The Bars of Iron

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER XXII

  THE COMING OF A FRIEND

  "Eternal sunshine!" said Piers, with a grimace at the deep, deep blueof the slumbering water that stretched below him to the horizon. "Andat night eternal moonshine. Romantic but monotonous. I wonder if thepost is in."

  He cast an irresolute glance up the path behind him, but decided toremain where he was. He had looked so many times in vain.

  There were a good many people in the hotel, but he was not feelingsociable. The night before he had dropped a considerable sum at theCasino, but it had not greatly interested him. Regretfully he had come tothe conclusion that gambling in that form did not attract him. The greedycrowd that pushed and strove in the heated rooms, he regarded asdownright revolting. He himself had been robbed with astonishing audacityby a lady with painted eyes who had snatched his only winnings before hecould reach them. It was a small episode, and he had let it pass, but ithad not rendered the tables more attractive. He had in fact left them inutter disgust.

  Altogether he was feeling decidedly out of tune with his surroundingsthat morning, and the beauty of the scene irritated rather than soothedhim. In the garden a short distance from him, a voluble French party werechattering with great animation and a good deal of cackling laughter. Hewondered what on earth they found to amuse them so persistently. He alsowondered if a swim in that faultless blue would do anything to improvehis temper, and decided with another wry grimace that it was hardly worthwhile to try.

  It was at this point that there fell a step on the winding path below himthat led down amongst shrubs to the sea. The top of a Panama hat caughtPiers' attention. He watched it idly as it ascended, speculating withoutmuch interest as to the face beneath it. It mounted with the utmoststeadiness, neither hastening nor lingering. There was something aboutits unvarying progress that struck Piers as British. His interestincreased at once. He suddenly discovered that he wanted someone Britishto talk to, forgetting the fact that he had fled but ten minutes beforefrom the boring society of an Anglo-Indian colonel.

  The man in the Panama came nearer. Piers from above began to have aglimpse of a tweed coat and a strong brown hand that swung in time to thesteady stride. The path curved immediately below him, and the last fewyards of it led directly to the spot on which he stood. As the strangerrounded the curve he came into full view.

  He was a big man, broadly built and powerful. His whole personality wassuggestive of squareness. And yet to Piers' critical eyes he did not lookwholly British. His gait was that of a man accustomed to long hours inthe saddle. Under the turned-down Panama the square, determined chinshowed massively. It was a chin that obviously required constant shaving.

  Quietly the man drew near. He did not see Piers under his loweredhat-brim till he was within a few feet of him. Then, becoming suddenlyaware of him, he raised his eyes. A moment later, his hand went up in abrief, friendly salute.

  Piers' hand made instant response. "Splendid morning!" he began tosay--and stopped with the words half-uttered. The blood surged up to hisforehead in a great wave. "Good Heavens!" he said instead.

  The other man paused. He did not look at Piers very narrowly, but merelyglanced towards him and then turned his eyes towards the wonderful,far-stretching blue below them.

  "Yes, splendid," he said quietly. "Worth remembering--a scenelike this."

  His tone was absolutely impersonal. He stood beside Piers for a moment ortwo, gazing forth into the infinite distance; then with a slight gestureof leave-taking he turned as if to continue his progress.

  In that instant, however, Piers recovered himself sufficiently to speak.His face was still deeply flushed, but his voice was steady enough as heturned fully and addressed the new-comer.

  "Don't you know me? We have met before."

  The other man stopped at once. He held out his hand. "Yes, of course Iknow you--knew you the moment I set eyes on you. But I wasn't sure thatyou would care to be recognized by me."

  "What on earth do you take me for?" said Piers bluntly.

  He gripped the hand hard, looking straight into the calm eyes with acurious sense of being sustained thereby. "I believe," he said, with anodd impulse of impetuosity, "that you are the one man in the world that Icouldn't be other than pleased to see."

  The elder man smiled. "That's very kind of you," he said.

