"Yes."
"But I thought—" Maxine groped in her memory afresh "—I thought you said he was rather the outer edge. Bit of a bounder and not even completely honest.''
"Did I say that?"
"Yes, of course you did. In the early days. Recently, you haven't said anything about him."
"Oh, well, I was mistaken. In the beginning, I mean." Maxine regarded her sister speculatively.
"You haven't just been swept off your feet, have you, pet? I mean—when you say it isn t really official, and that you don't usually wear your ring, it sounds a bit hole-and-cornerish. I don't very much like it."
Harriet was sadly tempted to say that she hadn't much liked it, either. But to start explaining to Maxine now would involve her in too much. When it was all safely over....
She sighed, wondering if there would ever be such a time. "It's all right, Maxine," she insisted reassuringly, "I'm not taking any of it very seriously."
"You took a very handsome ring," commented her sister shrewdly. "But perhaps you may decide not to keep it. Is that it?"
That was so exactly "it" that Harriet smiled as she agreed.
"We-ell" said Maxine doubtfully, and left the rest unexpressed.
As a matter of fact, the one word, drawn out like that and accompanied by so thoughtful a look meant many things. It meant that she supposed it was all right, if Harriet said so, and that in any case, her sister was entitled to her private affairs. But, most of all, it meant that Maxine was surprised by some subtle change in her sister. Something that suggested that she had learned a good deal in the months since she left London and had become a much more experienced and complicated person.
However, it was not in Maxine to linger analytically over any discovery or impression. So presently she dismissed the matter entirely—or almost entirely—from her mind, and the two sisters settled down to a long exchange of news and gossip, which was interrupted only by the pleasant diversion of making tea.
It was during this prolonged meal that the telephone rang. And although it was Maxine who went to answer it, Harriet looked expectant, as she never had in the days when she lived here. At that time, no one telephoned her. Every telephone message was automatically for Maxine.
"It's for you, Harriet."
The slight note of surprise in Maxine's voice marked still further the change that had taken place in her opinion of Harriet.
Harriet took the receiver, and immediately Brent's voice, pitched on a note of cheerful congratulation, sounded in her ear.
"Total victory, Harriet. Thanks for preparing the ground so well, my child. Everything went perfectly."
*'0h, Vm so glad, Brent.'* She spoke with sincerity. "You mean there is no further need to worry?"
"Not the slightest. You can sleep soundly tonight in the knowledge that, in the tradition of all the best fiancees, you have saved your beloved from disaster.**
She didn t answer that.
"Hello! Are you there?**
"Oh, yes. Fm here. When do we go back home?'*
"By the midday train tomorrow.
"^fot earlier? *'^
"No. There are still one or two things to arrange. Minor details, that *s all.*'
"Very well. I'll meet you at the station. **
"Not before then?**
"No.**
"You're quite sure you wouldn *t like to come out with me this evening and celebrate?**
"Quite sure, thank you.'*
"Very well.*' He gave a rueful laugh. "Till tomorrow.*'
As Harriet replaced the receiver, she found Maxine's somewhat puzzled gaze upon her.
"Was that your nance? Your Brent?" Maxine inq^uired.
"Yes," Harriet said briefly, disliking the description.
"Good heavens!*'
"Why?** Harriet looked amused and surprised.
"Nothing. I was just thinking—I've been more cordial to the coal man, myself But I suppose it's a difference in temperament."
"1 daresay,** Harriet agreed. And they left the subject there.
But when, half an hour later, the telephone bell rang again, Maxine said: "I wonder if this is for you, too,'* as she went to answer it.
"Oh, no. Brent has no further reason to phone,** Harriet replied positively. "I arranged with him—**
"For you," Maxine reported, this time without surprise.
* * Are you sure? Is it Brent again?''
"I suppose so," Maxine said, as she handed over the telephone.
But it was not Brent. It was Lin who said: "Harriet, could you arrange to see me again before you leave town? There is something I want to discuss with you."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
To THE BEST of her belief, Harriet exchanged nothing but the most commonplace remarks with Lin, concerned entirely with arrangements for her to visit his office again the next morning. And yet, as she slowly replaced the receiver again, Maxine remarked positively, "That wasn 't Brent."
"No," Harriet agreed absently. And then, more attentively: "No, it wasn't. How did you know?"
"Because your manner was entirely different."
"Oh?"
"That's the man you're fond of, Harriet."
Harriet managed to laugh protestingly.
"How can you possibly say such a thing? We only exchanged half a dozen sentences. And all of those were completely prosaic.''
"I was thinking of the way your face changed, when you recognized his voice. Who was he, Harriet? Or don't you want to say?"
"I don't in the least mind telling you." Harriet was determinedly frank. "It was Lindsay Mayhew. He wanted to see me before I went back home—to Fourways, I mean. I expect he has some message for his mother."
But she knew he could have no message for his mother. And, all the while she was laughingly putting off Maxine *s odd suspicion she was really wondering, with a sort of fearful curiosity, what it was that he wanted to say to her.
Surely, surely Brent had not said anything spiteful—or incautious? He had sounded so joyous and on top of the world that she was convinced nothing could have gone wrong. At least, she was almost convinced that nothing could have gone wrong.
