MR. BLATHERWICK AS ST. ANTHONY
"I am afraid," Harcutt said, "that either the letter was a hoax, or the
writer has thought better of the matter. It is half an hour past the
time, and poor Mr. Blatherwick is still alone."
Wolfenden glanced towards the distant table where his father's secretary
was already finishing his modest meal.
"Poor old Blatherwick!" he remarked; "I know he's awfully relieved. He's
too nervous for this sort of thing; I believe he would have lost his
head altogether if his mysterious correspondent had turned up."
"I suppose," Harcutt said, "that we may take it for granted that he is
not in the room."
"Every soul here," Wolfenden answered, "is known to me either personally
or by sight. The man with the dark moustache sitting by himself is a
London solicitor who built himself a bungalow here four years ago, and
comes down every other week for golf. The two men in the corner are land
speculators from Norwich; and their neighbour is Captain Stoneham, who
rides over from the barracks twice a week, also for golf."
"It is rather a sell for us," Harcutt remarked. "On the whole I am not
sorry that I have to go back to town to-night. Great Scott! what a
pretty girl!"
"Lean back, you idiot!" Wolfenden exclaimed softly; "don't move if you
can help it!"
Harcutt grasped the situation and obeyed at once. The portion of the
dining-room in which they were sitting was little more than a recess,
divided off from the main apartment by heavy curtains and seldom used
except in the summer when visitors were plentiful. Mr. Blatherwick's
table was really within a few feet of theirs, but they themselves were
hidden from it by a corner of the folding doors. They had chosen the
position with care and apparently with success.
The girl who had entered the room stood for a moment looking round as
though about to select a table. Harcutt's exclamation was not without
justification, for she was certainly pretty. She was neatly dressed in a
grey walking suit, and a velvet Tam-o-shanter hat with a smart feather.
Suddenly she saw Mr. Blatherwick and advanced towards him with
outstretched hand and a charming smile.
"Why, my dear Mr. Blatherwick, what on earth are you doing here?" she
exclaimed. "Have you left Lord Deringham?"
Mr. Blatherwick rose to his feet confused, and blushing to his
spectacles; he greeted the young lady, however, with evident pleasure.
"No; that is, not yet," he answered; "I am leaving this week. I did not
know--I had no idea that you were in the vicinity! I am very pleased to
see you."
She looked at the empty place at his table.
"I was going to have some luncheon," she said; "I have walked so much
further than I intended and I am ravenously hungry. May I sit at your
table?"
"With much pleasure," Mr. Blatherwick assented. "I was expecting
a--a--friend, but he is evidently not coming."
"I will take his place then, if I may," she said, seating herself in the
chair which the waiter was holding for her, and raising her veil. "Will
you order something for me? I am too hungry to mind what it is."
Mr. Blatherwick gave a hesitating order, and the waiter departed. Miss
Merton drew off her gloves and was perfectly at her ease.
"Now do tell me about the friend whom you were going to meet," she said,
smiling gaily at him, "I hope--you really must not tell me, Mr.
Blatherwick, that it was a lady!"
Mr. Blatherwick coloured to the roots of his hair at the mere
suggestion, and hastened to disclaim it.
"My--my dear Miss Merton!" he exclaimed, "I can assure you that it was
not! I--I should not think of such a thing."
She nodded, and began to break up her roll and eat it.
"I am very glad to hear it, Mr. Blatherwick," she said; "I warn you that
I was prepared to be very jealous. You used to tell me, you know, that I
was the only girl with whom you cared to talk."
"It is--quite true, quite true, Miss Merton," he answered eagerly,
dropping his voice a little and glancing uneasily over his shoulder.
"I--I have missed you very much indeed; it has been very dull."
Mr. Blatherwick sighed; he was rewarded by a very kind glance from a
pair of very blue eyes. He fingered the wine list, and began to wonder
whether she would care for champagne.
"Now tell me," she said, "all the news. How are they all at Deringham
Hall--the dear old Admiral and the Countess, and that remarkably silly
young man, Lord Wolfenden?"
