"Ah, Derrick! I thought I could not be mistaken."
Derrick turned swiftly at the touch of a hand on his shoulder, and
nearly tumbled into the roadway. He had been sauntering somewhat
aimlessly down the Strand till pulled up in this rather summary fashion.
He now found himself staring at a tall man who had come up behind him--a
man with a lined face and drooping eyelids, and a settled weariness
about his whole demeanour which, somehow, conveyed the impression that,
in his opinion, at least, there was nothing on earth worth striving for.
Derrick recovered his balance and stood still before him. Speech,
however, quite unexpectedly failed him. The quiet greeting had scattered
his ideas momentarily.
The hand that had touched his shoulder was deliberately transferred to
his elbow.
"Come!" said his acquaintance, smiling a little. "We are blocking the
gangway. I am staying at the Grand. If you are at liberty you might dine
with me. By the way, how are you, old fellow?"
He spoke very quietly and wholly without affectation. There was a touch
of tenderness in his last sentence that quite restored Derrick's
faculties.
He shook his arm free from the other's hand with a vehemence of action
that was unmistakably hostile.
"No, thanks, Colonel Carlyon!" he said, speaking fast and feverishly.
"If I were starving, I wouldn't accept hospitality from you!"
"Don't be a fool!" said Carlyon.
His tone was still quiet, but it was also stern. He pushed a determined
hand through Derrick's arm. "If you won't come my way," he said, "I
shall come yours."
Derrick swore under his breath. But he yielded. "Very well," he said
aloud. "I'll come. But I swear I won't touch anything."
"You needn't swear," said Carlyon; "it's unnecessary."
And Derrick bit his lip nearly through, being exasperated. He did not,
however, resist the compelling hand a second time, realizing the
futility of such a proceeding.
So in dead silence they reached the Grand and entered. Then Carlyon
spoke again.
"Come up to my room first!" he said.
Derrick went with him unprotesting.
In his own room Carlyon turned round and took him by the shoulders.
"Now," he said, "are you ill or merely sulky? Just tell me which, and I
shall know how to treat you!"
"It's no thanks to you I'm not dead!" exclaimed Derrick stormily. "I
didn't want to meet you, but, by Heaven, since I have, and since you
have forced an interview upon me, I'll go ahead and tell you what I
think of you."
Carlyon turned away from him and sat down. "Do, by all means," he said,
"if it will get you into a healthier frame of mind!"
But Derrick's flow of eloquence unexpectedly failed him at this
juncture, and he stood awkwardly silent.
Carlyon turned round at last and looked at him. "Sit down, Dick," he
said patiently, "and stop being an ass! I'm a difficult man to quarrel
with, as you know. So sit down and state your grievance, and have done
with it!"
"You know very well what's wrong!" Derrick burst out fiercely,
beginning to prowl to and fro.
"Do I?" said Carlyon. He got up deliberately and intercepted Derrick.
"Just stop tramping," he said, with sudden sternness, "and listen to me!
You have your wound alone to thank for keeping you out of the worst mess
you ever got into. If you hadn't gone back in a hospital truck, you
would have gone back under escort. Do you understand that?"
"Why?" flashed Derrick.
"Why?" echoed Carlyon, striking him abruptly on the shoulder. "Tell me
your own opinion of a hot-headed, meddling young fool who not only got
into mischief himself at a most critical moment, but led half-a-score of
valuable men into what was practically a death-trap, for the sake of, I
suppose he would call it, an hour's sport. On my soul, Derrick," he
ended, with a species of quiet vigour that carried considerable weight
behind it, "if you weren't such a skeleton I'd give you a sound
thrashing for your sins. As it is, you will be wise to get off that high
horse of yours and take a back seat. I never have put up with this sort
of thing from you. And I never mean to."
Derrick had no answer ready. He stood still, considering these things.
Colonel Carlyon turned his back on him and cut the end of a cigar. "Do
you grasp my meaning?" he enquired at length, as Derrick remained
silent.
Derrick moved to a chair and sat down. Somehow Carlyon had taken the
backbone out of his indignation. He spoke at last, but without anger.
"Even if it were as you say," he said, "I don't consider you treated me
decently."
Carlyon suddenly laughed. "Even if by some odd chance I have actually
spoken the truth," he said, "I shall not, and do not, feel called upon
to justify my action for your benefit."
"I think you owe me that," Derrick said quickly.
"I disagree with you," Carlyon rejoined. "I owe you nothing whatever
except the aforementioned thrashing which must, unfortunately, under the
circumstances, remain a debt for the present."