The League of the Leopard Part 27

"You must forgive me if I appear abrupt," Chatterton apologized. "The fact is that when I'm anxious my temper is not so good as it generally is, and I am very anxious about my niece to-night. When Gilmour came round, the infernal--yes, that's the adjective I meant--old scoundrel wasn't even sober. And you remember Dane? Well, he is hemmed in by hostile savages somewhere in Africa, and we can learn no news of him. My niece and he were very good friends, and when she grows light-headed she begs us to tell her what has happened to him. It is distressing because, of course, we cannot do so."

Rae winced visibly at the last few sentences, and found a corroboration of them in the recollection of the change in Miss Chatterton after hearing Johnstone's story. Still, he pulled out his watch.

"There is a clever doctor at Swiftsbridge."

"I believe so," said Chatterton, impatiently. "There are also a number in London and a few in New York, I've heard. I sent over for the Swiftsbridge man some time ago; but considering the snow and bad roads, I don't expect him before to-morrow--and to-morrow may be too late."

"It is scarcely twelve miles across the moor and moss," said Rae.

"There's a train this way in two hours' time. If you could lend me a horse----"

"My man, who ought to know, declares that n.o.body could get through the ford to-night. I'm obliged to you, Rae, but what you suggest is out of the question. The one horse now in my stable has the fiend's own temper, and I cannot allow you, who cannot have had much experience in the saddle, to run risks that were too heavy for a very capable horseman."

"I used to ride a little, and haven't quite forgotten. If, as you suggest, I am responsible for Miss Chatterton's illness, I must make the only reparation possible. In fact, I intend to do so; and unless you will mount me I will borrow a horse at Culmeny. I will not, however promise to spare the beast."

"You can drown him if you bring the doctor through by the last train!"

said Chatterton, ringing the bell. "The horse will be ready inside ten minutes; and I'm greatly obliged to you."

The time had not elapsed when Rae walked quietly toward the mettlesome beast, which, resenting the change from its warm stable into the stinging sleet, laid its ears back, and when Chatterton approached it bared its teeth.

"Stand clear of his head!" cautioned Rae, swinging himself to the saddle; and the horse, rearing half upright, sent the gravel flying.

"No. Leave the gate shut! I'm going the nearest way."

"I shall not forget this kindness," called Chatterton. "Feel I ought to stop you, but dare not do it. Take care of yourself--and G.o.d bless you!"

"I hope He will prosper my journey," the younger man answered gravely.

There was a further scattering of gravel, a pounding of hoofs across a strip of lawn, and a crash of brittle branches as horse and rider smashed through a tall hedge into the sleet which whirled across the meadow beyond it.

Chatterton, shaking the white flakes from him, returned to his wife.

"I suppose you saw what has happened," he said. "There's another of them in the running now, and this one has mettle in him if he is a clergyman.

He's going through Langside moss to-night, though I gave him the plainest hint I could that in respect to Lilian his chance is of the smallest. Maxwell, it seems, took his dismissal gracefully; but what Rae has done to-night will count heavily on his side. Why must that idiot Hilton go out and get himself cut off by n.i.g.g.e.rs in Africa?"

Thanks to Rae's daring ride, a skilful doctor arrived at the junction by the last train, and remained at The Larches all the next day. He also made a number of other visits before he stated that his patient was making rapid progress on the way to recovery.

"You had, however, better take her south, say Egypt or the Canaries, to escape our genial spring," he said. "Not necessary, but distinctly advisable. Miss Chatterton might sail almost at any time."

"We will choose Teneriffe, and start at once," Chatterton informed his wife. "It is well on the mail route to West Africa, and I'm growing anxious about Hilton."

CHAPTER XVII

IN NEED OF HELP

Mrs. Chatterton had no objections to Teneriffe, and so it came about that one evening she and her niece, who had almost recovered her usual health, sat upon a hotel balcony in Santa Cruz, looking down upon the quaint Spanish city. It had lain basking under fierce sunlight all day, but now the cool shadow of the giant Canadas rested upon it, and its olive-faced inhabitants came forth to breathe the freshness from the Atlantic. Garrison officers and somberly clad merchants with their wives and daughters, strolled up and down the plaza beneath the balcony, while laughter and merry voices throbbed through the strains of an artillery band. Near by, the Atlantic swell pulsed whitely on the lava reefs, and high above the great black cordillera heaved aloft its jagged pinnacles against the sunset fires.

Lilian Chatterton, however, saw little of all this. She was looking out across the shimmering Atlantic toward the blue peaks of Grand Canary, beyond which stretched the coast of Africa. A little black-funneled steamer was creeping across the sea-plain between.

