The Disturbing Charm

by Berta Ruck

  CHAPTER XIII

  VIGIL

  "The raid is still in progress."

  Morning Paper.

  To other members of the party that raid had been less (obviously)eventful.

  Little Mr. Brown, after he had seen Mrs. Cartwright's niece, the nurse,back to her rooms, trotted back to the Regent Palace Hotel all in adither of undeniable funk.

  Not funk for himself! Gallipoli and the Somme had found him "stickingit" with a music-hall joke between his teeth. But here he had somethingto be frightened about. The danger-zone was no place for women. At oncehe rang up his _fiancee_, Mrs. Robinson, in Baker Street. There was noreply!... On duty still? And Lord knew where....

  [The little dispatch rider was at that moment, as we know, scorching along the road out of London and past the Kilburn Empire.]

  Mr. Brown, M.C., took his cold feet and his pipe to another man's room,and sat there talking feverishly to drown the guns; from here he rang upat intervals, getting through to her at last.

  "Worrying?... What about?" her cheeky little voice called back to him."Been? Why I've been carting some young lunatic who's lost his 'bus orsomething, back to his 'drome.... I say! He tried to give me two pounds.Got off again, didn't I?... Yes, and I'm just going to turn in.... Sillyass.... Worrying about me? Well, drop it. I'm not marrying any worries,they're too old-fash. Go to bed!"

  "Right you are," called back her future lord on the note of cheerydocility which was to resound throughout his married life. "See youdemang. Good night, Pet!"

  "Good night, Pug."

  She rang off; he sought his room, and slept through the rest of theraid.

  * * * * *

  Miss Agatha Walsh sat up for it. She sat up in the private sitting-roomof her hotel, where there was also staying, on business, the old familylawyer who transacted her business. There she sat with him and her_fiance_ at midnight, feeling delightfully emancipated if not "fast,"drinking stone ginger-beer and translating the lawyer's remarks to herhalf-dozing sergeant. Agatha was entirely happy, for the talk was allabout arrangements for her approaching marriage, settlements for herhusband, and so on. What, compared to these things, was the noise ofgun-fire? The only attention that she paid to it was to exclaim once,"Oh, I do wish I could have a bit of the shrapnel set in gold as apaper-weight or something for Gustave, just as a souvenir of the firstraid we've been through together!"

  * * * * *

  And now we come to Captain Ross.

  Captain Ross would have allowed no questions as to where he was and whatdoing whilst that raid was in progress. Suffice it to say that he was onduty.

  Not active duty; not strenuous duty, but duty which, unfortunately forhim, gave him plenty of leisure to think, and to feel, as he himself putit curtly, "sick."

  Very sick he felt.

  First there was the standing grouse of his not being able to take aman's job, ever, in that sort of show. They would never allow aone-armed chap to go up in a plane, of course. Not even by altering themechanism of the whole thing so that he could work the controlsleft-handed--that was off for good; and he was sick of it.

  He also felt sick with young Jack. What on earth had he been trying toplay at? He had no duty. He was married that morning; hadn't he, Ross,seen him married? What the something did he mean by leaving his wife andchasing off like that? Saying "All right; shut up----" What did theyoung fool mean by it?

  Further, there was that little hussy that Captain Ross was sick with.Sitting----wherever he was sitting while the raid-guns scolded outside,he went over and over in his mind the many grouses that he had againstthat little hussy Olwen Howel-Jones. She didn't know how to treat himright.

  She was a darned little flirt.

  Look at her at Les Pins with that ass young Brown!

  Look at her here in London, with that even worse ass, young Ellerton!

  Scandalous.... Scandalous....

  To Ellerton he meant to give such a telling-off as the young man hadnever heard in his life before.

  And to the girl he was going to speak about it this very evening. Thenthe raid had come....

  Of course Ellerton would see that child all the way home.

  He'd done it before....

  She admitted that herself.

  She practically admitted that the fellow made love to her on the wayhome.

  No doubt he was doing it again at that moment! Captain Ross couldpicture it. He did picture it....

  Nothing could have been less like his picture than the reality of thatproposal scene in the railway carriage of the train held up outsideWillesden Junction at that moment, but how should this jealous brooderbe expected to guess that?

  He continued to brood so intently that it is unlikely he heard any ofthe firing....

  That little hussy! How was it she always contrived to irritate him so?Always! Every time she spoke! The more meek and mild she was in theoffice the more downright impairrrtinence she managed to infuse,somehow, into the very meekness and mildness of the tone in which shespoke to her chief. Yep! Even if she were only putting somebody throughto him on the telephone, she managed to convey an impression of--of--of_something_.

  And why any busy man should waste a moment thinking of her the finestjudge of women in Europe did not know.... How had she done it?

  Yes; she was pretty; confound her! Awfully neat.... but weren't othergirls? Why think of her, more than of all the others, dozens, scores,yes, hundreds of 'em that he'd known? What he demanded of a girl'ssociety was that it should be kept in its right proporrrrtion as arelaxation for when a man wasn't occupied with a job.

  Woman, it could not too often be reiterated, was the Plaything ofMan----but not of young Ellerton, by the way. Why should any sensibleman be obsessed by one more than another of these toys?

  Let them keep in their places.

