by Grant Allen
VIII
THE ADVENTURE OF THE PEA-GREEN PATRICIAN
Away to India! A life on the ocean wave once more; and--may it proveless wavy!
In plain prose, my arrangement with 'my proprietor,' Mr. Elworthy (thuswe speak in the newspaper trade), included a trip to Bombay for myselfand Elsie. So, as soon as we had drained Upper Egypt journalisticallydry, we returned to Cairo on our road to Suez. I am glad to say, myletters to the _Daily Telephone_ gave satisfaction. My employer wrote,'You are a born journalist.' I confess this surprised me; for I havealways considered myself a truthful person. Still, as he evidently meantit for praise, I took the doubtful compliment in good part, and offeredno remonstrance.
I have a mercurial temperament. My spirits rise and fall as if they wereConsols. Monotonous Egypt depressed me, as it depressed the Israelites;but the passage of the Red Sea set me sounding my timbrel. I love freshair; I love the sea, if the sea will but behave itself; and I positivelyrevelled in the change from Egypt.
Unfortunately, we had taken our passages by a P. and O. steamer fromSuez to Bombay many weeks beforehand, so as to secure good berths; andstill more unfortunately, in a letter to Lady Georgina, I had chancedto mention the name of our ship and the date of the voyage. I kept up aspasmodic correspondence with Lady Georgina nowadays--tuppence-ha'pennya fortnight; the dear, cantankerous, racy old lady had been thefoundation of my fortunes, and I was genuinely grateful to her; or,rather, I ought to say, she had been their second foundress, for I willdo myself the justice to admit that the first was my own initiative andenterprise. I flatter myself I have the knack of taking the tide on theturn, and I am justly proud of it. But, being a grateful animal, I wroteonce a fortnight to report progress to Lady Georgina. Besides--let mewhisper--strictly between ourselves--'twas an indirect way of hearingabout Harold.
This time, however, as events turned out, I recognised that I had made agrave mistake in confiding my movements to my shrewd old lady. She didnot betray me on purpose, of course; but I gathered later that casuallyin conversation she must have mentioned the fact and date of my sailingbefore somebody who ought to have had no concern in it; and thesomebody, I found, had governed himself accordingly. All this, however,I only discovered afterwards. So, without anticipating, I will narratethe facts exactly as they occurred to me.
AN ODD-LOOKING YOUNG MAN.]
When we mounted the gangway of the _Jumna_ at Suez, and began theprocess of frizzling down the Red Sea, I noted on deck almost at once anodd-looking young man of twenty-two or thereabouts, with a curious faintpea-green complexion. He was the wishy-washiest young man I ever beheldin my life; an achromatic study: in spite of the delicate pea-greeninessof his skin, all the colouring matter of the body seemed somehow to havefaded out of him. Perhaps he had been bleached. As he leant over thetaffrail, gazing down with open mouth and vacant stare at the water, Itook a good long look at him. He interested me much--because he was soexceptionally uninteresting; a pallid, anaemic, indefinite hobbledehoy,with a high, narrow forehead, and sketchy features. He had watery,restless eyes of an insipid light blue; thin, yellow hair, almost whitein its paleness; and twitching hands that played nervously all the timewith a shadowy moustache. This shadowy moustache seemed to absorb as arule the best part of his attention; it was so sparse and so blanchedthat he felt it continually--to assure himself, no doubt, of the realityof its existence. I need hardly add that he wore an eye-glass.
He was an aristocrat, I felt sure; Eton and Christ Church: no ordinaryperson could have been quite so flavourless. Imbecility like his is onlyto be attained as the result of long and judicious selection.
He went on gazing in a vacant way at the water below, an ineffectualpatrician smile playing feebly round the corners of his mouth meanwhile.Then he turned and stared at me as I lay back in my deck-chair. For aminute he looked me over as if I were a horse for sale. When he hadfinished inspecting me, he beckoned to somebody at the far end of thequarter-deck.
The somebody sidled up with a deferential air which confirmed my beliefin the pea-green young man's aristocratic origin. It was such deferenceas the British flunkey pays only to blue blood; for he has gradations offlunkeydom. He is respectful to wealth; polite to acquired rank; butservile only to hereditary nobility. Indeed, you can make a rough guessat the social status of the person he addresses by observing which oneof his twenty-seven nicely graduated manners he adopts in addressinghim.
