The next morning, as Captain Oliphant, somewhat depressed by the good
news of last might was, attempting to write to his dear cousin
expression his thankfulness for the mercies vouchsafed to their precious
boy, he was considerably disturbed to feel himself slapped on the
shoulder and hear a voice behind him exclaim--
"Got you, my man. How are you, Teddy!"
The captain turned with, a startled face, and confronted a stylishly-
dressed man of about thirty-five, who, but for the dissipated look of
his eyes and the vulgarity of his ornaments, might have passed for a
gentleman. He wore a light suit--diamonds and turquoises blazed from
his fingers, a diamond stud flashed from his shirt front, and from his
heavy watch chain hung a bunch of seals and charms enough to supply half
a dozen, men of ordinary pretensions His light hat was tilted at an
angle on his head, his brilliant kid boots sparkled beneath the snow-
white "spats," and the lavender gloves he flourished in his hands were
light enough for a ball-room.
Once he might have been a handsome man. There were still traces of
determination about his mouth, his nose was finely cut, and his
lustreless eyes still retained occasional flashes of their old spirit.
There was a recklessness in his face and demeanour which once, when it
belonged to an honest man, might been attractive; and when he took off
his hat and you saw the well-shaped head with its crisp curly hair, you
could not help feeling that you saw the ruin of a fine fellow.
It was when he began to talk that you would best understand what a ruin
it was. He was chary of his oaths and loose expressions--but when he
spoke the words came out vulgarly, with a sleepy, half-tipsy drawl,
which jarred on the ear.
Any words from the lips of Robert Ratman, however, would have jarred on
the ears of Captain Oliphant.
"Aren't you glad to see me?" said the new arrival, putting his hat
cheerfully on the writing-table and helping himself to an easy-chair.
"As usual, writing _billets doux_ to the ladies! Ah, Teddy, my boy, at
your time of life too! Now, for a youngster like me--"
"I thought you would not be able to leave Southampton till the end of
the week?"
"Couldn't resist the temptation of giving you a pleasant surprise. Why,
Teddy, you look exactly as if you thought it was the arm of the law on
your shoulder and heard the rattle of the handcuffs. Never mind.
They're all safe. I know where they keep them."
"Ratman," said the captain, "you have a very poor idea of humour. You
have made me blot my letter, and I shall have to write it over again."
"Take your time, old boy. No hurry. I shall not be going away for six
months or so."
Captain Oliphant came to the conclusion he had better finish the letter
with the blot than attempt a new one. Having done so, he put it in his
pocket, and turned with a good show of coolness to his guest.
"When do we run down to Maxfield?" inquired the latter.
"Not for some time. There is illness in the house. You must wait."
"Oh, I don't mind if you don't. Who is the invalid? Young Croesus?"
"Yes--dangerously ill. I expect every day to hear that it is all over."
Ratman laughed.
"Order two suits of black while you're about it. But, Teddy, my boy,
doesn't it strike you you'd be more usefully employed down there than
here? It seems unfeeling of a guardian to be enjoying himself in town
while his ward is _in extremis_ at home, doesn't it? Who is nursing
him?"
"My daughter, chiefly."
Ratman laughed coarsely.
"Ho, ho, clever Teddy! You've left a deputy to look after your
interests, have you? Poor boy--no wonder you expect news of him!"
Captain Oliphant, crimson and trembling, rose to his feet.
"Ratman!" muttered he between his teeth, "I may be all you take me for--
but don't talk of my daughter. She--she,"--and he almost choked at the
word--"she is as good as I--and you--are black. Talk about me if you
like--but forget that I have children of my own."
"My dear boy, you are quite amusing. I will make a point of forgetting
the interesting fact. So the boy is being well looked after?"
"Too well," replied the captain, pulling himself together after his last
outbreak. "The doctor is daft about him; and besides him, as I told
you, there is the tutor."
"Ah! I forgot about him. Is he a nice sort of chap?"
"He's your worst enemy as well as mine. While he is about the place
there's no chance for either of us."
"Thanks--don't bring me into it. Say there's no chance for you. I can
take care of myself. And how about mamma?"
"She is at present too ill and distracted by her son's danger to think
of anything else. If the boy dies I shall not need to trouble her. If
he gets well, I may find it my duty to become his stepfather."
"Charming man, and fortunate mamma! Meanwhile, what are you going to do
for me?"
"My dear fellow, you must wait. I can put you up at Maxfield if you
behave decently, but as to money, you will spoil all if you are
impatient. I am not the only trustee, remember. I have to be careful."
"That's all very well. Sounds beautiful. But do you know, Teddy, I've
not quite as much confidence in you as I should like to have. I can't
enjoy my holiday without some pocket-money. The big lump might wait, if
properly secured. But the interest would be very convenient to me just
now. What shall I give you a receipt for?" added he, taking a seat at
the table; "a hundred?"
