A SHARP ENCOUNTER
The _Tempest Queen_ carried a merry cargo. The young officers, the
Americans and rich pleasure seekers from other lands--young and
old--made up a happy company. Of all on board, but one was despised and
loathed by his fellow-travellers--Lord Huntingford. Not so much for his
manner toward them as for his harsh, bitter attitude toward his
young wife.
He reprimanded and criticised her openly, very much as he would have
spoken to a child, and always undeservedly. She endured patiently, to
all appearances, and her cloud of humiliation was swept away by the
knowledge that her new friends saw the injustice of his attacks. She did
not pose before them as a martyr; but they could see the subdued and
angry pride and the checked rebellion, for the mask of submission was
thin, even though it was dutiful.
The two young women, unlike as two women could be, became fast friends.
The Englishwoman was refinement, sweetness, even royalty itself; the
American, proud, equally refined, aggressive and possessed of a wit,
shrewdness and spontaneity of humor that often amazed the less subtle of
the two. Tinges of jealousy sometimes shot into Grace's heart when she
saw Hugh talking to the new friend, but they disappeared with the
recollection of her Ladyship's pure, gentle nobility of character. It is
seen rarely by one woman in another.
And Veath? The stalwart, fresh-hearted, lean-faced Indianian was happier
than he had dreamed he could be when he drearily went aboard a ship at
New York with the shadow of exile upon him. He had won the friendship of
all. The brain of the Westerner was as big as his heart, and it had been
filled with the things which make men valuable to the world. Men called
him the "real American," and women conveyed a world of meaning in the
simple, earnest expression--"I like Mr. Veath."
Veath was now unmistakably in love with Grace Vernon. The fact was borne
in upon him more and more positively as the sunny days and beautiful
nights drew them nearer to the journey's end. Occasionally he lapsed
into strange fits of dejection. These came when he stopped to ponder
over certain prospects, hopes and the stores of life. At times he cursed
the fate which had cast him into the world, big and strong, yet
apparently helpless. It had not been his ambition to begin life in the
capacity which now presented itself. His hopes had been limitless.
Poverty had made his mind a treasure; but poverty had also kept it
buried. He saw before him the long fight for opportunity, position,
honor; but he was not the sort to quail. The victory would be glorious
when he thought what it might bring to him from Grace Ridge--she who
was going to be a missionary. A long, hard fight, indeed, from revenue
officer to minister plenipotentiary, but it was ambition's war.
And Hugh? As the days went by, his jealousy of Veath became almost
intolerable. He dared not speak to Grace about it, for something told
him she was not to be censured. Even in his blind rage he remembered
that she was good and true, and was daring all for his sake. In calmer
moments he could not blame Veath, who believed the young lady to be
sister, and not sweetheart.
In view of his misery, Mr. Ridgeway was growing thin, morose, and
subject to long fits of despondency which Grace alone could comprehend.
Both were dissatisfied with the trip. That they could not be together
constantly, as they had expected, caused them hours of misery. They were
praying for the twenty-third of May to come, praying with all their
hearts. Beside whom did Hugh walk during the deck strolls and at Port
Said? With his sister? No, indeed; that would have been unnatural. Who
was Grace's natural companion? Henry Veath or any one of a dozen
attractive young officers. How could it have been otherwise?
She was popular and in constant demand. There were not many young women
aboard and certainly but two or three attractive ones. From morning till
far in the night she was besieged by men--always men. They ignored Hugh
with all the indifference that falls to the lot of a brother. Time after
time they actually pounced upon the couple and dragged her away without
so much as "By your leave." They danced with her, sang with her, walked
with her and openly tried to make love to her, all before the blazing
eyes of one Hugh Ridgeway. On more than one occasion he had gone without
his dinner because some presumptuous officer unceremoniously usurped his
seat at table, grinning amiably when Hugh appeared.
The sweet, dear little moments of privacy that Hugh and Grace obtained,
however, were morsels of joy which were now becoming more precious than
the fondest dreams of the wedded state to come. They coveted these
moments with a greediness that was almost sinful.
On many nights Grace would whisper to Hugh at the dinner table and would
creep quietly on deck, meal half finished, where he would join her like
a thief. Then they would hide from interruption as long as possible.
One night they enjoyed themselves more unrestrainedly than ever before
in their lives. They were walking self-consciously and almost guiltily
near the forward end of the deck-house when they saw Veath approaching
far behind. Their speed accelerated, and for half an hour they walked
like pedestrians in a racing match, always keeping some distance ahead
of poor Veath, who finally, like the sly fox, sat down and waited for
them to hurry around and come upon him unexpectedly. He, of course,
never knew that they were trying to avoid him, nor could he imagine why
brother and sister were so flushed, happy and excited when he at last
had the pleasure of joining them in their walk. And, strange to say,
although they had been wildly happy in this little love chase, they felt
that they had mistreated a very good fellow and were saying as much to
each other when they almost bumped into him.
