CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.
TIME'S CONSUMMATION.
"Well, Gerard, old chap? Been keeping your nose hard to thegrindstone?" said Wagram as they sat down at table.
"Rather. Old Churton takes care of that," laughed the tall, handsomelad. "He must have been a terror at Rugby."
Wagram had taken his son from school for a quarter on his return. Heyearned to have the boy with him after his long separation, and hisrestoration to life, as it were; but he sent him to read every morningwith a neighbouring Anglican rector, an ex-public school master.
"Glad to hear it. Churton's a conscientious man and an energetic one.It must be almost the renewal of his youth to start as bear leaderagain."
"Don't know about `leader'--`driver' would be nearer the right word,pater. I say, what are you doing this afternoon?"
"Going over to Haldane's. Want to come?"
"Rather. Bike, I suppose?"
Wagram nodded. "In an hour after lunch, then," he said.
Gerard found his father somewhat absent as they spun along between thenewly-sprouting hedges in the spring sunlight, and wondered. The factwas that Wagram had made up his mind to take Haldane into confidence, atany rate partially, and was thinking over how much he should tell him asyet. To this end he had brought with him the tin case.
"Hallo, Gerard," he cried, waking from his abstraction as they nearedtheir objective. "By George! I'm a dullish companion for a young 'unon a bike ride--eh, old chap?"
"That's all right, pater. Look. There's Yvonne under the elm; and,great Scott! what the mischief has she been doing to herself? Oh, Isay!"
The girl had started forward to meet them, and lo! her mantle ofrippling gold no longer draped her shoulders: it formed a shining crowninstead.
"You needn't stare like that, Gerard," she began. "It's beastly rude,you know. Never saw anyone with their hair up before?" this withdignity. "No; but, Mr Wagram, isn't it detestable? Will have to do thegrown-up now, I suppose."
"We must all grow up one day, Sunbeam," was the answer. "Even I am notexempt from the process; and as for Gerard here, why he's gone throughit long ago."
"That you, Wagram?" And Haldane came forward with a newspaper in onehand and a half-smoked pipe in the other. "Come along and find a coolseat, and I should think something else cool would go down after yourspin--something long and sparkling and with a musical tinkle of ice init, for choice. Oh, the child," following their glances. "Yes. She'sjust been trying an experiment. I tell her she's canonised now withthis bright and shining halo round her head. Think it improves her?"
"I don't know that it does," struck in Gerard frankly. "Ah-ah! I see.She's hoisted it all up so that Reggie and I can't tweak it any more."
"Quite likely," retorted Yvonne. "If you did now it'd be a case of`great cry and little wool,' as Henry the Eighth said when he got holdof the wrong pig by the ear."
"When he did what?" said Wagram, mystified. "History does not spare thememory of that bloody-minded monarch, Sunbeam, but it is absolutelysilent on the deed you have just named--at least so far as my reading ofit goes."
Gerard threw back his head and roared. Haldane was absolutelyspeechless.
"Well, what is it, then? What ought I to have said? Gerard, d'youhear? I don't believe you know yourself."
"Oh, Lord! I shall die in a moment. `As Henry the Eighth said'!" hegasped. "What you were feeling after is `as the devil said when hetried to shear the pig.'"
"Of course! Oh, what an ass I am!" cried the girl, going off into arippling peal.
"However, the confusion of the identity of the two particular parties isnot inexcusable," pronounced Wagram.
"You'll be the death of us one of these days, Sunbeam," gasped Haldanewhen he recovered his speech. "Hallo, Wagram, what's the row?"
"Row? Oh, nothing," answered Wagram in a strange voice. He had ceasedto join in the general mirth. He had, in fact, picked up the paperwhich Haldane had let fall. It was only the _Bassingham Chronicle_,given over mainly to crops, and Petty Sessions and ecclesiasticalpresentations, and yet something in it had availed to change theexpression of his countenance as well as his voice. Only a name--a nameand a paragraph. Thus ran the latter:
"Motor accident--We regret to learn that Mr Develin Hunt, a gentlemanwho made some stay in our midst a year or two ago, and was so impressedwith the natural attractions of our neighbourhood that he came to repeatit, was knocked down last evening by a motor car in front of the GoldenCrown Hotel, where he is staying, and received severe internal injuries.He was carried up to his room, and Dr Foss, who was at once sent for,has advised that his relatives be at once communicated with. Those incharge of the motor car made off with all haste, and have not yet beentraced."
