The Culminating Cheque.
_Sophia Gives an Explanation, and Requests One.--Her
Verdict.--Peter Overruled._
"Before I say anything else," said Sophia, who was still standing
upon the hearth-rug, gazing down upon the wretched Peter as he sat
huddled up in his chair, "you would probably like to know how I
came to follow you to that steamer. It is a long story, but I will
tell you if you wish to hear?"
Peter's lips moved without producing any articulate sounds, and
Sophia proceeded:
"Some weeks ago," she said, "one afternoon when you had gone out
for a walk, I found what seemed to be a loose cheque on the carpet.
I knew how carelessly you leave things about, and I picked it up,
and found that, though it was like a cheque in other respects, it
was rather curiously worded. I could not understand it at all, but
it seemed to have something to do with the steamer you came home
from Australia in; so, intending to ask you for an explanation
when you came in, I thought in the meantime I would put it in some
safe place where I should be sure to see it, and I put it behind
the clock; and then--oh, Peter!----"
Peter understood. The cheques were all payable to "self or bearer."
Sophia had innocently presented one, and it had been paid. If he
had only taken "order" cheques, this would not have happened, but
it was too late now! He continued to imitate the tactics of that
eminent strategist, Brer Rabbit; in other words, he "lay low and
said nuffin," while Sophia continued:
"Then, without in the least knowing how I came there, I found I
was on a big steamer, and as I walked along, perfectly bewildered,
I saw the name _Boomerang_ painted on some fire-buckets, and of
course I knew then that that was your steamer. I fancied that
perhaps, in some way, you might be on board too, and would explain
how this had happened to me. At all events, I decided to find out
if you were; and seeing a girl reading on deck, I took a chair near
her, and after a few introductory remarks I mentioned your name.
The effect upon her was such as to convince me that she felt more
than an ordinary interest in you. By degrees I drew from her the
whole story of her relations with you: she even asked me--_me_--for
advice!"
So Miss Davenport's _confidante_ had not been Miss Tyrrell after
all--but Sophia! If he had only known that before!
"I could not speak to her," continued Sophia, "I felt stifled,
stupefied by what I had heard! I could bear no more; and so I rose
and left her, and walked down some stairs, and somehow found myself
back in our own room again! I was more bewildered than ever. I
looked for the cheque, but there was nothing, and soon I was forced
to believe that the whole thing was imaginary. Still, I was not
wholly satisfied. You may remember how I questioned you one evening
when you were reading the _Doll's House_ to me; well, your answers
quite reassured me for the time. I told myself that my suspicions
were too wildly improbable not to have been a delusion. I was even
afraid that my brain must be slightly affected, for I had always
prided myself upon having my imagination under thorough control.
But by degrees, Peter--by degrees--I began to doubt again whether
it was really nothing but fancy on my part. I noticed that your
manner was suspiciously odd at times. I discovered that there
was one drawer in your secretary that you kept carefully locked.
I caught your eye wandering towards the clock from time to time.
_What_ I suspected I hardly know; but I felt certain that I should
find the explanation of that mystery in the locked drawer. I tried
key after key, until I found one that fitted. Oh, I am not at all
ashamed of it! Had I not a _right_ to know? There were no letters,
nothing but a cheque-book; but that cheque-book proved to me that,
after all, I had imagined nothing: all the cheques were the same as
the one I found on the carpet! I tore one out and kept it by me,
and from that time I watched you closely. I saw how restless and
impatient you were this evening, and I was certain that you were
intending to use a cheque from that book. You were bent on getting
back to the _Boomerang_, and I was equally determined that, if I
could help it, you should not go alone. Only I could not be quite
sure how you managed to get there, and at last I hit upon a little
device for finding out. There is no such person as Professor Dibbs,
Peter; I invented him to put you off your guard. As I passed into
the other room with the lamp, I saw you, reflected in the mirror
over the study chimneypiece, rise and go to the drawing-room
mantelpiece: you had a slip of paper in your hand--a cheque, of
course. I had the cheque I tore out hidden in the waistband of my
dress; and so, as soon as I saw you slip your cheque behind the
clock in the drawing-room, I put _my_ cheque behind the one in the
study. I was on the deck at once, and it was dark, but I could hear
your voice and another's--round a corner. I held my breath and
listened. What I heard, you know!"
Peter shrank up in his chair, utterly confounded by this last
vagary on the part of the Time Cheques. He certainly would not
have supposed that the mere presentation even of a "bearer" cheque
by Sophia would entitle her to the same fifteen minutes he was
receiving himself. He could only account for it by the fact that
the two cheques were cashed simultaneously at two separate clocks;
but even this explanation was not wholly satisfactory.