"Don't be a fool, Ratman! I've nothing I can give you just now," said
the captain angrily.
Ratman put down his pen, and whistled a stave, drubbing his fingers on
the table. Then he took the pen again.
"A hundred, eh?" he repeated.
The captain ground his teeth in impotent fury.
"No. Fifty."
"Thanks very much. I'll make it seventy-five, if you don't mind."
Captain Oliphant, with black countenance, slowly counted the notes out
onto the table, while his friend with many flourishes wrote out the
receipt. Before signing it he counted the money.
"Quite right, perfectly right. Thanks very much, Teddy. Now let us go
out and see the sights. You forget it's years since I was in town."
"Tell me first," said the captain, going to the window, was turning his
back, "about that--you know--that affair in--"
"About your robbing the mess-funds?" supplied his friend cheerfully.
"Certainly, my dear boy. Quite a simple matter. Shortly after you
left, Deputy-Assistant something or other came with a long face. `This
is a bad job,' says he; `your friend Oliphant's left the accounts in an
awful mess. Doesn't look well at all. Where is he?' `Nonsense, my
dear Deputy-Assistant,' says I; `must be a mistake. Oliphant's a man of
his word. Besides, he's just come into a fortune. Bound to be right if
you look into it.' `Will you make it good if it's wrong?' asks he.
`Don't mind if I do,' says I, `within reason. He's a young family.'
`Only way of hushing it up. Either that or bringing him back between a
file of soldiers.' `You don't mean that?' says I. `What's the figure?'
`£750,' says he."
"Liar!" growled the captain, wheeling round. "It wasn't half that."
"They're bound to make something out of it--always happens. Well, as
you'd told me you'd got the pickings of a cool half million, I felt I
couldn't go wrong in covering you. So I came down with five hundred of
needful. Got them to promise to let the rest stand till I had done
myself the pleasure of a run over here just to remind you that they have
you on their mind. You've disappointed me, Teddy, my boy, but I won't
desert you. Don't say you've no friends. I'll stick by you, I rather
fancy."
The captain was probably able to form a pretty clear estimate how much
of this glib story was fact and how much fiction.
Whatever the proportion may have been, he had to acknowledge that this
friend of his held him in an uncomfortable grip, and had better--for the
present at least--be conciliated.
So the two went out arm in arm for a stroll--the first of many they took
during their fortnight's sojourn in town.
The news from Maxfield became unpleasingly damping. Here, for instance,
is a letter the doting father received from his son and heir a week
after Ratman's arrival.
"Dear Pater,--Isn't it fizzing that old Roger is pretty nearly out of
the wood? The fever's come down like anything, and he's getting quite
chirpy. I can't fancy how a chap can hang on at all with nothing to eat
but milk. It wouldn't fill up my chinks. If ever I get a fever, keep
me going on beefsteak and mashed potatoes. It's been a great lark
having no lessons. Armstrong's forgotten my existence, I think. He and
Rosalind have regular rows about sitting up with him--I mean Roger, and
Rosalind generally has to cave in. It does her good to cave in now and
then. Armstrong's the only one can make her. I can't; nor can
Brandram. Brandram's a stunner. I drive him in and out of Yeld every
day, and he's up to no end of larks. And now Roger's pulling round,
he's as festive as an owl. Jill's in jolly dumps because she's out of
it all. Rosalind sits on her and tells her she's too much of a kid to
be any good; and she doesn't get much change out of Armstrong. So she
has to knock about with me all day, which is awful slow. I say, go and
see Christy's Minstrels when you're in town, and get them to let
Jockabilly do the break-down. It will make you split. If that French
chap is hanging about, tip him a bob for me and be civil to him, because
he was decent enough to me. Auntie Eva said something about your
bringing a gentleman home with you. I hope he's a jolly sort of chap.
Rosalind's temper is all anyhow. When I told her a visitor was coming,
she shut me up with a regular flea in my ear. Never mind, she's been a
brick to old Roger and Auntie Eva, so we must make allowances. Old
Hodder calls up nearly every day to ask after us all. He's grown quite
young since he was left alone in his cottage, and Armstrong came down
like a sack of coals on that beast Pottinger. My dear father, if you
would like to know what I most hope you'll bring home for me, it's a
football--Rugby--for the coming winter. Armstrong's promised to coach
me in the drop kick. Can you do it? I shall be glad to see you home,
as I'm jolly low in pocket-money, besides the affection one feels for
those who are absent. Jill joins in love.
"Your affectionate `Tom.'
"_P.S_.--Auntie Eva is not nearly so down on her luck now that Roger's
taken his turn. If he's well enough she's going to have a little kick-
up on his birthday, which will be rare larks."
"A letter!" inquired Ratman, who had watched the not altogether
delighted expression on his friend's face as he read it. "Good news?
May I read it?"
"If you like," said the captain, tossing it across the table.