"Oh, ah! I meant to have told you," said Haldane, following his glance."That's the chap with the rum name we were all exercising our wit on,if you remember. Poor devil! I expect he's a `goner.' `Severeinternal injuries' always has a dashed ugly sound."
"By the way, Haldane, I wanted to get your opinion on a matter ofimportance," said Wagram. "How would it do now?"
"Right. Come inside."
"This is it," when they were alone: "I want you to go over to Bassinghamwith me while I interview this very Develin Hunt. You've no idea what alot depends upon it--for me. And it may be necessary for him to swear astatement."
Haldane was too old a campaigner to evince astonishment at any merecoincidence, so he only answered:
"All right. I'll tell them to inspan the dogcart. That'll get us therein no time."
There was something of an outcry on the part of their juniors at thissudden move.
"We'll be back again before you have time to turn round, Sunbeam," saidHaldane. "Keep that fellow Gerard out of mischief--take him to try fora trout, or something. So long!"
Haldane liked things done smartly, and generally had them so done,consequently the dogcart was already at the door. On the road, for theyhad purposely not taken a groom, Wagram told him of the finding of thetin case on board the _Red Derelict_, and how its contents bore largelyon his own affairs and on those of the man they were about to visit."You can't call to mind this man's name or identity in the course ofyour former South African wanderings?" he concluded.
"No; I'll be hanged if I can. You see, the name was bound to havestuck, unless--"
"Unless what?"
"Unless he ran under some other name. That's not such an uncommon thingin some parts of the round world."
"Ah! Well, it's possible he did. That's just the thought that struckme."
"If you can contrive me a glimpse of the joker I'll soon let you knowfor cert. I never forget a face."
"That might be done. We might go into the room together--then, if he'sthe wrong man, you could apologise and clear."
"Then that's what we'll do," said Haldane the decisive.
The fast-trotting nag pulled up at the "Golden Crown" just within thehour of their start.
"Good-day, Smith," said Wagram as the landlord appeared. "How is yourguest--the one who got bowled over by a motor?"
"Well, Mr Wagram, I couldn't say exactly. But," lowering his voice,"the doctor says he'll hardly last till night."
"Poor fellow. I came to see if I could do anything for him. He calledon us about some business, you know, when he was here before."
"He'll be glad to see you, I know, Mr Wagram. I've just been sittingwith him a bit, and he was talking a lot about you--asking if you wereat home, and all that. Come upstairs."
He led the way, and they ascended to the first landing, Haldane bringingup the rear. A tap at the door, then the landlord opened it.
"Here's Mr Wagram come to see you, Mr Hunt," he announced.
The room was somewhat darkened, but not much. Wagram made out a formhalf propped up in bed. The red-brown face of the adventurer was of asallow paleness. He heard the door softly close behind him.
"It's good of you to come and see me, Wagram," h
e began. "Hallo! Who'swith you?"
"Why, it's Jack--Jack Faro. How are you, Jack, old man?"
The interruption proceeded from Haldane. The man on the bed started andstared, then he recovered himself.
"That's Haldane, for a tenner," he pronounced. "I heard you were downin these parts, Haldane, and thought of looking you up, only I heardyou'd become such a tearing big swell. Thought you'd not have beenover-glad to see me."
"Oh, bosh! You ought to have known better. By the Lord! didn't westand them off in that ruction at Ikey Mo's, when we'd broken the wholebally bank? Jack and I had to skip over Montsioa's border for a time,you know, Wagram," he parenthesised. "We'd done some shooting, youunderstand--but--we had to."
"Rather, we had, and we did," and the adventurer's eyes lit up over therecollection.
"I say, Jack, d'you ever hear anything of the missis now?" went onHaldane in the cordial-old-comrade tone. "I must have seen her sinceyou did, for I was passing through Kimberley only half-a-dozen yearsback, and she was throwing out fire and slaughter against you as hard asever."
Wagram, taking this in with all his ears, felt that an immense weighthad lifted. Haldane had known this man's former wife, had seen herquite lately. She was probably alive still.