  He had the slow speech of one accustomed to solitude. He kept Piers' handin his in a warm, firm grip. "I have often thought about you," he said."You know, I never heard your name."

  "My name is Evesham," said Piers, with the quick, gracious mannerhabitual to him. "Piers Evesham."

  "Thank you. Mine is Edmund Crowther. Odd that we should meet like this!"

  "A piece of luck I didn't expect!" said Piers boyishly. "Have you onlyjust arrived?"

  "I came here last night from Marseilles." Crowther's eyes rested on thesmiling face with its proud, patrician features with the look of a manexamining a perfect bronze. "It's very kind of you to welcome me likethis," he said. "I was feeling a stranger in a strange land as I came upthat path."

  "I've been watching you," said Piers. "I liked the business-like way youtackled it. It was British."

  Crowther smiled. "I suppose it has become second nature with me to putbusiness first," he said.

  "Wish I could say the same," said Piers; and then, with his hand onthe other man's arm: "Come and have a drink! You are staying for sometime, I hope?"

  "No, not for long," said Crowther. "It was yielding to temptation to comehere at all."

  "Are you alone?" asked Piers.

  "Quite alone."

  "Then there's no occasion to hurry," said Piers. "You stay here for abit, and kill time with me."

  "I never kill time," said Crowther deliberately. "It's too scarce acommodity."

  "It is when you're happy," said Piers.

  Crowther looked at him with a question in his eyes that he did not putinto words, and in answer to which Piers laughed a reckless laugh.

  They were walking side by side up the hotel-garden, and each successivegroup of visitors that they passed turned to stare. For both men were ina fashion remarkable. The massive strength of the elder with his square,dogged face and purposeful stride; the lithe, muscular power of theyounger with his superb carriage and haughty nobility of feature, formeda contrast as complete as it was arresting.

  They ascended the steps that led up to the terrace, and here Pierspaused. "You sit down here while I go and order drinks! Here's acomfortable seat, and here's an English paper!"

  He thrust it into Crowther's hand and departed with a careless whistle onhis lips. But Crowther did not look at the paper. His eyes followed Piersas long as he was in sight, and then with that look in them as of one whowatches from afar turned contemplatively towards the sea. After a littlehe took his hat off and suffered the morning-breeze to blow across hisforehead. He had the serene brow of a child, though the hair above it wasbroadly streaked with grey.

  He was still sitting thus when there came the sound of jerky footsteps onthe terrace behind him and an irascible voice addressed him with scarcelyconcealed impatience.

  "Excuse me! I saw you talking to my grandson just now. Do you know wherethe young fool is gone to?"

  Crowther turned in his solid, imperturbable fashion, looked at thespeaker, and got to his feet.

  "I can," he said, with a smile. "He has gone to procure drinks in myhonour. He and I are--old friends."

  "Oh!" said Sir Beverley, and looked him up and down in a fashion whichanother man might have found offensive. "And who may you be?"

  "My name is Crowther," said the other with simplicity.

  Sir Beverley grunted. "That doesn't tell me much. Never heard ofyou before."

  "I daresay not." Crowther was quite unmoved; there was even a hint ofhumour in his tone. "Your grandson is probably a man of many friends."

  "Why should you say that?" demanded Sir Beverley suspiciously.

  "Won't you sit down?" said Crowther.

  Sir Beverley
hesitated a moment, then abruptly complied with thesuggestion. Crowther followed his example, and they faced one anotheracross the little table.

  "I say it," said Crowther, "because that is the sort of lad I takehim to be."

  Sir Beverley grunted again. "And when and where did you make hisacquaintance?" he enquired, with a stern, unsparing scrutiny of the calmface opposite.

  "We met in Australia," said Crowther. "It must be six years or more ago."

  "Australia's a big place," observed Sir Beverley.