The pea-green young man glanced over in my direction, and murmuredsomething to the satellite, whose back was turned towards me. I feltsure, from his attitude, he was asking whether I was the person hesuspected me to be. The satellite nodded assent, whereat the pea-greenyoung man, screwing up his face to fix his eye-glass, stared harder thanever. He must be heir to a peerage, I felt convinced; nobody short ofthat rank would consider himself entitled to stare with such frankunconcern at an unknown lady.
Presently it further occurred to me that the satellite's back seemedstrangely familiar. 'I have seen that man somewhere, Elsie,' Iwhispered, putting aside the wisps of hair that blew about my face.
'So have I, dear,' Elsie answered, with a slight shudder. And I wasinstinctively aware that I too disliked him.
As Elsie spoke, the man turned, and strolled slowly past us, with thatineffable insolence which is the other side of the flunkey'sinsufferable self-abasement. He cast a glance at us as he went by, awithering glance of brazen effrontery. We knew him now, of course: itwas that variable star, our old acquaintance, Mr. Higginson the courier.
He was here as himself this time; no longer the count or the mysteriousfaith-healer. The diplomat hid his rays under the garb of theman-servant.
'Depend upon it, Elsie,' I cried, clutching her arm with a vague senseof fear, 'this man means mischief. There is danger ahead. When acreature of Higginson's sort, who has risen to be a count and afashionable physician, descends again to be a courier, you may restassured it is because he has something to gain by it. He has some deepscheme afloat. And _we_ are part of it.'
'His master looks weak enough and silly enough for anything,' Elsieanswered, eyeing the suspected lordling. 'I should think he is just thesort of man such a wily rogue would naturally fasten upon.'
'When a wily rogue gets hold of a weak fool, who is also dishonest,' Isaid, 'the two together may make a formidable combination. But nevermind. We're forewarned. I think I shall be even with him.'
That evening, at dinner in the saloon, the pea-green young man strolledin with a jaunty air and took his seat next to us. The Red Sea, by theway, was kinder than the Mediterranean: it allowed us to dine from thevery first evening. Cards had been laid on the plates to mark ourplaces. I glanced at my neighbour's. It bore the inscription, 'ViscountSouthminster.'
That was the name of Lord Kynaston's eldest son--Lady Georgina's nephew;Harold Tillington's cousin! So _this_ was the man who might possiblyinherit Mr. Marmaduke Ashurst's money! I remembered now how often andhow fervently Lady Georgina had said, 'Kynaston's sons are all fools.'If the rest came up to sample, I was inclined to agree with her.
It also flashed across me that Lord Southminster might have heardthrough Higginson of our meeting with Mr. Marmaduke Ashurst at Florence,and of my acquaintance with Harold Tillington at Schlangenbad andLungern. With a woman's instinct, I jumped at the fact that thepea-green young man had taken passage by this boat, on purpose to baffleboth me and Harold.
Thinking it over, it seemed to me, too, that he might have variouspossible points of view on the matter. He might desire, for example,that Harold should marry me, under the impression that his marriage witha penniless outsider would annoy his uncle; for the pea-green young mandoubtless thought that I was still to Mr. Ashurst just that dreadfuladventuress. If so, his obvious cue would be to promote a goodunderstanding between Harold and myself, in order to make us marry, sothat the urbane old gentlemen might then disinherit his favouritenephew, and make a new will in Lord Southminster's interest. Or again,the pea-green young man might, on the contrary, be aware
that Mr.Ashurst and I had got on admirably together when we met at Florence; inwhich case his aim would naturally be to find out something that mightset the rich uncle against me. Yet once more, he might merely have heardthat I had drawn up Uncle Marmaduke's will at the office, and he mightdesire to worm the contents of it out of me. Whichever was his design, Iresolved to be upon my guard in every word I said to him, and leave nodoor open to any trickery either way. For of one thing I felt sure, thatthe colourless young man had torn himself away from the mud-honey ofPiccadilly for this voyage to India only because he had heard there wasa chance of meeting me.
That was a politic move, whoever planned it--himself or Higginson; for aweek on board ship with a person or persons is the very best chance ofgetting thrown in with them; whether they like it or lump it, they can'teasily avoid you.
