"Why are you so glum this morning, Jack? Hang it, you look as if you
were going to attend my funeral instead of my wedding."
"Do I?" asked Egerton, yawning, and stretching himself out lazily in his
chair. "I didn't know my facial expression was not in keeping with the
joyousness of the occasion."
"Look here, old fellow," continued Hugh, walking over to his companion,
and looking him earnestly in the face. "Now, before we start, tell me
why you are so strangely indifferent. It seems as if you still
entertain some curious antipathy towards Valerie." Egerton knit his
brows, and, rising, assumed an air of utter unconcern.
"It's a matter I would rather not discuss, old chap," he said. "At your
request I've consented to assist at your wedding, otherwise I should not
have been here at all."
"Your very words betray you. Why should you have been absent, pray?"
"For certain reasons," the other replied briefly. Trethowen regarded
his friend with surprise, not unmingled with annoyance.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, after a few moments' silence, "I see. You have not
finished those mysterious warnings of yours. Why the deuce don't you
speak right out and tell me what you mean?"
"I have no intention to malign the woman who is to be your wife, Hugh,"
the artist answered quietly. "I've given you certain hints already,
and--"
"Enough of that," cried his companion, with some asperity. "Though you
are an old friend, it gives you no right to interfere with my private
affairs."
"That's true," Jack admitted hastily. "Don't for a moment think I
desire to intrude unwarrantably. It's merely friendly advice I've given
you."
"Friendly advice--bosh!" Trethowen said in disgust. "Whatever you know
detrimental to Valerie, you'll oblige me by keeping in future to
yourself."
The man addressed muttered something in an undertone, and, turning,
gazed abstractedly out of the window.
They were in Hugh's sitting-room in St. James's on the morning fixed for
the marriage. It was almost a month since Trethowen had left Spa, and
the time had been pleasantly spent with Valerie at Brussels and Ostend.
Now that they had returned to London, she had again taken up her abode
in her little flat in Victoria Street, while the arrangements for the
marriage were completed.
Jack Egerton, dressed more sprucely than usual, and wearing the orthodox
lavender gloves and a flower in his coat, had called upon his friend
half an hour before, and was waiting to accompany him to the church.
His task he regarded with abhorrence. He would rather have done
anything than assist at the ceremony, and see his friend bind himself to
that dark-eyed Circe. Yet he, helpless and under the merciless thrall
of the woman, was there by sheer compulsion. A fortnight ago he had
received a letter from her. She did not ask or entreat, but commanded
him to be present and act as Hugh's best man.
"I know," she wrote in French, "the task will be scarcely congenial, but
your presence will inspire him with confidence. He has promised me he
will ask you, and if you refuse, he will suspect that it is repugnant to
you. Understand, he must know nothing of my affairs. When we last met
at Laroche you threatened me, but I need hardly impress the necessity of
silence upon you, having regard to the fact that the reward of your
zealousness on your friend's behalf would be a life sentence. Accept
his offer and attend the wedding, otherwise I shall know you are playing
against me. If you do, beware! for I shall win. I have all the honours
in my hand."
He was reflecting upon this last sentence as he stood staring aimlessly
down into the street. She possessed the dark secret of his life, and
held him in her power, so that he was compelled to do her bidding, to
dance attendance upon her, and to witness her triumph at the expense of
his dearest friend.
Grinding his teeth, he uttered an imprecation, as he realised how
complete was her mastery, and perceived that his own ruin would be the
only reward for saving Hugh.
The latter, who was watching him, misconstrued this outburst of
impatience and went over and grasped his hand, saying:
"Forgive me, old fellow, for what I've just said. We ought not to
quarrel, more especially to-day. I was rather hasty, but I love
Valerie, and anything hinted against her excites my anger. Come, let's
forget it." His companion succumbed to fate, having done all he could
in the way of resistance. Laughing a trifle sadly, he replied--
"There's nothing whatever to forgive. I shall go with you to the
church, and I hope--well, I hope your marriage will bring you nothing
but happiness. Nevertheless, whatever is the result, remember I am
still your friend."
Trethowen thanked him, although astonished at his friend's tone, and
inwardly tried to account for his apparent sadness.
Could it be, that he entertained affection for Valerie himself? Or was
it that their conversation that morning had brought back to his memory
thoughts of the lost woman who, although his friend, assistant, and
critic, was not his mistress? He had spoken very little of her, with
the exception of describing the strange circumstances in which she
disappeared. Still, any mention of her seemed to cause him sorrowful
reflections.
Walking to a side-table whereon stood a bottle of champagne and some
glasses, Hugh uncorked the wine, at the same time touching the gong.
In answer to the summons old Jacob appeared. He wore a large
wedding-favour, and his scanty hair was parted and brushed with unusual
care.