Foe-Farrell Part 41

"I hope," said I, "the fortunate man, whoever he is, doesn't object to your calling around on us poor bachelors and breaking the news.

However, Jimmy Collingwood is up, with his wife, and will be coming around from his hotel in a few minutes. He'll do for a chaperon.

Meanwhile"--I held out the rose--"I wish you all happiness from the bottom of my heart. . . . When is it to be?--and shall I be in time with an alligator for a wedding present?"

"Now that's rather prettily offered," said Constantia, half-extending her hand to take the flower, her eyes shining with just the trace of tears. "But you and I are a pair of humbugs, Roddy. To begin with _you_--I don't believe there are any such things as alligators on that island."

"What island?" I stammered, and my fingers gave a small, involuntary jerk at the rose's stem as hers closed upon it.

"The island about which you wrote that queer short note to--to Dr.

Foe--two days ago, asking if he could supply you as nearly as possible with its bearings."

"Are you telling me--?" I began.

She nodded, searching my face. "Yes, your old friend is the man; and that's where _I_ come in as a humbug. The reason of this call is that I want to know why you two, who used to be devoted, are no longer friends."

"Good Lord!" I exclaimed, not loudly, but more or less to myself.

"You must forgive my lighting a cigar, Constantia. . . . My mind works slowly." While lighting it I made a miserable attempt to fob her off and gain time. "When an old friend cuts in and carries off--"

"That's nonsense," she interrupted sharply; "and you know it; and you ought to know that I know it."

"Well, then," I protested rather feebly, hating to hurt her, "you must allow that his behaviour to that man Farrell was a bit beyond the limit. Of course, if you can forgive it--well, I don't know. It's odious to me to be talking like this about the man to whom you're attached--the man I used to worship. And for me, who still would lose a hand, cheerfully, now as ever, to spare you pain!

. . . My dear girl, let's talk of something else."

"No, we will not," said Constantia firmly. "I came to talk about this, and I will. . . . Of course I know it was wrong of Jack to pursue Mr. Farrell as he did. You remember my telling you I was worried, that day we talked about him after my return from the States? At that time I imagined he was allowing himself for a bribe to be friends again with this man, and it distressed me; because-- well, women have their code, you know, as well as men, and--and I may confess to you now that, even at that time, I had begun to take an interest--"

"I see," said I dully, resting my arm along the chimney-piece and staring down into the grate, where Jephson had lit a small fire: for the day, though bright, was chilly.

"You a.s.sured me, you remember, that Jack was above any such meanness; and so far you relieved me, for I saw you were telling the truth.

But," she continued, "I saw also that it wasn't the whole truth: that you were hiding something. So I went away puzzled. Afterwards, I got the truth out of Jimmy Collingwood."

"Well?" I prompted her, as she paused.

"Well, it was shocking of Jack, I admit. But, after all, this Mr. Farrell had ruined his life, and--of course I don't quite understand men and their code--but isn't it a trifle uncharitable of you, Roddy, not to allow that the shock may have unhinged his mind for a time? . . . No, I'm playing the humbug in _my_ turn, and I'll own up. It was wicked, if you will: but it was great in its way, and determined . . . and women, you know, always fall slaves to that sort of thing. It was straightforward, too: Jimmy said Jack had given his man fair warning. Jimmy--but you know that boy's way--gave me the impression that he didn't condemn Jack's craze as unsportsmanlike: merely for being, as he put it, a thought bloodthirstier than any line of sport he himself felt any inclination to follow. 'But I'm no judge, Con,' he added--I remember his words--'for the simple reason that I never had a career to be ruined.' . . . Well, for the rest, Jack says he came straight to you as soon as he set foot back in England, and told you the whole story.--That's so, I guess?"

Constantia, in her agitation, relapsed into her mother's idiom.

I nodded, bending my head still lower over the high chimney-shelf, still staring down into the fire.

"Then you _know_," she said; "and I _do_ call it rather dull of you, Roddy--not to say insensate--and unlike you, anyway. . . . When, at the end, he turned and behaved so finely, nursing this man through his last illness. . . ."

I tell you, it was lucky that I still kept my face turned sideways, still staring down on the fire. . . . It took me like a mental nausea, and all my thought for the moment was to hold steady under it. I felt my fingers gripping hard on the ledge and holding to it, as the waves went over my poor brain. Through the surge of them confusedly I heard her voice pleading: and yet her voice was calm, well under control. It must have been the waves in my own head that broke her speech into short sentences.

"You were his friend . . . his best friend . . . mine, too, Roddy.

You took it so well, just now . . . I _do_ want--"

What in the world could I say? How lift and turn my face to her?

