Violet Forster's Lover Part 35

"Most regular in his habits, was Mr. Beaton--you see, I adopt the Mr.

in deference to you; I'm always so anxious not to wound people's feelings, especially yours. Everything in his rooms was in perfect order, the rent had been paid up, and the landlady, who was a most innocent creature, and quite attached to her lodger, whom she believed to be something in the commercial way, was not in the least concerned--but I was. You see, I knew. As time went on, and there were still no signs of him, I became positively anxious; I was almost as attached to him as his landlady."

Again--it is necessary to dwell upon the fact, to such an extent was it her most outstanding characteristic--her face was irradiated by her wonderful smile. She continued, with her eyes still cast down.

"I was really concerned; then it occurred to me that probably my distress was wasted, the explanation might be quite simple; seeing you that night had brought his thoughts back to the old channels, and--you knew where he was instead of me. I began to take it for granted that he had exchanged 78 Caversham Street for an address which would be more convenient for you, and less for me--isn't that the case?"

Miss Forster's manner, as she replied, was still ungenial.

"In dealing with persons such as you, one is confronted with the difficulty that one can never tell when you are telling the truth and when you are lying; I am quite sure that you can lie like truth. What I do gather is that you wish me to believe that you have seen and heard nothing of Mr. Beaton since that night; but though your tale sounds plausible, there is no reason why it should be true."

"It doesn't matter to me one pin's head whether you do or don't believe. Will you please answer me one question? Have you seen or heard anything of him?"

"I have not."

"I do believe you, and I'm very sorry to hear it." Nothing could have been sweeter than the smile with which Miss Spurrier said it, or nicer than her bearing. "I'm afraid, Miss Forster, that there's something wrong. If you do or don't believe it, I have heard nothing of Mr.

Beaton, and if you haven't, then I don't like the look of things at all. Do you see"--the lady hesitated; looking down, she still described figures with the end of her parasol--"there's that business of Captain Draycott. It is, unfortunately, possible that Mr. Beaton may have had his reasons for not wishing to let me know his whereabouts, or you either. In matters of that kind it may be better--for the person who did it to keep himself to himself; it's safer for him, and for all concerned, because, of course, if one doesn't know, one can't tell."

The lady glanced at a gold watch set in a jewelled bangle.

"How the time does go--I must be off; I'm keeping Major Reith waiting.

One moment--excuse me, Miss Forster, if I am interrupting you when you were about to speak--but please don't let us talk about that business of Captain Draycott; it's so much better not to."

"I don't agree with you; what do you know about it?"

"Suppose I know everything--what good will it do you, or him? You're not fool enough to suppose that I did it. Captain Draycott was an utter stranger to me; I had no grudge against him; you know how it was--with Mr. Beaton. You don't want to put the noose about his neck, do you? And you can't want me to do so. I've had one friend hung, and I certainly don't want to have another--it's a nasty business, I can a.s.sure you."

"I can't believe that, for what happened to Captain Draycott, Mr.

Beaton was in any way to blame."

"Miss Forster, you really must forgive me if I say that now I don't believe you. I tell you again that I don't wish to talk about it, and it's better on all accounts that we shouldn't; but do you suppose that I can't see that your heart's as heavy as lead, and that you've worn yourself nearly to a shadow, because you've been worrying about what you pretend you don't believe? If you were to go down on your bended knees, and swear that you were quite certain that he had nothing to do with it, still I shouldn't believe you; your face, everything about you gives you away; I know better. Let me tell you something, and this is the last word you'll get on the subject from me. I don't know"--the lady suddenly lowered her voice--"who killed him, and I don't want, and I don't mean to know, but I have my doubts--so now you've got it."

CHAPTER XXVI

Happiness!

Miss Forster was silent. That her visitor's words had affected her disagreeably her behaviour showed. Showing Miss Spurrier her back, facing the mantelshelf, she pretended to be interested by the trifles which were on it, but to an observant eye few things can be more eloquent than a person's back; the twitching of her shoulders was in itself more than sufficiently eloquent. Even her speech betrayed her; it faltered.

"Do you think--that he's left England?"

"It's on the cards. It all depends on whether he's had the chance. If he has, let's hope he'll be able to cover his tracks. I suppose n.o.body does know anything."

"How can I tell?"

"Exactly, how can you? It's queer that nothing has been found--of the body." The girl said nothing, but again Miss Spurrier noticed the twitching shoulders. "There's one thing, nothing can be done till it is found; and as it looks as if it is in a sure place, he ought to have something like a start before trouble begins."

The girl still continued silent. The visitor, holding out her gorgeous parasol, began to fasten the elastic band.

"Miss Forster, I am going away. I don't mean only from this room, but out of the country; I'm leaving England."

"Are you?" The girl's tone could scarcely have been more void of interest, but the other still kept her eyes upon her back.

"I'm going to be married."

"Indeed."

"I am going to be married to an old friend with whom I have been a.s.sociated in some rather successful--matters; so, as we've got quite a nice little capital together, we've decided to turn over a new leaf.

We're going to America, to a town in one of the middle States, where we have, both of us, reason to believe that there's an opening for an enterprising couple. We are going to start in the dry goods--a store.

It's a trade in which we may both of us be able to show even the Americans a thing or two. We hope, by strict attention to business, to do well."

The visitor paused, but the girl said nothing; she still kept her face turned away.

"Of course, my prospects and intentions don't interest you, but now that I'm going to put the old things behind me and begin a new life, and leave England for ever--for we both of us intend at the earliest possible moment to become American citizens; you do get such a pull on the other side if you are a citizen--since you and I are alone together for probably the last time in our lives, there are one or two things which I should like to tell you about Mr. Beaton. That's one of the reasons why I wanted to see you. Wouldn't you like to hear them?"

"It depends on what they are. I should advise you to be careful what you say of him."

"Oh, I'll be careful. To begin with, Mr. Beaton is a gentleman, as I dare say you know."

"What do you suppose?"

"Now, my experience of what is called a gentleman in England is, that so long as he has got plenty of money to spend, and everything's made smooth for him, he may be quite a decent sort; but he's the most helpless creature on G.o.d's earth when his pockets are empty and he has to trust to himself to fill them. So long as he has friends to give him a lift he may manage somehow, but when his only friend is himself he's scrambling for crusts in the gutter almost before he himself knows it.

To one who has had to earn his bread all his life by the sweat of his brow it's nothing less than amazing how soon he gets there. Mr. Sydney Beaton was in the gutter, and worse than the gutter, when I first met him."

At last Miss Forster did turn, and looked the speaker in the face.

"Where did you first meet him?"

Miss Spurrier was settling her beautiful hat upon her well-groomed head.

"It's not a pretty story--not very much to his credit or mine. You don't know how little of a hero a man can be when his stomach's empty and he has nothing to put into it, especially when he's a gentleman."

Apparently the visitor got her hat all right. She rested both hands on the handle of her parasol and she smiled.

"I want to slur over the disagreeable places in my story, Miss Forster--I always do like to avoid as much as possible what is unpleasant--and I don't want to keep you any longer than I can help. I want to get to what I'm after by the shortest possible way. You know what my profession is?"

"I can form a shrewd guess."

"I shouldn't be surprised; circ.u.mstances have helped you. But the world in general, Miss Forster, treats me as in every respect your equal. I was on my beam ends when I adopted it. I dare say you don't know what it is to be on your beam ends."

"I am thankful to say that is a condition of which I have no personal knowledge."

"You have cause to be thankful. Well, I have, and so has Sydney Beaton.

If it hadn't been for me he'd have been dead long ago, with cold, misery and hunger."

"Is that true?"