He found his voice at last:
"Well," he said, "now that you know all, what are you going to do
about it, Sophia? I--I would rather know the worst!"
"I will tell you that in good time," she replied; "but, first of
all, I want you to tell me exactly how you came to have these
cheques, and what use you made of them on previous occasions?"
So, slightly reassured by her manner, which was composed, Peter
gave her a plain unvarnished account of the way in which he had
been led to deposit his extra time, and the whole story of his
interviews with Miss Davenport. He did not mention any others,
because he felt that the affair was quite complicated enough
without dragging in extraneous and irrelevant matter.
"I may have been imprudent," he concluded; "but I do assure you,
Sophia, that in all the quarters of an hour I have had as yet, I
never once behaved to that young lady in any capacity but that of
a friend. I only went on drawing the cheques because I wanted a
little change of air and scene now and then. You have no idea how
it picked me up!"
"I saw in what society it set you down, Peter!" was Sophia's
chilling answer.
"You--you mustn't think she is _always_ like that," he urged. "It
took me quite by surprise--it was a most painful position for me.
I think, Sophia, your own sense of fairness will acknowledge that,
considering the awkwardness of my situation, I--I behaved as well
as could be expected. You do admit that, don't you?"
Sophia was silent for a minute or so before she spoke again.
"I must have time to think, Peter," she said: "it is all so
strange, so contrary to all my experience, that I can hardly
see things as yet in their proper light. But I may tell you at
once that, from what I was able to observe, and from all you
have just told me, I am inclined to think that you are free from
actual culpability in the matter. It was quite clear that that
very forward girl was the principal throughout, and that you were
nothing more than an unwilling and most embarrassed accessory."
This was so much more lenient a view than he had dared to expect
that Peter recovered his ordinary equanimity.
"That was all," he said. "I am very glad you saw it, my dear. I was
perfectly helpless!"
"And then," said Sophia, "I was more than pleased by your firm
refusal to commit suicide. What you said was so very sound and
true, Peter."
"I hope so," said Peter, with much complacency. "Yes, I was pretty
firm with her! By the way," he added, "you--you didn't happen to
see whether she really did jump overboard, I suppose?"
"I came away just at the crisis," she said. "I thought you would
tell _me_!"
"_I_ came away too," said Peter. "It doesn't matter, of course; but
still I should have rather liked to know whether she meant it or
not."
"How can you speak of it so heartlessly, Peter? She may have been
trying to frighten you; she is just the kind of girl who would. But
she may have been in earnest, after all!"
"You see, Sophia," said Peter, "it doesn't matter whether she was
or not--it isn't as if it had ever really happened."
"Not really happened? But I was _there_; I heard, I saw it--nothing
could be more real!"
"At any rate," he said, "it only happens when I use those cheques;
and she can't possibly carry out her rash intention until I draw
another--which I promise you faithfully I will never do. If you
doubt me, I will burn the book now before your eyes!"
With these words he went to the drawer and took out the cheque-book.
"No," said Sophia, "you must not do that, Peter. There is much
about this Time Bank that I don't pretend to understand, that
I cannot account for by any known natural law; but I may not
disbelieve my own eyes and ears! These events that have happened
in the extra time you chose to defer till now are just as real as
any other events. You _have_ made this girl's acquaintance; you
have--I don't say through any fault of your own, but still you
_have_--caused her to transfer her affections from the man she was
engaged to, and, being a creature of ill-regulated mind and no
strength of character, she has resolved to put an end to her life
rather than meet his just indignation. She is now on the very point
of accomplishing this folly. Well, badly as she has behaved, you
cannot possibly leave the wretched girl there! You must go back at
once, restrain her by main force, and not leave her until you have
argued her into a rational frame of mind."
Peter was by no means anxious to go back at first.
"It's not at all necessary," he said; "and besides, I don't know
if you're aware of it, but with the way these cheques are worked,
it's ten chances to one against my hitting off the right fifteen
minutes! Still," he added, with an afterthought, "I can _try_, of
course, if you insist upon it. I can take my chance with another
fifteen minutes, but that must be the last. I am sick and tired of
this _Boomerang_ business, I am indeed!"
Shameful as it is to state, he had altered his mind from a sudden
recollection that he would not mind seeing Miss Tyrrell for just
once more. He had not drawn her for several weeks.
"No," said Sophia, thoughtfully; "I see your objection--fifteen
minutes is not enough, unless you could be sure of getting the
successors to the last. But I have an idea, Peter,--if you draw out
the whole balance of your time, you can't possibly help getting the
right fifteen minutes somewhere or other. I think that's logical?"