How answer? . . . And yet within a second or two I must lift my face and make some answer. Her voice was already trailing off plaintively. I heard her catch her breath--

And then--thank G.o.d--I heard a brisk, happy footstep in the outer pa.s.sage, and Jimmy burst into the room with his accustomed whoop.

"Ahoy, within! How goes it with Gulliver?" He broke off, staring, and let out another joyous whoop, upon which chimed the merry rattle of tea-things, as Jephson followed close on his heels with a tray.

"Eh? No--but it is! In the words of the Bard, What ho, Constantia!"

He threw his bright top-hat across the room, hooked his umbrella over his left arm, and ran forward with both hands held out. "Oh, Con!

this is good! Give me a kiss, with Otty's leave--a real good nursery kiss!"

"There!" agreed Constantia. "And now sit down and be a good boy.

Where's Lettice?"

"Shopping in Knightsbridge: and the nurse walking the infant up and down, more or less parallel, just inside the Park, that he may watch the wheels go round. . . . I broke away. Shouldn't be surprised if Lettice taxi'd around here presently. I hinted at tea, and she knows where to find me. . . . Oh, by George, yes! Lettice always knows where I am, somehow. Meanwhile, here's your good staid chaperon."

He dropped into a chair. "Otty, you're looking serious. What were you talking about, you two?"

"Well, it's like this," said I, after a glance at her; "Constantia's going to be married--to Jack Foe."

He had started up at my first words, to congratulate her. As I dropped out the last three, with admirable presence of mind--"When in doubt, apply cake," said he hoa.r.s.ely, cramming a large piece into his mouth to stifle his emotion.

"I am not in doubt," said Constantia serenely; "and I suppose that is why you help yourself as first aid, before offering me some bread and b.u.t.ter, while Roddy lets me pour the tea. Thank you," she added, as he whipped about with an apology. "Don't speak with your mouth full: it's rude. . . . And now listen to me. Roddy, here, is off for South America, he tells me. Two days ago he wrote to Jack, asking for the lat.i.tude and longitude, as near as might be, of a certain island.

Jack showed me the letter. . . . You know about this?" she asked Jimmy, shooting out the question of a sudden.

I interrupted it. "Jimmy knows about it," said I. "No one else."

She looked at us calmly, taking stock of us. "Very well," she said; "and Jack has told me the whole story too, of course. I didn't know till this moment that Jimmy knew: but I'm so glad he does, for it makes us all four-square. Now, when first Jack got your letter, Roddy, He was for sending the information in six words on a post card, as being all that was due to an old friend that had so misjudged him. But I persuaded him, and--"

The outer door slammed upon the word, and a brisk footstep sounded in the pa.s.sage. I recognised it at once. So did Constantia.

"--And here he is!" exclaimed Constantia, without rising, "--come, as it happens, to have it out with the pair of you. . . . Hallo, Jack!"

I am bound to say that my first look at Jack Foe gave me a start, as he too started at sight of Jimmy, whose presence, of course, he had not expected. He was pale in comparison with the tan of two months back: but at every other point he was wonderfully set up and improved. It was Constantia's doing, belike: but he had become again in appearance the Jack Foe of old times--a trifle more seamed in the face but with a straightness and uprightness of carriage that rejuvenated him. His clothes, too, were of the old cut, modestly distinguished.

"Collingwood too?" said he, nodding easily. "That's better than I looked for. . . . You have told them?" he asked Constantia with a frank look of understanding. Then his eyes wandered, naturally, over the disorder in the room.

"Roddy is packing," said Constantia.

"For South America," said I.

"And after that? Yes, you needn't tell," he went on with an ease which I could only admire. "It's the island, of course--I had your note and was going to answer it, but Miss Denistoun--Constantia-- insisted that I should call round and tell you. The lat.i.tude is--"

"One moment," interrupted Jimmy. "You let the door slam behind you, Professor: and your dog is protesting."

"My dog?" Foe turned about, as Jimmy stepped to the pa.s.sage. "What are you talking about, Collingwood? I don't own such a thing."

"I'll be d.a.m.ned if there isn't one snuffling at that outer door,"

said Jimmy, and went quickly out into the pa.s.sage. I heard the lock click back and, upon the noise, a scuffle and gallop of a four-footed beast: and, with that, a great yellow dog burst in at the doorway of the room, took a leap forward, crouched, and slowly stiffened itself up with its legs, its back hunched and bristling. There it stood, letting out its voice in a growl that sounded almost like a groan of satisfied desire.

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Jimmy, following. "If this isn't your Billy, Professor, come to life!"

And I, too, cast a quick glance over my shoulder at Foe--against whom the hound evidently stiffened, as a pointer at its game. Foe, white as a sheet, was leaning back, his shoulders propped against the edge of the mantelshelf.

"He is not my dog," he gasped out. "Take him away: he's dangerous!"