Then Charlie, who has always been a bit giddy,went a bit too far with Lady Cressady who was also a somewhat gay youngperson, and Sir Philip Cressady, who was a brute, tried to divorce her.He didn't succeed. The case fell through. But it set everyone by theears, and Maud threw Charlie over. He pretends he didn't care, but hedid--pretty badly, and he's never married in consequence."

  "Oh, is that why?" said Toby.

  "That's why. He's gone the pace fairly rapidly ever since. But he's agood chap at heart. Even Jake acknowledges that now, and he knows him aswell as anyone."

  "And--Maud?" said Toby, in a low voice. She was not looking at Bunny, butstaring out over the still waters of the lake with a rather piteousintentness.

  "Maud has always kept a soft place in her heart for him. She couldn'thelp it. Women can't."

  "I see," said Toby. "And doesn't--Jake--mind?"

  "Jake? No, not a bit. He's sure of her now. She thinks there's no onelike him in the world. And she's quite right. There's not." Bunny spokewith warm enthusiasm.

  Toby's brows were drawn a little. "Then--she isn't in love with LordSaltash?" she said.

  "No, not now. She just takes a motherly interest in him, tries topersuade him to settle down and be good--that sort of thing. I believeshe feels rather responsible for him. He certainly bolted very thoroughlyafter she gave him up. It's all years ago of course. But he's neversettled--never will."

  "I see," said Toby.

  A slight shiver went through her, and she looked up at Bunny with asmall, pinched smile. "Fancy--Maud--giving him up!" she said.

  "Well, she always had her share of pride, and he certainly didn't treather with great consideration. He might have known she'd never stand it,"said Bunny. "He only had himself to thank."

  Toby's look was puzzled, oddly pathetic. "But he's such a king," shesaid. "I don't suppose he'd ever think of that."

  Again Bunny's arm tightened about the narrow shoulders. There wassomething about her that appealed to him very deeply, something he sensedrather than saw.

  "Haven't we talked about other people's affairs long enough now?" hesuggested. "Don't you think we might turn our attention to our own?"

  She coloured up to her blue-veined forehead. "If you like," she saidrather faintly.

  "Don't you think I deserve that kiss?" urged Bunny softly. "I've beenawfully patient."

  She lifted her lips with a gesture of submission, saying no word.

  "Oh, not like that!" he said gently. "Not if you'd rather not, dear."

  She caught her breath sharply; it was almost a sob. Then she opened hereyes wide and laughed.

  "Oh, you great big silly!" she said. "You're easier to draw than anyone Iever met!"

  His arms clasped her. He drew her close. "My own little butterfly girl!"he said, and kissed her very tenderly. "I've caught you at last--atlast."

  She laid her head against his neck, and stood so, quivering a little andsilent.

  "You're tired," he said. "I'll give you a lift towards home. Folly willcarry you all right."

  She uttered a tremulous laugh, and lifting her face she kissed him of herown accord.

  "You're--awful good to me, Bunny dear," she said. "P'raps--p'raps I'll beengaged to you soon."

  "You darling!" said Bunny fervently.