MEANS TO AN END
"Where have you been, Madeline?" Gervase said, quietly. "We have all
grown so concerned about you." His voice was quite steady, though there
was an unpleasant light in his eyes.
"I have been for a walk, that is all," she answered, in a tone of
unconcern.
"I wish you had let some one know," he said, in the same quiet tone. "It
is hardly safe for you to be out after dark."
"Why not?" she answered. "I know my way about, and there is no one in
St. Gaved who would molest me."
"You think so, perhaps," and he shot an angry glance at Rufus, who stood
quite still, speaking no word.
"Of course I think so. Besides, I have not been alone."
"So I perceive. But had we not better return to the house and put an end
to my mother's anxiety?"
"I am sure Lady Tregony is not the least bit anxious," she said, with a
pout.
"I can assure you she is very much concerned. That is the reason I came
to look for you."
"Oh, indeed!" and with a hurried good-night to Rufus she walked away
toward the Hall.
Gervase was by her side in a moment. Rufus watched them till they had
disappeared in the darkness, then turned, and made his way slowly
in the direction of St. Gaved.
He could not help feeling amused at the encounter he had witnessed,
though he was almost sorry that Gervase had seen them together. It was
clear enough that the Captain was terribly angry, though he did his best
not to show it. Possibly he was more than angry. Natures like his were
apt to be jealous on the slightest provocation.
Rufus smiled broadly at the thought. The idea of a baronet's son being
jealous of him was too comic for words. Yet such things had happened.
Jealousy was often unreasonable. And if the Captain were really jealous
it boded ill for Madeline's future happiness.
"I should be sorry to cause unpleasantness," he said, knitting his
brows. "If they have to live together, I should like her to be happy. I
wonder if she has promised to be his wife?"
Meanwhile, Gervase and Madeline were walking up the long drive in
silence. Madeline was in no humour for speech. Gervase was bubbling
over, and yet was afraid to trust himself to open a conversation. The
case seemed to him almost desperate, and yet he knew it was to be met
not by scolding, but by diplomacy.
The thing that he feared more than anything had happened before his very
eyes. And yet he was not disposed to blame Madeline very much, the blame
belonged to Rufus Sterne--a handsome, intriguing rascal, who had used
the girl's sense of gratitude for all it was worth.
"I should like to twist the scoundrel's neck," he said to himself, with
an ugly look upon his face. "I wonder what he expects to gain? Of
course, he will never dare to make love to her. It might be a good
thing if he did----"
Then his thoughts took another turn. Madeline was an American, and under
the Stars and Stripes social considerations counted for very little.
Possibly she thought that Rufus Sterne was just as good as he, and if
she did, heaven only knew what would happen.
"I was a fool not to make love to her at the first," he thought, with a
scowl. "She thought no end of me then, and I could have married her
right off. I'm sure I could, but father insisted that waiting was the
game. Father was a fool, and I was a fool to listen to him."
The lights from the Hall windows began to glimmer through the trees, and
he had spoken no word to her since they passed through the lodge gates.
He had looked at her once or twice, but she kept her eyes straight in
front of her. Did she expect he would scold her, he wondered? Had she
begun to realise that her conduct was deserving of censure, or was she
only annoyed that she had been seen?
The silence was becoming embarrassing. He wished she would speak, and
give him the opportunity of reply. To walk side by side like mutes at a
funeral promised ill for the future.
"Are you tired, Madeline?" He was bound to say something, and one
question would serve as well as another.
"Not in the least," and she quickened her steps to give point to her
statement.
"Oh! please don't walk so fast," he said, in a tone of entreaty. "One
can't talk when walking so fast."
"I don't want to talk."
"Why not, Madeline? You are not angry with me, surely?"
"Of course not. Why should I be?"
"I might be angry with you, but I'm not. I never could be angry with
you, Madeline. You have no idea how much I think of you, and how much I
appreciate you."
"Why might you be angry with me?" she asked, sharply, without turning
her head.
The question almost staggered him for a moment. Yet as he had brought it
upon himself he was bound to answer it.
"Well, you see," he said, desperately, "no man cares to see the woman he
loves, and whom he expects to marry, walking out with another man,
especially after dark."
"Oh, indeed!"
"But don't think I am angry with you, Madeline," he interposed, quickly.
"I could trust you anywhere."
"Then why did you come spying on me?" and she turned her eyes suddenly
upon him.
"No, not spying on you, Madeline," he said, humbly; "that is not the
right word to use. But I knew that fellow might be loitering about. He
is always hanging about somewhere."
"Everybody hangs about somewhere--to quote your elegant phrase," she
said, sharply.
