The Blue Sapphire

by D. E. Stevenson

  ‘Quite finished, thank you,’ declared Morland, with a scornful laugh. He turned and went out.

  ‘Julia!’ exclaimed Neil. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I think—I’m—going to faint—’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ said Neil briskly, taking her firmly by the arm. ‘You can’t faint here; it would be silly. You want fresh air, that’s all. I don’t suppose they’ve had those windows open since the place was built.’

  ‘Let me—sit down—for a minute—’

  ‘Nonsense, you want air,’ he repeated, opening the front door and dragging her into the street. ‘Brace up, Julia! Take a few deep breaths . . . that’s the stuff! You’re better already, aren’t you?’

  Neil’s arm was round her waist and it was so strong (like steel, thought Julia vaguely) that she felt like a puppet. He was walking her along the street slowly but inexorably. For the first few steps her legs were wobbly, and she could scarcely put one foot in front of the other, but the air was so crisp and fresh that in a few moments she began to recover.

  ‘Good girl,’ said Neil. ‘Breathe in . . . breathe out. You’ll be all right now. If there’s one thing more certain than another it’s the fact that human beings can’t exist without fresh air. I don’t know why they should want to, I’m sure, but quite a lot of them seem to like shutting themselves up in hermetically-sealed rooms and breathing fug. Daft, I call it. If I’m ever the Prime Minister I shall make a law forbidding people to shut their windows.’

  *

  2

  Julia felt a great deal better by this time. The air was lovely, she felt it cool on her flushed face; she breathed it deeply into her lungs.

  The light was fading and it was getting dark; it was what Maggie called the gloaming—a lovely word. The roofs of the houses were sharply outlined against a sky of turquoise, shading into palest primrose towards the west.

  ‘What a heavenly night, Neil!’ said Julia with a little sigh.

  ‘Yes, heavenly,’ he agreed. Now that she was better he had taken his arm from round her waist and drawn her arm through his. Thus linked they were able to walk faster.

  ‘You always seem to be rescuing me,’ Julia said. ‘You must think I’m awfully silly. It’s just that I can’t bear scenes and people getting angry. It upsets me and makes me feel ill.’

  ‘Yes, I realised that. There’s quite a simple explanation for your abnormality. The condition is the result of the excitability of the adrenalin gland . . . but we won’t go into that now. To-night of course there was not sufficient oxygen in that room; anybody might have felt queer. If I had sat there long I’d have felt queer myself. Sorry I butted in,’ he added. ‘I’d been waiting for hours—at least it seemed like hours to me.’

  It had seemed like hours to Julia also, so she could not blame him for becoming impatient.

  ‘I’d been waiting for hours,’ repeated Neil. ‘I couldn’t think what had happened. I thought you must have gone—so I went to look. I saw at once I had butted in at the wrong moment.’

  ‘If you’d come a few moments later you’d have found me lying on the floor!’

  ‘Nasty, dirty floor!’

  They walked on for a short time in silence.

  ‘Was he beastly?’ asked Neil at last. ‘Ought I to have given him a sock on the jaw?’

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘Well, I didn’t know what to do,’ complained Neil. ‘I didn’t know what you wanted me to do. I’d have knocked him down if I’d thought he’d been beastly to you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have minded so much if he’d been beastly.’

  ‘Was he pathetic? Did he go down on his knees in that smart brown suit?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  ‘You spurned him,’ said Neil. ‘It’s a good word, that! I can just see you doing it—spurning him,’ repeated Neil with relish.

  ‘I did nothing of the sort! I tried to be kind but I couldn’t possibly say I’d marry him.’

  ‘Marry him! Good heavens, was that what he wanted?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So that was why the sparks were flying?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I see,’ said Neil thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I see . . . but I wonder why he gave me such a dirty look as he went out. I had nothing to do with it, had I?’

  Julia was silent.

  ‘If looks could kill I’d be lying dead on that filthy dirty floor. How do you account for that?’

  ‘I wish you would be quiet.’

  ‘Perhaps he thought I was to blame for the spurning. That would account for it, of course. Nobody enjoys being spurned.’

