by Anthony Hope
CHAPTER VI
A MAN WITH A THEORY
Even Miss Bussey was inclined to think that all had happened for thebest. John's eloquence had shaken her first disapprobation; the visiblehappiness of the persons chiefly concerned pleaded yet morepersuasively. What harm, after all, was done, except for a littletrouble and a little gossip? To these Mary and John were utterlyindifferent. At first they had been rather shy in referring, before oneanother, to their loves, but custom taught them to mention the nameswithout confusion, and ere long they had exchanged confidences as totheir future plans. John's arrangement was obviously the more prudentand becoming. He discountenanced Mary's suggestion of an unannounceddescent on Cannes, and persuaded her to follow his example and informher lover that she would await news from him in Paris. They were to putup at the European, and telegrams there from Cannes would rind them onand after April 28th. All this valuable information was contained inthe dispatches, which lay, with their priceless messages, on the saidApril 28th, in Mr. Arthur Laing's flannel jacket, inside hisportmanteau, on the way to Paris.
Paris claims to be the centre of the world, and if it be, the world hasa very good centre. Anyhow Paris becomes, from this moment, the centreof this drama. Not only was Arthur Laing being whirled there by theNice express, and Miss Bussey's party proceeding thither by the eleveno'clock train from Victoria--Mary laughed as she thought it might havebeen her honeymoon she was starting on--but the Bellairs and theirfriends were heading for the same point. Miss Bussey's party had thepleasanter journey; they were all of one mind; Miss Bussey was eager toreach Paris because it was the end of the journey; John and Marydesired nothing but the moment when with trembling fingers they shouldtear open their telegrams in the hall of the hotel. The expedition fromthe south did not enjoy a like unanimity; but before following theirsteps we may, in the interest of simplicity, land the first detachmentsafely at its destination.
When Mary and John, followed by Miss Bussey--they outstripped her intheir eagerness--entered the hotel, a young man with an eye-glass wasjust engaging a bedroom. John took his place beside the stranger, andasked in a voice, which he strove to render calm, if there were anyletters for----.
"Beg pardon, sir. In one moment," said the clerk, and he added toLaing, "Number 37, sir." Laing--Oh, the irony of things!--turned onJohn and his companion just that one supercilious glance which webestow on other tourists, and followed his baggage upstairs.
"Anything," resumed John, "for Miss Travers or Mr. Ashforth?" And hesucceeded in looking as if he did not care a straw whether there wereor not.
After a search the porter answered, "Nothing, sir."
"What?" exclaimed John, aghast? "Oh, nonsense, look again."
Another search followed; it was without result.
John saw Mary's appealing eyes fixed on him.
"Nothing," he said tragically.
"Oh, John!"
"Have you taken the rooms, Mr. Ash forth?" inquired Miss Bussey.
"No. I'm sorry. I forgot all about them."
Miss Bussey was tired; she had been seasick, and the train always madeher feel queer.
"Has neither of you got an ounce of wits about you?" she demanded, andplunged forward to the desk. John and Mary received their numbers ingloomy silence, and mounted the stairs.
Now Arthur Laing in his hasty survey of the party had arrived at a notunnatural but wholly erroneous conclusion. He had seen a young man,rather nervous, a young woman, looking anxious and shy, and an elderlyperson, plainly dressed (Miss Bussey was no dandy) sitting (Miss Busseyalways sat as soon as she could) on, a trunk. He took John and Mary fora newly married couple, and Miss Bussey for an old family servantdetailed to look after her young mistress's entry into independenthousekeeping.
"More infernal honeymooners," he said to himself, as he washed hishands. "The place is always full of 'em. Girl wasn't bad-looking,though."
The next morning, unhappily, confirmed him in his mistake. For MissBussey, overcome by the various trials of the day before, kept her bed,and when Laing came down, the first sight which met his eyes was abreakfast-table, whereat Mary and John sat tete-a-tete. He eyed themwith that mixture of scorn and envy which their supposed situationawakens in a bachelor's heart, and took a place from which he couldsurvey them at leisure. There is a bright side to everything; and thatof Laing's mistake was the pleasure he derived from his delusion.Sticking his glass firmly in his eye, he watched like a cat for thoseplayful little endearments which his cynical mood--he was, like many ofus, not at his best in the morning--led him to anticipate. He watchedin vain. The young people were decorum itself; more than that, theyshowed signs of preoccupation; they spoke only occasionally, and thenwith a business-like brevity.
Suddenly the waiter entered, with a hand fid of letters which heproceeded to distribute. Laing expected none, and kept his gaze on hishoneymooners. To his surprise they showed animation enough now; theireyes were first on the waiter's approaching form; the bridegroom evenrose an inch or two from his seat; both stretched out their hands.