"That must be the African boat. The flag is going up above the agent's offices," she said. "She may bring us news. It is a pity that my uncle is away. He seems distressed about the uncertainty concerning Hilton."

Perhaps Lilian's tone was less indifferent than she wished, for Mrs.

Chatterton watched her keenly before she answered.

"It is hardly surprising. Your uncle is a just man, and never forgets a benefit. As you must have heard, it was an invention of Hilton's father which first started them, when both were struggling men, on the way to success; but Dane died, and the widow, who was never cordial toward my husband, drew her share out of the business against his advice. She died comparatively poor when Hilton was young, while your uncle, who still considers he owes his dead partner a moral debt, tried several means of discharging it by benefiting his son. Hilton, of whom I am very fond, is not, however, a person one can readily confer favors upon."

"No," said Lilian, with a trace of coldness in her tone. "You never told me quite so much before. My uncle is not always quite judicious in the way he sets about accomplishing his benevolent intentions. But the boat will soon be in."

Mrs. Chatterton smiled a little.

"He will certainly blame us if we allow any opportunity for obtaining news to escape, and I must find somebody to take a note off to the purser. You are tired, Lily, and had better remain here while I go across to the agent's offices."

Lilian sat leaning back in a basket chair, shrouded from observation by two tall aloe plants, with her face still turned toward the cost of Africa. The silver shimmer faded from off the sea, the fires of sunset died out behind the cordillera, but Mrs. Chatterton did not return, and her niece waited with hands crossed idly in her lap. It was now some time since the steamer's anchor had rattled down. Presently, because the long windows behind her were open, she started at a voice in the adjoining room. It seemed the voice of one risen from the dead.

"It is impossible!" she thought.

"I have no baggage," the voice rose again. "Going on with the Southampton boat, due to-morrow. Send across to the offices and book a berth for me."

Lilian, rising, stood in the open window, and the speaker stared at her in astonishment.

"I could hardly believe my eyes, Mr. Maxwell," she exclaimed.

Maxwell strode out into the balcony, but his surprise, which vanished quickly, was surpa.s.sed by the girl's. His face was worn and hollow, and in the failing light he looked strangely frail. A great sense of pity came upon her.

"You are ill, and I must not keep you standing! Please sit down, because there is so much I--we all--wish to know," she said, striving to suppress her eagerness.

"I have been in the African forest," Maxwell replied simply, as though that were sufficient explanation. "Thank you, but I would rather lean against the railing here."

As he spoke, he drew out the basket chair, and bent his head with a gesture of invitation, while the girl, noticing the languidness of his movements, showed her compa.s.sion in her eyes. Maxwell saw the pity, and smiled wistfully; then as Lilian's gaze met his own, she glanced aside a moment with a sudden trace of color. She remembered their last meeting, and there was an awkward silence which Maxwell broke.

"We can at least return to our former status as good friends, can we not?" he said. "I see you are anxious for my news, and it may be a painful story; but first I must ask you a question. What fortunate accident brought you here?"

"I was unwell and ordered south to escape the spring." Seeing the anxiety in the man's face, Lilian added quickly, "I have recovered now.

My aunt will be here in a few minutes, but Mr. Chatterton has gone across the island. An Englishman he met invested some money in a sugar-mill the Spaniards are reconstructing, and he could not resist the temptation of joining him. My uncle has a weakness for showing other people how to manage machinery. It is your turn now, but first, where is your partner?"

In spite of Lilian's intention the last question was put with a sharpness which surprised the listener.

"He is alive and well, I hope," he answered gravely. "My story will be longer, but I will try to tell it to you clearly."

The waltz the band played in the plaza below formed a curious accompaniment to such a tale. After the first few sentences neither of them, however, heard the music, and Lilian leaned forward with the color changing in her intent face as she listened. Maxwell suppressed the most gruesome details, but the narrative would have been startling to any one of the girl's upbringing. The thunder of the sunset gun brought it to an abrupt conclusion, and as the long reverberations rolled among the hills, Lilian rose suddenly and turned upon the speaker. There was scorn, as well as horror, in her eyes.

"And you left him in that pestilence-stricken camp to be murdered by the tribesmen--you coward!"

They were equally off their guard, and, for there are occasions when human nature mocks at all conventional restraint, both had dropped the mask. When once before they spoke openly it was Maxwell who had laid bare his heart, and now, though he made a valiant effort, he could not conceal his astonishment.

"And I never guessed," he said under his breath.