The Malefactor

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  THE MOTH AND THE CANDLE

  "Tomorrow morning," Aynesworth remarked, "we shall land."

  Wingrave nodded.

  "I shall not be sorry," he said shortly.

  Aynesworth fidgeted about. He had something to say, and he found itdifficult. Wingrave gave him no encouragement. He was leaning backin his steamer chair, with his eyes fixed upon the sky line.Notwithstanding the incessant companionship of the last six days,Aynesworth felt that he had not progressed a single step towardsestablishing any more intimate relations between his employer andhimself.

  "Mrs. Travers is not on deck this afternoon," he remarked a trifleawkwardly.

  "Indeed!" Wingrave answered. "I hadn't noticed."

  Aynesworth sat down. There was nothing to be gained by fencing.

  "I wanted to talk about her, sir, if I might," he said.

  Wingrave withdrew his eyes from the sea, and looked at his companion incold surprise.

  "To me?" he asked.

  "Yes! I thought, the first few days, that Mrs. Travers was simply a vainlittle woman of the world, perfectly capable of taking care of herself,and heartless enough to flirt all day long, if she chose, without anyrisk, so far as she was concerned. I believe I made a mistake!"

  "This is most interesting," Wingrave said calmly, "but why talk to meabout the lady? I fancy that I know as much about her as you do."

  "Very likely; but you may not have realized the same things. Mrs.Travers is a married woman, with a husband in Boston, and two littlechildren, of whom, I believe, she is really very fond. She is a foolish,good-natured little woman, who thinks herself clever because her husbandhas permitted her to travel a good deal, and has evidently been ratherfascinated by the latitudinarianism of continental society. She is alittle afraid of being terribly bored when she gets back to Boston, andshe is very sentimental."

  "I had no idea," Wingrave remarked, "that you had been submitting thelady and her affairs to the ordeal of your marvelous gift of analysis. Irather fancied that you took no interest in her at all."

  "I did not," Aynesworth answered, "until last night."

  "And last night?" he repeated questioningly.

  "I found her on deck--crying. She had been tearing up some photographs,and she talked a little wildly. I talked to her then for a little time."

  "Can't you be more explicit?" Wingrave asked.

  Aynesworth looked him in the face.

  "She gave me the impression," he said, "that she did not intend toreturn to her husband."

  Wingrave nodded.

  "And what have you to say to me about this?" he asked.

  "I have no right to say anything, of course," Aynesworth answered. "Youmight very properly tell me that it is no concern of mine. Mrs. Travershas already compromised herself, to some extent, with the people onboard who know her and her family. She never leaves your side for amoment if she can help it, and for the last two or three days she hasalmost followed you about. You may possibly derive some amusement fromher society for a short time, but--afterwards!"

  "Explain yourself exactly," Wingrave said.

  "Is it necessary?" Aynesworth declared brusquely. "Talk sensibly toher! Don't encourage her if she should really be contemplating anythingfoolish!"

  "Why not?"

  "Oh, hang it all!" Aynesworth declared. "I'm not a moralist, but she'sa decent little woman. Don't ruin her life for the sake of a littlediversion!"

  Wingrave, who had been holding a cigar case in his hand for the last fewminutes, opened it, and calmly selected a cigar.

  "Aren't you a little melodramatic, Aynesworth?" he said.

  "Sounds like it, no doubt," his companion answered, "but after all, hangit, she's not a bad little sort, and you wouldn't care to meet her inPiccadilly in a couple of years' time."

  Wingrave turned a little in his chair. There was a slight hardening ofthe mouth, a cold gleam in his eyes.

  "That," he remarked, "is precisely where you are wrong. I am afraid youhave forgotten our previous conversations on this or a similar subject.Disconnect me in your mind at once from all philanthropic notions! Idesire to make no one happy, to assist at no one's happiness. My ownlife has been ruined by a woman. Her sex shall pay me where it can. IfI can obtain from the lady in question a single second's amusement,her future is a matter of entire indifference to me. She can play therepentant wife, or resort to the primeval profession of her sex. Ishould not even have the curiosity to inquire which."

  "In that case," Aynesworth said slowly, "I presume that I need say nomore."

  "Unless it amuses you," Wingrave answered, "it really is not worthwhile."

  "Perhaps," Aynesworth remarked, "it is as well that I should tell youthis. I shall put the situation before Mrs. Travers exactly as I seeit. I shall do my best to dissuade her from any further or more intimateintercourse with you."

  "At the risk, of course," Wingrave said, "of my offering you--this?"

