"Poor Perowne seems nearly heartbroken," said the Resident, as they went
down the path; and then bitterly, the words slipping out, incidental
upon one or two remarks of Hilton's--"He seems to suffer more than you."
"I feel as much hurt at Miss Perowne's abduction as does any man at the
station," said Hilton, hotly; "but if you mean, Mr Harley, that I am
not grieving like a suitor of this lady should, you are quite right."
"Quite right?" said the Resident, quickly.
"I said quite right," replied Hilton, sternly; "every pretension on my
part was at an end before the night of that unfortunate party."
"I beg your pardon, Hilton," cried the Resident, warmly. "I am not
myself. I ought not to have spoken in so contemptibly mean a way. Bear
with me; for what with my public duties, and the suspense and agony of
this affair, my feelings have at times been maddening."
"Bear with you, yes!" said Hilton, warmly. "Harley, I sympathise with
you. I do indeed, and believe me, I will be your right hand in this
matter; but we have had so little chance of talking together. Tell me
what has been done."
"Comparatively nothing," replied the Resident. "I have been helpless.
I have had my suspicions; but, situated as I was, I could not act upon
suspicion only; and when, to satisfy myself, I have tried diplomatic--as
we call mean, but really underhanded--means by spies to find out if
there was anything wrong, every attempt has failed."
"You have sent out people to search then?"
"Scores!" cried the Resident; "but in the majority of cases I feel
certain that I have only been paying Murad's creatures; and when I have
not, but obtained people from down the river, the cunning Malays have
blinded them to the facts."
"I see."
"Then Murad himself, he has been indefatigable with his help."
"To throw you off the scent," said Hilton.
"Exactly. Then there was the finding of the stove-in boat, and portions
of the dresses of those who apparently occupied her--everything pointing
to some terrible accident. What would the authorities have said had I,
on the barest suspicion, seized upon Murad and charged him with this
crime? A public official cannot do that which a private individual
might attempt."
Hilton walked on by his side, very moody and thoughtful.
"I have felt suspicious of this cunning villain all along; and I do not
feel quite satisfied that the Inche Maida has not been playing into his
hands. But what could I do--on suspicion merely! Even now, had he not
absented himself from Sindang, we could hardly venture upon this
expedition. In spite of what we have heard, he may be innocent."
"My head upon it he is guilty!" cried Hilton, fiercely: "and if we do
bring him to book--"
The Resident looked at his companion curiously, for the young officer
ceased speaking, and he saw that there was a fixed, strange look in his
eye, and that his lips were drawn slightly from his teeth.
"If we do bring him to book," said the Resident, quietly, "he shall
suffer for it."
"Suffer!" cried Hilton, excitedly. "Look here, Harley, I vow to you now
that if Helen Perowne offered me her hand to-morrow, and asked me to
marry her, I should refuse; but all the same, I'd strike down the man
who offered her the slightest insult; and as for this Murad, if we run
him to earth, and he is guilty, I'll shoot him like a dog."
"Leave that revolver alone," said the Resident, quietly, as
unconsciously Hilton took the weapon from its pouch at his belt and
began turning the chambers round and round.
The young officer hastily thrust the weapon back and tightened his belt.
By that time they had reached the doctor's house, where, upon entering,
they found little Mrs Bolter looking flushed and annoyed, and opposite
to her Mrs Barlow, the picture of woe.
"Has he come back?" said the Resident, hastily, after the customary
salutations.
"No, he has not come back," said Mrs Bolter, rather excitedly.
"Alas! no, he has not returned," said Mrs Barlow, in tragic tones. "I
fear we shall never see him more."
"Are you speaking of Dr Bolter, madam?" said the Resident, wonderingly.
"Of the doctor, sir? No!" cried Mrs Barlow, indignantly, "but of the
chaplain."
"Oh!" said the Resident, and a feeling of compunction entered his breast
to think how small a part Mr Rosebury had seemed to play in this
life-drama, and how little he had been missed.
"Captain Hilton," said little Mrs Bolter, taking the young officer
aside to the window, while her visitor was talking to Mr Harley, "it's
a shame to trouble you with my affairs directly you have come out of
trouble yourself, and just as you are very busy, but if someone does not
take that woman away I shall go mad!"
"Go mad, Mrs Bolter?"
"Yes; go mad--I can't help it. I'm worried enough about the
disappearance of my poor brother Arthur; then I am forsaken in the most
cruel way by my husband; and as if that was not enough, and just when I
am imagining him to be suffering from fever, or crocodiles, or Malay
people, or being drowned, that dreadful woman comes and torments me
almost to death."
"What, Mrs Barlow? Well, but surely, if you give her a hint--"
"Give her a hint, Captain Hilton! I've asked her to go over and over
again; I've ordered her to go--but it's of no use. She comes back and
cries all over me in the most dreadful way."