"Oh, she's got nothing to complain of," returned the adventurer testily."I've never kept her short."
"Of course not. But, you know, women are the devil for grievances, andshe was always swearing that, as your lawful wife, her place was withyou."
"I'd have murdered her long ago if it had been," was the weary reply."I shunted her to save her life and my neck. Women are the very devil,Haldane. I can't think why the blazes they were ever invented."
"Oh, you're not alone in that opinion, old man," laughed the other."But, look here, when is Foss going to get you up again?"
"Never. He swears I'll be a stiff before morning, and for once Ibelieve him--though these quacks are the most infernal set of humbugs,as a rule. Now, Haldane, do me a favour, like a good chap, and skipdownstairs for a little while. I want to hold a bit of an _indaba_ withWagram alone."
"Right. So long, then."
There was a moment or two of silence after the door had closed onHaldane. Then Hunt said:
"Well, you heard all that?"
"Yes; it is true, then?"
"Every word of it. I'm glad you heard, because it'll save me thetrouble of going over it all again."
"Then you obtained thirty thousand pounds out of us under falsepretences?"
"That's one way of putting it, but I suppose it's the correct one. Thething was a gamble; but, hang it, I didn't think the money side wouldhave bothered you over-much, Wagram. Why, as I said before, it's onlylike a half-crown to you. Haldane and I have brought off bigger thingsthan that in the old Kimberley days."
Wagram stiffened.
"Do you mean to tell me, then, that Haldane was associated with you inblackmailing? Because, if so, you had better tell it in his presence."
"No--no--no. Of course, I don't mean anything of the sort. Haldane isas straight and square a chap as ever walked. This affair was off myown. I couldn't resist it when I stumbled against Butcher Ned, and heput me up to who he was, and used to talk about his people too. Lord!how he used to hate you--you, especially. I'd have been sorry for youif he'd ever got the chance of squinting at you for a moment from behindthe sighting of a rifle or pistol. By the way, you never found him, didyou?"
"No. But before we talk further will you make a statement as to thisfirst marriage of yours? Haldane is a magistrate, and you might make itbefore him."
"I would willingly, but it isn't in the least necessary. The wholething is entirely between ourselves so far, and you can easily verifythe facts."
"I have verified them already. Do you know this?" And he held up thetin case.
"Oh, good Lord! Yes; I ought to. And you have opened it and gone intothe contents? Well, then, Wagram, it isn't like you making anunnecessary fuss. You've got all you want in there already."
"Meaning the certificate. Here it is."
"That's right. You can burn the other things. And now, where on earthdid you pick up that box?"
Wagram told him, also hurriedly, about his intervening adventures. Thedying man's face underwent some curious changes--not the least curiousbeing that which passed over it on beholding the skeleton pistol.
"Rum thing that you should have stumbled on to that hooker not once buttwice," he said. "But, good Lord! life for me has been made up of evenrummier things than that, and now I've got to the end of it. Yes; Iknow that pistol. That bright half-brother of yours plugged a hole intome with it that'll last till my dying day--which, by the way, has come.And I?--well, I planted a mark on him that'll last till his."
He checked himself suddenly, with a queer look.
"What was the story of the Red Derelict?" said Wagram, after a pause.
"Better leave that alone--except that it was a story of red murder andpiracy such as you'd think only existed in books. And now, Wagram," hewent on, "I've been yarning a lot more than any man in my state ought toyarn, and I'm feeling tired. You'd never guess what brought me downhere this time. It wasn't to fleece you again--no, no. Fact is, Iheard you were back, and I was curious to see you again and hear how youhad got on. And I have. You shook hands with me once; I'd be glad ifyou'd do it again."
But Wagram's hand did not come forward, nor did he move.
"That was when I thought your story a true one," he said. "On your ownshowing you have heaped dishonour upon my family, and I can testify thatyou hastened my father's end. It is not in human nature to forgivethat--at any rate, all at once."
"Later than `all at once' will be too late, and by refusing yourforgiveness to a dying man you will be denying your own creed."
He smiled as he watched the struggle going on within the other. ThenWagram slowly put forth his hand.
