Once Aboard the Lugger Part 69

The masterly woman had removed all traces of her emotion. In a voice humble yet strong, "I start to search, Mr. Marrapit," she said. "I will find the Rose if she is to be found."

So deep sincerity was in her speech, so strong she seemed, so restful in this crisis, that Mr. Marrapit, watching her stride the drive, again fell to pacing and cogitation--had he misjudged her? Almost unconsciously he moved upstairs to his room; drew those green slippers with red blobs from their drawer.

IV.

Had Mr. Marrapit doubted the sincerity of Mrs. Major's search, a.s.suredly he would have misjudged her. In her diary that night the masterly woman inscribed:

"_Am here; must stick_."

Her best chance of sticking, as well she knew, lay in finding the Rose. Could she but place that creature's exquisite form in Mr.

Marrapit's arms, she felt that her reward would be to win back to the paradise from which Old Tom had driven her.

Therefore most strenuously she scoured the countryside; pried into houses; popped her head into stable doors. This woman nothing spared herself; in the result, at the end of two days, was considerably dejected. For it was clear to her that the Rose had not strayed, but had been stolen; was not concealed in the vicinity of Herons' Holt, but had been spirited to the safety of many miles. She was driven to accept Mr. Brunger's opinion--the Rose had been stolen by some eager and unscrupulous breeder to be used for gross purposes.

It was upon the evening of the second day in paradise that this woman settled upon this gloomy conclusion. Gloomy it was, and desperately, sitting in her bedroom that night, the masterly woman battled for some way to circ.u.mvent it. To that entry made in her diary on the night of her arrival she had added two further sentences:

_"Hate that baby-faced Humfray chit."

"Certain cannot stick unless find cat."_

Opening her diary now she gazed upon these entries; chewed them. They were bitter to the taste. To agony at what she had lost was added mortification at seeing another in her place; and rankling in this huge wound was the poison of the knowledge that she could not win back. Circ.u.mstances were too strong. The cat was not to be found, and--stabbing thought--"certain cannot stick unless find cat."

This way and that the masterly woman twisted in search of a means to circ.u.mvent her position. It might be done by accomplishing the overthrow of this baby-faced chit. If the baby-faced chit could be made to displease Mr. Marrapit and be turned out, it would surely be possible, being ready at hand, to take her place. But how could the baby-faced chit be made to err?

This way and that Mrs. Major twisted and could find no means. Always she was forced back to the brick-wall fact--salvation lay only in finding the cat. That would accomplish everything. She would have succeeded where the baby-faced chit had failed; she would have proved her devotion; she, would have earned, not a doubt of it, the reward of re-entry into paradise that Mr. Marrapit in his grat.i.tude would more than offer--would press upon her.

But the cat was not to be found.

Beating up against the desperate barrier of that thought, Mrs. Major groaned aloud as she paced the room, threw up her arms in her despair.

The action caused her to swerve; with hideous violence she crashed her stockinged foot against the leg of the wash-stand.

Impossible to tell how far will spread the ripples of the lightest action we may toss upon the sea of life. The stunning agony in this woman's toes, as, hopping to the bed, she sat and nursed them, with the swiftness of thought presented to her a solution of her difficulty that struck her staring with excitement.

Her first thought in her throbbing pain was of remedy for the bruise.

"Bruise" brought involuntarily to her mind the picture of a chemist's shop in the Edgware Road, not far from Angel Street, whose window she had seen filled with little boxes of "Bruisine," the newest specific for abrasions. Thence her thoughts, by direct pa.s.sage, jumped to the time when last she had noticed the shop--she had been returning from a stroll by way of Suss.e.x Gardens. And it was while mentally retracing that walk down Suss.e.x Gardens that Mrs. Major lit plump upon the solution of her difficulty. She had noticed, let out for a run from No. 506, an orange cat that was so precisely the image of the Rose of Sharon that she had stopped to stroke it for dear memory's sake. Often since then she had spoken to it; every time had been the more struck by its extraordinary resemblance to the Rose. She had reflected that, seen together, she could not have told them apart.