  Dashed pretty she was! Taking little face, dandy little figure, handsand feet _it_.... Still, if she thought that he, with all hisexperience, was going to say that Miss Olwen Howel-Jones was thebest-looking girl he'd ever struck, she had another guess coming to her.Casual little ways she had! Those spoilt her. Pursing up hermouth----which was as red as if she shoved on carmine by the stick everyfive minutes, though he could see she didn't. It would sairrrrrrrrve herjolly well right if a man (not young Ellerton) were to catch ahold ofher and kiss her good and hard a couple of dozen times running and thenleave her, having had all he wanted of her. That other maddening habitof hers, too; looking 'way over a man's shoulder when he was speaking toher! Refusing to meet his eyes ... though she could look straight enoughinto young Ellerton's.... What colour _were_ her eyes when all was said:brown, green, or hazel?

  He had arrived at this point by the time that the rushing by of carsbegan to be heard up the Strand, down the Embankment and along everystreet within earshot; cars containing joyously important children inScout's kit who "_woke to find that Noise was Duty_," and who nowroused London's echoes with their bugle calls of two long notes:

  "_All clear----! All----clear!_"

  Yes; the raid was over. Captain Ross of the Honeycomb found himselfdrawing a long breath and realizing that he did most bitterly resentthese raids on account of the women that he knew who were in the dangerzone. That child Olwen, now; had she been frightened? Very likelyindeed. Scared to death, no doubt.

  Poor wee girl!...

  With the return to the thought of her, there suddenly stirred within hima feeling that lay so deep down and under so many other mere immediatethings that he seldom allowed himself the chance of leisure to delvetowards it....

  It was----how express it? A gentle, reverent unspoilt tenderness. It wasThat which makes the difference in the ingrainedly sentimental mind ofMan, between Woman----and his own women-folk. The key to the hearts ofthese finest judges of women in Europe is to be found held in the handsof a mother, a wife, or (most surely) of a baby-daughter.... Thisparticular Scot had denied _in toto_ that that chit of a Welsh
girlcould ever have part or lot in any of his jealously-secret dreams.

  But denied it he had; yes! Already he was so far gone as all that.

  Therefore it will be seen that he had reached the moment when a manpulls himself resolutely together and determines that having gone sofar, he will go no further.

  The moment had arrived when he told himself that, having taken allthings into consideration, he had done with the girl.

  Yes; he had done with this Olwen.

  What was meant by this could only be judged by subsequent events. Onecannot but surmise that it meant the following:

  To come to that office on Monday and, as usual, to treat her as part ofthe office furniture. To speak to her as usual with the charm of mannerof a bear with a sore head. To glower at her as usual in the Strand ifshe passed him with young Ellerton. To have lunch on Friday as usual atthat restaurant where she had lunch and, still as usual, to spar andwrangle with her until it was time to get back to work. To meet her asusual at Mrs. Cartwright's; to meet her perhaps with her friend Mrs.Awdas; to----well, to carry on in the usual way, as he had done up tonow, and so, indefinitely, to continue....

  "Yes! I've done with her," he meditated aloud in the solitude ofwhatever place it was in which he found himself. The sound of his ownvoice pronouncing these resolute words was balm to his irritated,exasperated mood. "I've done with her. _That's_ sett----"

  Into the word there broke the shrill whirring call of the telephone.

  He snapped it up. The silence of the place where he sat seemed to ringto the now irritated bark of his voice, answering.

  "Spikkin'! Who is that?"

  "Ell--what? Oh, Ellerton? Yes; what is it?" He listened, scowling, tothe clear boyish voice that came through, obviously in the joyous highfeather. "Oh, yes; I know the raid's over, yes.... Nothing ofconsequence; nothing at all.... You saw _what_? Miss Howel-Jones homesafely? That's all?... You were held up? Is that so? Where? For_how_----For two hours, was it? All the lights turned out, I suppose?...Indid.... Ah.... Well! I don't know that I was worrying specially abouteither of you; not so as you'd notice it. But thanks all the same forreassuring me, Ellerton----"

  (This with the bitter sarcasm which, the Celt maintains, is ever lostupon the Saxon.)

  "And I suppose Miss Howel-Jones will make it her excuse for turrrning uplate on Monday morrrrning.... _Whatt?_ She won't be coming Monday? How'sthat?... _Leave?_"

  His voice jumped up three notes.

  "Going on leave?... Where's she going? Wales?... What part of Wales?...I said what part of Wales.... Aber-_which_?... Ah.... 'Night."

  The finest judge of women snapped up the receiver and sat for a momentmotionless: only the shapely feminine mouth under the hogged moustachemoving to the form of inaudible words.

  Then he sprung up and grabbed a paper-covered book from a shelf ofreference books. He stood holding it.

  Ellerton and she!

  Held up for two mortal hours in the dark!

  And the cub sounded in racing spirits....

  Proposed to her! Not a doubt of it! And would he sound like that if hehadn't been acc----?

  Here he slammed the book down on the table (it was an A B C), and, withhis one hand, began violently fluttering the pages. Aber----Aber----

  Gone, had she? Without a word.... How dare she? Got leave withouttelling him....

  Leave, indeed....

  He'd got some leave coming to him.

  Right now was where he'd take it, and at this Aber-where-was-it--ah,here....

  Done with the girl? He realized that he had not yet begun with her.