CHAPTER XXXIV
AN ILL-ASSORTED COUPLE
Wrayson looked anxiously at his watch. It was already ten minutes pastnine, and although he was standing on the precise spot indicated, therewas no one about who in the least resembled the young woman of whom hewas in search. The overture to the ballet was being played, a good manypeople were strolling about, or seated at the small round tables, butthey were all of the usual class, the ladies ornate and obvious, and allhaving the air of _habitues_. In vain Wrayson scanned the faces of thepassers-by, and even the occupants of the back seats. There was no signof the young woman of whom he was in search.
Presently he began to stroll somewhat aimlessly about, still taking noteof every one amongst the throng, and in a little while he caught sight ofa familiar figure, sitting alone at one of the small round tables. Heaccosted him at once.
"How are you, Heneage?" he said quietly. "What are you doing in town atthis time of the year?"
Heneage started when he was addressed, and his manner, when he recognizedWrayson, lacked altogether its usual composure.
"I'm all right," he answered. "Beastly hot in town, though, isn't it? I'moff in a day or two. Where have you been to?"
"North of France," Wrayson answered. "You look as though you wanteda change!"
"I'm going to Scotland directly I can get away."
The two men looked at one another for a moment. Heneage was certainlylooking ill. There were dark lines under his eyes, and his face seemedthinner. Then, too, he was still in his morning clothes, his tie was illarranged, and his linen not unexceptionable. Wrayson was puzzled.Something had gone wrong with the man.
"You see," he said quietly, "I have been forced to disregard yourwarning. I shall be in England for some little time at any rate. May Iask, am I in any particular danger?"
Heneage shook his head.
"Not from me, at any rate!"
Wrayson looked at him for a moment steadily.
"Do you mean that, Heneage?" he asked.
"Yes!"
"You are satisfied, then, that neither I nor the young lady hadanything to do with the death of Morris Barnes?" Heneage moved in hischair uneasily.
"Yes!" he answered. "Don't talk to me about that damned business," headded, with a little burst of half-suppressed passion. "I've done withit. Come and have a drink."
Wrayson drew a sigh of relief. Perhaps, for the first time, he realizedhow great a weight this thing had been upon his spirits. He had fearedHeneage!--not this man, but the cold, capable Stephen Heneage of hisearlier acquaintance; feared him not only for his own sake, but hers.After all, his visit to the Alhambra had brought some good to him.
Heneage had risen to his feet.
"We'll go into the American bar," he said. "Not here. The women fussround one so. I'm glad you've turned up, Wrayson. I've got the hump!"
The bar was crowded, but they found a quiet corner. Heneage ordered alarge brandy and soda, and drunk half of it at a gulp.
"How's every one?" Wrayson asked. "I haven't been in the club yet."
"All right, I believe. I haven't been in myself for a week,"Heneage answered.
Wrayson looked at him in surprise.
"Haven't been in the club for a week?" he repeated. "That's ratherunusual, isn't it?"
"Damn it all! I'm not obliged to go there, am I?" Heneageexclaimed testily.
Wrayson looked at him in amazement. Heneage, as a rule, was one of themost deliberate and even-tempered of men.
"Of course not," he answered. "You won't mind telling me how the Colonelis, though, will you?"
"I believe he is very well," Heneage answered, more calmly. "He doesn'tcome up to town so often this hot weather. Forgive me for being a bitimpatient, old fellow. I've got a fit of nerves, I think."
"You want a change," Wrayson said earnestly. "There's no doubtabout that."
"I am going away very soon," Heneage answered. "As soon as I can get off.I don't mind telling you, Wrayson, that I've had a shock, and it hasupset me."
Wrayson nodded sympathetically.
"All right, old chap," he said. "I'm beastly sorry, but if you take myadvice, you'll get out of London as soon as you can. Go to Trouville orDinard, or some place where there's plenty of life. I shouldn't busymyself in the country, if I were you. By the bye," he added, "there isone more question I should like to ask you, if you don't mind."
Heneage called a waiter and ordered more drinks. Then he turned toWrayson.
"Well," he said, "go on!"
"About that little brute, Barnes' brother. Is he about still?"
Heneage's face darkened. He clenched his fist, but recovered himself witha visible effort.
"Yes!" he answered shortly, "he is about. He is everywhere. The littlebrute haunts me! He dogs my footsteps, Wrayson. Sometimes I wonder that Idon't sweep him off the face of the earth."
"But why?" Wrayson asked. "What does he want with you?"
"I will tell you," Heneage answered. "When he first turned up, I wasinterested in his story, as you know. We commenced working at the thingtogether. You understand, Wrayson?"
"Perfectly!"
"Well--after a while it suited me--to drop it. Perhaps I told him so alittle abruptly. At any rate, he was disappointed. Now he has got an ideain his brain. He believes that I have discovered something which I willnot tell him. He follows me about. He pesters me to death. He is a slaveto that one idea--a hideous, almost unnatural craving to get his handson the source of his brother's money. I think that he will very soon bemad. To tell you the truth, I came in here to-night because I thought Ishould be safe from him. I don't believe he has five shillings to get inthe place."