Mrs. Major forgot the throbbing of her abrased toes. Her brows knitted by concentration of thought, very slowly the masterly woman concluded her disrobing. Each private garment that she stripped and laid aside marked a forward step in the indomitable purpose she had conceived. As her fingers drew the most private from her person, leaving it naked, so from her plan did her masterly mind draw the last veil that filmed it, leaving it clear. When the Jaeger nightdress fell comfortably about her, her purpose too was presentable and warm.

Every day and every night, every hour of every day and night, ripples from unknown splashes are setting towards us. From this masterly woman, in process of toilet, ripples were setting towards a modest and unsuspecting cat lying in sweet slumber at 506 Suss.e.x Gardens, off the Edgware Road.

For the masterly woman had thus determined--she would have that cat that was the Rose's second self. The Rose was in the hands of some villain breeder and would never be returned; small fear of discovery under that head. This cat was the Rose's second self; differences that Mr. Marrapit might discover, lack of affection that he might notice, could be attributed to the adventures through which the Rose had pa.s.sed since her abduction. Under this head, indeed, Mrs. Major did not antic.i.p.ate great difficulty. Similar cats are more similar than similar dogs. They have not, as dogs have, the distinguishing marks of character and demonstrativeness. In any event, as the masterly woman a.s.sured herself, she ran no peril even if her plot failed. She would say she had found the cat, and if Mr. Marrapit were convinced it was not his Rose--well, she had made a mistake, that was all.

V.

Upon the morrow, playing her hand with masterly skill, Mrs. Major sought interview with Mr. Marrapit. With telling dabs of her pocket handkerchief at her eyes, with telling sniffs of her masterly nose, she expressed the fear that she had outstayed his kindness in receiving her. He had granted her request--he had let her come to Herons' Holt; but two days had pa.s.sed and she had not found his Rose.

True, if she had longer she could more thoroughly search; but as an honest woman she must admit that she had been given her chance, had failed.

Upon a wailing note she ended: "I must go."

"Cancel that intention," Mr. Marrapit told her. Her honesty smote this man. Had he misjudged her?

She smothered a sniff in her handkerchief: "I must go. I must go. I have seen that you regard me with suspicion. Oh, you have reason, I know; but I cannot bear it."

"Remove that impression," spoke Mr. Marrapit. He _had_ misjudged this woman; he was convinced of it.

Mrs. Major gave her answer in the form of two smothered sniffs and a third that, eluding her handkerchief, escaped free and loud--a telling sniff that advertised her distress; wrung Mr. Marrapit's emotions.

He continued: "Mrs. Major, at a future time we will discuss the painful affair to which you make reference. At present I am too preoccupied by the calamity that has desolated my hearth. Meanwhile, I suspend judgment. I place suspicion behind me. I regard you only as she whom my Rose loved."

"Do you wish me to stay a little longer?" asked Mrs. Major, trembling.

"That is my wish. Continue to prosecute your search."

Trembling yet more violently Mrs. Major said: "I will stay. I had not dared to suppose I might stop more than two days. I brought nothing with me. May I go to London to get clothes? I will return to-morrow morning."

"Why not to-night?"

"Early to-morrow would be more convenient. I have other things to do in London."

"To-morrow, then," Mr. Marrapit agreed.

At the door Mrs. Major turned. Her great success at this interview emboldened her to a second stroke. "There is one other thing I would like to say, if I dared."

"Be fearless."

She plunged. "If Heaven should grant that I may find the Rose, I implore you not to distress me by offering me the reward you are holding out. I could not take it. I know you can ill afford it.

Further than that, to have the joy of giving you back your Rose would be reward enough for me. And to know that she was safe with you, though I--I should never see her again, that would make me happy till the end of my days."

Her n.o.bility smote Mr. Marrapit. Cruelly, shamefully, he _had_ misjudged her. Her handkerchief pressed to her eyes, very gently Mrs.

Major closed the door; very soberly mounted the stairs.

Out of earshot, she walked briskly to her room; drew forth her diary; in a bold hand inscribed:

"_Absolutely certain shall stick._"

The masterly woman lunched in town.

CHAPTER II.

Mrs. Major Finds The Lock.