"Yes, yes. But anybody can see what that fellow is after. He did you a
service, there is no denying it, and now he is presuming on your good
nature."
"In which way?"
"Well, in getting you to notice him and speak to him."
"Surely I can speak to anyone I choose?"
"Of course you can. But he is not the kind of man you would choose to
speak to, but for the unfortunate accident."
"Why not?"
"Well, Madeline, there should be some sense of fitness in everything.
Here is a man without religion, who never goes to church or chapel, who
has no sense of accountability or responsibility, who doesn't believe
even in the Ten Commandments----"
"Yes, go on," she interjected, suddenly.
"Who at the present time," he continued, slowly, "is actually living by
imposing on the credulity and good nature of other people."
"How so?"
"How so? He is spending money right and left, I am told, on some
pretended invention, or discovery of his, which is to revolutionise one
of the staple industries of the county. Of course, the whole thing is a
fake. You may be quite sure of that. But whose money is he spending? He
has none of his own. With his glib tongue I have no doubt he has imposed
on a lot of people to lend him their savings. Honourable conduct, isn't
it? Perhaps he is trying to interest you in his invention?"
"No, he is not."
"Not got sufficiently far yet. Oh, well, it will do you no harm to be
warned in time."
"You take a charitable view of your neighbours, Gervase."
"My dear Madeline, charity is all right in its place. But in this world
we must be guided by common-sense."
They had reached the house, and were standing facing each other to
continue the conversation.
"Well?" she interrogated.
"You may lay it down as a general principle that a man who is an infidel
is not to be trusted."
"For what reason?"
"Because he has no moral standard to hold him in check. You believe in
the Bible and in the Commandments and in the teachings of the Church,
and you live in obedience to what you believe. But he believes none of
these things. He is bound by no commandment except as a matter of
policy."
"May not a man have a moral instinct which he follows? Are all the
unbelievers, all the doubters, all the sceptics, all the infidels--or
whatever name you like to call them--are they all bad men?"
"I do not say that, Madeline. Besides, policy often holds them in
check."
"And what holds you in check, Gervase? Is it your passionate attachment
to the right, or the fear of being found out?"
"I don't think that is quite a fair question," he said, uneasily. "I
don't pretend to be a saint, though I do try to live like a Christian
gentleman."
"And you think Mr. Sterne does not?"
"I have no wish to say all I think, or even to hint at what I know. A
word to the wise is sufficient. I am sure you will be on your guard in
the future."
"But you do hint at a great deal, Gervase, whether you know or not."
"It is because I love you, Madeline, and would shield you from every
harm."
She looked at him for a moment, as if about to reply, then turned and
walked up the steps into the house.
Gervase stood still for a moment or two, then turned slowly on his heel,
and began to retrace his steps the way he had come.
He chuckled audibly when he had got a few paces away. He felt that he
had done a good stroke of business. He had sown tares enough to spoil
any crop. If he had not proved to Madeline that Rufus Sterne was a man
without moral scruples, he had succeeded in filling her mind with doubts
on the subject.
If that failed to answer the end he had in view he would have to go a
step further. He had no wish to resort to extreme measures, for the
simple reason that he did not like to run risks, but if Madeline was
still unconvinced that Rufus Sterne was a man not to be trusted, some
direct evidence would have to be manufactured and produced.
It was clear to him that this man who had saved her life was the one
stumbling-stone in his path. But for him she would have raised no
objection to their engagement. Everything had gone in his favour until
that adventure on the cliffs; everything would go right now if he were
out of the way.
The best way to get him out of the way would be to blacken his
character. Madeline was a girl with high moral ideals. An immoral man
she would turn away from with loathing. Gervase shrugged his shoulders
significantly. He had already by implication thrown considerable doubt
on his character; if that failed, further and more extreme measures
would have to be considered.
When he reached the lodge gates he turned back again. He walked with a
quicker and more buoyant step. He felt satisfied with himself. He had
more skill in argument than he knew. He believed he had spiked Rufus
Sterne's guns once and for all.
Madeline was very silent over the dinner-table, and during the rest of
the evening. Evidently the poison was working. Gervase left her in
peace. It would be bad policy to pay her too much attention just now.
The poison should be left to do its utmost.
Nearly a week passed, and nothing happened. Madeline remained silent,
and more or less apathetic. She manifested no inclination to go for
long walks alone, and kept herself for the most part in her own room.
This from one point of view was so much to the good. It seemed to
indicate that she had no desire to meet Rufus Sterne. On the other hand,
it was not without an element of discouragement. She was no more cordial
with Gervase. Indeed, she kept him at arm's length more persistently
than ever. Gervase became almost desperate. His financial position was
causing him increased anxiety, while his father began to upbraid him for
not making better use of his opportunities. To crown his anxiety Beryl
told him one day that Madeline was not at all pleased with him for
trying to insinuate that Rufus Sterne was a man of bad character.