"For any injury to me I forgive you freely," he said. "For the rest Iwill try to. Good-bye."
"And you will succeed. Good-bye, Wagram. You will never regret this.And ask Haldane to come up for a minute. I should like to bid himgood-bye for the sake of old times."
Wagram bent his head and left the room, and at a word from him Haldanewent up.
"This is a bad lookout, Jack," he began in his downright way. "Nochance, I suppose, old chap?"
"No; none."
"You wouldn't like, I suppose--er--to see a parson--er--or anyone inthat line?"
"No--no. I've no use for any parson. The last sight of a man likeWagram's a sight better than any parson. Has he told you about hisadventures and the Red Derelict, eh?"
"Yes; and they sounded so jolly tall that, if anybody but Wagram hadtold me, I shouldn't have believed half of them."
"But they're true, all the same. I could take you to the very place.And the white man who put him through all that lively time was no otherthan the chump he was looking for--his half-brother, Butcher Ned, as weused to call him--otherwise Everard Wagram."
"Good Lord!"
"Fact. But I wasn't going to tell him that, neither must you--d'youhear?--neither must you. Because if you do nothing'll prevent him fromstarting right away to put himself in the power of that infernalcut-throat again--under the pretence of trying to reclaim him. ReclaimButcher Ned!"
There was a world of expression in the dying adventurer's weakeningvoice over these last words. He went on:
"Wagram would never have got out of that camp alive if he hadn't got outwhen he did. Don't you see, that's why Ned wanted to make him bring hisboy out there. Then he'd have done for the pair, and come and set uphere at Hilversea. He would, sure as eggs. So never let on about it."
"All right, I won't." And after a little more talk the old comradesbade each other good-bye.
"You know, Wagram, it's a deuced rum world," said Haldane as the twowere driving home again. "Fancy this poor chap Develin Hunt, over whoseabsurd name we were roaring when th
at first yarn about the derelict cameto hand, turning out to be my old pal Jack Faro of the early, rousing,Kimberley days! Poor chap! How he wilted over the recollection of thatold crock of his. You know, it was an echo of the old camp chaff I wasfiring off on him--the point of which was that the said old ruin wasfond of bragging that she was Jack's real and lawful wife, whateverothers might be, and brandishing what she called her `lines' in thefaces of all comers. Poor old Jack! He was fairly straight as men go--and yet--and yet--I don't know--there were things whispered about himeven then. Well, he's gone now."
Haldane never learned of the said Develin Hunt's--otherwise JackFaro's--last _coup_, for on that Wagram was for ever silent.
That night Develin Hunt died.
CHAPTER FORTY.
CONCLUSION.
"Oh, how good you have been to us! No; really, when I want to findwords--well, I simply can't."
"Then don't try. That's the simplest way out of the difficulty, isn'tit?" answered Wagram, with a smile.
Delia Calmour shook her head, a puzzled little frown contradicting, asit were, the soft light that was in her eyes, and a certain tendercurving of the lips. Her gaze swept over the network of sunlightglinting on the sward beneath the arching oaks, then rested on theadjacent palisade enclosing the African animals, whose quaint bellowwould every now and then vie with the shout of the cuckoo to break thestillness of the lustrous summer air. She thought of herself--nowenabled to make more than a comfortable living by turning her musicaltalents to account; of Clytie, doing exceedingly well in her own line;of raffish Bob, removed from Bassingham influences and third-ratePownall and Skreet, to be given every chance at a fair salary with afirst-class legal firm in London; of the three younger ones at schoolagain, only at far better schools than they had ever dreamed of before--and, thus thinking, she did not exaggerate in declaring that she couldnot find words to express her appreciation to the man beside her--towhom all this was due. And again she repeated this.
"My dear child," he answered, "haven't I told you before that it's ourduty to help each other in this world as far as lies in our power? Atany rate you seemed to bear in mind that principle when you literallyforced the skipper of the _Runic_ to put back because you had glimpsedsome unknown poor devil left on board the derelict. Eh?"
"That's different--quite different."
Again she felt strangely tongue-tied. The past couple of years flashedthrough her mind, and how they had seemed to her to contain but oneconsideration, but one all-engrossing thought--the man now at her side.How their lives seemed bound up together from their first sudden andsemi-tragical meeting! Even upon the vast wilderness of the wide deepthey had been thrown together once more. And now here they weretogether again at dear old Hilversea--on the very spot, hallowed, as itwere, within her mind, by the associations of those earlier days.
