Brandon of the Engineers Part 50

On the whole, he was relieved when Jake left, because he found it an effort to talk, but the thoughts he afterwards indulged in were gloomy.

His broken ribs did not trouble him much, but there was some risk of his losing his eye. He had helped to expose and banish Kenwardine, and could not ask Clare to marry him after that, even if he were not half blind and disfigured. Besides, it was doubtful if he would be able to resume his profession or do any useful work again. The sight of the uninjured eye might go. As a matter of fact, the strain he had borne for some time had told upon his health and the shock of the accident had made things worse.

He had sunk into a dejected, lethargic mood, from which he had not the vigor to rouse himself.

A week later he was helped on board a small French boat and sailed for Santa Brigida. He did not improve with the sea air, as Jake had hoped, and for the most part avoided the few pa.s.sengers and sat alone in the darkest corner he could find. Now and then he moodily read Kenwardine's letters. He had at first expected much from them. They might have removed the stain upon his name and the greatest obstacle between himself and Clare; but he no longer cared much about the former and the letters were useless now. For all that, he put them carefully away in a leather case which he carried in an inside pocket.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

IDA INTERFERES

On his return to Santa Brigida, d.i.c.k went to see a Spanish oculist, who took a more hopeful view than the Kingston doctor, although he admitted that there was some danger of the injury proving permanent. d.i.c.k felt slightly comforted when he learned that the oculist was a clever man who had been well known in Barcelona until he was forced to leave the city after taking part in some revolutionary plot. He was, however, unable to resume his work, and while he brooded over his misfortunes a touch of the malaria he had already suffered from hindered his recovery. One of the effects of malaria is a feeling of black depression. He was feebly struggling against the weakness and despondence when Fuller arrived and soon afterwards came to see him. d.i.c.k, who was sitting in the darkest corner of the veranda, had got rid of his bandage; but an ugly, livid mark crossed his forehead to the shade above his eyes and his face looked worn. Fuller talked about the dam for a time, and then stopped and looked hard at his silent companion.

"I imagined all this would interest you, but you don't say much."

"No," said d.i.c.k. "You see, it's galling to listen to plans you can't take part in. In fact, I feel I ought to resign."

"Why?"

"It looks as if it may be a long time before I can get to work and I may never be of much use again."

"Well, I suppose it's natural that you should feel badly humped, but you don't know that you'll lose your eye, and if you did, you'd do your work all right with the other. However, since you started the subject, I've something to say about our contract. If the new scheme we're negotiating goes through, as I think it will, I'll have to increase my staff. Should I do so, you'll get a move up and, of course, better pay for a more important job."

d.i.c.k, who was touched by this mark of confidence, thanked him awkwardly, and although he felt bound to object that he might be unable to fill the new post, Fuller stopped him.

"All you have to do is to lie off and take it easy until you get well. I know a useful man when I see him and it won't pay me to let you go. When I've fixed things with the President I'll make you an offer. Now Stuyvesant's waiting for me and I understand my daughter is coming to see you."

He went away and soon afterwards Ida Fuller came in. d.i.c.k rather awkwardly got her a chair, for his shade, which was closely pulled down, embarra.s.sed him, but she noticed this, and his clumsiness made a strong appeal. She liked d.i.c.k and had some ground for being grateful to him. For half an hour she talked in a cheerful strain and d.i.c.k did his best to respond, but she saw what the effort cost and went away in a thoughtful mood.

Ida Fuller had both sympathy and self-confidence, and when things went wrong with her friends seldom felt diffident about trying to put them right. In consequence, she took Jake away from the others, whom her father had asked to dinner that evening.

"What's the matter with d.i.c.k Brandon?" she asked.

"It's pretty obvious. His trouble began with broken ribs and may end with the loss of his eye; but if you want a list of his symptoms----"

"I don't," said Ida. "Does his trouble end with the injury to his eye?"

Jake gave her a sharp glance. "If you insist on knowing, I admit that I have my doubts. But you must remember that d.i.c.k has a touch of malaria, which makes one morbid."

"But this doesn't account for everything?"

"No," said Jake, who lighted a cigarette, "I don't think it does. In fact, as I know your capabilities and begin to see what you're getting after, there's not much use in my trying to put you off the track."

Ida sat down in a canvas chair and pondered for a minute or two.

"You know Miss Kenwardine; if I recollect, you were rather enthusiastic about her. What is she like?"

Jake's eyes twinkled. "You mean--is she good enough for d.i.c.k? He'll be a lucky man if he gets her, and I don't mind confessing that I thought of marrying her myself only she made it clear that she had no use for me.

She was quite right; I'd have made a very poor match for a girl like that."

Ida was not deceived by his half-humorous manner, for she remarked something that it was meant to hide. Still, Jake had had numerous love affairs that seldom lasted long.

"Have you been to see her since you came back?" she asked.

"Yes," said Jake. "After helping to drive her father out of the country, I knew it would be an awkward meeting, but I felt I ought to go because she might be in difficulties, and I went twice. On the whole, it was a relief when I was told she was not at home."

"I wonder whether she would see me?"

"You're pretty smart, but I suspect this is too delicate a matter for you to meddle with."

"I'll be better able to judge if you tell me what you know about it."

Jake did so with some hesitation. He knew his sister's talents and that her object was good, but he shrank from betraying his comrade's secrets.

"I think I've put you wise, but I feel rather mean," he concluded.

"What you feel is not important. But you really think he hasn't sent her Kenwardine's letter?"

Jake made a sign of agreement and Ida resumed:

"The other letter stating that his cousin stole the plans is equally valuable and his making no use of it is significant. Your partner's a white man, Jake, but he's foolish and needs the help of a judicious friend. I want both letters."

"I've warned you that it's a dangerous game. You may muss up things."

"Then I'll be responsible. Can you get the letters?"

"I think so," Jake replied with an embarra.s.sed grin. "In a way, it's a shabby trick, but if he will keep papers in his pocket after getting one lot stolen, he must take the consequences."

"Very well," said Ida calmly. "Now we had better go in before the others wonder why we left them."

Next morning Clare sat in the patio in very low spirits. No word had come from Kenwardine, and her money was nearly exhausted. She had heard of d.i.c.k's return, but not that he was injured, and he had kept away. This was not surprising and she did not want to meet him; but it was strange that he had not come to see her and make some excuse for what he had done. He could, of course, make none that would appease her, but he ought to have tried, and it looked as if he did not care what she thought of his treachery.

Then she glanced up as Ida came in. Clare had seen Ida in the street and knew who she was, but she studied her with keen curiosity as she advanced. Her dress was tasteful, she was pretty, and had a certain stamp of refinement and composure that Clare knew came from social training; but she felt antagonistic. For all that, she indicated a chair and waited until her visitor sat down. Then she asked with a level glance: "Why have you come to see me?"

"I expect you mean--why did I come without getting your servant to announce me?" Ida rejoined with a disarming smile. "Well, the gate was open, and I wanted to see you very much, but was half afraid you wouldn't let me in. I owe you some apology, but understand that my brother is a friend of yours."

"He was," Clare said coldly.

"Then he has lost your friendship by taking d.i.c.k Brandon's part?"

Clare colored, but her voice was firm as she answered:

"To some extent that is true. Mr. Brandon has cruelly injured us."

"He was forced. d.i.c.k Brandon is not the man to shirk his duty because it was painful and clashed with his wishes."