Ratman, who evidently had a better appreciation of juvenile vagaries
than the father, read it with an amused smile on his face.
"Nice boy that," said he; "he and I will be friends."
"Remember," said the captain, "our bargain. Do and say what you like
with me, but before my children--"
"Don't be afraid, Teddy, my boy. Depend on me for doing the high moral
business. The innocent babes shall never guess that you owe me three
years' pay, and that I could walk you off to the next police station for
a sharper. It's amusing when you come to think of it, isn't it? But, I
say, it looks as if you'll have to trouble mamma after all. The boy's
getting well in spite of his nurses. I'm really impatient to see the
happy family. When shall we go?"
"Next week. We must be decent, and wait till he's better now."
"Oh, all right. If we can't go to the funeral we'll go to the birthday
party, eh? It's all one to me, Teddy, as long as you don't make a fool
of me in the long run."
"You wait, and it'll be all right," said the captain, with a trace in
his voice of something like desperation.
At the end of the following week these two nice gentlemen presented
themselves at Maxfield. Captain Oliphant had written for the brougham
to meet them, and as Tom and Jill were in it, Mr Ratman was spared the
embarrassment of meeting the whole household at one time. Before the
house was reached he had impressed Tom with the conviction that there
was a considerable possibility of "larks" in his father's visitor. But
Jill, who had acquired the habit of contrasting every gentleman she saw
with her dear Mr Armstrong, was obdurate to his fascinations.
"I don't want to talk to you," said she shortly, when for the twentieth
time he renewed his friendly overtures. "I don't like you, and hope
you're not going to stay long."
Ratman took his rebuff as complacently as he could; and Jill, having
exhausted her conversation with this outburst, put her hand
apologetically into her father's, and remained silent the rest of the
drive.
At Maxfield, the visitor, who appeared to experience no difficulty in
making himself at home, received a polite welcome from the widow, whose
style he generally approved, and considered a good deal better than his
gallant comrade deserved. Then, as none of the rest of the household
put in an appearance, he retired serenely to his comfortable apartment
to dress for dinner.
Captain Oliphant's first anxiety was naturally for his dear young ward.
He found him sitting up in an arm-chair, with Rosalind reading
Shakespeare to him.
"Hullo, guardian!" said he, "you see the place hasn't got rid of me
yet--thanks to my kind nurse here."
"I am indeed thankful, my dear boy, for your recovery. And how is my
Rosalind?"
She came and kissed him.
"Very well, dear father. But Roger has to keep very quiet still, so you
must only stay a minute or two, or I shall get into disgrace with the
doctor. He has been so good. Have you seen cousin Eva?"
"Yes, my child. But come with me; I want to introduce you to Mr
Ratman."
She looked inclined to rebel, but after a moment closed her book, and,
having smoothed the invalid's cushions, followed her father from the
room.
The captain felt decidedly nervous as she walked silently at his side.
At her own door she paused abruptly and said--
"Won't you come in, father? I want to say something to you."
"A storm brewing," said the captain to himself. "I expected it."
He followed her into her studio and closed the door.
"What is it?"
"I am going to leave Maxfield, father. I cannot stay here any longer,
living on other people. I am going to accept an engagement at the
vicarage as governess."
"What!" exclaimed her father. "What freak is this, miss? I forbid you
to do anything of the kind."
"I am very sorry you don't approve. I thought you would. It will
enable me to support myself, and perhaps help to keep Jill. I shall get
my board and lodging, and £30 a year, I am going on Monday. I wanted to
tell you before any one else knew of it."
"I repeat you must abandon the idea at once. It is most derogatory in
one of our family. In addition to which, I particularly desire to have
you here during Mr Ratman's visit."
"It is chiefly on that account I have decided to go. It is not right,
father, indeed it is not, to go on as we are."
She put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him, and looked into his
eyes.
It was an ordeal on which Captain Edward Oliphant had not calculated.
The sight of her there, the touch of her hands, the clear flash of her
eyes, recalled to him all sorts of unpleasant memories. They reminded
him of a day long ago, when the girl's mother had stood thus and pleaded
with him for the sake of their children to be pure and honest and self-
respecting. It reminded him of his own miserable schemings and follies,
and how he had rejected that dear appeal, and ever since slipped and
slipped out of reach of any love but the love of himself. It reminded
him of the day when he heard that the one prop of his manhood had gone
from him; and of how, even then, his sorrow was tempered by the thought
that he was a free man to follow his own paths without question or
reproof. Now, suddenly, the same hands seemed for a moment to lie on
his shoulders, the same eyes to look into his, the same voice to fall on
his ear, and he staggered under the illusion.
For a moment at least hope was within his reach. But the sound of a
man's voice in the passage without recalled him, with a shiver, to
himself.
It was Ratman's voice--the voice of the man to whom he owed money, who
held the secret of his crime, who claimed his villainy and--who could
say?--might even have to be pacified with a human sacrifice.