Blind Policy Part 20

Never saw him before in my life. What number did you want, sir?"

"This," said Chester, sternly, as he looked the young man fiercely in the eyes. "Perhaps Miss Clareborough will speak. Believe me, I took great interest in your brother's case. Can I see him again?"

The lady he addressed turned to one of her companions and whispered a few words, whereupon Mrs James said coldly--

"Will you help this gentleman to find the box he is in search of, Dennis? The place is so dark now the curtain is down, and he does not see the mistake he has made."

"No, that's it," said the young man. "Ah, here you are, then, at last,"

he cried, as the entrance was darkened by another figure. "Come in.

This gentleman wants to find some friends of his, and he has come to this box by mistake."

"Indeed!" and Chester at that one word felt the blood surge up to his temples, and a fierce sensation of pa.s.sion began to make his nerves tingle.

"Well," continued the speaker, "it's very easy, dear boy. Places are so confoundedly dark. Couldn't get here sooner, girls; man detained me at the club--I beg pardon, sir; the box-keeper could no doubt help you."

The cool, contemptuous manner of the man took away Chester's breath, and he felt himself almost compelled to give place.

"Thanks, much," said the newcomer, drawing slightly aside for Chester to back out. "Don't apologise. They ought to light up the house more when the curtain is down."

The next moment the door was thrust to, the catch snapped, and as Chester stood there, undecided what to do, he could hear the voices within carrying on a conversation which sounded so calm and matter-of-fact that in his excited state the listener asked himself whether he was in his right senses, and at last hurried away, to pause in the refreshment-room and drink off a gla.s.s of brandy to steady his nerves.

He did not return to his seat in the stalls, but stopped in the entry, where, invisible in the gloom, partially hidden by one of the curtains, he stood using his gla.s.s upon the occupants of the box he had so lately quitted.

As he stood there, feeling half stunned, he went over the words that had pa.s.sed and the action of the inmates, forgetting that all was quite consistent with the conduct he might have expected from people whose whole behaviour had been mysterious and strange.

At last he saw a movement among those he was watching, and, desperate almost with rage and despair, he hurried round to station himself in the lobby, where he felt certain that the party must pa.s.s. But they were so long in coming that he was about to seek another doorway.

Then he saw that he was right, for the big, bluff-looking brother and cousin came by without seeing him, spoke to the footman Chester had seen at the house, and then returned, as if to join their party.

A few minutes later they came out slowly amongst the crowd, the tide turning them quite to the outside, so that they were close to him who watched them intently, as if in doubt of his own sanity, wondering whether he could have made any mistake.

"No," he whispered to himself, as he fixed his eyes on the beautiful woman, upon whose arm he could have laid his hand, so close was she to him as she pa.s.sed.

It was as if his steady gaze influenced her, for when she was just abreast she turned her head quickly, and her eyes met his full as she rested her hand upon the stalwart young fellow's arm.

Chester's look seemed to fascinate her, for her eyes were fixed and strange in those brief moments. Then she pa.s.sed on, gazing straight before her. There was no start, no sign of the slightest emotion. It was simply the inquiring look of one who seemed to fancy he was the personage who had made his appearance in their box, otherwise one whom she had never before seen.

The impulse was strong upon Chester to follow, but for quite a minute he stood feeling as if he had been stunned.

Then, with a strange, harsh utterance, he forced himself roughly through the well-dressed crowd in his endeavours to follow the party, but weeks of anxiety and abnormal excitement were taking their toll at last; a sudden giddiness attacked him, and with a heavy groan he reeled and fell in the midst of the pleasure-seeking throng.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

AUNT GRACE'S CURE.

Chester was borne into the box-office, and a medical man sent for, under whose ministrations he recovered consciousness, and soon after was able to declare who he was and his ability to return home unaided.

In the short conversation, the doctor, upon learning that his patient was a fellow-pract.i.tioner, took upon himself to utter a few words of warning.

"Mustn't trifle with this sort of thing, my friend," he said. "You know that as well as I can tell you, eh?"

"Yes, yes," said Chester, irritably; "I'll take more care. I have been over-doing it lately, but," he added, with a curious laugh, "you see I was taking a little relaxation to-night."

"Humph! Yes, I see," said the doctor, watching him curiously. "Well, you feel that you can go home alone?"

"Oh yes; see me into a cab, please. Thanks for all you have done. Only a touch of vertigo."

"'Only a touch of vertigo,'" said the strange doctor, as he saw the hansom driven off. "'Only a touch of vertigo' means sometimes the first step towards a lunatic asylum."

"Ah!" muttered Chester, while being driven homewards, "people look at me as if I were going wrong in my head. I wonder whether I am."

He laughed as he let himself in and heard a rustle on the stairs.

"Watching again," he said to himself. "And they think I'm going wrong, I suppose. But how strange! That utter denial of all knowledge of me.

Even she!"

He went into his room, and sat thinking of the incidents of the day and evening for some hours before throwing himself upon his bed, but was down at the usual time in the morning, partook of the unsocial breakfast and rose almost without saying a word.

"Yes, what is it?" said Chester, sharply, for Laura hurried to his side and laid her hand upon his arm. "Money for housekeeping?"

"No--no!" cried his sister, angrily, and there she paused.

"Well, speak, then; don't stop me. I am busy this morning."

"I must stop you, Fred," cried Laura, pa.s.sionately. "We cannot go on like this."

"Why?" he said calmly. "Because we are brother and sister. We have always been as one together. You have had no secrets from me. I have had none from you. I have always been so proud of my brother's love for me, but now all at once everything comes to an end. You withhold your confidence."

"No; my confidence, perhaps, for the time being," he said gravely; "not my love from you. G.o.d forbid."

"But you do, Fred."

"No; it is more the other way on," he replied. "You have withheld your love from me, and checked any disposition I might have felt to confide in you."

"Fred!"

"Don't deny it," he said quietly. "Since I was called away so strangely, and kept away against my will--"

"Against your will!" cried Laura, scornfully.

"Hah!" he cried, "it is of no use to argue with you, my child. Poor old aunt has so thoroughly imbued you with her doctrines of suspicion that everything I say will be in vain."

"Imbued me with her suspicions!" cried Laura, angrily. "That is it; because I am quite a girl still you treat me as if I were a child. Do you--oh, I cannot say it!--yes, I will; I am your sister, and it is my duty to try and save you from something which will cause you regret to the end of your days. Do you dare to deny that you have got into some wretched entanglement--something which has suddenly turned you half mad?"

"No," he said quietly. "That is so."

"Then how can you go on like this? You have broken poor Isabel's heart, estranged everybody's love from you, and are running headlong to ruin.

Fred--brother, for all our sakes, stop before it is too late."