It was while I was pondering these things in my mind, and resolving withmyself not to give myself away, that the young man with the pea-greenface lounged in and dropped into the next seat to me. He was dressed(amongst other things) in a dinner jacket and a white tie; for myself, Idetest such fopperies on board ship; they seem to me out of place; theyconflict with the infinite possibilities of the situation. One standstoo near the realities of things. Evening dress and _mal-de-mer_ sortill together.
HE TURNED TO ME WITH AN INANE SMILE.]
As my neighbour sat down, he turned to me with an inane smile whichoccupied all his face. 'Good evening,' he said, in a baronial drawl.'Miss Cayley, I gathah? I asked the skippah's leave to set next yah. Weought to be friends--rathah. I think yah know my poor deah old aunt,Lady Georgina Fawley.'
I bowed a somewhat, freezing bow. 'Lady Georgina is one of my dearestfriends,' I answered.
'No, really? Poor deah old Georgey! Got somebody to stick up for her atlast, has she? Now that's what I call chivalrous of yah. Magnanimous,isn't it? I like to see people stick up for their friends. And it mustbe a novelty for Georgey. For between you and me, a moah cantankerousspiteful acidulated old cough-drop than the poor deah soul it 'ud bedifficult to hit upon.'
'Lady Georgina has brains,' I answered; 'and they enable her torecognise a fool when she sees him. I will admit that she does notsuffer fools gladly.'
He turned to me with a sudden sharp look in the depths of thelack-lustre eyes. Already it began to strike me that, though thepea-green young man was inane, he had his due proportion of a certaininsidious practical cunning. 'That's true,' he answered, measuring me.'And according to her, almost everybody's a fool--especially herrelations. There's a fine knack of sweeping generalisation about deahskinny old Georgey. The few people she reahlly likes are all archangels;the rest are blithering idiots; there's no middle course with her.'
I held my peace frigidly.
'She thinks me a very special and peculiah fool,' he went on, crumblinghis bread.
'Lady Georgina,' I answered, 'is a person of exceptional discrimination.I would almost always accept her judgment on anyone as practicallyfinal.'
He laid down his soup-spoon, fondled the imperceptible moustache withhis tapering fingers, and then broke once more into a cheerful expanseof smile which reminded me of nothing so much as of the village idiot.It spread over his face as the splash from a stone spreads over amill-pond. 'Now that's a nice cheerful sort of thing to say to afellah,' he ejaculated, fixing his eye-glass in his eye, with a fewfierce contortions of his facial muscles. 'That's encouraging, don't yahknow, as the foundation of an acquaintance. Makes a good cornah-stone.Calculated to place things at once upon what yah call a friendly basis.Georgey said you had a pretty wit; I see now why she admiahed it. Birdsof a feathah: very wise old proverb.'
I reflected that, after all, this young man had nothing overt againsthim, beyond a fishy blue eye and an inane expression; so, feeling that Ihad perhaps gone a little too far, I continued after a minute, 'And youruncle, how is he?'
'Marmy?' he inquired, with another elephantine smile; and then Iperceived it was a form of humour with him (or rather, a cheapsubstitute) to speak of his elder relations by their abbreviatedChristian names, without any prefix. 'Marmy's doing very well, thankyah; as well as could be expected. In fact, bettah. Habakkuk on thebrain: it's carrying him off at last. He has Bright's disease verybad--drank port, don't yah know--and won't trouble this wicked worldmuch longah with his presence. It will be a happy release--especiallyfor his nephews.'
I was really grieved, for I had grown to like the urbane old gentleman,as I had grown to like the cantankerous old lady. In spite of hisfussiness and his Stock Exchange views on the interpretation ofScripture, his genuine kindliness and his real liking for me hadsoftened my heart to him; and my face must have shown my distress, forthe pea-green young man added quickly with an afterthought: 'But _you_needn't be afraid, yah know. It's all right for Harold Tillington. Youought to know that as well as anyone--and bettah: for it was you whodrew up his will for him at Florence.'
I flushed crimson, I believe. Then he knew all about me! 'I was notasking on Mr. Tillington's account,' I answered. 'I asked because I havea personal feeling of friendship for your uncle, Mr. Ashurst.'
