The Vision of Desire Part 61

"I've no wish to have supper with you," she said.

"No? Yet, after all, it's you who've despoiled me of my rightful guest," he returned, with bland mockery in eyes and voice. "It's certainly up to you to provide a subst.i.tute. Perhaps"--banteringly--"we might even discuss the question of those notes of hand again--later on! A man's obstinacy sometimes melts as the evening advances, you know."

A faint hope stirred in Cara's heart. Perhaps, if she yielded to his wishes now, without further argument, she might be able, later on, to induce him to reconsider his decision--to persuade him to be merciful. He seemed to read her thoughts with an uncanny insight.

"You'll stay?" he said.

She nodded, and he helped off the heavy fur wrap she was wearing. Then he pressed the bell-push and, when Achille appeared, gave a curt order for supper to be served. As the Frenchman departed his quick eyes flickered a moment over Cara's beautiful face and milk-white shoulders. Decidedly, he reflected, his master had good taste.

The supper, as might have been expected, was a very perfectly chosen repast, and as the meal progressed Cara was fain to acknowledge that Brett knew how to act the part of host most charmingly. On her side she played up pluckily, hoping that by falling in with his humour she might yet win the odd trick of the game.

It was not until they had reached the coffee and cigarette stage that he reverted to the avowed object of her visit to the yacht.

"It was really rather a sporting attempt on your part," he remarked, "even though foredoomed to failure. Will you tell me"--curiously--"what induced you to do it?"

"I'm very fond of Ann," returned Cara evasively.

He shook his head.

"I don't think that can have been all. You were running"--he regarded her through narrowed lids--"a pretty big risk, and you're woman of the world enough to know it. You are quite at my mercy, you see. A woman doesn't run that kind of risk--for another woman." He leaned across the little table, his compelling blue eyes concentrated on her face. "Do tell me why you did it?"

For a moment she was silent. Then, lifting her eyes to meet his, she said simply:

"I did it because once--years ago--I robbed Eliot Coventry of his happiness. I wanted to give it back to him."

"And you were prepared to risk your reputation over the job?"--swiftly.

"Yes," she answered quietly. "I was prepared."

"Then you must have felt quite convinced he was in danger of losing his happiness--to me?"--with lightning triumph.

"Not _to_ you--through you," she corrected quietly.

"Ann would have promised to marry me to-night."

"I'm sure she would not. But it was almost inevitable that Eliot would misunderstand--distrust her, if he learned that she had been here with you--this evening."

Brett nodded composedly.

"Yes. And I don't think the only explanation she could have offered would have helped her much--that it was done for the sake of Tony Brabazon! It was a big thing for any woman to do for a man--_unless she cared for him_!

And"--he uttered a light laugh--"I fancy Coventry's jealousy of Brabazon would have wakened up again quite quickly in the circ.u.mstances. Oh!"--with an impatient gesture--"it was a lovely scheme--absolutely watertight, if only you hadn't meddled!"

He looked across at her with an expression that held a droll mixture of anger and mortification, not unlike the expression, of a child who, having banged a new toy too ecstatically upon the floor, sees it suddenly drop to pieces.

"Not altogether watertight," observed Cara calmly. "There was a chance--quite a good chance, too--that Eliot might not have heard a single word about the matter--might never have known that Ann had been here."

"Bah!"--arrogantly. "I don't leave things like that--to chance. I wasn't taking any chances. I arranged that Coventry should know all right."

Cara started.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"What do I mean?" He smiled derisively. "Why, that old chap who lives at the lodge at Heronsmere, old chap with a face like a gargoyle--Brady, what's his name?"

"Bradley," supplied Cara.

"Yes, that's it. Bradley. A cunning old rascal, if ever there was one--he'd sell his immortal soul for the price of a drink. I told him"--watching her keenly while he spoke--"that his master would probably like to know that a certain young lady in whom he was interested would be found on board the _Sphinx_ this evening if he wanted to see her."

"You told him _that_?" gasped Cara, stricken with dismay.

"Certainly I did"--triumphantly. "And I gave him a five-pound note to jog his memory. I don't think he'll omit to hand on the information as desired.

I should say"--glancing at the clock--"that we might expect Coventry along at any moment now."

Cara half rose from the table. Her face was very white, her eyes dilated with horror.

"Perhaps--perhaps he won't come--won't believe it," she stammered faintly, with a desperate hope that she might be speaking the truth.

Brett smiled unpleasantly.

"I think he'll believe it all right. I gave Bradley very clear instructions. But, in any case," he added easily, "I'd prepared for the possible contingency that the old fool might bungle matters."

"How?" Her voice was almost inaudible.

"Why, then, I should simply have steamed away with my honoured guest on board. After a day or two's trip at sea, I think there'd be no question Ann would accept me as her husband. The position would be an even more awkward one than her predicament at the Dents de Loup. Her presence on the yacht could hardly be explained away as an--accident"--significantly. "But I preferred my first plan--it entailed less publicity"--with a short laugh.

Cara sprang up, her eyes blazing. In the torrent of scorn and anger which swept over her at his duplicity--at the nonchalant recital of it all--the embarra.s.sment of her own situation was temporarily lost sight of.

"Brett, I think you must be absolutely devoid of any sense of right or wrong! I never heard of anything more utterly fiendish and heartless in the whole of my life. Have you _no_ conscience, _no_ decent feeling, that you could plot and plan to ruin a woman's happiness as you would have ruined Ann's? Oh! It's unbelievable! I think you must be a devil incarnate!"

He rose too, his eyes smouldering dangerously. The veneer of polished mockery had dropped from him suddenly.

"I'm not. I'm a man in love," he said thickly. "I wanted her--G.o.d, how I wanted her! And, but for you, I'd have succeeded. You've robbed me--robbed me of my mate!..." His lips drew back over his teeth in a kind of snarl. "I think you deserve to be punished," he went on slowly and significantly.

"What's to prevent my putting out to sea--now--this minute--and taking you with me?"

"Brett--" She shrank back, suddenly terrified. His eyes were blazing with a reckless fury--mad eyes. She made a dart for the door, but before she could reach it he had caught her by the arm, his strong fingers crushing deep into her white flesh.

"Well, why not?" he jeered savagely. "You came here in Ann's place of your own free will! Supposing you _take_ her place--altogether--"

A tap sounded on the door. Brett's hand fell away from her arm, and she stood quiveringly waiting for what might come. After a discreet pause Achille entered, advancing with soft, cat-like tread.

"For mademoiselle," he said, tendering a note to Cara on a salver.

As she took the note she vaguely noticed that it bore no superscription.

With trembling fingers she tore it open.

_"I hear you are on the_ Sphinx. _I'm quite sure you must have a good reason for being there, if you are there of your own free will. But in case you are not, and need help, I wanted you to know I've come on board and will take you home whenever you wish,--E."_

Cara glanced across at Brett, who was watching her curiously. She slipped the note, intended for Ann, into the bosom of her gown and turned to Achille.