CHAPTER XI.
The final departure of Bulpert erased a troublesome detail in thegirl's life, and she felt suitably thankful; another disappearance gaveher a sensation of regret. She had thought seriously of the patient,elderly man whom she had now to look upon as her parent, and planned ascheme, to be prefaced by something in the nature of a brief lecture,involving pecuniary sacrifice; her game of bricks was knocked over bythe hand of Fate, and Gertie Higham had to put them back into the box.Mrs. Mills told her much that had hitherto been a secret shared by Mr.Trew.
"Quite a good sort he was, my dear, until your poor young mother went,and then--well, Mr. Trew met him when he came out of Wormwood Scrubbs,and your father's first words were, 'Don't let the kid ever know!'Meaning yourself. So we kept it from you, you see, and I hope youdon't blame us. No doubt, he recognized you, because you're so muchlike your poor mother, only more stylish, and of course bettereducated, and I suppose he felt as though he had to speak. Very likelyhe won't ever let you see him again."
"Wish I knew where to find him now."
"He was like a lot of the others. Not really bad, you understand, butjust rather easily led; and because he thought everything was goingagainst him, he became reckless. And he belonged to the old days whenonce in prison meant always in prison, and no one ever thought that aman who had made a single blunder could be reformed. I often used tothink," declared Mrs. Mills, "that something ought to be done, but ofcourse I had my business to look after."
"You found time to look after me, aunt."
"If you could realize," argued the other earnestly, "what a dear babyyou was then, you wouldn't trouble to give me any credit for that."She hesitated. "What I've always hoped," lowering her voice, "thatsome day I might see another one like you."
"Madame's case," said Gertie, "is a warning to me. I want the rightkind of husband, or none at all!"
From Clarence Mills, calling at Praed Street, came news that LadyDouglass had been instructed to go abroad so soon as she became wellenough to endure the journey; to his great concern, Miss Loriner wasinstructed to accompany her. Gertie asked for further information, andClarence replied that Henry Douglass had not given up the office in OldQuebec Street; indeed, he recently entered a competition for plans of aprovincial art gallery, and his portrait was in some journal consequenton the decision of the judges. Gertie presumed that Clarence did nothappen to have this with him; Clarence found the cutting in hisletter-case and presented it. (Later, it was mounted carefully andplaced in a small frame, and given a position upon her dressing-table.)Clarence's book was out, and he had just seen a copy at Paddington,with a card bearing the words, "Tremendously Thrilling."
On another point, Clarence was able to announce that Henry had heldsomething like a court-martial at Ewelme, with all concerned present.Jim Langham gave evidence; and Lady Douglass, when her turn came,suggested the key had been placed in her bag by Miss Loriner. Uponwhich Miss Loriner declared it would be impossible, in view of thisremark, to give her company to Beaulieu; and Lady Douglass, without anyfurther hesitation, confessed the truth, urging, in excuse, that it wasbut natural in this world to look after oneself, adding a caution tothe effect that anything in the nature of a scene would now mar thework of the London specialist. Henry's mother, it appeared, was infavour of taking the risk.
"I don't want to see her punished," remarked Gertie. "So long as heknows I was not to blame, I'm perfectly satisfied."
Clarence had private audience with Mrs. Mills before going, and, as aresult, Sarah, the temporary assistant at the party, came to PraedStreet daily; Mrs. Mills admitted that, seeing her niece frequently,any want of colour might not be so apparent to her as to any one whosaw the girl less often. Sarah's objections to living in were easy tomeet; the only other provision was that liberty should be given if herservices were required for "Puss in Boots" during the Christmas period.An excellent worker, Sarah left nothing to be done at the end of theday, and Gertie, arriving home after the stress of business at GreatTitchfield Street, was able to rest in the parlour, or give assistancein the shop.
She was making out orders for Christmas cards at the newspaper counterone night (the popular remark of customers at this period was "Ain'tthe evenings drawing in something awful!") when a man rushed in andlooked around in a dazed, frightened manner. He muttered indistinctlysome explanation, and was going off, when Gertie called to him.
"Thought it was a bar," he said confusedly. "My mistake."
"Come here, Mr. Langham," she ordered, putting down her book. "Sit onthe high chair." He obeyed, blinking up at the light. "What's thematter?"
Jim Langham was trembling. He leaned across, and whispered.
"You've seen a ghost?" she echoed. "Don't be so stupid. There are nosuch things nowadays, especially in a neighbourhood like this. Wheredid you come across it?"
"Near--near the station. I've only just come from Wallingford. I washurrying up the slope on the right-hand side, and about to turn intothe hotel, when across the way--"
He looked around apprehensively, and caught sight of Mrs. Mills peepingover the half blind of the parlour door. Gertie sent her a reassuringnod, and she disappeared.