  Crowther's slow smile appeared. "Yes, sir, it is. It's so mighty big thatit makes all the other places of the world seem small. Have you ever beenin Queensland--ever seen a sheep-farm?"

  "No, I've never been in Queensland," snapped Sir Beverley. "But as tosheep-farms, I've got one of my own."

  "How many acres?" asked Crowther.

  "Oh, don't ask me! Piers will tell you. Piers knows. Where the devil isthe boy? Why doesn't he come?"

  "Here, sir, here!" cried Piers, coming up behind him. "I see you havemade the acquaintance of my friend. Crowther, let me present you to mygrandfather, Sir Beverley Evesham! I've just been to look for you," headded to the latter. "But Victor told me you had gone out, and then Ispied you out of the window."

  "I told you I was coming out, didn't I?" growled Sir Beverley. "So thisis a friend of yours, is it? How is it I've never heard of him before?"

  "We lost sight of each other," explained Piers, pulling forward a chairbetween them and dropping into it. "But that state of affairs is notgoing to happen again. How long are you over for, Crowther?"

  "Possibly a year, possibly more." Again Crowther's eyes were upon him,critical but kindly.

  "Going to spend your time in England?" asked Piers.

  Crowther nodded. "Most of it, yes."

  "Good!" said Piers with satisfaction. "We shall see plenty of you then."

  "But I am going to be busy," said Crowther, with a smile.

  "Of course you are. You can come down and teach me how to make the HomeFarm a success," laughed Piers.

  "I shall be very pleased to try," said Crowther, "though," he turnedtowards Sir Beverley, "I expect you, sir, know as much on that subject aseither of us."

  Sir Beverley's eyes were upon him with searching directness. He seemed tobe trying to discover a reason for his boy's obvious pleasure in hisunexpected meeting with this man who must have been nearly twice his age.

  "I've never done much in the farming line," he said briefly, in answer toCrowther's observation. "It's been more of a pastime with me thananything else. It's the same with Piers here. He's only putting in timewith it till the constituency falls vacant."

  "I see," said Crowther, adding with his quiet smile: "There seems to beplenty of time anyhow in the old country, whatever else she may beshort of."

  Piers laughed as he lifted his glass. "Time for everything but work,Crowther. She has developed beastly loose morals in her old age. Some daythere'll come a nasty bust up, and she may pull herself together and dothings again, or she may go to pieces. I wonder which."

  "I don't," said Crowther.

  "You don't?" Piers paused, glass in hand, looking at him expectantly.

  "No, I don't." Crowther also raised his glass; he looked Piers straightin the eyes. "Here's to the boys of England, Piers!" he said. "They'llsee to it that she comes through."

  Sir Beverley also drank, but with a distasteful air. "You've a higheropinion of the young fools than I have," he remarked.

  "I've made a study of the breed, sir," said Crowther.

  The conversation drifted to indifferent matters, but Piers' interestremained keen. It seemed that all his vitality had reawakened at thecoming of this slow-speaking man who had looked so long upon the widespaces of the earth that his vision seemed scarcely adaptable to lesserthings. There was that in his personality that caught Piers' fancyirresistibly. Perhaps it was his utter calmness, his unvarying, rock-likestrength. Perhaps it was just the good fellowship that looked out of thesteady eyes and sounded in every tone of the leisurely voice. Whateverthe cause, his presence had made a vast difference to Piers. His boredomhad completely vanished. He even forgot to wonder if there were a letterlying waiting for him inside the hotel.

  Crowther excused himself at length and rose to take his leave, whereuponSir Beverley very abruptly, and to his grandson's surprise andgratification, invited him to dine with them that night. Piers at onceseconded the invitation, and Crowther without haste or hesitationaccepted it.

  Then, square and purposeful, he went away.

  "A white man!" murmured Piers half to himself.

  "One who knows his own mind anyhow," remarked Sir Beverley drily.

  He did not ask Piers for the history of their friendship, and Piers,remembering this later, wondered a little at the omission.