Womanly perception told Grace that Veath's regard for her was beginning
to assume a form quite beyond that of ordinary friendship. She
intuitively felt that he was beginning to love her. Perhaps he was
already in love, and was releasing those helpless little signs which a
woman understands, and which a man thinks he conceals impenetrably. The
_Queen_ was leaving Port Said and she was leaning on the rail beside the
big Indianian.
"Why are you going out to be a missionary?" he suddenly asked. Then he
flushed painfully, remembering when too late that he had sworn to Hugh
that he would not speak to her of the matter. "I beg your pardon," he
hurried on; "I promised--that is, I should not have asked you that
question. I forgot, hang my stupidity."
"Mr. Veath, I am not going out to be a missionary. Nothing was ever
farther from my mind," she said, rather excitedly.
"Not going to be a--why, Hugh said you were. There I go, giving him away
again."
"Hugh was jesting. I a missionary! How could you have believed him?"
"Are you in earnest?" he cried.
"Of course I am in earnest," she said, trying to look straight in those
bright eyes, but failing dismally. Something in his glance dazzled her.
It was then that she knew the truth as well as if his mind were an
open book.
"Why are you going to the Philippines?" he persisted.
She gave him a quick, frightened glance and as hastily looked away. The
red of confusion rushed to her cheeks, her brow, her neck. What answer
could she give?
"We are--are just taking the trip for pleasure," she stammered. "Hugh
and I took a sudden notion to go to Manila and--and--well, we are going,
that's all."
"You don't mean to say you are making this as a pleasure trip?" he
asked, staring at her with a different light in his eyes.
"A mere whim, you know," she hurried on. "Look at those Arabs over
there."
"But a pleasure trip of this kind must be awfully expensive, isn't it?"
he insisted.
She hesitated for an instant and then said boldly: "You see, Mr. Veath,
Hugh and I are very rich. It may not sound well for me to say it, but we
have much more money than we know how to spend. The cost of this voyage
is a mere trifle. Please do not think that I am boasting. It is the
miserable truth." His face was very pale when she dared to look up at it
again, and his gaze was far off at sea.
"And so you are very rich," he mused aloud. "I thought you were quite
poor, because missionaries are seldom overburdened with riches,
according to tradition, or the gospel, or something like that. This is a
pleasure trip!" The bitterness of his tone could not be hidden.
"I am sorry if you have had an idol shattered," she said.
"Something has been shattered," he said, smiling. "I don't know very
much about idols," he added. "How long do you expect to remain
in Manila?"
"But a very short time," she said simply.
"And I shall have to stay there for years, I suppose," he returned
slowly. His eyes came to hers for a second and then went back to the
stretch of water like a flash. That brief glance troubled her greatly.
Her heart trembled with pity for the man beside her, even though
speculation wrought the emotion.
In her stateroom that night she lay, dry-eyed and wakeful, her inward
cry being: "It is a crime to have wounded this innocent man. Why must he
be made to suffer?"
She could not tell Hugh of her discovery, for she knew that he would be
unreasonable, perhaps do or say something which would make the wound
more painful. During the days that followed Veath was as pleasant, as
genial, as gallant as before; none but Grace observed the faint change
in his manner. She was sure she could distinguish a change, yet at
times, when he was gayest, she thrilled with the hope that her belief
was the outgrowth of a conceit which she was beginning for the first
time to know she possessed. Then came the belief again and the belief
was stronger than the doubt. She could not be mistaken.
In the meantime an unexpected complication forced itself upon Hugh
Ridgeway. Perforce he had been thrown more or less constantly into the
society of that charming creature, Lady Huntingford. Not that the young
rakes in uniform were content to pass her by, but because she plainly
preferred the young American. It had not occurred to Mr. Ridgeway that
his Lordship might be expected, with reasonable propriety, to unmask a
jealous streak in addition to other disagreeable traits. The British
subalterns probably knew the temper of the old diplomat's mind, which,
in a degree, explains their readiness to forgo the pleasure of a mild
flirtation with her Ladyship. Hugh, feeling like a despised pariah,
naturally turned to her in his banishment. She was his friend, his one
beacon of light in the dark sea of unhappiness.
Others noticed it; but Hugh was blind to the scowl which never left the
face of Lord Huntingford in these days. The old nobleman knew full well
that his wife loathed and detested him--just as the whole ship knew it;
his pride rankled and writhed with the fear that she was finding more
than friendship to enjoy in her daily intercourse with the good-looking
Mr. Ridge. Gradually it became noticeable that he was watching her every
act with spiteful eyes, and more than one observer winked softly at his
neighbor, and shook his head with a meaning unmistakable.
