Once Aboard the Lugger Part 79

But he was in desperate despondency. "It's all that infernal cat, Mary," he groaned; she kissed that knotted forehead.

He asked her: "By the way, where's that other brute?--the beast we brought here with us?"

She peered low. "I've just fed the poor thing."

Attracted by her movement, that orange cat which had wrought the fearful disaster came forth from beneath the table.

"G-r-r-r!" George growled; stamped his foot.

The orange cat again took shelter.

"Ah, don't frighten it, dear," Mary told him. "It's done no harm."

George rose. He was too tremendously moved to contain himself while seated. "Done no harm!" he cried. He took a step to the window. "Done no--" He stopped short. "Oh, Lord! I say, Mary! Oh, Lord! here's Bill!"

Mary fluttered to his side; saw Bill Wyvern disappear beneath the porch of the door.

A knock; shuffling in the pa.s.sage; footsteps up the stairs.

"By Gad! I'd forgotten all about old Bill," George said.

Then Bill entered.

CHAPTER VIII.

Abis.h.a.g The Shunamite In Meath Street.

I.

The most tremendous crises between man and man commonly begin with exchange of the customary ba.n.a.lities. Charlotte Corday gave Marat _"Bonsoir, citoyen,"_ ere she drove her knife. This was no cloak to hide her purpose. We are so much creatures of convention that the man who sets out, h.e.l.l in breast, to avenge himself upon another, cannot forbear to give him greeting before ever he comes upon the matter between them.

George, involuntarily straightening his back as he remembered how desperately he had hoodwinked this Bill, had upon a fool's errand packed him to that inn, as involuntarily pa.s.sed him the customary words.

"Hullo, Bill!" he said. "How on earth did you know I was here?"

He awaited the burst of reproach; the torrent of fury.

These did not come. About Bill's mouth, as from George to Mary he glanced, there were the lines of amus.e.m.e.nt; no menace lay in his clear blue eyes.

"Went to look for you at the hospital," Bill replied. "Met that man Franklyn, and he told me you very probably were here."

George pushed ahead with the ba.n.a.lities. "Surprised to see Miss Humfray here?" he asked. "You met her, of course, at my uncle's while- -while"--this was dangerous ground, and he hurried over it--"while I was away," he said quickly; blew his nose.

Bill told him: "Yes. Not a bit surprised." The creases of amus.e.m.e.nt became more evident. He shook Mary's hand.

"Ah!" George said. "Um! Quite so. Sit down, Bill."

They took seats. Constraint was upon these people; each sat upon the extreme edge of the chair selected.

After a pause, "You've been to Herons' Holt, then?" George remarked.

"Yesterday. Yesterday night."

"Ah! Yesterday. Thursday, so to speak. Um! Margaret quite well?"

"Quite."

The deadly pause came on again. Mary looked appealing to her George.

George, his right boot in a patch of sunlight, earnestly was watching it as, twisting it this way and that, the polish caught the rays.

It lay with herself to make a thrust through this fearful silence.

Upon a timid little squeak she shot out: "Mr. Marrapit quite well?"

"Quite," Bill told her. "Quite. A little bit--" He checked; again the silence fell.

Mary no longer could endure it. Impulsively leaning forward, arms outstretched, hands clasped, "Oh, Mr. Wyvern!" she cried. "You're _not_ angry with George, _are_ you? He _couldn't_ help sending you to that inn, _could_ he?"

Constraint fled. "Of course I'm not," Bill declared. "Not a bit. I've come here to congratulate you both. I--"

George sprang forward; grasped Bill's hand. "Good old buck!" he cried.

"Good old Bill! I'm awfully sorry, Bill. You're a stunner, Bill. Isn't he a stunner, Mary?"

"He _is_ a stunner," Mary agreed.

The stunner, red beneath this praise, warmly returned George's grip.

When they released, "I say, George, you _are_ an a.s.s, you know," he said. "Why on earth didn't you tell me what you were up to?"

"You weren't there, old man, when it began. You were in London. How on earth was I to know your paper would come plunging into the business?"

The memory of the pains that paper had caused him swept all else from George's mind. Indignation seized him. "It was a scandalous bit of work, Bill. 'Pon my soul it's simply shameful that a newspaper can go and interfere in a purely private matter like that. Yes, it is, Mary.

Don't you interrupt. Bill understands. I don't blame you, Bill; you were doing your duty. I blame the editor. What did he want to push into it for? I tell you that paper drove me up and down the country till I was pretty well dead. It's all very well for you to grin, Bill."

"I'm not grinning."

"You are grinning." George threw a bitter note into his declamations.

"Of course, you can afford to grin. What was agony to me was hot stuff for you. I expect you've made your reputation over this show. Everything's turned out all right for you--"

Bill took that bitter note. "Rather!" he broke in. "Rather! I pulled it off, didn't I? I found the rotten cat, didn't I? I wasn't made a fool of for two days in a country inn, was I? I've not got the sack all through you, have I?"

George instantly forgot his personal sorrows. "Oh, I say, Bill, you haven't, have you?"

Bill, not expecting the interruption, confessed a little lamely: "No, I haven't. I _haven't_--as it turns out. But I might have--if it wasn't for--" He paused a moment; sadly said, "Anyway, just as I thought I'd got her, I've lost Margaret again."

In those fierce days when her Bill was the Daily Special Commissioner, Margaret had confided in Mary the promise Mr. Marrapit had made should Bill find the cat. Now Mary was filled with sympathy. "Oh, Mr.