She tried to recall the exact tone of Lin *s voice. Had he sounded cold or suspicious or critical? No, really, she couldn't think that he nad. If anything, he had sounded just polite and slightly apologetic for troubling her.
She began to wonder how he had known where to find her. Had Brent told him? Had they discussed her in some
f)ersonal way? What had they said to each other during that ong afternoon session together? In spite of herself, she began to feel nervous again. And she had no idea that this was reflected in her abstracted manner.
Maxine glanced at her curiously once or twice. But, with all her lighthearted and light-headed chatter, she did also know when to keep silent. And she decided that this was one of the occasions when sisterly curiosity would be singularly unwelcome.
After a while, Harriet managed to throw off her nervous anxieties. Or at least to push them away to a distance. And the rest of the evening was spent in the sort of pleasant idling that can have delicious significance only to members of the same family or very close friends.
But, when even Maxine had agreed that it was bed time, and the camp bed had been made up and the two girls had finally retired for the night, Harriet lay wide awake, listening to Maxine's easy and regular breathing, and wondering over and over again—Why, why did Lin want to see her once more?
It was a long time before she slept. And, even then, her vague anxieties seemed to follow her into her dreams.
The next morning, Maxine was loud in her expressions of regret that the visit was so soon over.
"You don't think you'll have time to dash back here, between this interview with Mr. Mayhew, and your catching your train?" she suggested hopefully.
"No, dear. Unless it's something quite unimportant, he's bound to keep me a little while. And my train goes at twelve."
"Well, if it is something unimportant—still
, I suppose he wouldn't have bothered you to go along to his office if it hadn't been fairly important. He'd have settled the matter by phone."
"Yes," Harriet said. And wished her spirits wouldn't
sink so ridiculously low just because Maxine carelessly confirmed her own reflection.
They bade each other an affectionate goodbye, Maxine remarking that now the precedent had been established, the visit could be repeated as often as Mrs. Mayhew could spare her. And Harriet, outwardly extremely calm, took her way to Lin's office once more.
Unlike the previous day, the morning was dull and overcast, with a general air of gloom and menace. And, as Harriet entered the building, she nervously contrasted her present anxiety with the joyful relief that had possessed her when she left it not twenty-four hours ago.
This time she had to wait a few minutes until he was free. And these few minutes dragged themselves out more painfully than any others. However, presently even that had been endured lon§ enough, and Lin himself came out of his oflfice to usher her m.
He smiled and apologized for having kept her, with a friendly air that did something to reassure her.
"And I must also apologize for bringing you along here at all," he added, as he closed the door behind them. "I know your time is short. *'
"It's quite all right," Harriet assured him. "How did you know where to find me? "
"You told me that you were staying with your sister, Maxine. I took a chance on finding you in."
Then he had worked the thing out for himself She took some courage from that, and smiled at him as she sat down in the chair mdicated.
She thought he would immediately plunge into the explanation of why he had brought her there. But, though he sat down facing her, he did not begin to speak at once. And, after a moment, it was she who said: "Thank you very, very much for what you are doing for Brent."
He smiled, just a trifle grimly, and said, with candor, "I am doing it a great deal more for you than for Brent."
"Thank you," she murmured, and felt uncomfortably that she was a fraud.
He seemed a good deal occupied with one or two things on his desk. Then he looked up suddenly and asked: "Has Brent given you exact details of the arrangement?"
"No. Oh, no. He just telephoned and told me—"
*'Do you mean to say you haven't seen him since he came here?'*
He was patently astonished.
"No. You see, I wanted to spend the evening with my sister. I hadn't seen her since I went to Fourways," she explained, suddenly aware that some very pressing reason was needed to explain why she and her adored fiance had not met to talk over the happy solution of all their difficulties.
"I see.*' But he hardly seemed to do so. And after a moment, he added,''That makes it a bit awkward.''
"Does it?"
*'Yes. You see—" he paused, rubbed his chin meditatively, and then went on, with a curious air of embarrassment "—I was not able to do exactly what Brent wanted, Harriet, because—"
"But he told me you did!" she cried, in dismay and astojiishment. "He said ... he said everything went perfectly."
"Did he?" Lin's voice sounded a trifle dry. "Well, I expect what he meant was that he was very well satisfied with the alternative I suggested."
"0-oh."
It sounded all right, of course, but, for some reason or other, she felt rather dubious about the whole thing. She remembered Lin's saying to her, the previous afternoon, "Could you be a Uttle more explicit? and she felt like repeating his own words to him.
"You mean that you didn't feel able to put in a good word for him with your friend?" she said, rather timidly.
"My dear Harriet, I think you ought to know that it was very much more than asking me to put in a good word for him. What he proposed would have meant either that I deceived my friena—and client—into thinking that something was perfectly sound, when it was not, or else that I asked him to condone something definitely shady, as a personal favor to me. I really couldn't think of doing either, you know."
"N-no. I do see that. But—" she stared at him in puzzled dismay, because there had been no doubting Brent's complete satisfaction "—but what did you do then?"
