Wyndham's Pal Part 19

Mabel, however, was firm, and Bob gave in. He would not argue that her sense of duty was perhaps mistaken and Mrs. Hillard's refusal might be selfish. Mabel's strong persuasion was enough for him.

"You will come in and see her? She has been alone all day," Mabel said, and Marston went.

Mrs. Hilliard sat by the fire in an invalid's chair, and when he entered gave him a friendly smile. She looked very pinched and fragile and he thought Mabel's fears were justified. For an hour he talked about the wedding and other matters as cheerfully as he could, and when he went Mabel kissed him at the gate.

"You are very good, Bob," she said. "I owe you much and some day I'll try to pay my debt."

In the morning Marston went to the office and soon afterwards Peters was shown in. Marston gave him a cigar and they talked about the Caribbean.

"I'm beginning to feel I've had enough," Peters presently remarked.

"Life in the swamps is strenuous and one likes quiet when one's no longer young."

"On the surface, things looked pretty dull. I felt languid as soon as I arrived and didn't really wake up until I left."

Peters smiled. "Yet I imagine you found the monotony is sometimes broken. Besides, you didn't stay long enough to learn that much that's curious goes on beneath the surface. There's an underworld." He paused and added meaningly: "On the whole, I think the term is pretty good."

"I was satisfied with the surface. Anyhow, I didn't try to look beneath," Marston rejoined, with some dryness. "In fact, I'd sooner leave some things alone."

"A prudent resolve, when one can carry it out! But d'you imagine your partner controlled his curiosity?"

Marston feared that Wyndham had not, and frowned, because he felt Peters had meant his remark to be significant. The latter resumed: "Of course, you can live tranquilly at the old Spanish ports; that is, if you are sober and resist the dark-skinned senoritas' charms. Perhaps the worst risk a rash stranger runs is being found in a dark _calle_ with a jealous half-breed's knife in his back. In order to get hurt, you must court danger; in the swamps it haunts you. Of course, if you trade in the regular markets, the profit is not large; but if I could get a good post at a port with a casino and cafes, I think I'd be satisfied."

"Haven't your employers a job that would suit to offer you?" Marston asked carelessly.

"They have not. They have been grumbling recently and hinting that I've got slack. As a matter of fact, they have some grounds. My knowledge of the business is pretty extensive, but since your partner came on the scene the goods we want to get have gone to Wyndhams'. I'm now going to Hamburg to account for this, but doubt if I can do so satisfactorily. My explanation's rather romantic than plausible."

"Then, you have an explanation?"

Peters smiled. "Yes. It looks as if the Bat had let his old friends go and taken Wyndham up."

"Ridiculous!" said Marston. "What has the Bat to do with trade? He's not a merchant or a cultivator."

"For all that, the fellow has power. The President rules the cities, the _guardias rurales_ the cleared land, but the Bat and the devil rule the bush. I know half-civilized _Mestizos_ who believe the Bat is the devil.

Anyhow, he's a useful friend."

"He's not my friend," Marston rejoined. "However, if your employers are not satisfied, I don't see how I can help."

"I have a plan," said Peters. "I know the bush, the negroes, and their habits, as few white men know them, and my knowledge is worth much to a merchant house. Well, I'm not greedy and imagine you'd find it worth while to give me a small partnership; or, if you'd sooner, appoint me your agent at a port from which I could control the lagoon trade."

Marston looked at him with some surprise. On the whole, he did not like the fellow and he had no grounds for trusting him.

"I'm afraid I can't agree," he replied. "We have a pretty good agent at all the ports where we trade, and Wyndham sent a man he was satisfied about to the lagoon. Our business is not large enough to justify our taking a new partner."

"The business is extending. Would you like to talk to Wyndham about it?"

"He won't be back for some time, and I expect he'll agree that we don't need help. I think you had better stick to your Hamburg friends."

"Oh, well," said Peters philosophically, "it looks as if I must drop the plan, but if you need me later, you know where I can be found. In the meantime, we'll let it go. When I left, Ramon Larrinaga sent you his compliments. He's getting an important man; had some part in the plot that put the new president in power and has, no doubt, claimed his reward."

"You may give him our congratulations when you go back," Marston replied, and soon afterwards Peters went off.