The clash came one night in the Red Sea, just before the ship reached
Aden. Hugh, reviling himself and the whole world, had been compelled to
stand by and see Lieutenant Gilmore, a dashing Irishman, drag the
unwilling Miss Ridge off for a waltz. Her protestations had been of no
avail; Gilmore was abominable enough to say that she had no right to
stow herself away with a stupid old brother when there were so many
"real nice chaps on board." And this in Hugh's presence, too! And he
could not resent it! Alone and miserable the pariah sent his unspoken,
bitter lamentation to the stars as he stood in savage loneliness far
aft, listening to the strains of waltz music.
"'Pon my soul! Of all the assinine idiots, bar none, the enlightened
inspirer of this glorious voyage certainly ranks supreme! And I didn't
have brains enough to foresee that this would surely happen! Brains?
Faugh! Chump!"
Hugh might have apostrophized himself in this fashion until dawn had not
a harsh, rasping voice from out of the semi-darkness broken in on his
doleful revery.
"Pardon me, sir, do you play cribbage?"
Hugh turned half about and faced the speaker. He could hardly believe
his ears, his eyes. Was it possible that the haughty Lord Huntingford
had fixed upon him as the next lamb to be fleeced? Ugly stories
concerning the government emissary's continuous winnings, disastrous
losses of the young subalterns inveigled into gambling through fear of
his official displeasure, were not unknown to Hugh. A civil declination
was on his lips; but keenly searching the shrivelled face leering into
his own, Hugh saw written there something that compelled consideration,
challenged a refusal. Promptly and in affirmative speech he reversed his
intention.
Slowly the left hand of Lord Huntingford produced from behind his back
an exquisitely carved ebony cribbage-board; and assuming the position of
host, indicated with exaggerated courtesy and a wave of his free hand
the way to the smoking-room.
Hugh, following him along the deck, was hastily reviewing the voyage;
and failing to recall any previous occasion wherein the nobleman had
addressed him his sense of perplexity increased. Was there some hidden
purpose, some crafty machination lurking behind the elaborated manner
with which the invitation was delivered? On the other hand, perhaps, his
imagination was playing him a trick, and this selection of an adversary
was merely accidental.
And yet, had he but known, it was his own absorbing jealousy of Veath
that precluded the recognition of a like sentiment directed against him,
even surpassing in intensity its owner's lust for gain at play.
The smoking-room was empty, which, to the younger man, appeared as
rather extraordinary, and served to augment his supposition that such a
condition was presupposed. This, in turn, was dimissed, for he
remembered that the usual occupants were either dancing or looking on.
Taking the initiative, as if such a course was incumbent, Lord
Huntingford placed his cribbage-board on a table and drew up chairs for
both; with equal politeness the proffered seat was accepted, Hugh
registering inwardly a determination to force high stakes, and, if
possible, recoup the losses of the young officers. Not for an instant
did he doubt his ability to detect the slightest irregularities in the
count of his discredited opponent.
"Sovereign a point?"
"Done! Five, if you like!"
This answer from the young American caused an avaricious glint to leap
into the other's eyes. Plainly, two master passions fought for
supremacy: an inordinate greed for money and a choleric determination to
prohibit any further attentions to his wife. The struggle was brief, for
the vehemence of his enmity, triumphant, the hope of immediate emolument
was sacrificed, and the rooking of the young man postponed to some
future occasion. Then, subtly concealing his purpose, he nodded an
ambiguous acceptance.
Cards were ordered. A steward fetched them and awaited further commands.
Lord Huntingford strangely distrait, it seemed to Hugh, considering the
amount at stake, shuffled the pack and offered them for the cut. This
conventional operation performed and his Lordship successful, he dealt
the hands, at the same time giving the steward a sharp order to leave.
The man's reception of his dismissal was so insolent that it attracted
Hugh's attention. Looking up, to his surprise, he recognized his
room steward.
"With whom have I the pleasure of playing?" came suddenly from Lord
Huntingford.
"Ridgeway, Hugh--"
Quick as the thought in the mind preceding it, inevitably connected, the
name escaped unwittingly from his lips; for with the discovery of the
steward's identity there flashed like a bolt from the blue an appalling
recollection! Exposed to view on the table in his stateroom were
valuable documents addressed to him by his banker, which he had
forgotten to replace in his dispatch-box!
"Eh? What's that? What name?" The interrogation, icily formal, told
nothing; but upon its answer hinged limitless consequences.
Hugh was in a dilemma. Should he correct himself, or rely on the slip
passing unobserved? The peculiar expression on the steward's face
returned to him; and he wondered if the knowledge of his adopting an
incognito had been elicited from the garrulous servant, and the
Englishman about to take advantage of it? Reddening with anger as much
against himself as against the cynical old aristocrat, who was cornering
him cavalierly, he decided to brave exposure:
"Ridge! H.B. Ridge is my name, Lord Huntingford!"
