Anthony Lyveden Part 30

"George Alison!" she cried. Up went the chauffeur's head. "Stop the car, please. Valerie and Major Lyveden will change places. We want to discuss the trial."

George slowed up with a grin.

Jack opened the door for Jill, who descended with an airy nod of greeting which hurt him more than the stoniest disregard. With her head high, she stepped to the seat he had left. As he was closing the high side door upon her, her fur coat intervened, and Jack set it gently aside. Jill felt the touch, turned, glanced down and twitched the garment away....

Anthony's eyes blazed. A short six inches away, Valerie's blazed back....

On the opposite side of the car George and Lady Touchstone were hanging out of their seats, raving concurrent invective against the Laws of England.

For a moment eyes searched eyes steadily. Then, with a faint smile, Anthony leaned forward and kissed the proud red lips. Then he shut the door with infinite care....

Had Miss French's fur coat been less voluminous, the gulf which Error had set between the lovers might have been bridged within the week.

But it was a fine wrap, and ample. In an instant the gulf had become a sea of troubles, with the house that Jack had built upon one side, and the castle which Jill had raised upon the other. And, as for a bridge, their labour now was lost that sought to build one. It had become a case for a causeway.

As the car slid forward--

"And why," said Lady Touchstone, "are you going away?"

Anthony laughed jerkily.

"Have a heart, Lady Touchstone," he cried. "I've already risked imprisonment to save my secret."

Her ladyship looked about her.

"This," she said, "appears to be the interior of an expensive limousine landaulette. Very different from a court-house. The seats are softer, for one thing. Besides, from his adviser the client should conceal nothing."

"Are you my adviser?"

"That," said Lady Touchstone, "is my role."

"But am I your client?"

"I advise you to be."

For a long moment Lyveden stared straight ahead. Upon the front seat Miss French was chattering to George Alison with an unwonted liveliness, punctuated with little bursts of merriment. All the while she kept her head so turned that Anthony might miss not a jot of her gaiety....

"I'm sorry," said Lyveden quietly. "You're very kind, Lady Touchstone, and I'm properly grateful. But I can't tell you."

He was, of course, perfectly right. Intervention was not to be thought of, much less encouraged. For one thing, to mutter that Valerie and he were estranged would be to proclaim a previous intimacy. For another, it was an affair, not of hearts only, but of deeps calling. Each lifting up the other's heart, the twain had distilled a music that is not of this world: it was unthinkable that an outsider should be shown a single note of the score. Finally, Anthony wanted no peace-making.

What had he to do with peace?

The silver cord was loosed, but he had not loosed it. The golden bowl was broken, but not at his hand. It was she--Valerie French--that had wrought the havoc. That cord and bowl were the property as much of Anthony as of her had not weighed with the lady. As if this were not enough, he was to be used like a leper.... What had he to do with peace?

The thought that he had been able to pick up the glove she had thrown down with such a flourish elated him strangely. To kiss My Lady Disdain upon the mouth--that was an answer. That would teach her to draw upon an unarmed man. For she had thought him weaponless. What footman carries a sword? And then, in the nick of time, Fate had thrust a rapier into the flunkey's hand....

Lady Touchstone was speaking....

"Well, well," she said gently, "perhaps you're right. I'm sorry, you know. I saw two lives smashed once by a clerical error on the part of a florist's a.s.sistant. I knew them both, too, but neither would speak.

When it was just too late, Eleanor opened her mouth.... Unknown to her, I went to the florist's shop and looked at their order-book. Sure enough, there was the trouble. I never told her, of course. But it's haunted me ever since. Two lives ... smashed.... And they say that silence is golden.... When you do go, will you let me have your address?"

"I can imagine nothing more worthless," said Anthony. "But I think I've been rude enough. I promise to send it you."

For no apparent reason he laughed bitterly. His companion shuddered.

"Don't laugh like that, Major Lyveden. It's bad for my heart. Oh, dear. How fast George is driving! We shall be at Bell Hammer before we know where we are." Suddenly she leaned forward and caught at the footman's sleeve. "Anthony Lyveden, I've shown you my hand. As you love my niece, what is the trouble?"

Anthony set his teeth.

"Can't be done," he said, "Lady Touchstone. We've got to work it out for ourselves."

"Curse your pride," said that lady. "There. Now I've sworn at you.

But it's your own fault. And how are you two goats going to work it out for yourselves? With one of you bleating at Nice, and the other--Heaven knows where--in England? D'you go to church, Anthony Lyveden?"

"I used to."

"Then go again. Get to your knees and pray. Pray to be delivered from blindness of heart, Anthony Lyveden. D'you hear? Blindness of heart.

From pride, vainglory and hypocrisy. Not that you're hypocritical, but they go together, and it'll do no harm. And I shall make Valerie go, and--and I shall pray for you both."

Anthony slid off his hat and put her hand to his lips....

As he did so, the car sped past a red lodge and into a curling drive.

Lady Touchstone sought for a pocket-handkerchief.

"There's a tear on my nose," she explained. "I can feel it. It's a real compliment, Anthony Lyveden. You're the very first man that's ever made Harriet Touchstone cry."

The car swept to the steps.

Anthony was down in a flash. Tenderly he handed her out....

By the time her aunt had alighted, Valerie was at the top of the steps.

Anthony walked up to her steadily. Then he took off his hat.

"I humbly apologize," he said. "It was unpardonable."

"You're right," said Valerie quietly. "That's just what it was."

As she spoke, a servant opened the door.

Valerie turned on her heel and walked into the house.

That same evening, when the others had gone to bed, Anthony called his terrier and set him upon his knee.

"Patch," he said, "I've come back to the fold." As was his habit when mystified, the terrier swallowed apologetically. "Is that too hard for you, my fellow? Let me put it like this. Once there were just you and I, weren't there? A fool and his dog. Caring for n.o.body, n.o.body caring for them, but to each other--just everything." The Sealyham licked his face. "Then one day she came ... She. A wonderful, peerless creature, to dazzle the poor fool's eyes. And the fool just fell down and worshipped her. He didn't forget his little dog, Patch.

He never did that. But--well, it wasn't the same. Of course not. You must have felt it sometimes.... But you're a good little chap. And I couldn't help it, Patch. She--seemed--so--very--sweet.... I risked your life for her once. I did, really." He paused to stare into the fire. Then he took a deep breath. "By Jove, if you'd gone... I should have been left now, shouldn't I? Properly carted. Well, well, old fellow, it's over now. Never again, Patch. The fool's learned his lesson. You'd never let me down, would you? No. But she has. They say it's a way women have. And I'm going to wash her right out of my life, Patch. Right out. Now."

He set the dog down, stretched out his arms wearily, and got upon his feet. The terrier leaped up and down as if he had been promised a walk.

Anthony laughed.