Grit Lawless Part 24

Van Bleit smiled drily.

"I daresay, d.i.c.k," he said. "But I've a fancy for your company... I shouldn't like the Colonel to get worrying you just now."

"You mean," Denzil said stiffly, "that you distrust me?"

"Not you, my dear fellow, but your judgment," Van Bleit replied easily.

"If it hadn't been for me you would have parted with a fortune for a beggarly sum long since."

"I'd be content," observed Denzil in an injured tone, "with a handsome sum down. Where's the sense in squeezing a man past his endurance?"

"We've got to find out how far his endurance goes," the other answered.

"Your conscience is over sensitive, my boy, for a job of this kind.

We've a handsome annuity in those letters... Why on earth should we sink it in a sum we should both squander in a year? There's no reason in it, and no commercial instinct. Apart from that, I've gone through an experience that ent.i.tles me to redress. Do you suppose I've endured nothing in standing on my trial? I wasn't responsible for Simmonds'

death; it was his own silly fault. But I might have had to pay for it.

The other side has got to make that good to me, and it isn't to be done cheaply. Putting a man's private feelings on one side, think of the expense of counsel's fees, and such things?"

Van Bleit was careful not to mention that all the expenses of his trial had been borne by Theodore Smythe, who laboured under the delusion that his wife's cousin had very little ready money at his command. It was a mystery to him how Van Bleit lived. Had he suspected him of blackmailing, he would not have lifted a finger to save his neck from the rope.

Denzil nodded shortly.

"Yes, of course... I quite see your point," he said. "At the same time, I wish you could come to some sort of agreement. I think after this Grey might meet you quite handsomely. And it would be satisfactory to me, at least, to be finished with the business. Men have got twenty years for blackmail before now."

Van Bleit drew himself up and eyed his subordinate aggressively.

"If you're funking it," he said, "say so, and be done with it. I'm not going to work with a man I can't be sure of. We have worked together so far satisfactorily that it will be regrettable if you separate our interests now. But it has to be now or never. I'm not throwing this up for any scruple. Do you, or do you not, stand in with me?"

Denzil's nature was weak, p.r.o.ne to any influence; and the dominating personality of the other man bore him down easily.

"Of course I stand in with you," he said. "Our interests are identical."

"Good!" Van Bleit rejoined. "You're a wobbler, d.i.c.k; but you generally rise to the occasion. Then you go with me to-morrow? You won't find it very amusing, though it may have its exciting moments... Unless, of course, the lady is still keeping house for Grit. But from the invite I imagine she has left him in the lurch."

"He'd scarcely ask you up there if he'd got any women about," was the reply, which Van Bleit construed into a compliment. He smiled complacently.

"I wouldn't mind hunting down the quarry on my own account," he said.

"She was devilishly handsome--and a dashed bad lot."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

The result of the trial was as great a surprise for Lawless as it had been for Theodore Smythe. Lawless had ridden into Stellenbosch daily for the paper, and had scanned the columns eagerly for any mention of the case. On the day that he read of Van Bleit's acquittal he sent off the telegram, the receipt of which had decided Van Bleit on a change of air.

He had ridden into town alone; Tottie, who usually accompanied him, had remained at home to attend, as she informed him, to the ravages her wardrobe had sustained through the hard wear of the veld. When Lawless got back he flung the paper in through the open doorway and rode on to the stable, where he off-saddled, and then returned to the house.

Tottie, when he entered, was seated at the table in her favourite att.i.tude, with her elbows upon it and her chin in her hands, devouring the paper with avidity. She looked up as his tall figure blocked the doorway and laughed.

"He's got the devil's own luck," she said. "But this is all right for you, old man."

Lawless walked up to the table.

"I've sent off a wire asking him here," he said.

She laughed again.

"You don't lose time... And what's to become of me? Plainly, you wouldn't expose me to such a risk as that."

"I shall banish you to the hut we looked at on our arrival. It's quarter of a mile away, and the bush just behind it. You'll sleep there and spend your days in the bush."

"What a lively programme!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"Fairly dull--yes." He went nearer to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not going to pretend that you'll get much joy of it," he said. "But you wanted to help me."

She looked up and nodded.

"Yes, I wanted to help... If I had to spend my nights as well as my days in the bush, I'd do it."

His hand gripped her shoulder till it hurt.

"You're the right stuff," he said,--"the best stuff. You and I together will pull this off."

That night was destined to be a night of surprises. Hardly had they supped, while they yet lingered at the table discussing their plans, a sound broke suddenly upon the silence, a sound so unusual that Lawless stopped abruptly in the middle of his talk, and Tottie's head went up with a jerk like the head of a wild thing scenting danger. And so they remained for a while listening in att.i.tudes of strained attention. The sounds were unmistakably made by the heavy creaking wheels of a waggon travelling towards them across the veld. Tottie looked at her companion inquiringly.

"It's a surprise party, baas," she said. "They've seen our light and are for outspanning."

For answer Lawless pushed back his chair, and, rising, started to clear away the evidence of the _tete-a-tete_ meal. She helped him swiftly and in silence, pausing every now and again to listen to the sounds that were gradually getting nearer, growing momentarily louder and more distinctive. The cracking of a whip was heard, and above it the noise of men's voices raised in a rollicking song.

"Get into the bedroom," Lawless commanded. "You must make your escape by the window, and sleep in the hut."

"But--strangers!" she protested. "Why shouldn't I partic.i.p.ate in the fun?"

"We can't run the risk," he said.--"No! You make yourself scarce, and leave this to me. Strangers or no, they're rowdy... I would rather have no woman in this."

She demurred still, foreseeing a merry evening, and not relishing the part allotted to her; but he carried his point; and reluctantly she went into the bedroom and fastened the door upon herself. He waited until she was secure from observation, then he opened the outer door and stood in the lighted aperture, looking into the night.

"Hallo!" shouted a voice in English out of the darkness.

"Hallo!" he answered back.

A young man came forward, swinging a lantern in his hand.

"We're outspanning here," he said. "I never expected such luck as that this place was occupied. A fire is all we need. We carry provisions with us."

"Come in and welcome," Lawless answered. "How many of you are there?

Whatever accommodation I have is at your service."

"We are five," the other answered. "They're unharnessing the mules. We lost our driver at the last uitspan." He lifted his lantern and looked about him. "This is a slice of luck. For two nights we've been jolly near frozen, sleeping in the wain."

"I'm glad," Lawless said, "that you happened this way. I was just about fed up with my own society. Let's lend a hand with unharnessing the mules. It's a G.o.dsend a visitation like this."

The young man looked at him curiously.