Wolfenden received a kick under the table, and Harcutt's face positively
beamed with delight. Mr. Blatherwick, however, had almost forgotten
their proximity. He had made up his mind to order champagne.
"The Ad--Ad--Admiral is well in health, but worse mentally," he
answered. "I am leaving for that very reason. I do not conceive that in
fairness to myself I should continue to waste my time in work which can
bring forth no fruit. I trust, Miss Merton, that you agree with me."
"Perfectly," she answered gravely.
"The Countess," he continued, "is well, but much worried. There have
been strange hap--hap--happenings at the Hall since you left. Lord
Wolfenden is there. By the bye, Miss Merton," he added, dropping his
voice, "I do not--not--think that you used to consider Lord Wolfenden so
very silly when you were at Deringham."
"It was very dull sometimes--when you were busy, Mr. Blatherwick," she
answered, beginning her lunch. "I will confess to you that I did try to
amuse myself a little with Lord Wolfenden. But he was altogether too
rustic--too stupid! I like a man with brains!"
Harcutt produced a handkerchief and stuffed it to his mouth; his face
was slowly becoming purple with suppressed laughter. Mr. Blatherwick
ordered the champagne.
"I--I was very jealous of him," he admitted almost in a whisper.
The blue eyes were raised again very eloquently to his.
"You had no cause," she said gently; "and Mr. Blatherwick, haven't you
forgotten something?"
Mr. Blatherwick had sipped his glass of champagne, and answered without
a stutter.
"I have not," he said, "forgotten you!"
"You used to call me by my Christian name!"
"I should be delighted to call you Miss--Blanche for ever," he said
boldly. "May I?"
She laughed softly.
"Well, I don't quite know about that," she said; "you may for this
morning, at least. It is so pleasant to see you again. How is the work
getting on?"
He groaned.
"Don't ask me, please; it is awful! I am truly glad that I am
leaving--for many reasons!"
"Have you finished copying those awful details of the defective armour
plates?" she asked, suddenly dropping her voice so that it barely
reached the other side of the table.
"Only last night," he answered; "it was very hard work, and so
ridiculous! It went into the box with the rest of the finished work this
morning."
"Did the Admiral engage a new typewriter?" she inquired.
He shook his head.
"No; he says that he has nearly finished."
"I am so glad," she said. "You have had no temptation to flirt then with
anybody else, have you?"
"To flirt--with anybody else! Oh! Miss--I mean Blanche. Do you think
that I could do that?"
His little round face shone with sincerity and the heat of the
unaccustomed wine. His eyes were watering a little, and his spectacles
were dull. The girl looked at him in amusement.
"I am afraid," she said, with a sigh, "that you used to flirt with me."
"I can assure you, B--B--Blanche," he declared earnestly, "that I never
said a word to you which I--I did not hon--hon--honestly mean. Blanche,
I should like to ask you something."
"Not now," she interrupted hastily. "Do you know, I fancy that we must
be getting too confidential. That odious man with the eyeglass keeps
staring at us. Tell me what you are going to do when you leave here. You
can ask me--what you were going to, afterwards."
Mr. Blatherwick grew eloquent and Blanche was sympathetic. It was quite
half an hour before they rose and prepared to depart.
"I know you won't mind," Blanche said to him confidentially, "if I ask
you to leave the hotel first; the people I am with are a little
particular, and it would scarcely do, you see, for us to go out
together."
"Certainly," he replied. "Would you l--like me to leave you here--would
it be better?"
"You might walk to the door with me, please," she said. "I am afraid you
must be very disappointed that your friend did not come. Are you not?"
Mr. Blatherwick's reply was almost incoherent in its excess of
protestation. They walked down the room together. Harcutt and Wolfenden
look at one another.
"Well," the former exclaimed, drinking up his liqueur, "it is a sell!"
"Yes," Wolfenden agreed thoughtfully, with his eyes fixed upon the two
departing figures, "it is a sell!"