The Man with the Double Heart Part 47

"Thanks--a small whiskey and soda." Stephen's smile was insolent.

"Help yourself." Roddy saw too late the loop-hole that he had offered.

"Mother's just about the same. The doctor came again this morning."

"What did he say?" Stephen filled his gla.s.s and lolled back in the armchair.

"Nothing good--her heart's weak and she's all nerves--doesn't sleep.

Of course, she can't touch solids yet--that forcible feeding nearly killed her." The boy winced as he spoke.

"I'm awfully sorry," said Stephen. For once a ring of genuine feeling sounded in his high voice. "I'd like to see this government--_wiped out_!----" he clenched his hands.

"Not much good--there'd be another." Roddy was practical--"you see, if you go and break laws you've got to pay--whoever you are! It's the fault of the Suffrage leaders themselves--they're just 'agitators'----"

he paused--"I'd have my knife into _them_! They don't care _who_ suffers."

"Well--you seem to take it pretty coolly considering your Mother is the victim?"

The boy shot him an angry glance.

"She wouldn't be--except for you!"

A stormy silence followed the words.

Stephen was preparing for battle when Roddy suddenly raised his head, malice in his hazel eyes.

"Oh, by the way, I quite forgot. There's been a young woman here to-day asking for you--awfully keen. There's no accounting for people's tastes!"

Stephen sat up with a start.

"A young woman?--what name? And why on earth does she come here?"

"Thought it was your house, perhaps--(One back"--he smiled to himself.) "She wouldn't give any name--Said you'd know----" the schoolboy grinned. "A short girl--rather fat--with a touzled mop of fair hair."

Somerfield's face went a shade pale.

("It's Letty----" he thought--"oh! confound it!") but out aloud----

"I think I know. She works for our branch of the League."

"That's all right, then----" Roddy was cheerful--"I gave her your new address, you see. I wrote it down to make sure and she went away quite jolly."

Stephen looked venomous.

"I wish you'd mind your own affairs and leave me to settle mine."

The schoolboy was hugging himself. Here was a rise out of his foe! He was not as simple as he looked, and although the full tragedy of Letty's desperate hunt for Stephen had quite escaped his young eyes, he was charmed to put a spoke in the wheel of the flirtation he suspicioned.

"I'm sorry if I've done wrong----" his mischievous face belied the words--"but you say she's working for the Cause, so hasn't she a right to see you?"

Stephen silently rose to his feet. He thought of Letty at his lodgings and of his carefully covered tracks since he left the ones near Primrose Hill. And now this interfering schoolboy had undone the work of weeks. He could hardly restrain himself.

"I'm off." He made for the door.

"Wait a second. I'll see you out--I don't want the Mater disturbed."

"Please tell her that I called."

"I will--when she's well enough. And, look here, it's no good writing--the doctor won't allow her letters. Unless you'd like Jill to read them and give her an occasional message?"

But this kindly thought was lost. Stephen vouchsafed no answer.

Roddy stood there for a moment--the door held back with his foot--watching his visitor walk away, his coat clipped in to his figure, his boots new, and the latest hat.

"What a rotter the fellow is! I'm rather sorry for that young woman--but what _does_ she see in him?" He turned it over in his mind.

"Silly fools, girls," he said. He spoke the verdict out aloud, with the conscious superiority of a man in the making.

"Why, Roddy--you've grown a cynic!"

He turned with a sudden cry of joy.

"Peter!"

McTaggart's smiling face, bronzed and handsome, met his eyes.

"May I come in?--I just called round to ask how Mrs. Uniacke was."

"_Rather_! My hat!--it's jolly fine to see you back," he danced on the steps. "I say--we'll have to go quiet----" (the boy remembered)--"Mother's asleep."

They stole through the dingy hall and into the dining-room beyond.

McTaggart glanced round with a smile at the bare, familiar place.

"You've grown, Roddy. Where's Jill? Hope she can spare me a minute.

I suppose she's busy nursing your Mother?"

"Yes." Roddy's smile faded--"she's getting done up, I'm afraid.

Sitting up all night, you know. The Mater can't be left alone."

"As bad as that? I'm awfully grieved. Poor old Jill!--and it's rough on you ... Never mind--we must cheer her up. Do tell her that I'm here."

"I'll go now." Roddy paused--"Look here, Peter, I shan't let on that it's you--what a lark! Won't it be a surprise for her." He was off, his eyes shining with fun.

He found Jill in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, her face flushed, leaning over the hot fire, patiently skimming mutton broth.

"You'll have to leave that for a minute. There's someone called and wants to see you. On business, I think," he choked back a laugh.

"Bother," said Jill, "I can't come now."

"Sorry--but I'm no earthly use. Hurry up, there's a good girl."