The time intervening, and the experiences it comprised, had ratherenhanced than detracted from her beauty; indeed, it was not the fault ofmore than one pecuniarily eligible and physically attractive unit of theother sex that she was still Delia Calmour, eke of more than one of whomneither of these qualifications held good. And now here she was atHilversea again.
She was staying at Haldane's, and had cycled over that morning inresponse to a note from Wagram asking her to come and look at some oldmusical manuscripts he had unearthed in his library. Yet, so far, verylittle had been said about the manuscripts, he declaring it was much toolovely a morning to sit indoors; and the manuscripts were always withthem, but the fine weather was not. Now he did not seem inclined tohelp her through her unwonted fit of silence as he strolled by her side;calm, self-possessed, the very personification of ease and strength anddignity, she was thinking.
"So you are happy in your new line, Delia?" he said at last. "Andcomfortable? Sure you are quite that?"
"Of course I am--all that--thanks to you," she answered, throwing anunconscious warmth into her voice.
"That's rather a pity, because I was going to suggest that you shouldchange it."
"Change it?" she echoed, looking up at him wonderingly.
"Yes. It is only a suggestion, for, after all, I daresay in your eyes Iam only a solemn sort of old fogey. But, darling, I seem to have learntto love you very dearly indeed, and have been wondering if you wouldconsent to make my life entirely and completely happy. I remember youasking me once--I believe it was here on this very spot--whether Ididn't sometimes find life too good to be real; do you remember? Well,now, I want you to make it so. I believe I could make you very happy--we seem to have got to know each other well enough by this time towarrant me in thinking so. Now, child, what do you say?"
The girl seemed incapable of saying anything. It was as though thegates of a blissful paradise had opened to receive her. She seemed tosway unsteadily. Her lips were parted and her breathing came quickly,but in her wide eyes was a whole world of adoring affection, which wasin itself sufficient answer without mere words.
"I loved and adored you from the very moment we first met," she managedto whisper as she sank into his embrace. "But you? What can _you_ haveseen in me? You?"
"Darling, I suppose I have learnt to recognise pure gold when I see it.So you will make life too good for me after all?"
"Too good for you? But it is going to be too good for me, it seems.Yet listen. You won't be offended if I tell you something."
"Offended? No, child; never shrink from telling me anything throughfear of that. What is this `something'?"
"There was a time when I thought some great trouble had come upon you;of course, I could not even guess at its nature. Well, whatever thattrouble might have been, then was the time I would have loved you most,if possible, no matter what it was. If it had been--I am only putting acase, mind--that which should have turned the whole world against you,that is the time I should have gloried to stand by your side. You arenot offended with me for saying this?"
He laughed--lightly, happily.
"No, child. Well, you have guessed rightly. There was a trouble;black, overwhelming it seemed, as death. Now it has passed--by themercy of God, passed for ever. Some day I may tell it you, perhaps, butnot now. This is the time only for happiness."
Happiness! In saying what she had just said Delia had not overstatedthe case by a single word. Had he come to her ruined, crushed by someunknown weight, even with the whole world against him, and said what hehad just said she would have reckoned life almost too good to live. Butnow, to spend the rest of her life at his side here at beautiful,enchanted Hilversea, his happiness her life's object--ah! the vista thusopened was too golden, too glowing, too complete. The very perfectionof it frightened her as being too perfect for such an imperfect state.Happiness!
"What does all this long silence cover, dearest?" he said at last, forhe had been watching with a smile the swift transitions of thought whichhad chased each other across the beautiful, expressive face. "I believeI know," looking at his watch. "You were going to say you must get backto the Haldanes or they'd be wondering what had become of you. Well,they'll have to wonder. You must stay and take care of me thismorning--get your hand in a little, you know. This afternoon we'll goover, and--tell them."
_Note_.--The Red Derelict was never again sighted. Whether the impactof the _Runic's_ collision with her had sent the ghostly hulk far downinto the green depths for ever must remain a mystery. She had deliveredup her message, and was gone.
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