"What have I done," he wailed appealingly, "that everybody should spy?A police sergeant gazed at me in a most peculiar way about two minutesago. What does it mean, Miss Higham?"
"Doesn't matter what it means," she said sharply, "so long as you'vedone nothing wrong. Pull yourself together, Mr. Langham. Why don'tyou knock off the drink, and be a man?"
"I'll go and get some now."
"It will do you no good. You've been in the habit of taking it whenyou didn't need it, and you've spoilt it as a remedy. Stay here for awhile, and calm yourself."
"Bad enough," he complained, "when living people begin to track youabout, but when the others start doing it--!" He shivered. Gertiewent to the parlour, and asked her aunt to make some coffee.
"Has Lady Douglass gone away yet?"
"Now why, apropos of nothing, should you mention her name?"
"You never did have much sense about you, and now you seem to have noneat all. Concentrate your mind. Think! What was the question I put toyou?" He admitted he could not recall it, and she repeated the inquiry.
"Leaves early to-morrow morning," he answered; "that is partly why Ihave come up to town. I don't want to see her again before she goes."Jim Langham rested elbows on the counter, and covered eyes with hishands. "Have you ever," he asked, "in the course of your existence,met with a bigger fool than me?"
"To be quite candid," said Gertie, "I don't think I have."
She fetched the cup from the back room, and brought it to him. Hesipped at the hot beverage, and appeared to recover.
"Do you mind if I smoke?" he asked courteously.
She laughed. "This is half a tobacconist's shop!"
"Quite so," remarked Jim Langham, taking a cigar from his case. "Isay," he went on confidentially, taking the movable gas jet, "do youknow anything about the Argentine?"
"Mr. Trew might tell you something about it if he were here. I don'ttake any interest in horse-racing."
"It's a place in South America," he said. "I've an idea of getting outthere, and making a fresh start. But I'm in the state of mind thatprevents me from knowing how to set about it. It would be a greatkindness on your part to give me some assistance."
"I want all the money I've saved up."
He placed his hand in his waistcoat pocket and pulled out sovereigns.Gertie, taking a newspaper, turned the pages to find the shippingadvertisements.
"'The R. M. S. P.,'" she read. "I thought that meant you had to replyto an invitation. Oh, I see. Royal Mail Steam Packet. Here's theaddress. There's a boat leaving to-morrow. Would you like to catchthat?"
"The earlier the better," he cried. "I must get away at once. Now,who can do it all?"
A lad came for a packet of cigarettes, and, as Gertie served him, Mr.Trew entered the doorway; his cheerfu
l salutation caused Jim Langham tostart. Trew announced, joyously, that he was up to the neck introuble; for failing to see a young constable's warning in OxfordStreet, he had been suspended from duty for a period of three days.
"As I told him, if a driver took notice of all the baby hands held up,why the 'bus would never reach Victoria. Howsomever, here I am; my ownmaster for a time, and ready to make myself generally useless. Whatabout a half-day excursion to Brighton to-morrow, little missy?"
"This, Mr. Trew, is Mr. Langham."
"I don't get on over and above first class," he said, "with a certainrelative of yours, sir, but I never met a family yet that was allalike. Some white sheep in every flock."
Gertie explained Jim Langham's requirements, and Trew, placing his hatupon the counter, and admitting himself to be something of an authorityon matters connected with the sea, brought his best intelligence tobear upon the subject. It was too late, he decided, to go down thatevening to the steamship office, but a telegram might be sent, askingfor a berth to be reserved, and Mr. Langham could go to the docks inthe morning.
"It is absolutely imperative," declared the other urgently, "that Ileave at the first possible moment."
"If the worst comes to the worst," said Mr. Trew, "you can ship as astowaway. You come up on deck, third day out, and kneel at thecaptain's feet and sing a song about being an orphan. That, of course,would be a last resource."
Gertie discovered a telegram form, and on the instructions of Mr. Trew,filled it in; and Jim Langham assured her that he was more obliged thanhe could express in words. Mr. Trew left to arrange the dispatch ofthe message.
"I count myself extremely fortunate," said the other, "to haveencountered you, Miss Higham. If you hear anything against me lateron, I--I should feel grateful if you thought the best of me that youcan. I wish," he went on, with an anxious air, "I wish I knew how torepay you."
"Don't make a fuss about trifles," she recommended.
He gazed at a picture of a well-attired youth smoking a cigar.
"I was a decent chap once," he said thoughtfully, "but that was longago. Look here, Miss Higham! Henry--you know Henry?"
"I did know him." Turning her face away.
