RUBY'S DECLARATION.
The first thing Jim Crichton did--after he had made a successful return
flight to Netheravon--was, on getting five days' special leave, to run
up to London and search for Ruby Strode that he might keep his promise
to Rupert. He resisted the temptation to pay a flying visit to
Blackthorn Farm. Rupert was safe, a thousand miles or more away on his
journey. But that made Jim the more anxious not to take the faintest
risk.
Despard had been suspicious. Despard disliked him, and was in love with
Marjorie. Jim had received a letter from her--short, carefully worded.
It dealt principally with the doings of Post Bridge and the radium mine.
The company would soon be floated, the prospectus was prepared, and, she
stated, it was confidently expected that when it came out the capital
would be over-subscribed.
Jim smiled to himself, for he read between the lines. He had little
faith in the venture, perhaps, because he had no faith in Despard,
though he hoped for John Dale's sake it would turn out successfully.
Soon after reaching London he discovered that his father was in town,
and Jim frankly told him the object of his visit--to see Miss Strode and
give her a message. Sir Reginald congratulated his son on his flight,
but Jim did not dare tell him yet how successful it really had been, nor
its real object.
"I think I'd like to meet this Miss Strode," Sir Reginald said, somewhat
to Jim's surprise. "Though, I'm afraid, I still feel convinced of young
Dale's guilt, I've never been able to eradicate from my mind the part
she played at the trial--the strange outburst when she confessed it was
she who altered the cheque. It seems, too, that when the solicitors saw
her she said that Mr. Despard could, if he chose, prove the truth of her
assertion. Of course, it's very possible that she and Rupert were
equally guilty. Perhaps the suggestion came from her.... The woman
tempted and the man fell. I'd like to know if Despard did keep anything
back at the trial."
Jim nodded. "I'll see what I can do. But I should think the kindest
thing would be to let Miss Strode forget all about it, if that's
possible. Guilty or innocent, she must have been very fond of Rupert."
His father's suggestion came as a surprise to him. He had, during the
last few weeks, cultivated Despard's acquaintance and seen a great deal
more of him than Jim liked. But, as a rule, Sir Reginald never made a
mistake in his judgment of men.
"Supposing Miss Strode could prove that Rupert is innocent, what then?"
Jim asked.
"I don't think she can do that," Sir Reginald said quickly. "I'd like
to discover what part she played in the unfortunate business. And
perhaps she could enlighten us as to Despard's past history, his
character--and so forth."
Jim smiled. "You're beginning to feel suspicious of this brilliant
company promoter who is playing the Good Samaritan at Blackthorn Farm
and trying to feather his own nest at the same time."
Sir Reginald did not reply at once, and looking more closely at him, Jim
noticed that he looked worried. A heavy frown furrowed his brows.
Presently he took Jim's arm and asked him where he was going.
"Well, my first visit is to the Ingenue Theatre. It seems rather too
much to expect that I shall find Miss Strode there, but it's the obvious
place to look."
"I'll walk with you," Sir Reginald said. "I've something I want to say
to you."
Jim almost suggested that the best place to talk would be the
sitting-room of Sir Reginald's hotel, in which they found themselves.
But he refrained. He felt as if he had suddenly changed places with his
father, and that it was the older man who wanted to unburden his mind
and make a confession. Not until they were in the bustle and turmoil of
the streets did Sir Reginald speak.
"I was talking to my solicitors to-day, and, of course, Mr. Despard's
name cropped up."
"Why of course?" Jim asked.
There was a moment's hesitation before his father replied. "I had
instructed my brokers to apply for a rather large number of shares in
this--this radium mine when it is floated. I found it necessary to
realise certain securities. My solicitors did not seem to have a very
good opinion of Mr. Despard. They confessed they did not know much
about him. They seemed to think him a man of straw. He has already
been connected with one or two companies--rubber and oil, I believe,
both of which went into liquidation shortly after they had been
promoted. As you know, I'm one of the syndicate of this radium mine."