Marston smoked a cigarette and reviewed his visitor's remarks. The fellow had implied that Wyndham had, by some means, gained the Bat's support, and this jarred. Perhaps it jarred worse because Marston had tried to banish suspicions that chimed with the hint. Then he imagined Peters' offer was rather made to Wyndham than to him. Marston meant to urge his partner to refuse. He did not want to see Peters again, but doubted. The fellow was cunning and obstinate. By-and-by Marston threw away his cigarette and rang for his clerk. He would not bother about Peters until he was forced. In fact, if Peters did not come back, he was not sure he would tell Wyndham about it at all.

CHAPTER IV

THE LOST EXPLORERS

The days were getting longer and although the evening was cold Marston rejoiced that winter had gone. He had worked hard at the office until Wyndham's return from his honeymoon, and now he was glad to get on the water again. Putting down his oars, he let _Red Rose_'s dinghy drift, because he doubted if the tide had risen enough to carry him across the sands. A bitter wind blew up the estuary, where belts of shining water wound among the shoals, and some distance astern _Red Rose_ rode at her moorings in a sheltered pool. For half a mile, sand and shallow water ran between Marston and the beach.

He had brought the yacht round from a neighboring river mouth where the smoke of a busy port blackened her gear, and had since been occupied on board. Now he was pleasantly tired, hungry, and braced by the cold. He knew no amus.e.m.e.nt that gave him as much satisfaction as working on board a yacht. In fact, if one went about the thing properly, it was really a scientific job.

The dinghy grounded, and letting her b.u.mp across the sand, he lighted his pipe and reviewed his changed life since Wyndham won the Commodore's cup. Things had begun to change then. For the most part, he had worked hard; at first as _Columbine_'s mate and supercargo, afterwards as a merchant's clerk. Although he had invested a good sum, he was really a clerk. Sometimes he stated his views and Wyndham listened politely; but when one came to think about it, Harry did not tell him much. Then he did not altogether understand transactions in which the house engaged.

For all that, Marston was not hurt. He admitted that his judgment was not worth much. He had not, like Harry, been trained for business. In fact, it was something of a relief when Harry came home and he got rid of his responsibility, although he thought he had, on the whole, managed rather well. Recently, he had taken things easier and Wyndham had encouraged him to do so. He suggested Marston's going off for a few days now and then, and told him not to bother about the office while he fitted out _Red Rose_. Harry was a good sort, and since he did not need him, Marston was glad to occupy himself with the yacht.

By-and-by the dinghy floated off the shoal and Marston saw the Welsh hills on the other sh.o.r.e were getting dim and blue. He was cold and drove the little boat briskly across the rippling water. Carrying her up the beach, he went to an inn where he left his yachting clothes and then set out across the heathy common for Mrs. Hilliard's house. Mabel gave him tea by the fire and when it got dark outside they talked in the flickering glow. Flora, Wyndham and Chisholm were coming to dinner, but would not arrive yet, and Marston lounged contentedly in a big easy chair.

"I don't know if I'm tired or lazy," he remarked. "Anyhow, it's very nice to sit by the fire with you."

"When you're lazy?" said Mabel, with a smile.

"Always," Marston declared. "However, you get a particular satisfaction from loafing after you have had a good day."

"On board the yacht? I'm not jealous, Bob, but you haven't been to the office much."

"That is so," Marston admitted. "I was rather keen about the business; in fact, I'm keen yet. I like to know how things are going, even if I can't help; but the boat's a temptation and Harry doesn't need me all the time."

"Do you know how things are going?"

"For the most part," Marston replied, with a touch of embarra.s.sment, because he sometimes felt he did not know as much as he would like. "I don't bother about small particulars."

"Has Harry stated he did not need you? Or did you imagine this, and make it an excuse for a holiday?"

Marston pondered for a moment or two. He did not altogether approve Mabel's line, perhaps because it excited doubts he had tried to banish.

"Harry knows I like pottering about the boat," he said. "He has hinted that I needn't stick to business quite so close now he's in control.

After all, there's hardly enough work for two partners."

Mabel let this go. She knew Bob and thought he was rather trying to justify Wyndham than to find an excuse for his own laziness. It looked as if he suspected his partner was willing to get rid of him now and then. Moreover, Bob was not lazy.

"Harry's occupied pretty closely, is he not?" she said. "I have thought he looks tired."

"That is so," agreed Marston, who had recently noted a hint of strain about his comrade. Wyndham was sometimes impatient; his gay carelessness had gone. "After all, managing a business like ours is not an easy job,"

he resumed. "Things, however, are going well and I imagine I made a sound investment. In fact, we're getting rich."