"He will be at Paddington Station tomorrow morning at ten. See himthere. Put off every other engagement, and see him."
"There will be no use in doing that."
"There may be," he contradicted earnestly. "You've been very hard hitover this business, and I happen to know he wants to meet you, onlythat he is afraid of appearing intrusive. At ten o'clock at thearrival platform. May I say good-bye now? God bless you. I haven'tmuch influence with Him, but I--I hope He'll be good to you!"
She came from behind the counter, and accompanied him to the swingdoors.
"Whose ghost was it you thought you saw, Mr. Langham?"
"I must have been mistaken," he replied vaguely. "A shame to haveworried you!"
All the comedy in life and some of the tragedy can be found at Londonrailway stations, and only the fact that members of the staff are welloccupied prevents them from furnishing shelves of bookstalls withrecords of their observation. The classes are there (an effort isbeing made to cancel one useful intermediate stage), presentingthemselves, for the most part, in a highly-agitated condition of mind,with the result that officials acquire the methods of those who dealwith the mentally unhinged; show themselves prepared for any display ofeccentricity. Ever, as in life, you remark the people who arrive toosoon, or too late; a few lucky ones come in the very nick of time. Thelast named are favourites, selected with no obvious reason by Fortune,and greatly envied by their contemporaries; it is usual for them toclaim the entire credit to themselves. Apart from these, at theterminal stations where no barriers exist, are folk who make but littleaffectation of being passengers, and use the station as a playground,with engine and train for toys.
To Paddington at a quarter to ten in the morning came hurriedly,although there was no cause for hurry, Gertie Higham, escorted by Mr.Trew, both exceptionally costumed as befitting a notable occasion.Gertie's escort had a pair of driving-gloves, and he could notdetermine whether it looked more aristocratic to wear these or to carrythem with a negligent air; he compromised on the departure platform bywearing one and carrying the other. The collector-dog trotted up withthe box on his back, and both put in some coppers. They glanced at thegiant clock.
"I wish," she said agitatedly, "that I could skip half an hour of mylife."
"When you get to my age, little missy," remarked Trew, "you won't talklike that. Speaking personally, I can fairly say that if it wasn't forthese new motors I sh'd like to live to be a 'underd. Now, let's jestmake sure and certain about this train."
"I thought we had done so."
"May as well be on the safe side."
Mr. Trew left her at the bookstall to go on a journey in search ofverification. She observed that he obtained news first from a juniorporter, and worked upwards in the scale, with the evident intention ofobtaining at last corroborative evidence from a director. The girlturned, and, gazing at the rows of books, found she could not read thetitles clearly. One of the lads of the stall came with a book in hishand, recommending it to her notice; written by a new chap, hementioned confidentially, and highly interesting. Gertie pulledherself together, and gave attention.
"Thank you," she said, "but it's the work of a cousin of mine."
The lad put Clarence Mills's novel down, and took up a pocket editionof "Merchant of Venice."
"In that case," he remarked, "I suppose it's no use showing youanything written by your Uncle William."
Trew came at a run, saving her the necessity of thinking of an answer.Mr. Henry was now on the arrival platform, right across where a fingerpointed; Gertie was to wait until a scarlet handkerchief showed itself,and she begged him very earnestly not to give the signal unless itappeared to be well justified. A train, that had received no educationin the art of reticence, came to an intervening set of lines, andGertie's anxiety increased; she hurried down the platform to a pointfrom which it was possible to see the meeting. Henry was engaged inconversation with a Great Western official; Mr. Trew, in going past,turned and, with a great air of wonder, recognized him. Gertie notedwith satisfaction that Henry's greeting was hearty and unrestrained.Mr. Trew indicated a superior carriage standing near; she knew, fromhis gestures, that he was describing the uncovered conveyances recalledfrom his early youth.
"Oh, do make haste!" she urged under her breath.
They moved a few steps together, and Henry interrupted conversationwith an inquiry. Mr. Trew, astonished to the extent of taking off hishat, gave a wave with it in the direction of Platform Number One, andHenry spoke eagerly. Mr. Trew took out his scarlet handkerchief,rubbed his face.
"Now," cried Henry, advancing delightedly to meet her, "I wonder whatthe chances were against our meeting here?"
"It is rather unexpected, isn't it?"
"Where," he hesitated, "where is Mr. Bulpert?"
"I really don't know," she replied, smiling. "We're not engaged anylonger."
"Good news!" he cried with emphasis. "That is to say, it's good newsif you wished the engagement to cease."
"I wasn't sorry."
He took her elbow, and glanced around. Mr. Trew was examining a set ofmilk churns with the air of an experienced dairyman.