  ‘You’re annoying me frightfully; you really are the most annoying person I’ve ever met. Why can’t you leave things alone?’

  ‘I never leave things alone until I get to the bottom of them,’ replied Neil. ‘I never could, even when I was a child. Maggie would tell you that.’

  ‘Well, if you must know,’ said Julia impatiently, ‘he had just said the only explanation of my refusal to marry him was that I must have “met someone else,” and he hoped that the fellow—whoever he was—had enough money to support me in comfort, because unless I came home immediately and behaved myself my father would have nothing more to do with me . . . and I had just begun to tell him that he was absolutely mistaken when the door opened and you came in and said you had been waiting for ages. That’s all,’ added Julia. ‘So now you know, and we can change the subject.’

  ‘Great Scott! I should have trusted my instinct and knocked him down. I could have done it easily. We’re too civilised nowadays—that’s what’s the matter with us—too conventional, too—er——’

  ‘Namby-pamby,’ suggested Julia sweetly.

  Neil chuckled. ‘I like you, Julia. You amuse me a lot. Do you know this: if I had two thousand a year I’d marry you to-morrow.’

  ‘I wouldn’t marry you if you had ten thousand a year.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you annoy me—frightfully.’

  ‘I do it on purpose,’ explained Neil. ‘It’s such fun annoying you and seeing your eyes flash like sapphires. I bet you tuppence nobody has ever told you that your eyes were like sapphires before.’

  ‘You’ve lost your bet.’

  ‘Really? How frightfully interesting! Who was it, I wonder. It wasn’t that stuffed peacock, was it?’

  ‘Mind your own business.’

  ‘I thought not,’ said Neil. ‘I could see at a glance that the fellow has no imagination, no perception. Probably he has never noticed the colour of your eyes—thinks they’re brown or something! It beats me why you ever thought of marrying him.’

  Oddly enough the same idea had just occurred to Julia.

  ‘I suppose it would be no use asking who it was that said your eyes were like sapphires?’ inquired Neil.

  ‘None whatever . . . and anyhow we’re going to change the subject.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ agreed Neil without hesitation. ‘What shall we talk about? You choose.’ He stopped for a moment or two in an angle of wall, produced two coppers and handed them to her.

  ‘What’s this for?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘I always pay my bets promptly,’ he replied. ‘They’re debts of honour, you see. I wouldn’t sleep a wink to-night if I had a debt of honour on my conscience.’

  ‘How silly you are!’ exclaimed Julia, giggling.

  ‘What are we going to talk about?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ she replied. ‘I can go home the rest of the way by myself. I’m perfectly all right now, and it isn’t far. You’ve been very kind and—and helpful. I’m really very grateful, Neil.’

  ‘That’s all right. It’s been a pleasure; besides we’re cousins, aren’t we? I think I shall kiss you, Julia.’

  ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘Yes, really. Cousins do. It’s the right thing.’

  Julia made no more objection (he really had been very kind and helpful; in fact she could not think what she would have do
ne without him), so Neil stooped and kissed her lightly on her upturned cheek. The cousinly salute was not at all unpleasant.

  ‘Well, thank you again—and good-bye,’ she said, smiling at him.

  ‘No, not good-bye; not even au revoir. I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with my company a bit longer.’

  ‘But I’m quite all right now!’

  ‘I must see you safely in at the door of The Square House before we say good-bye.’

  ‘But why?’ she asked. ‘It isn’t far.’

  ‘Because we’re being followed.’

  ‘Being followed!’ echoed Julia incredulously. ‘Do you mean there’s someone following us?’

  ‘Yes, I’d have told you before but I didn’t want to alarm you.’ He took her arm and they walked on.

  ‘Why should anyone follow us? There’s no sense in it. You must be mistaken.’

  ‘I’m not mistaken,’ declared Neil with conviction. ‘You see, he’s not doing it very well. I mean you read in books about people being “shadowed,” and of course in books the “shadowers” creep along silently, unheard by their quarry. This chap—whoever he is—doesn’t know his job. I can hear his footsteps quite clearly. You’d hear them yourself if you stopped talking for a minute.’