His hand strayed up to the straggling yellow hairs on his upper lip oncemore, and he smiled again, this time with a curious undercurrent offoolish craftiness. 'That's a good one,' he answered. 'Georgey told meyou were original. Marmy's a millionaire, and many people lovemillionaires for their money. But to love Marmy for himself-- I do callthat originality! Why, weight for age, he's acknowledged to be the mostportentous old boah in London society!'
'I like Mr. Ashurst because he has a kind heart and some genuineinstincts,' I answered. 'He has not allowed all human feeling to bereplaced by a cheap mask of Pall Mall cynicism.'
'Oh, I say; how's that for preaching? Don't you manage to give it hot toa fellah, neithah! And at sight, too, without the usual three days ofgrace. Have some of my champagne? I'm a forgiving creachah.'
'No, thank you. I prefer this hock.'
'Your friend, then?' And he motioned the steward to pass the bottle.
To my great disgust, Elsie held out her glass. I was annoyed at that. Itshowed she had missed the drift of our conversation, and was thereforelacking in feminine intuition. I should be sorry if I had allowed thehigher mathematics to kill out in me the most distinctively womanlyfaculty.
From that first day forth, however, in spite of this beginning, LordSouthminster almost persecuted me with his persistent attentions. Hedid all a fellah could possibly do to please me. I could not make outprecisely what he was driving at; but I saw he had some artful game ofhis own to play, and that he was playing it subtly. I also saw that,vapid as he was, his vapidity did not prevent him from being worldlywise with the wisdom of the self-seeking man of the world, who utterlydistrusts and disbelieves in all the higher emotions of humanity. Heharped so often on this string that on our second day out, as we lolledon deck in the heat, I had to rebuke him sharply. He had been sneeringfor some hours. 'There are two kinds of silly simplicity, LordSouthminster,' I said, at last. 'One kind is the silly simplicity of therustic who trusts everybody; the other kind is the silly simplicity ofthe Pall Mall clubman who trusts nobody. It is just as foolish and justas one-sided to overlook the good as to overlook the evil in humanity.If you trust everyone, you are likely to be taken in; but if you trustno one, you put yourself at a serious practical disadvantage, besideslosing half the joy of living.'
'Then you think me a fool, like Georgey?' he broke out.
'I should never be rude enough to say so,' I answered, fanning myself.
'Well, you're what I call a first-rate companion for a voyage down theRed Sea,' he put in, gazing abstractedly at the awnings. 'Such a lovelyfreezing mixture! A fellah doesn't need ices when _you're_ on tap. Irecommend you as a refrigeratah.'
'I am glad,' I answered demurely, 'if I have secured your approbation inthat humble capacity. I'm sure I have tried hard for it.'
NOTHING SEEMED TO PUT THE MAN DOWN.]
Yet nothing that I could say seemed to put the
man down. In spite ofrebuffs, he was assiduous in running down the companion-ladder for myparasol or my smelling-bottle; he fetched me chairs; he stayed me withcushions; he offered to lend me books; he pestered me to drink his wine;and he kept Elsie in champagne, which she annoyed me by accepting. Poordear Elsie clearly failed to understand the creature. 'He's so kind andpolite, Brownie, isn't he?' she would observe in her simple fashion. 'Doyou know, I think he's taken quite a fancy to you! And he'll be an earlby-and-by. I call it romantic. How lovely it would seem, dear, to seeyou a countess.'
'Elsie,' I said severely, with one hand on her arm, 'you are a dearlittle soul, and I am very fond of you; but if you think I could sellmyself for a coronet to a pasty-faced young man with a pea-greencomplexion and glassy blue eyes--I can only say, my child, you havemisread my character. He isn't a man: he's a lump of putty!'
I think Elsie was quite shocked that I should apply these terms to acourtesy lord, the eldest son of a peer. Nature had endowed her with theprofound British belief that peers should be spoken of in choice andpeculiar language. 'If a peer's a fool,' Lady Georgina said once to me,'people think you should say his temperament does not fit him for theconduct of affairs: if he's a roue or a drunkard, they think you shouldsay he has unfortunate weaknesses.'