"But why?--what about?"
"She has got a preposterous notion in her head that she is in love with
my poor brother, and that he was very much attached to her because he
called upon her once or twice. It's really dreadful, for I don't
believe my brother ever gave her a thought."
"You must reason with her, Mrs Bolter," said Hilton, who could not help
feeling amused.
"It is of no use: I've tried, and all I get for my pains is the
declaration that she must give me the love that she meant for my
brother. She says she shall make her will and leave all to me, for she
shall die soon; and the way in which she goes on is horrible."
"Well, it must be a nuisance where you don't care for a person," said
Hilton.
"Nuisance: it's unbearable! And now I'm talking to you about it, and
very absurd you must think me; but if I didn't relieve my mind to
somebody I'm sure I should go mad. But won't you come into the
drawing-room?"
"Certainly," said Hilton.
"I came out here to speak to her," continued little Mrs Bolter;
"because if she gets into my little drawing-room, she takes a seat, and
I can never get her out again. Perhaps," she whispered, "she'll go as
soon as she has said all she wants to Mr Harley."
Hilton followed the little troubled body into the drawing-room, and then
started and turned hot as he saw Grey Stuart rise to her feet, and stand
there, looking deadly pale.
"Miss Stuart!" he exclaimed.
She made an effort to control herself, but her strength was not
superhuman; and coming forward, she took Hilton's extended hand, looked
at him with her lips quivering, and then burst into a loud fit of
sobbing.
"We thought you dead," she said, in an excited manner. "Pray forgive
me. It is so weak. But Helen?"
"We have great hopes of rescuing her," said Hilton, whose heart was
beating fast, as he asked himself what this emotion really meant. Then
he cooled down and felt hurt, for he told himself that her last words
explained it. Helen Perowne and she had been schoolfellows, and he had
disappeared at the same time; now he had returned, but without Helen,
and his appearance was a shock to her.
"There, there, there, my dear child," said Mrs Bolter, who felt
scandalised at this weakness on the part of her favourite; "don't cry--
pray don't cry. You're very glad to see Captain Hilton back of course,
but you must save a few tears for poor Mr Chumbley as well. When is he
coming to see us, Captain Hilton?"
"Not on this side of our expedition," said the young officer, quietly.
"We start as soon as possible, and have hopes of bringing back Miss
Perowne and your brother."
"Then you do think he was taken as well, Captain Hilton?" cried Mrs
Bolter, eagerly.
"I feel sure he was, now," replied Hilton. "He was no doubt in
attendance upon Miss Perowne, and they were taken together."
"Then if he was," said little Mrs Bolter, brightening, "I am very glad,
for Helen Perowne's sake for some things," she added, giving her head a
sharp shake.
This short colloquy gave Grey Stuart an opportunity of recovering
herself; and she blessed the brisk, talkative little woman for drawing
attention from her, so that when next she spoke, she was able to command
herself thoroughly, and continue the conversation in her ordinary calm,
self-possessed way.
"I began to despair at one time of getting back to the station," Hilton
said, lightly; "and I was very tired of being a prisoner, I assure you."
He looked intently at Grey as he spoke, and the pleasant warmth of her
manner as she replied touched and pleased him but he was fain to confess
that it was only the lively interest that any girl in her position would
take in one who had been lost in the same way as he, and was now found.
"I am very glad to see you back, Mr Hilton," she said. "We were in
great trouble about you. But when shall we see Mr Chumbley?"
"Soon, I hope," he replied, quietly, and there was a curious sinking
feeling at his heart as she spoke.
"She would have shown just as much emotion at seeing him for the first
time," he thought. "What a sweet, innocent, gracious little woman it
is, and how much happier I might have been, if I had made her the object
of my pursuit."
"Tell me about Mr Chumbley," said Grey, taking up her work; "did he
suffer much when you were prisoners?"
"Suffer? No!" said Hilton, smiling. "If he did, he never showed it.
He's a splendid fellow, and takes things so coolly."
"Oh, yes, he is, indeed!" cried Grey. "I do like Mr Chumbley."
Hilton's heart sank a little lower, and there was almost a ring of
sadness in his voice as he went on:
"He kept my spirits up wonderfully by his _nonchalant_, easy way. He
was a capital companion and never once showed that he was low-spirited
or suffered in the least."
"He is very strong and brave, is he not?" said Grey.
"Why, the little body loves him," thought Hilton; "and I had hoped--Bah!
let me be a man, and not a manger-loving cur. What right have I to
think she could have cared for me?"
