The Pursuit Part 4

"I, too, am John Aylmer," he said quietly. "Who are you?"

The sudden thrill of surprise with which she clutched the child to her tightened the reins. The gray backed a step; it was as if horse and rider were alike repelled by his question.

She stared at him with a sudden fierce aversion which was undisguised.

"You are Landon's cousin--you?" she cried.

He bowed his head.

"I have that misfortune," he answered quietly.

At the form of his answer a tinge of relief woke in her eyes, but they still watched him with incredulity and suspicion.

"He--he has sent you?" she demanded. "You bring other proposals, or threats?"

He smiled gravely.

"We have shared nothing, except a club, he and I," he explained. "I have not set eyes on him for over a year."

She still watched him alertly, debatingly, and still with mistrust.

"How did you come here, and why?" she asked.

"I am a member of the Tent Club," he answered. "I am in garrison at Gibraltar. I could not get leave till yesterday afternoon and I waited in Tangier to accompany Captain Rattier, whose ship is in harbor. Have I sufficiently explained myself?"

She hesitated.

"You have not seen your cousin for over a year? Perhaps you are in correspondence with him?"

He showed signs of impatience.

"We have not exchanged half a dozen letters in our lives!" he said emphatically.

The lines of her face remained unsoftened. Her fierce grip on the child's shoulder did not relax.

"And this Frenchman--this Captain Rattier?" she asked. "What of him?"

His eyebrows expressed the intensity of his amazement.

"Paul Rattier is my distant cousin," he answered. "No finer gentleman walks the earth." He paused for a moment. "Is it permitted to inquire why you suspect--strangers?"

She did not answer him. An abstraction, real or feigned, seemed to have seized her. She stared out over his head into the distance with unseeing eyes as if she weighed problems, debated evidence, sought conclusions.

It was the child who roused her into attention. He laughed, clapped his hands, and shouted.

"Browny!" he clamored in delight. "Browny!"

Aylmer looked round.

Rattier, leading a very melancholy and still bleeding horse, had approached with Despard. Together they were bending over the major's trophy, the dead boar. Behind them Aylmer's horse was hobbling painfully to its feet. Despard looked up and shook an admonishing finger at his acclaimer.

"You young rebel!" he cried. "You want a good smacking for your disobedience!"

He slipped from the saddle as he spoke and led his horse towards them.

He laid his hand familiarly on Aylmer's shoulder.

"Hurt?" he asked.

"Not in the least," said Aylmer, and then looked, with a significant lift of the eyebrow, from Despard to the gray horse's rider.

Despard's face showed his own surprise.

"Don't you know each other yet?" he marvelled. "Miss Van Arlen--Captain Aylmer."

Uncertainty gripped Aylmer again. Landon had married a daughter of Jacob Van Arlen, the millionaire. A divorcee reverted to her maiden name, but surely not to her maiden t.i.tle. But Despard had said Miss, most distinctly Miss.

With his usual straightforward instinct to find the nearest way to probe a mystery, he looked at the girl herself. He became aware that her eyes had been upon his face with intentness.

"Yes," she said quietly. "This," she patted the child's shoulder, "is my nephew."

He gave a little sigh of appreciation and, he scarcely knew why, of relief. It was not possible, of course, that this girl, whose whole poise and carriage spoke of resolution and unfettered self-command, could be the woman, broken in health and spirit, who had cowered before her husband's glance, so some of the baser journals had hinted, even when she was seeking and had received the law's protection from him.

And her eyes? They were not of that appealing blue which had shone beneath the bride's deep lashes on that half-forgotten wedding-day. They were blue, indeed, but they met his with something which was akin to defiance.

She did not explain herself, but her glance was that of one who needed no warrant for her demeanor. Her att.i.tude was not one of blatant aggressiveness, but was undoubtedly distrustful.

He looked at the child with renewed interest.

"Your sister is--where?" he asked quickly.

The frown came swiftly back to her forehead.

"You ask me that? Why?" she demanded.

He looked at the boy.

"Naturally I thought she might be with you," he answered. "As an Aylmer I should be glad to meet her."

"Ah!" Her tone was hard and suspicious again. Unconsciously she gripped the child to her again with a fierceness which made him protest.

"You hurt!" he complained. "You hurt, and I want to see the boar."

With a sailor's instinctive fondness for children, Rattier, who had resigned his limping horse into the hands of one of the Arab beaters, turned towards him.

"May I be permitted?" he said simply, and held out his arms. The child made a restless little movement towards him. "He'll show it me!" he cried joyously. "He'll take me!"

Again she reined back, looking from one to the other with patent misgiving.

"No!" she cried sharply. "You shall not touch him, either of you!" She made an appealing gesture towards Despard. "You must see me back to the camp!" she said.