Wrayson lit a cigarette and smoked for a moment in silence. Then heturned towards his companion.
"Heneage," he said, "I don't want to annoy you, but you must rememberthat this matter means a good deal to me. I am forced to ask you aquestion, and you must answer it. Have you really found anything out? Youdon't often give a thing up without a reason."
Heneage answered him with greater composure than he had expected, thoughperhaps to less satisfactory effect.
"Look here, Wrayson," he said, "you appreciate plain speaking,don't you?"
Wrayson nodded. Heneage continued:
"You can go to hell with your questions! You understand that? It'splain English."
"Admirably simple," Wrayson answered, "and perfectly satisfactory."
"What do you mean?"
"It answers my question," Wrayson declared quietly.
Heneage shrugged his shoulders.
"You can get what satisfaction you like out of it," he said doggedly.
"It isn't much," Wrayson admitted. "I wish I could induce you to treat mea little more generously."
Heneage looked at him with a curious gleam in his eyes.
"Look here," he said. "Take my advice. Drop the whole affair. You seewhat it's made of me. It'll do the same to you. I shan't tell youanything! You can swear to that. I've done with it, Wrayson, done withit! You understand that? Talk about something else, or leave me alone!"
Wrayson looked at the man whom he had once called his friend.
"You're in a queer sort of mood, Heneage," he said.
"Let it go at that," Heneage answered. "Every man has a right to hismoods, hasn't he? No right to inflict them upon his friends, you'd say!Perhaps not, but you know I'm a reasonable person as a rule.Don't--don't--"
He broke off abruptly in his sentence. His eyes were fixed upon a distantcorner of the room. Their expression was unfathomable, but Wraysonshuddered as he looked away and followed their direction. Then he, too,started. He recognized the miserable little figure whose presence a groupjust broken up left revealed. Heneage rose softly to his feet.
"Let us go before he sees us," he whispered hurriedly. "Look sharp!"
But they were too late. Already he was on his way towards them, shamblingrather than walking down the room, an unwholesome, unattractive, evenrepulsive figure. He seemed to have shrunken
in size since his arrival inEngland, and his brother's clothes, always too large, hung about himloose and ungraceful. His tie was grimy; his shirt frayed; his trousersturned up, but still falling over his heels; his hat, too large for him,came almost to his ears. In the increased pallor and thinness of hisface, his dark eyes seemed to have come nearer together. He would havebeen a ludicrous object but for the intense earnestness of hisexpression. He came towards them with rapidly blinking eyes. He took nonotice of Heneage, but he insisted upon shaking hands with Wrayson.
"Mr. Wrayson," he said, "I am glad to see you again, sir. You alwaystreated me like a gentleman. Not like him," he added, motioning with hishead towards Heneage. "He's a thief, he is!"
"Steady," Wrayson interrupted, "you mustn't call people names like that."
"Why not?" Barnes asked. "He is a thief. He knows it. He knows who robbedme of my money. And he won't tell. That's what I call being a thief."
Wrayson glanced towards Heneage and was amazed at his demeanour. He hadshrunk back in his chair, and he was sitting with his hands in hispockets and his eyes fixed upon the table. Of the two, his miserablelittle accuser was the dominant figure.
"He's very likely spending it now--my money!" Barnes continued. "Heream I living on crusts and four-penny dinners, and begging my way inhere, and some one else is spending my money. Never mind! It may be myturn yet! It may be only a matter of hours," he added, leaning overtowards them and showing his yellow teeth, "and I may have the laugh onboth of you."
Heneage looked up quickly. He was obviously discomposed.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
Sydney Barnes indulged in the graceless but expressive proceeding ofsticking his tongue in his cheek. After which he turned to Wrayson.
"Mr. Wrayson," he said, "lend me a quid. I've got the flat to sleep infor a few more weeks, but I haven't got money enough for a meal. I'll payyou back some day--perhaps before you expect it."
Wrayson produced a sovereign and handed it over silently.
"If I were you," he said, "I'd spend my time looking for a situation,instead of hunting about for this supposed fortune of your brother's."
Barnes took the sovereign with hot, trembling fingers, and deposited itcarefully in his waistcoat pocket. Then he smiled in a somewhatmysterious manner.
"Mr. Wrayson," he said, "perhaps I'm not so far off, after all. Otherpeople can find out what he knows," he added, pointing at Heneage. "Heain't the only one who can see through a brick wall. Say, Mr. Wrayson,you've always treated me fair and square," he added, leaning towards himand dropping his voice. "Can you tell me this? Did Morry ever goswaggering about calling himself by any other name--bit more tony, eh?"
Wrayson started. For a moment he did not reply. Thoughts were rushingthrough his brain. Was he forestalled in his search for this girl?Meanwhile, Barnes watched him with a cunning gleam in his deep-set eyes.
"Such as Augustus Howard, eh? Real tony name that for Morry!"
Wrayson, with a sudden instinctive knowledge, brushed him on one side,and half standing up, gazed across the room at the corner from which hisquestioner had come. With her back against the wall, her cheap prettinessmarred by her red eyes, her ill-arranged hair, and ugly hat, sat, beyonda doubt, the girl for whom he had waited in the promenade.
The Avenger Page 34