  He drew a paper from his pocket book, and held it out. It was the returnhalf of a steamer ticket.

  "Even at that risk," Aynesworth answered without hesitation.

  Wingrave carefully folded the document, and returned it to his pocket.

  "I am glad," he said, "to find that you are so consistent. There is Mrs.Travers scolding the deck steward. Go and talk to her! You will scarcelyfind a better opportunity."

  Aynesworth rose at once. Wingrave in a few moments also left his seat,but proceeded in the opposite direction. He made his way into thepurser's room, and carefully closed the door behind him.

  Mrs. Travers greeted Aynesworth without enthusiasm. Her eyes wereresting upon the empty place which Wingrave had just vacated.

  "Can I get your chair for you, Mrs. Travers," Aynesworth asked, "orshall we walk for a few minutes?"

  Mrs. Travers hesitated. She looked around, but there was obviously noescape for her.

  "I should like to sit down," she said. "I am very tired this morning. Mychair is next Mr. Wingrave's there."

  Aynesworth found her rug and wrapped it around her. She leaned back andclosed her eyes.

  "I shall try to sleep," she said. "I had such a shocking night."

  He understood at once that she was on her guard, and he changed histactics.

  "First," he said, "may I ask you a question?"

  She opened her eyes wide, and looked at him. She was afraid.

  "Not now," she said hurriedly. "This afternoon."

  "This afternoon I may not have the opportunity," he answered. "Is yourhusband going to meet you at New York, Mrs. Travers?"

  "No!"

  "Are you going direct to Boston?"

  She looked at him steadily. There was a slight flush of color in hercheeks.

  "I find your questions impertinent, Mr. Aynesworth," she answered.

  There was a short silence. Aynesworth hated his task and hated himself.But most of all, he pitied the woman who sat by his side.

  "No!" he said, "they are not impertinent. I am the looker-on, you know,and I have seen--a good deal. If Wingrave were an ordinary sort of man,I should never have dared to interfere. If you had been an ordinary sortof woman, I might not have cared to."

  She half rose in her chair.

  "I shall not stay here," she began, struggling with her rug.

  "Do!" he begged. "I am--I want to be your friend, really!"

  "You are supposed to be his," she reminded him.

  He shook his head.

  "I am his secretary. There is no question of friendship between us. Forthe rest, I told him that I should speak to you."

  "You have no right to discuss me at all," she declared vehemently.

  "None whatever," he admitted. "I have to rely entirely upon your mercy.This is the truth. People are thrown together a good deal on a voyagelike this. You and Mr. Wingrave have seen a good deal of one another.You are a very impressionable woman; he is a singularly cold,unimpressionable man. You have found his personality attractive. Youfancy--other things. Wingrave is not the man you think he is. He is
selfish and entirely without affectionate impulses. The world hastreated him badly, and he has no hesitation in saying that he means toget some part of his own back again. He does not care for you, he doesnot care for anyone. If you should be contemplating anything ridiculousfrom a mistaken judgment of his character, it is better that you shouldknow the truth."

  The anger had gone. She was pale again, and her lips were trembling.

  "Men seldom know one another," she said softly. "You judge from thesurface only."

  "Mine is the critical judgment of one who has studied him intimately,"Aynesworth said. "Yours is the sentimental hope of one fascinated bywhat she does not understand. Wingrave is utterly heartless!"

  "That," she answered steadfastly, "I do not believe."

  "You do not because you will not," he declared. "I have spoken becauseI wish to save you from doing what you would repent of for the rest ofyour days. You have the one vanity which is common to all women. Youbelieve that you can change what, believe me, is unchangeable. ToWingrave, women are less than playthings. He owes the unhappiness ofhis life to one, and he would see the whole of her sex suffer withoutemotion. He is impregnable to sentiment. Ask him and I believe that hewould admit it!"

  She smiled and regarded him with the mild pity of superior knowledge.

  "You do not understand Mr. Wingrave," she remarked.

  Aynesworth sighed. He realized that every word he had spoken had beenwasted upon this pale, pretty woman, who sat with her eyes now turnedseawards, and the smile still lingering upon her lips. Studying herfor a moment, he realized the danger more acutely than ever before. Thefretfulness seemed to have gone from her face, the weary lines from hermouth. She had the look of a woman who has come into the knowledge ofbetter things. And it was Wingrave who had done this! Aynesworth for thefirst time frankly hated the man. Once, as a boy, he had seen a keepertake a rabbit from a trap and dash its brains out against a tree. Theincident flashed then into his mind, only the face of the keeper was theface of Wingrave!