What most of all convinced me, however, that the wishy-washy young manwith the pea-green complexion must be playing some stealthy game, wasthe demeanour and mental attitude of Mr. Higginson, his courier. Afterthe first day, Higginson appeared to be politeness and deference itselfto us. He behaved to us both, _almost_ as if we belonged to the titledclasses. He treated us with the second best of his twenty-sevengraduated manners. He fetched and carried for us with a courtly gracewhich recalled that distinguished diplomat, the Comte deLaroche-sur-Loiret, at the station at Malines with Lady Georgina. It istrue, at his politest moments, I often caught the undercurrent of awicked twinkle in his eye, and felt sure he was doing it all with someprofound motive. But his external demeanour was everything that onecould desire from a well-trained man-servant; I could hardly believe itwas the same man who had growled to me at Florence, 'I shall be evenwith you yet,' as he left our office.
'Do you know, Brownie,' Elsie mused once, 'I really begin to think wemust have misjudged Higginson. He's so extremely polite. Perhaps, afterall, he is really a count, who has been exiled and impoverished for hispolitical opinions.'
I smiled and held my tongue. Silence costs nothing. But Mr. Higginson'spolitical opinions, I felt sure, were of that simple communistic sortwhich the law in its blunt way calls fraudulent. They consisted in abelief that all was his which he could lay his hands on.
'Higginson's a splendid fellah for his place, yah know, Miss Cayley,'Lord Southminster said to me one evening as we were approaching Aden.'What I like about him is, he's so doosid intelligent.'
'Extremely so,' I answered. Then the devil entered into me again. 'Hehad the doosid intelligence even to take in Lady Georgina.'
'Yaas; that's just it, don't you know. Georgey told me that story.Screamingly funny, wasn't it? And I said to myself at once, "Higginson'sthe man for me. I want a courier with jolly lots of brains and noblooming scruples. I'll entice this chap away from Marmy." And I did. Ioutbid Marmy. Oh, yaas, he's a first-rate fellah, Higginson. What _I_want is a man who will do what he's told, and ask no beastly unpleasantquestions. Higginson's that man. He's as sharp as a ferret.'
'And as dishonest as they make them.'
He opened his hands with a gesture of unconcern. 'All the bettah for mypurpose. See how frank I am, Miss Cayley. I tell the truth. The truth isvery rare. You ought to respect me for it.'
'It depends somewhat upon the _kind_ of truth,' I answered, with arandom shot. 'I don't respect a man, for instance, for confessing to aforgery.'
He winced. Not for months after did I know how a stone thrown at aventure had chanced to hit the spot, and had vastly enhanced his opinionof my cleverness.
'You have heard about Dr. Fortescue-Langley too, I suppose?' I went on.
'Oh, yaas. Wasn't it real jam? He did the doctor-trick on a lady inSwitzerland. And the way he has come it ovah deah simple old Marmy! Heplayed Marmy with Ezekiel! Not so dusty, was it? He's too lovely foranything!'
'He's an edged tool,' I said.
'Yaas; that's why I use him.'
'And edged tools may cut the user's fingers.'
YAH DON'T CATCH ME GOING SO FAH FROM NEWMARKET.]
'Not mine,' he answered, taking out a cigarette. 'Oh deah no. He can'tturn against _me_. He wouldn't dare to. Yah see, I have the fellahentirely in my powah. I know all his little games, and I can expose himany day. But it suits me to keep him. I don't mind telling yah, since Irespect your intellect, that he and I are engaged in pulling off a big_coup_ togethah. If it were not for that, I wouldn't be heah. Yah don'tcatch me going away so fah from Newmarket and the Empire for nothing.'
'I judged as much,' I answered. And then I was silent.
But I wondered to myself why the neutral-tinted young man should be socommunicative to an obviously hostile stranger.
For the next few days it amused me to see how hard our lordling tried tosuit his conversation to myself and Elsie. He was absurdly anxious tohumour us. Just at first, it is true, he had discussed the subjects thatlay nearest to his own heart. He was an ardent votary of the noblequadruped; and he loved the turf--whose sward, we judged, he trod mainlyat Tattersall's. He spoke to us with erudition on 'two-year-old form,'and gave us several 'safe things' for the spring handicaps. The Oaks heconsidered 'a moral' for Clorinda. He also retailed certain choiceanecdotes about ladies whose Christian names were chiefly Tottie andFlo, and whose honoured surnames have escaped my memory. Most of themflourished, I recollect, at the Frivolity Music Hall. But when helearned that our interest in the noble quadruped was scarcely more thantepid, and that we had never even visited 'the Friv.,' as heaffectionately called it, he did his best in turn to acquire oursubjects. He had heard us talk about Florence, for example, and hegathered from our talk that we loved its art treasures. So he sethimself to work to be studiously artistic. It was a beautiful study inhuman ineptitude. 'Ah, yaas,' he, murmured, turning up the pale blueeyes ecstatically towards the mast-head. 'Chawming place, Florence! Idote on the pickchahs. I know them all by heart. I assuah yah, I'vespent houahs and houahs feeding my soul in the galleries.'