Alas, with a little bow, a smile, and a shrug, the waiter passed by,and the disappointed couple sank back, with looks of blank despair.
Surely here was enough to set any open-minded man on the right track!Yes; but not enough to free one who was tied and bound to his owntheory.
"She's dashed anxious to hoar from home!" mused Laing. "Poor girl! Itain't over and above flattering to him, though."
He finished his breakfast and went out to smoke. Presently he saw hisfriends come out also; they went to the porter's desk and he hoard oneof them say "telegram." A sudden idea struck him.
"I am an ass!" said he. "Tell you what it is they've wired for roomssomewhere--Monte, most likely--and can't start till they get an answer."
He was so pleased with his explanation that his last doubt vanished andhe watched Mary and John start for a walk--the fraternal relations theyhad established would have allowed such a thing even in London, muchmore in Paris--with quite a benevolent smile.
"Aunt Sarah is really quite poorly," remarked Mary as they crossed theroad and entered the Tuileries Gardens. "She'll have to stay in allto-day and perhaps tomorrow. Isn't it hard upon her? Paris amuses herso much."
John expressed his sympathy.
"Now if it had been you or I," he ended, "we shouldn't have minded.Paris doesn't amuse us just now."
"Oh, but, John, we must be ready to start at any moment."
"You can't start without Miss Bussey,"
"I think that in a wagon-lit----" began Mary.
"But what's the good of talking?" cried John, bitterly. "Why is thereno news from her?"
"He _might_ have wired--John, is it possible our telegrams went astray?"
"Well, we must wait a day or two; or, if you like, we can wire again."
Mary hesitated.
"I--I can't do that, John. Suppose he'd received the first, and--and--"
"Yes, I see. I don't want to humiliate myself either."
"We'll wait a day, anyhow. And, now, John, let's think no more aboutthem! Oh, well, that's nonsense; but let's enjoys ourselves as well aswe can."
They managed to enjoy themselves very well. The town was new to Mary,and John found a pleasure in showing it off to her. After a morning ofsight-seeing, they drove in the Bois, and ended the day at the theatre.Miss Bussey, unfortunately, was no better. She had sent for an Englishdoctor and he talked vaguely about two or three days in bed. Maryventured to ask whether her aunt could travel.
"Oh, if absolutely necessary, perhaps; but much better not," was theanswer.
Well, it was not absolutely necessary yet, for no letter and notelegram arrived. This was the awful fact that greeted them when theycame in from the theatre.
"We'll wire the first thing to-morrow," declared John, in a resolutetone. "Write yours to-night, Mary, and I'll give, them to the porter--"
"Oh, not mine, please," cried Mary, in shrinking bashfulness. "I can'tlet the porter see mine!"
"W
ell, then, we'll take them out before breakfast to-morrow."
To this Mary agreed, and they sat down and wrote their dispatches.While they were so engaged Laing jumped out of a cab and entered theroom. He seized an English paper, and, flinging himself into a chair,began to study the sporting news. Presently he stole a glance at Mary.It so chanced that just at the same moment she was stealing a glance athim. Mary dropped her eyes with a blush; Laing withdrew behind hispaper.
"Shy, of course. Anybody would be," he thought, with a smile.
"Did you like the piece, Mary?" asked John.
"Oh, very much. I wish Aunt Sarah could have seen it. She missed somuch fun."
"Well, she could hardly have come with us, could she?" remarked John.
"Oh, no," said Mary.
"Well, I should rather think not," whispered Laing, who failed toidentify 'Aunt Sarah' with the elderly person on the trunk.
"I shouldn't have been happy if she had," said Mary.
"I simply wouldn't have let her," said John, in that authoritative tonewhich so well became him.
"No more would I in your place, old chap," murmured Mr. Laing.
Mary rose.
"Thanks for all your kindness, John. Good-night."
"I'm so glad you've had a pleasant day. Good-night, Mary."
So they parted--with a good-night as calm, as decorous, as franklyfraternal as one could wish (or wish otherwise). Yet its very virtuesundid it in the prematurely suspicious eyes of Arthur Laing. For nosooner was he left alone than he threw down his paper and began tochuckle.
"All for my benefit, that, eh? 'Goodnight, Mary!' 'Good-night, John!'Lord! Lord!" and he rose, lit a cigarette, and ordered abrandy-and-soda. And ever and again he smiled. He felt very acuteindeed.
So vain is it for either wisdom or simplicity, candor ordiplomacy--nay, for facts themselves--to struggle against a Man with aTheory. Mr. Laing went to bed no more doubting that Mary and John wereman and wife than he doubted that he had 'spotted' the winner of theDerby. Certitude could no farther go.