"Oh, devilish logical!" muttered Peter to himself, who had reasons,
which he could not divulge to her, for strongly disapproving of
such a plan.
"The fact is, my dear," he said, "it--it's rather late this evening
to go away for any time!"
"You forget," she said, "that, however long you are away, you will
come back at exactly the same time you started. But you have some
other reason, Peter--you had better tell me!"
"Well," he owned, "I might come across someone I'd rather not
meet."
"You are thinking of the man that girl said she had been engaged
to--Alfred, wasn't it?"
Peter had forgotten Alfred for the moment; and besides, he was not
likely to turn up till the _Boomerang_ got to Plymouth, and he knew
his extra hours stopped before that. Still, Alfred did very well as
an excuse.
"Ah!" he said, "Alfred. You heard what she said about him? A
violent character--with a revolver, Sophia!"
"But you told her you were not afraid of him. I felt so proud of
you when you said it. And think, you may be able to bring them
together--to heal the breach between them!"
"He's more likely to make a breach in me that won't heal!" said
Peter.
"Still, as you said yourself, it isn't as if it was all actually
existing. What does it matter, even if he should shoot you?"
"I don't see any advantage in exposing myself to any such
unpleasant experiences, even if they are only temporary," he said.
"It is not a question of advantage, Peter," rejoined Sophia;
"it is a simple duty, and I'm surprised that you don't see it
as such. Whatever the consequences of your conduct may be, you
cannot evade them like this; you have chosen to begin, and you
must go on! I am quite clear about that. Let me see"--(here she
took the cheque-book, and made some rapid calculations from the
counterfoils)--"yes, you have two hours and three-quarters at
least still standing to your credit; and then there's the compound
interest. I will tear out all these small cheques and burn them."
Which she did as she spoke. "And now, Peter, sit down and fill up
one of the blank ones at the end for the whole amount."
"Do you know, Sophia," said Peter, "it occurs to me that this is
just one of those matters which can only be satisfactorily arranged
by--er--a woman's tact. Suppose I make the cheque payable to _you_
now--eh?"
"You mean, that you want me to go instead of you?" she asked.
"Well," said Peter, "if it wouldn't be bothering you, my dear, I
think perhaps it _would_ be----"
"Don't say another word," she interrupted, "or I shall begin to
_despise_ you, Peter! If I thought you meant it seriously, I would
go upstairs, put on my bonnet, and go back to mamma for ever. I
could not bear to be the wife of a coward!"
"Oh, I'll go!" said Peter, in much alarm. "I said what I did out
of consideration, not cowardice. But wouldn't to-morrow do as well,
Sophia? It is late to turn out!"
"To-morrow will _not_ do as well," she said: "fill up that cheque
to-night, or you will lose me for ever!"
"There!" said Peter, as he scrawled off the cheque. "Are you
satisfied _now_, Sophia?"
"I shall be when I see you present it."
"Er--yes," he said; "oh! I mean to present it--presently. I--I
think I'll take a small glass of brandy before I go, my dear, to
keep the cold out."
"As you will certainly be in a summer, if not tropical, temperature
the next moment," she said, "I should advise you to take nothing of
the kind."
"I say," he suggested, "suppose I find she has just jumped
overboard--what shall I do then?"
"Do! Can you possibly ask? You will jump after her, of course!"
"It's easy to say 'of course,'" he said; "but I never _could_ swim
more than twenty strokes!"
"Swim those twenty then, and let come what will; you will be back
all the sooner. But don't stand there talking about it, Peter--go!"
"I'm going," he said, meekly. "You'll sit up for me, Sophia, if--if
I'm late, won't you?"
"Don't be absurd!" she said. "You know perfectly well that, as I
said before, you won't be away a second."
"It won't be a second for you," he said, "but it will be several
hours for _me_; and goodness only knows what I may have to go
through in the time! However," he added, with an attempt to be
cheerful, "it may all pass off quite pleasantly--don't you think it
may, Sophia?"
"How _can_ I tell? You will only find out by going."
"I'm going, my dear--I'm going at once!... You'll give me just one
kiss before I start, won't you?"
"I will give you no kiss till you come back and I hear what you
have done," said Sophia.
"Very well," he retorted; "you may be sorry you refused, when it's
too late! I may never come back at all, for anything I can tell!"
* * * * *
And, little as he knew it, he spoke with an almost prophetic
anticipation of what was to come. Never again was he destined to
stand on that heart-hrug!
But he dared not linger longer, as he could see from her expression
that she would suffer no further trifling; and he slipped his last
cheque under the clock,--with consequences that must be reserved
for the next chapter.