'And what particular painter does your soul most feed upon?' I askedbluntly, with a smile.
The question staggered him. I could see him hunting through the vacantchambers of his brain for a Florentine painter. Then a faint lightgleamed in the leaden eyes, and he fingered the straw-coloured moustachewith that nervous hand till he almost put a visible point upon it. 'Ah,Raphael?' he said, tentatively, with an inquiring air, yet beaming athis success. 'Don't you think so? Splendid artist, Raphael!'
'And a very safe guess,' I answered, leading him on. 'You can't go farwrong in mentioning Raphael, can you? But after him?'
He dived into the recesses of his memory again, peered about him for aminute or two, and brought back nothing. 'I can't remembah the othahfellahs' names,' he went on; 'they're all so much alike: all in _elli_,don't yah know; but I recollect at the time they impressed me awfully.'
'No doubt,' I answered.
He tried to look through me, and failed. Then he plunged, like a noblesportsman that he was, on a second fetch of memory. 'Ah--and MichaelAngelo,' he went on, quite proud of his treasure-trove. 'Sweet things,Michael Angelo's!'
'Very sweet,' I admitted. 'So simple; so touching; so tender; sodomestic!'
I thought Elsie would explode; but she kept her countenance. Thepea-green young man gazed at me uneasily. He had half an idea by thistime that I was making game of him.
However, he fished up a name once more, and clutched at it. 'Savonarola,too,' he adventured. 'I adore Savonarola. His pickchahs are beautiful.'
'And so rare!' Elsie murmured.
'Then there is Fra Diavolo?' I suggested, going one better. 'How do youli
ke Fra Diavolo?'
He seemed to have heard the name before, but still he hesitated.'Ah--what did he paint?' he asked, with growing caution.
I stuffed him valiantly. 'Those charming angels, you know,' I answered.'With the roses and the glories!'
'Oh, yaas; I recollect. All askew, aren't they; like this! I remembahthem very well. But----' a doubt flitted across his brain, 'wasn't hisname Fra Angelico?'
'His brother,' I replied, casting truth to the winds. 'They workedtogether, you must have heard. One did the saints; the other did theopposite. Division of labour, don't you see; Fra Angelico, Fra Diavolo.'
WASN'T FRA DIAVOLO ALSO A COMPOSAH?]
He fingered his cigarette with a dubious hand, and wriggled hiseye-glass tighter. 'Yaas, beautiful; beautiful! But----' growingsuspicious apace, 'wasn't Fra Diavolo also a composah?'
'Of course,' I assented. 'In his off time, he composed. Those earlyItalians--so versatile, you see; so versatile!'
He had his doubts, but he suppressed them.
'And Torricelli,' I went on, with a side glance at Elsie, who waschoking by this time. 'And Chianti, and Frittura, and Cinquevalli, andGiulio Romano.'
His distrust increased. 'Now you're trying to make me commit myself,' hedrawled out. 'I remembah Torricelli--he's the fellah who used to paintall his women crooked. But Chianti's a wine; I've often drunk it; andRomano's--well, every fellah knows Romano's is a restaurant near theGaiety Theatre.'
'Besides,' I continued, in a drawl like his own, 'there are Risotto, andGnocchi, and Vermicelli, and Anchovy--all famous paintahs, and all ofwhom I don't doubt you admiah.'
Elsie exploded at last. But he took no offence. He smiled inanely, as ifhe rather enjoyed it. 'Look heah, you know,' he said, with his craftysmile; 'that's one too much. I'm not taking any. You think yourselvesvery clevah for kidding me with paintahs who are really macaroni andcheese and claret; yet if I were to tell you the Lejah was run at Ascot,or the Cesarewitch at Doncastah, why, you'd be no wisah. When it comesto art, I don't have a look in; but I could tell you a thing or twoabout starting prices.'