"Isn't it amazing," said Henry, "how one lucky moment can change theappearance of everything? I've been feeling lately that nothing couldpossibly come right, and now--"
"We mustn't go on too fast," she interposed sagely, "because that onlymeans more disappointment. You haven't heard yet about my father.Listen whilst I tell you about him."
Gertie waited, as she went on, for a relaxation in the pleasant hold onher arm, but this did not come. When she had said the last word, henodded.
"I knew all about this long before you did," he said. "The informationcame from my sister-in-law. She had discovered the facts, and feltdisap
pointed, I think, to find that I was not greatly impressed. Ofcourse, you're not responsible for his actions any more than I can beheld liable for the behaviour of Jim Langham. Jim is a much worse nutthan your father; he hasn't any excuse for his conduct. Forged hissister's name to a big cheque, and, naturally, he has disappeared. Iam giving him time to get away before I say anything about it to her."
"May be leaving England now, I suppose?"
"I hope so; but we needn't bother about him. Let us talk aboutourselves, just as we used to do. Do you remember, dear girl?"
"I recollect it," she admitted. "Every moment, and every step, andevery word. It will always be something good for me to look back upon,when I'm older."
He bent down to her. "We'll look back upon it together," he saidaffectionately.
"No!"
The official to whom Henry had been speaking begged pardon forinterrupting; the train, he announced, would be about five minuteslate. Gertie thanked him with a glance that, at any honestly managedexchange office, could be converted into bank notes.
"Has your view of me altered, then?" he asked.
"My view of you," she replied steadily, "is exactly the same that italways has been, ever since I first met you. I like you better--oh, alot better--than any one else in the world, and I know that if youmarried me you'd do all you could to make me happy and comfortable.But I shouldn't be happy and comfortable. I've got to look forward;and when I do that, there's no use in shutting my eyes. I can seequite clearly what would happen. You'd have this large house down inthe country, and you would ask friends there, and I should makeblunders, and, sooner or later, you'd be certain to feel ashamed of me."
"I don't agree, dear," he said with emphasis. "Anyhow let us try theexperiment. I am sure you overestimate the distance between us. Thinkhow well we used to get along together."
"If life was all summer evenings and Primrose Hill," she remarked, "Imight stand a chance. But it isn't. Your life is going to be that ofa country gentleman in Berkshire; my life is going to be that of awell-paid worker in Great Titchfield Street."
"Wish I could find some method," he cried vehemently, "of giving eventsa twist. I'd much rather go on in my own profession. I'm making myway slowly, but I'm making it for myself, and I--I want you forcompany." He gave a gesture of appeal. "Can't you see how much itmeans?"
"We've got to take matters as they are, and not as we should like themto be. And it isn't as though I'd only got myself to think about.There's you. If I didn't care so much for you, it might be different."
"For the moment," protested Henry Douglass, "I find myself wishing,dear, that you were not quite so sensible. We will talk about thisagain, won't we? Let me call at Praed Street."
"Rather you didn't," said Gertie, "if you don't mind, because I shallnever change my decision. And I wish I could explain how sorry I am ithasn't all come right." She looked up at him with tears in her eyes."Give me a kiss before we say good-bye."
"We're to say a lot of other things to each other," he asserteddeterminedly, "but we are never to say that! Stay here, until I haveseen these people into the railway omnibus. Please!"
The train came slowly; the engine with the air of one that had, in itstime, hurt itself by violent contact with buffers; a line of portersedged the platform, ready to seize brass handles of compartments sosoon as the train stopped. Gertie stood behind a trolley, and watchedthe crowd of alighting passengers. She caught sight of Lady Douglassand Miss Loriner: Lady Douglass carrying her small dog, and apparentlymore authoritative than ever in manner; her companion nursing a copy ofClarence's book. Henry and Rutley went to the rear van to see to theluggage, and presently returned; Rutley talked animatedly, Henry'sfeatures exhibited surprise. The railway omnibus was found; transferof luggage began.
"My dearest, dearest!" cried Henry excitedly. "Listen to me; hear thegreat news Rutley has brought. My brother arrived home last night.The good fellow is safe and sound. He came down from here, fromPaddington, and called at Ewelme to get some important papers hewanted. Heard Lady Douglass's voice--she happened to be annoyed aboutsomething--and left without seeing her. This means--don't yousee?--that I have nothing now to bother about, excepting my work. Andyou!"
She had a difficulty in finding words. "Mr. Langham did not meet aghost, then."
"I'm going to see the boat train off at Victoria," he went on rapidly,"and I shall be back at Praed Street in an hour. Less than an hour.We'll go out to lunch together."
"I'll wait for you there!" promised the happy girl.
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