  Julia felt inclined to point out that it was not she who had been talking incessantly, but she was rather frightened so she refrained . . . and listened . . . and now that they were silent she could hear footsteps coming along behind.

  ‘Neil, are you sure?’ she whispered. ‘I mean it could just be someone who happened to be going this way, couldn’t it?’

  ‘It couldn’t, really. Perhaps you haven’t noticed that I’ve been hurrying you along and then dawdling and then hurrying again. If it had just been somebody going this way he would have passed us or been left behind . . . and when we stopped and I paid my debt of honour the footsteps stopped too. I was hoping he would pass but he didn’t.’

  ‘Oh goodness! What had we better do?’

  ‘If I were alone I’d know what to do,’ declared Neil savagely. ‘I’d turn round and go after him, I’d seize him and shake him till his teeth rattled . . . but I’ve got to get rid of you first.’

  He was hurrying her along again so that she was almost breathless.

  ‘Need we—go—quite so fast?’ she gasped.

  ‘No, of course not—sorry—it’s just that I want to get rid of you,’ explained Neil, slowing down.

  ‘Do you think it’s a tramp?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Well, who could it be?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Neil, who could it be?’ asked Julia urgently.

  ‘Well, as a matter of fact there was a burglary last night at Dunbar. A house was broken into and some jewellery stolen. There’s a lot about it in the Evening Despatch.’

  ‘Neil, you don’t think——’

  ‘Well, you never know,’ said Neil cheerfully. ‘It might be the fellow or it might not. The police have been warned to keep a lookout for him. That’s why I want to get rid of you before I tackle him—see?’

  Julia saw. The sight did nothing to allay her fears, but fortunately by this time they had reached the gate.

  ‘You must come in,’ she declared, as they went up the path. ‘Neil, you must come in—he may be desperate—you can’t tackle him alone. You must come in and we’ll ring up the police. That’s the sensible thing to do.’

  Neil took the latch-key from her trembling hand, opened the door and pushed her inside.

  ‘Neil, you must come in!’ cried Julia, clinging to him with all her strength.

  ‘Nonsense!’ cried Neil, laughing and shaking her off as if she had been a kitten. ‘Away with you, Julia! I can’t wait to get after him! Now that I’ve got rid of you safely it’s all right—it’s fun!’

  The door banged between them and he was off.

  Julia fled upstairs to her bedroom window and leaned out. She could see the figure of a man in the distance; he had turned and was walking away quickly; Neil was running after him. Hunter and quarry had changed places! She wondered what would happen when Neil caught him . . . but they both disappeared round the corner leaving the road empty of life.

  Oh dear! thought Julia. How awful men are! No wonder there are wars!

  It was distressing, but all the same you could not help admiring courage. If Neil had come in and rung up the police it would have been sensible—but tame. A tame man would be simply horrible, thought Julia as she undressed and prepared for bed. Neil certainly was not tame, whatever else he might be. She was not worried about what was happening to Neil—not the slightest bit—in fact, when she saw the bruises on her arm where Neil had gripped her, she felt just a tiny bit sorry for the burglar. Perhaps at this very moment he was being shaken till his teeth rattled.

  Serve him right! thought Julia, smiling to herself as she snuggled down comfortably in bed.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  As a matter of fact Julia was entirely mistaken. The interview which was in progress beneath one of Leddiesford’s infrequent lamp-posts did not necessitate physical violence. Neil—by no means certain of the fellow’s identity—decided that it might be as well to make sure before doing anything that he might regret. He moderated his speed and timed his approach until the lamppost was at hand before seizing the man’s arm in a vice-like grip. By this time Neil’s vague suspicions were confirmed and he knew exactly whom he had got hold of . . . and it certainly was not a housebreaker!

  ‘Let go of me!’ exclaimed the victim, struggling to free himself and failing. ‘Let go of me at once or I shall call the police.’

  ‘Who are you?’ demanded Neil. ‘What do you think you’re doing, skulking about like this and frightening girls!’