And I was forced to admit that there he had reason.
Still, I think he realised that he had better avoid the subject of artin future, as we avoided the noble quadruped. He saw his limitations.
Not till the last evening before we reached Bombay did I reallyunderstand the nature of my neighbour's project. That evening, as itchanced, Elsie had a headache and went below early. I stopped with hertill she dozed off; then I slipped up on deck once more for a breath offresh air, before retiring for the night to the hot and stuffy cabin. Itwas an exquisite evening. The moon rode in the pale green sky of thetropics. A strange light still lingered on the western horizon. Thestifling heat of the Red Sea had given way long since to the refreshingcoolness of the Indian Ocean. I strolled a while on the quarter-deck,and sat down at last near the stern. Next moment, I was aware ofsomebody creeping up to me.
'Look heah, Miss Cayley,' a voice broke in; 'I'm in luck at last! I'vebeen waiting, oh, evah so long, for this opportunity.'
I turned and faced him. 'Have you, indeed?' I answered. 'Well, I have_not_, Lord Southminster.'
I tried to rise, but he motioned me back to my chair. There were ladieson deck, and to avoid being noticed I sank into my seat again.
'I want to speak to you,' he went on, in a voice that (for him) wasalmost impressive. 'Half a mo, Miss Cayley. I want to say--this lastnight--you misunderstand me.'
'On the contrary,' I answered, 'the trouble is--that I understand youperfectly.'
'No, yah don't. Look heah.' He bent forward quite romantically. 'I'mgoing to be perfectly frank. Of course yah know that when I came onboard this ship I came--to checkmate yah.'
'Of course,' I replied. 'Why else should you and Higginson have botheredto come here?'
He rubbed his hands together. 'That's just it. You're always clevah. Youhit it first shot. But there's wheah the point comes in. At first, Ionly thought of how we could circumvent yah. I treated yah as the enemy.Now, it's all the othah way. Miss Cayley, you're the cleverest woman Ievah met in this world; you extort my admiration.'
I could not repress a smile. I didn't know how it was, but I could see Ipossessed some mysterious attraction for the Ashurst family. I was fatalto Ashursts. Lady Georgina, Harold Tillington, the Honourable Marmaduke,Lord Southminster--different types as they were, all succumbed withoutone blow to me.
'You flatter me,' I answered, coldly.
'No, I don't,' he cried, flashing his cuffs and gazing affectionately athis sleeve-links. ''Pon my soul, I assuah yah, I mean it. I can't tellyou how much I admiah yah. I admiah your intellect. Every day I haveseen yah, I feel it moah and moah. Why, you're the only person who hasevah out-flanked my fellah, Higginson. As a rule I don't think much ofwomen. I've been through several London seasons, and lots of 'em havetried their level best to catch me; the cleverest mammas have been aftahme for their Ethels. But I wasn't so easily caught: I dodged the Ethels.With you, it's different. I feel'--he paused--'you're a woman a fellahmight be really proud of.'
'You are too kind,' I answered, in my refrigerator voice.
'Well, will you take me?' he asked, trying to seize my hand. 'MissCayley, if you will, you will make me unspeakably happy.'
It was a great effort--for him--and I was sorry to crush it. 'I regret,'I said, 'that I am compelled to deny you unspeakable happiness.'
TAKE MY WORD FOR IT, YOU'RE STAKING YOUR MONEY ON THEWRONG FELLAH.]
'Oh, but you don't catch on. You mistake. Let me explain. You're backingthe othah man. Now, I happen to know about that: and I assuah you, it'san error. Take my word for it, you're staking your money on the wrongfellah.'
'I do not understand you,' I replied, drawing away from his approach.'And what is more, I may add, you could never understand me.'
'Yaas, but I do. I understand perfectly. I can see where you go wrong.You drew up Marmy's will; and you think Marmy has left all he's worth toHarold Tillington; so you're putting every penny you've got on Harold.Well, that's mere moonshine. Harold may think it's all right; but it'snot all right. There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the Probate Court.Listen heah, Miss Cayley: Higginson and I are a jolly sight sharpah thanyour friend Harold. Harold's what they call a clevah fellah in society,and I'm what they call a fool; but I know bettah than Harold which sideof my bread's buttahed.'