There was a reckless disregard of possibilities in the eyes that
fastened themselves on the face of the nobleman for a clue, some
enlightenment as to the impression produced; but all in vain. The
shrewd, small eyes answered the scrutiny impassively, and without as
much as the flicker of an eyelid. Taking one of the little ivory pegs,
he stuck it in the starting hole at the end of the cribbage-board.
Unconsciously, while waiting for the mental move which would determine
his future address, Hugh following the other's lead, picked up one and
pegged. Then to his infinite relief Lord Huntingford apparently allowed
the correction, accepted the alias.
"Ridge!" he pronounced with malicious uncertainty. "Ridge! I am
acquainted with the English Ridges;" and the sneer in the voice
increased. "Do I understand you to pretend that you are one of that
distinguished family?"
Hugh clenched his lips and his blood boiled at the treatment.
"I am an American, Lord Huntingford," spoken easily, his pride showing
only by a perceptible lift of the head; "and my ancestors were not
Tories in the Revolution. Relationship, if any, would be--er--distant. I
claim none."
"A trifle strained," admitted his Lordship, laughing disagreeably.
At that moment the band could be heard in the distance playing the
strains of a waltz; also the voices of the couples who were promenading
and passing the open door. To Hugh's amazement, Lord Huntingford,
obviously heedless of his peculiar action, recommenced shuffling the
stack of cards, though the dealt hands remained untouched on the table.
Instinctively, Hugh was convinced that no play was intended. There was
something on the mind of the wily old diplomat far more momentous than a
mere game of cards; yet no chance had been given to him to penetrate
into the other's motives.
It was not long forthcoming.
Suddenly, clear as a bell, Hugh distinguished the laughter of Lady
Huntingford, and involuntarily he smiled. This seemed to enrage his
Lordship. Hatred and menace shone from his eyes as he glanced at the man
opposite him. With an oath he rose, walked to the door and closed it.
Then ruthlessly laying aside the last vestige of his assumed
courtliness, he picked up his stick from the table, leaned far over,
shook it in Hugh's face, and became an irascible, shouting old man.
"Look here, young man--Ridge--Ridgeway--or whatever your blasted
name--do you think I'll allow you to carry on an affair with my wife--my
wife, sir?" he vociferated. "Henceforth, I forbid you to speak to her!
Do you hear me?"
It was debatable whether Hugh was more astonished at the mention of Lady
Huntingford's name in connection with his own, or at the stick in
dangerously close proximity to his countenance. It was some time before
he could find words; but his face from red went white.
"And if I decline?"
There was that in the low tone that should have warned the aggressor
from further insult; but forgetting that the swaggering domination he
had been accustomed to exercising over his own countrymen, officially
his inferiors, would not for a moment be tolerated by one of another
nationality, he again broke out:
"You bounder! Yankee upstart! I'll thrash you, and then have the captain
put you on shore at the first port--you infernal impostor!"
In an instant Hugh was over the table. He tore the stick from Lord
Huntingford's hand and clutched his throat, forcing him down on the seat
cushions. With the exception of the younger man's hard breathing and
some gasps from the other, the struggle was noiseless. Not until Lord
Huntingford was growing black in the face did Hugh come to his senses.
Then releasing one hand from the throat, he pinned him with the other
and a knee.
"You old scoundrel!" Hugh began, jerking out the scathing words; "if it
were not for your old age and your wife I'd drag you on deck and make
you apologize on your knees before them all. I'll spare you that
degradation; but if I ever hear of you mentioning the name
Ridegway--I've my own reasons for concealing it, and they don't concern
you--I'll make some charges in regard to your card playing that will
bar you from every club in the world, and, unlike your poor dupes, I am
in a position to substantiate them without fear of consequences."
Lord Huntingford grudgingly mumbled a throttled promise, and Hugh
allowed him to regain his feet. At that instant Veath, with Grace and
Lady Huntingford, standing behind him, opened the door of the
smoking-room.
"Here, Veath!" called out Hugh to the astonished Indianian. "I want you
to bear witness that Lord Huntingford has promised to keep absolutely
quiet about a little altercation of ours, and--"
The quick gesture of caution from Veath came too late. Lady Huntingford
with astonished eyes was gazing into the room at them. Hugh promptly
went over to her.
"You must pardon me, Lady Huntingford; I am sorry to cause you any pain
or annoyance. In a dispute over the cards with your husband I forgot
myself for a moment. Pray forgive me."
Ridgeway quietly strode away with Grace and Veath. Lady Huntingford
directed a look of unutterable contempt at her husband, turned on her
heel and left him to slink away as quickly as possible, like a cur that
has felt the whip.