"I took the only possible way out. That of crudely buying
Brent out of his troubles, by supplying him with the money he had represented himself—quite incorrectly—as having. That meant—"
"No!"
The violence of her dismay startled them both, and he stared at her while, white and with blazing eyes, she struggled to find other words.
"No, no, no!" she repeated. "I won't have you do that! I told him I wouldn 't. I will not be used as a stooge for getting money out of you so that Brent can squander it. You're not to give him anything, Lin. You're not to. Oh, this is too much! I said I wouldn't have it. Oh, why did I ever get involved in this?" She Uterally wrung her hands. "It serves me right. I'm very rightly punished." And she buried her face in her hands and sobbed excitedly.
"Harriet, please!'' He was astounded and distressed. "My dear girl, there isn't the slightest need to take it like this-"
"There is! I said that was the one thing I wouldn't do for him—have you tricked into giving him money—"
"I wasn't tricked, Harriet. The suggestion was my own."
"Oh, yes, but you were tricked, all the same," she sobbed brokenly. "You did it because of me—not through any friendship for Brent."
"Well—that I grant you." He smiled a little grimly, but, as her face was hidden, she didn't see that. "I'm afraid you mustn't expect me to show friendly concern for Brent, in addition to everything else. But I'm very willing to do it for you, Harriet."
"Oh, no! Oh, no!" The suggestion seemed to distress her more than anything else. "You mustn't do it, I don't want you to do it."
"But, dear child, I've already told Brent I will."
"You must tell him you won't, after all. How much was it?"
"Oh, Harriet, really I think-"
She looked up at last.
"How much was it?"
He made a slight face.
"I'm afraid I'm not prepared to tell you that. But it isn't more than I can afford.''
"That isn*t the point. I won't have you do it, even if it's a small sum."
He was silent, and she knew it was not a small sum.
"Oh, Lin!"
She looked at him despairingly. And, as though he could not help it, he came and sat on the arm of her chair and put his arm around her.
"Look here, Harriet, you are taking this in quite the wrong way," he said gently. "I think I know why you're so upset. You didn't mind my giving any help I could, when I was able to exercise that help myself and see that it wasn't put to other—perhaps improper—uses. Now that you know this help has got to take the form of money, you're afraid, in spite of all your loyalty to Brent, that it may not be used for tne purpose for which it is given. Isn 't that it? "
Sne snook her head.
"I just don't want you to give him money because of me," she repeated wretchedly.
He gave a half-vexed little laugh.
"My dear, it is the only way in which I can help him, and, as I tell you, I am perfectly willing to do it. No, wait a moment—" as she made another movement of violent protest "—at the same time, I am too old a hand to allow Brent to take sole charge of a large—of any sum of money. And my reason for bringing you here today was that I wished you to know what was happening and to exercise a—what shall I say—a sort of friendly supervision over the disposal of it."
'Tor we to?"
"Yes."
She shook her head again as though there were nothing of all this with which she could possibly agree.
"But, Harriet, that was my whole intention, in having you here before Brent arrives to settle the final details."
"Brent?" She looked up again with a sort of desperate eagerness."Is Brent coming here this morning?"
"Why, yes. We couldn't make more than the preliminary arrangements yesterday, you know
."
" When is he coming?"
Lin glanced at his desk clock.
"Any time now, I suppose. In fact, he may already be here, waiting."
"Will you please have your secretary in and see if he is here?"
Lin glanced at her doubtfully.
"It's all right. I'll go and look out of the window." And, drying her eyes perfunctorily, she got up and went over to the window, where she stood with her back to the room, powdering her face, while Lin summoned his efficient secretary and asked if Mr. Penrose had yet come.
"Yes, Mr. Mayhew. He's in the outer office now."
"Shall we have him in right away?" Lin inquired of Harriet's back.
"We might as well." She managed to reply quite casually, though she still remained turned away, as though intent on her makeup.
"Please show Mr. Penrose in, then. Miss Carter."
Miss Carter withdrew, to return a few moments later, accompanied by an amiably smiling Brent.
He looked slightly taken aback when he saw Harriet. But, almost before Miss Carter had departed once more, he was greeting her with the "Hello, dading," of a satisfactorily devotedfianc^.
Harriet turned around to face him and the room. It was obvious that she had been crying, but she had herself well in hand. Now that the moment of supreme crisis had arrived and she had decided to have a complete showdown, she was completely calm.
"Brent, I made it quite clear to you that I would not have Lin asked for money."
"My dear—" it was Lin who interposed, a little annoy-edly " —I have already told you that / made the offer.''
"It's the same thing. Brent knows what I mean."
"I'm afraid I don't, sweetheart." Brent smiled at her, but just a little dangerously. "Lin couldn't see his way to help me in the manner I suggested, but most generously offered to do it with money instead. Are you suggesting that I should have refused?''
^^Of course you should have refused! He—he offered you the money because he thinks I love you and am engaged to you and that my happiness depends on your being kept out of trjouble. I know I was wrong—terribly, terribly wrong—to let him think that, even to the extent of helping you verbally. But I will not have Jiim done out of a large sum of
The second collection of 3 great novels by Mary Burchell Page 40