It was on a Sunday evening of breathless heat that this conviction first
took firm hold of Hope. Her uncle was away upon one of his frequent
journeys of research. Her brother was up at the cantonments, and she was
quite alone save for her _ayah_, and the _punkah-coolie_ dozing on the
veranda.
She had not expected any visitors. Visitors seldom came to the bungalow,
for the simple reason that she was seldom at home to receive them, and
the Magician never considered himself at liberty for social obligations.
So it was with some surprise that she heard footsteps that were not her
brother's upon the baked earth of the compound; and when her _ayah_ came
to her with the news that Hyde _Sahib_ was without, she was even
conscious of a sensation of dismay.
For Hyde _Sahib_ was a man she detested, without knowing why. He was a
civil servant, an engineer, and he had been in Ghantala longer than any
one else of the European population. Very reluctantly she gave the order
to admit him, hoping that Ronnie would soon return and take him off her
hands. For Ronnie professed to like the man.
He greeted her with a cool self-assurance that admitted not the smallest
doubt of his welcome.
"I was passing, and thought I would drop in," he told her, retaining her
hand till she abruptly removed it. "I guessed you would be all forlorn.
The Magician is away, I hear?"
Hope steadily returned the gaze of his pale eyes, as she replied, with
dignity:
"Yes; my uncle is from home. But I am not at all lonely. I am expecting
my brother every minute."
He smiled at her in a way that made her stiffen instinctively. She had
never been so completely alone with him before.
"Ah, well," he said, "perhaps you will allow me to amuse you till he
returns. I rather want to see him."
He took her permission for granted, and sat down in a bamboo chair on
the veranda, leaning back, and staring up at her with easy insolence.
"I can scarcely believe that you are not lonely here," he remarked. "A
figure of speech, I suppose?"
Hope felt the colour rising in her cheeks under his direct and
unpleasant scrutiny.
"I have never felt lonely till to-day," she returned, with spirit.
He laughed incredulously. "No?" he said.
"No," said Hope with emphasis. "I often think that there are worse
things in the world than solitude."
Something in her tone--its instinctive enmity, its absolute
honesty--attracted his attention. He sat up and regarded her very
closely.
She was still on her feet--a slender, upright figure in white. She was
grasping the back of a chair rather tightly, but she did not shrink from
his look, though there was that within her which revolted fiercely as
she met it. But he prolonged the silent combat with brutal intention,
till at last, in spite of herself, her eyes sank, and she made a slight,
unconscious gesture of protest. Then, deliberately and insultingly, he
laughed.
"Come now, Miss Carteret," he said, "I'm sure you can't mean to be
unfriendly with me. I believe this place gets on your nerves. You're not
looking well, you know."
"No?" she responded, with frozen dignity.
"Not so well as I should like to see you," said Hyde, still smiling his
objectionable smile. "I believe you're moped. Isn't that it? I know the
symptoms, and I know an excellent remedy, too. Wouldn't you like to try
it?"
Hope looked at him uncertainly. She was quivering all over with nervous
apprehension. His manner frightened her. She was not sure that the man
was absolutely sober. But it would be absurd, ridiculous, she told her
thumping heart, to take offence, when it might very well be that the
insult existed in her imagination alone. So, with a desperate courage,
she stood her ground.
"I really don't know what you mean," she said coldly. "But it doesn't
matter; tell me about your racer instead!"
"Not a bit of it," returned Hyde. "It's one thing at a time with me
always. Besides, why should I bore you to that extent? Why, I'm boring
you already. Isn't that so?"
He set his hands on the arms of his chair preparatory to rising, as he
spoke; and Hope took a quick step away from him. There was a look in his
eyes that was horrible to her.
"No," she said, rather breathlessly. "No; I'm not at all bored. Please
don't get up; I'll go and order some refreshment."
"Nonsense!" he said sharply. "I don't want it. I won't have any! I
mean"--his manner softening abruptly---"not unless you will join me;
which, I fear, is too much to expect. Now don't go away! Come and sit
here!" drawing close to his own the chair on which she had been leaning.
"I want to tell you something. Don't look so scared! It's something
you'll like; it is, really. And you're bound to hear it sooner or later,
so it may as well be now. Why not?"
But Hope's nerves were stretched to snapping point, and she shrank
visibly. After all, she was very young, and there was that about this
man that terrified her.
"No," she said hurriedly. "No; I would rather not. There is nothing you
could tell me that I should like to hear. I--I am going to the gate to
look for Ronnie."
It was childish, it was pitiable; and had the man been other than a
coward it must have moved him to compassion. As it was he sprang up
suddenly, as though to detain her, and Hope's last shred of self-control
deserted her.
She uttered a smothered cry and fled.