  ‘Frightening girls!’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I said. Here, let me have a look at you!’ Neil swung his captive round and surveyed his face in the light of the lamp. ‘Good heavens!’ he exclaimed, feigning intense surprise. ‘Good heavens! It’s Mr. Morland Beverley!’

  ‘Yes. Let go of my arm at once.’

  Neil released him, aware that he could catch him again if necessary.

  ‘I suppose,’ said Mr. Morland Beverley with elaborate sarcasm, ‘I suppose there isn’t a law in this benighted country forbidding a gentleman to go out for an evening stroll?’

  (So he really does talk like that, thought Neil. I can do it too.) Aloud he said, ‘Most certainly there is a law forbidding a gentleman to follow a lady and frighten her. I should have thought there was a law of that nature in most civilised countries.’

  ‘I had no intention of frightening anyone.’

  ‘Your conduct was extremely unconventional to say the least of it. My cousin and I were——’

  ‘Your cousin?’

  ‘My cousin, Julia Harburn. I was escorting her home when——’

  ‘I had no idea she was your cousin. As a matter of fact I was not aware she had a cousin. It seems strange that she never mentioned the fact.’

  ‘I see nothing strange about it,’ declared Neil with absolute truth. ‘And anyway that is not the point. You have not explained your behaviour. It was most alarming.’

  ‘Alarming?’

  ‘I was taking my cousin home,’ said Neil (resisting the temptation to say that he had been escorting her to her uncle’s residence), ‘I was taking her home after her interview with you at the Black Bull when suddenly we discovered we were being dogged.’

  ‘Dogged?’

  ‘Yes, dogged,’ said Neil emphatically. ‘Shadowed—if you prefer the word. Believe me it is an unpleasant experience.’

  ‘You are making a great deal of fuss about nothing.’

  ‘Not at all, Mr. Beverley. Perhaps you don’t read the Evening Despatch. In to-night’s edition there is an account of a case of housebreaking at Dunbar and the police have been warned to keep a lookout for a man who was concerned in the crime.’

  The Evening Despatch was not a paper wit
h which Morland was familiar, but it so happened that he had found a copy in the lounge of the Black Bull and, having nothing else to read, he had read it from beginning to end.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said, taken aback. ‘Yes, I see. Yes, I did happen to—to notice it. But I wasn’t following you—or at least not in the sense you mean. I merely wanted to ascertain where Miss Harburn was living.’

  ‘It’s quite impossible for you to see my cousin again to-night,’ said Neil firmly. ‘It’s getting on for eleven o’clock; she’ll be in bed by this time. I only hope she’ll be able to sleep after her terrifying experience.’

  ‘Terrifying experience? Really Mr.—er——’

  ‘Being dogged like that. She was extremely shaken. I was obliged to take the latch-key from her hand to open the door. Your conduct was most reprehensible for any man who calls himself a gentleman.’

  ‘But I’ve told you!’ exclaimed Morland, whose high-flown language had deserted him completely. ‘I’ve told you I didn’t mean any harm and I never intended to try to see Julia again to-night. I only wanted to find out where she lived so that I could call and see her at a reasonable hour to-morrow morning.’

  ‘Couldn’t you have asked your way to The Square House?’

  ‘I did,’ replied Morland. ‘I asked the landlord—or whatever he calls himself—but I couldn’t understand a word he said.’

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Neil in astonishment. ‘Rab Sinclair did that to you! I wouldn’t have believed it!’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean. The man was speaking in his own extraordinary——’

  ‘The man was offering you a deliberate insult.’

  ‘An insult?’

  ‘Yes, you must have riled him. I mean you must have annoyed him beyond the limits of his endurance. That same Rab Sinclair can speak as good English as yourself—or very nearly. He sits with his eyes and ears glued to his fine new television set for hours at a time.’

  ‘Then, why—’ began poor Morland in bewilderment.

  ‘Never mind, Mr. Beverley,’ said Neil quite kindly; for now that his victim was subdued and was talking like an ordinary human being and was looking so harassed, he had not the heart to persecute him any more. ‘Never mind, there’s no need to worry about it . . . but I had better see you safely back to the inn.’