Gervase swore a big oath and stalked out of the house. He was angrier
than he had been since his return from India. He was ready to quarrel
with his best friend. As for Rufus Sterne, he was itching to be at his
throat. It would be a relief to him to strangle him.
As fate would have it he had not got five hundred yards beyond the lodge
gates before he came face to face with the man whom he believed was the
cause of all his trouble and disappointment.
Rufus was returning from Redbourne, tired and despondent. Things were
not going well with his invention, and the dread possibility which at
first he refused to entertain was looming ever more largely on the
horizon.
The sun had set nearly an hour previously, but the white carpet of snow
and the myriads of glittering stars made every object distinctly
visible.
The two men recognised each other in a moment. Rufus would have passed
on without a word. He wanted to be alone with his own thoughts. But
Gervase was in a very different humour. Moreover, the sight of Rufus
Sterne was like fuel to the fire, it seemed to throw him into a rage of
uncontrollable passion.
"Hello, scoundrel," he said, "loitering round Trewinion as usual," and
he squared his shoulders and looked Rufus straight in the eyes.
Rufus stopped short, and stared at the Captain in angry surprise. "What
do you mean?" he said, scornfully and defiantly.
"I mean that you are a contemptible cad," was the answer.
Rufus laughed, mockingly.
"Don't laugh at me," Gervase roared. "I won't have it. Because you
rendered Miss Grover a service you think you have a right to hang about
this place at all hours of the day, so that you may intercept her when
she goes out for a walk, and poison her mind against her best friends."
"It is a lie," Rufus said, fiercely. "I have neither intercepted her nor
poisoned her mind."
"Will you call me a liar?" Gervase almost shrieked.
"Of course I will call you a liar when you make statements that are
false."
"Then take----"
But the blow failed to reach its mark. Rufus sprang aside, his face
white with anger, and almost before he knew what he had done, his heavy
fist had loosened one of the Captain's teeth and considerably altered
the shape of his nose.
With a wild yell of rage the Captain struck out again, but he was so
blind with rage that he could hardly see what he did. Moreover, this was
a kind of combat he was not used to. With sword or rapier he could have
made a very good show, but with his bare fists, in the light of the
stars, he was at very considerable disadvantage. His second blow was as
wild as the first, and when a blow between his eyes laid him prone on
the ground, he began to yell for help at the top of his voice.
Micah Martin, the gardener, who lived at the lodge, was on the scene in
a very few moments.
"Take the drunken brute away," Gervase screamed, "or he'll murder me."
Rufus looked at his antagonist for a moment in silence, then staggered
away, feeling limp and nerveless. The encounter had been so sudden and
so sharp that he hardly realised yet what had happened. Reaching a
neighbouring gate, he leaned on it and breathed hard.
A few yards away he heard Gervase muttering and swearing, while Martin
tried to encourage him with sympathetic words. He saw them walk through
the lodge gates a little later and disappear in the darkness.
Then Rufus pulled himself together and tried to realise what had taken
place. His right knuckles were still smarting from their contact with
the Captain's bony face, otherwise he had suffered no harm. The
aggressor had clearly got the worst of it.
Yet he felt no sense of elation. At best it was but a vulgar brawl,
which any right-minded man ought to be ashamed of. It was true the
Captain had struck the first blow, but he had returned it with more than
compound interest. He wondered what the people of St. Gaved would say
when they got to know. He wondered what Madeline Grover would say.
He felt so excited, that, tired as he was, he took a long walk across
the downs before returning to his lodgings. Mrs. Tuke, as usual, had
laid his supper on the table, but she did not show her face.
He was too much distressed in mind to eat. The events of the day,
followed by the encounter with Gervase Tregony had taken away all his
appetite.
For a long time he sat in his easy chair staring into the fire.
"I don't know why I should distress myself," he said to himself once or
twice. "What if everything fails? There is an easy way out of all
trouble. And I am not sure that Felix Muller, with all his pretence of
friendship, will be sorry."
He went to bed at length, but he did not sleep for several hours. The
events of the day kept recurring like the refrain of a familiar song.
He went about his work next day like a man who had almost abandoned
hope. The buoyancy which he experienced at the beginning had nearly all
gone. The promise of success was growing very faint and dim.
As the day wore on he troubled himself less and less about Gervase
Tregony. He thought it likely that for his own credit's sake he would
say nothing about the encounter. Hence his surprise was great when
toward evening a policeman called on him with a summons for assault.