"I don't know anything about the game," Jim admitted. "But I didn't
know that Despard had convinced you there was anything but water in the
old Blackthorn mine. I'm sure he's a rotter. You're not worried, are
you? I mean, he hasn't done you for any amount?"
"He hasn't done me at all," Sir Reginald replied testily. "He started
by forming a little syndicate, and I--but you wouldn't understand. You
mustn't forget we had expert opinion, and the reports read so well. If
by any chance the venture fails--well, it would hit us rather badly.
You must not forget," he added hastily, "that property has been
depreciating lately, and that, in consequence, my income has been
dwindling, and just when this fellow Despard came along I was looking
about for a good investment."
Jim laughed and pressed his father's arm. He knew that Sir Reginald had
been thinking of his future more than of himself. "The desire for
wealth has never troubled me, guv'nor. Love in a cottage sounds
sentimental rot, I know; but one's got to live somewhere, and as long as
I've got work and the woman I want, a cottage will be good enough for
me. Here's the Ingenue Theatre, so you had better leave me now unless
you want to lose your reputation!"
Sir Reginald laughed. "I understand that the stage-door of a London
theatre is a damned sight more respectable than the most fashionable
matrimonial office, and that unless a man can produce a marriage licence
he don't stand a chance of getting inside nowadays."
In answer to Jim's question the doorkeeper told him Miss Strode was
playing, and that she generally left the theatre about eleven o'clock.
Jim left his card, and said he would return at that hour. He arrived
punctually, and had not to wait long before Ruby made her appearance.
He had never met her before, and at first he was not impressed. She
treated him brusquely, and asked him plainly to state his business. He
explained who he was and told her he had brought her a message from a
friend. She looked him up and down, and he read mistrust in her eyes.
"Perhaps you'll walk as far as the end of the street with me," he
suggested. She nodded. He told her he was engaged to be married to
Rupert Dale's sister. "Can you guess from whom I bring a message?"
She started then, and her face grew deadly pale. She hesitated a moment,
looking steadily into his face. Then she asked him to call a cab.
"Do you mind driving back to my flat with me? Yes, I live alone at
present, but you needn't bother about the conventions. What people
thought and said never troubled me much, and now it doesn't trouble me
at all."
They scarcely spoke until her flat was reached. Ruby led the way into
her sitting-room, mixed a whisky and soda for Jim and made one for
herself.
"Would it shock you if I smoked?" she asked. "I can't help it if it
does."
"I smoke myself," he replied quietly.
He saw a tinge of colour touch her cheeks. She apologised, and handed
him the case. "Forgive me; but you're a soldier, aren't you?"
Jim nodded.
"I suppose you think women who earn their living at second-rate
theatres, who smoke cigarettes, drink whisky instead of aniseed, and
live alone, lose caste, don't you?"
He laughed and shook his head. "No. Why should I?"
"The Ingenue Theatre is largely patronised by the army, the navy, and
the House of Lords. I've found that the youthful members of the
aristocracy want to marry us, naval men want to amuse us, the army men
expect us to amuse them--Aunt Sally up to date, six shies a penny!" She
turned her back on him. "Will you tell me your message?"
"It's from a man called Cotton, John Cotton. You knew him under another
name. He left Devonshire a week ago en route for Singapore. He wanted
me to tell you that he was safe, that he loved you, and was deeply
grateful for all you had done for him."
He waited, but Ruby Strode did not move. She still stood with her back
to him. It was a long time before he dared break the silence.
"You understand?" he whispered.
Then at last she turned round and stood beside him. The expression on
her face had changed. It was no longer hard and cold. Her eyes were
tender and beautiful: the eyes of a woman who has loved. She stretched
out her hand and Jim took it.
"You mean that Rupert has really escaped? That there's no chance of his
being captured and taken back to prison?"
He bowed his head.
"Who helped him escape? Who got him out of England?"