'I don't doubt it,' I answered.
'Well, I have managed this business. I don't mind telling you now, I hada telegram from Marmy's valet when we touched at Aden; and poor oldMarmy's sinking. Habakkuk's been too much for him. Sixteen stone goingunder. Why am I not with him? yah may ask. Because, when a man ofMarmy's temperament is dying, it's safah to be away from him. There'splenty of time for Marmy to altah his will yet--and there are othahcontingencies. Still, Harold's quite out of it. You take my word for it;if you back Harold, you back a man who's not going to get anything;while if you back me, you back the winnah, with a coronet into thebargain.' And he smiled fatuously.
I looked at him with a look that would have made a wiser man wince. Butit fell flat on Lord Southminster. 'Do you know why I do not rise and godown to my cabin at once?' I said, slowly. 'Because, if I did, somebodyas I passed might see my burning cheeks--cheeks flushed with shame atyour insulting proposal--and might guess that you had asked me, and thatI had refused you. And I should shrink from the disgrace of anyone'sknowing that you had put such a humiliation upon me. You have been frankwith me--after your kind, Lord Southminster; frank with the frankness ofa low and purely commercial nature. I will be frank with you in turn.You are right in supposing that I love Harold Tillington--a man whosename I hate to mention in your presence. But you are wrong in supposingthat the disposition of Mr. Marmaduke Ashurst's money has or can haveanything to do with the feelings I entertain towards him. I would marryhim all the sooner if he were poor and penniless. You cannot_understand_ that state of mind, of course: but you must be content to_accept_ it. And I would not marry
_you_ if there were no other man leftin the world to marry. I should as soon think of marrying a lump ofdough.' I faced him all crimson. 'Is _that_ plain enough? Do you see nowthat I really mean it?'
He gazed at me with a curious look, and twirled what he considered hismoustache once more, quite airily. The man was imperturbable--apachydermatous imbecile. 'You're all wrong, yah know,' he said, after along pause, during which he had regarded me through his eye-glass as ifI were a specimen of some rare new species. 'You're all wrong, and yahwon't believe me. But I tell yah, I know what I'm talking about. Youthink it's quite safe about Marmy's money--that he's left it to Harold,because you drew the will up. I assuah you that will's not worth thepaper it's written on. You fancy Harold's a hot favourite: he's a rankoutsidah. I give you a chance, and you won't take it. I want yahbecause you're a remarkable woman. Most of the Ethels cry when they'retrying to make a fellah propose to 'em; and I don't like 'em damp: but_you_ have some go about yah. You insist upon backing the wrong man. Butyou'll find your mistake out yet.' A bright idea struck him. 'I say--whydon't you hedge? Leave it open till Marmy's gone, and then marry thewinnah?'
It was hopeless trying to make this clod understand. His brain was notbuilt with the right cells for understanding me. 'Lord Southminster,' Isaid, turning upon him and clasping my hands, 'I will not go away whileyou stop here. But you have some spark enough of a gentleman in yourcomposition, I hope, not to inflict your company any longer upon a womanwho does not desire it. I ask you to leave me here alone. When you havegone, and I have had time to recover from your degrading offer, I mayperhaps feel able to go down to my cabin.'
He stared at me with open blue eyes--those watery blue eyes. 'Oh, justas you like,' he answered. 'I wanted to do you a good turn, becauseyou're the only woman I evah really admiahed--to say admiah, don't youknow; not trotted round like the Ethels: but you won't allow me. I'll goif you wish it; though I tell you again, you're backing the wrong man,and soonah or latah you'll discover it. I don't mind laying you six tofour against him. Howevah, I'll do one thing for yah: I'll leave thisoffah always open. I'm not likely to marry any othah woman--not goodenough, is it?--and if evah you find out you're mistaken about HaroldTillington, remembah, honour bright, I shall be ready at any time torenew my offah.'
By this time I was at boiling-point. I could not find words to answerhim. I waved him away angrily with one hand. He raised his hat withquite a jaunty air and strolled off forward, puffing his cigarette. Idon't think he even knew the disgust with which he inspired me.
I sat some hours with the cool air playing about my burning cheeksbefore I mustered up courage to rise and go down below again.