"Strong and brave!" he said, aloud. "Why, Chumbley professes to be a
coward--"
"A coward! Oh, no!" cried Grey, flushing. "I cannot believe--"
"While he is as brave as a lion," said Hilton. "That he is, I am sure,"
cried Grey, warmly; and her cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkled as she
spoke.
"Chum, old fellow," said Hilton, sadly to himself; "I used to laugh at
you because you were bested by me, as I thought, but now I envy you your
luck. Well, never mind, I can bear it, I daresay, and you deserve it
all. I think I shall go back and marry the Inche Maida after all."
"Why, how serious you have turned, Captain Hilton," said Mrs Bolter.
"Captain Hilton is going away directly on what may prove a dangerous
expedition."
"Of course; I had forgotten," said Mrs Bolter. "Dear me, that woman is
there still, talking to Mr Harley. Will she never go?"
"She will give Chumbley a warmer welcome than she gave me," said Hilton
to himself, and he looked reproachfully at the fair, sweet face before
him.
"You will be glad to see Chumbley, will you not?" he said aloud.
"Oh, yes, very glad!" she exclaimed, warmly; and then, as she met his
eyes fixed inquiringly, she blushed vividly.
"She colours when his name is mentioned," said Hilton to himself. "I
wonder whether he cares as much for her. He must--he couldn't help it.
There, Heaven bless her! Other people are more fortunate than I."
"That dreadful woman seems as if she would not go," whispered Mrs
Bolter. "Pray forgive me for leaving you, Captain Hilton, but I must
not let her tease Mr Harley to death as she teases me."
As she spoke little Mrs Bolter left the room, the strident sound of
Mrs Barlow's voice coming loudly as the door was opened, while when it
was closed all was perfectly silent.
Grey Stuart's hand involuntarily went out as if to stay Mrs Bolter;
then it fell to her side, and she sat there painfully conscious and
suffering acute mental pain.
"Poor little maiden!" thought Hilton, as he saw her trouble. "She is
afraid of me;" and he let his eyes rest upon the open window before he
spoke. The intense heat seemed to float into the room, bearing with it
the scent of the creepers outside, and of a tall tropic tree covered
with white blossoms, whose spreading branches sheltered the doctor's
cottage from the blazing sun.
From that hour the warm air, scented with the rich perfume of flowers
and those white blossoms clustering without, seemed somehow to be
associated in Hilton's mind with Grey Stuart, who sat back there pale
now as her white dress, wanting to speak, to break the painful silence,
but not daring for some few minutes, lest he should detect the tremble
in her voice.
"You start very soon, do you not, Captain Hilton?" she said.
"Yes; I hoped to have been on the river ere this," he said, with a
bitter intonation that he could not check.
"And you will discover poor Helen, and bring her back?" she said,
forcing herself to speak of a subject that she felt would be welcome to
him.
"If men can do it, we will succeed!" he replied, earnestly.
"Poor Helen!" sighed Grey. "Tell her, Mr Hilton--from me--"
"Yes," he said, eagerly, for she hesitated and stopped.
"That her old schoolfellow's arms long to embrace her once again, and
that the hours have seemed very bitter since she has been gone."
"Yes," he said. "I will tell her, Miss Stuart. Poor girl! she will
need all the consolation that can be given her, and it will be welcome
news to her that she is sure of yours."
"Sure of mine, Captain Hilton? Oh, yes. For many years past I have
felt like the sister of Helen Perowne."
"Who is happy in possessing so dear a friend," he said, gravely. "May
she ever retain your friendship--nay, I should call it sisterly love."
"She shall," said Grey, in a voice that sounded hard and firm. "I am
not one to change lightly in my friendships."
"No," he said, quietly; "you cannot be."
"How quiet and unimpulsive he is," thought Grey. "How wanting in
eagerness to go to Helen's help. Surely now that she needs all his
sympathy and love--now that she must be in a terrible state of
suffering--he could not be so base as to forsake her! He could not, he
would not do that! I should hate him if he did."
There was a pause then, and they both seemed to be listening to the hum
of voices in the next room; and then Grey Stuart said to herself,
softly:
"Should I hate him if he did?"
The answer came directly.
"Yes, for the man I could love must be too chivalrous to wrong a woman
by neglect in her time of trial."
"Yes," said Hilton, rousing himself from a state of abstraction, "we
must soon be upon the river; I expected that we should have been there
before now."
"I pray Heaven for your safety and success, Captain Hilton," said Grey
Stuart, gravely.
"And for Chumbley's too?" he said.
"And for Lieutenant Chumbley's and Mr Harley's too," she said, in a low
voice.
As she spoke the door opened, and Mrs Bolter entered, followed by the
Resident; and as soon as the former was seated, Grey rose, crossed the
room, and went and stood with her hands resting upon her chair, the act
seeming to give her strength to bear what was becoming painful.