"That doesn't matter," Jim replied. "It's enough for you to know that
he's safe. He's bound for Singapore, where he'll find work--a man's
work, under the British flag. He will, as the Americans say, make good
yet."
He tried to withdraw his hand, but Ruby held it tightly. "You helped
him. I daresay you didn't do it for his sake but for his sister's, the
woman you love. But you helped him."
Jim did not reply. Bending down Ruby kissed his hand again and again.
He snatched it away and turned on his heel.
"God bless you!" she whispered hoarsely. "Don't go yet, Mr. Crichton.
Tell me--tell me that you believe he's innocent?"
He looked at her then. And in her eyes he read her secret. If he had
had any doubts as to Rupert's innocence they went now.
"I believe he is innocent. But--why couldn't he prove his innocence?
If you did it, unknown to him----"
"Of course it was unknown to him," she interrupted. "He never suspected
for a moment--how could he? That's why I did it. Oh, I was mad at the
moment, but I loved him so! His life was in danger. He was going to
kill himself. Why won't anyone believe--why can't anyone understand?
Ruin, dishonour, faced him. When a woman loves nothing in the world
matters but the honour, safety, and life of the man she loves. Being a
man you may not have much of an opinion of women--the Lord knows why we
love them so! Just as a man will die for his country, just as a soldier
will kill, spy, suffer indignities, be tortured, rather than betray his
trust, rather than see his country shamed or his flag hauled down, so
will a woman do just the same rather than see her man hurt or the flag
he carries dishonoured. Oh, I suppose it's only an idea that each
fights for--the flag for the soldier, the man for the woman. The flag
is his country and its future. The man is her mate and the children he
will give her.... Can't you understand? I'm not defending myself; but
they wouldn't believe me when I confessed, because they couldn't see why
I should do it. The fools!"
"Surely you didn't think when you did this thing your crime would remain
undetected?"
"A woman doesn't think when the man she loves is in danger. I tell you,
if I hadn't found the money for him he would have taken his life. I had
to find the money. The cheque was lying on the floor, he had forgotten
it. The idea came. I acted on it. I didn't think. It was a crime, I
daresay. One day, when you're at war, perhaps, and you capture a spy
you'll shoot him. You know he's a brave man and a soldier doing a job
you might have been deputed to do for your country. But you'll shoot
him. That's a crime in its way, but you'll do it because it's your duty
to your flag. If you stopped to reason, to think it out, you wouldn't do
it. When I committed my crime I obeyed the orders of my
heart--instinct--call it what you will. I wanted to save my man--who
was to be the father of my children. That's all I knew or remembered.
I didn't save him. It's not too late now--if only they would listen to
me, if only they'd believe me."
"They will believe you if you can find proof."
"The man who can prove it won't speak. I believe he could prove my
guilt and Rupert's innocence absolutely if he would speak. Several
things have come to my knowledge since the trial. That man is Robert
Despard. He has disappeared from London and I can't find him."
Ruby was walking up and down the room now, her head thrown back, her
fists tightly clenched. She looked magnificent, terrible.
"If I could find him," she cried between her teeth, "I would accuse him
of perjury. For he did perjure himself. He came into Rupert's
sitting-room just after I had altered the cheque. I was holding it in
my hand just underneath my glove, and he saw it there and asked what it
was. I believe after I left the room he must have seen the marks on the
blotting-pad. Things I had forgotten at the time, things he said,
returned to me afterwards when it was too late. He knows, but he won't
speak."
"Gently, gently," Jim said, taking her arm and making her sit down. "We
must help you, my father and I. We'll force Mr. Despard to speak--we
must clear Rupert's name if----"
"There's no if!" she cried.
"You realise that if we clear him it means that you take his place? You
will be sent to prison."
She seized his hands and looked into his eyes. "For me, the day I enter
prison and he is pardoned, will be the first happy day I shall have
known since Rupert was arrested. I love him."