Geraldine, a few hours later, set down the telephone receiver with a
little sigh of resignation. Lady Conyers glanced up inquiringly from her
book.
“Was that some one wanting to come and see you at this time of night,
Geraldine?” she asked.
Geraldine yawned.
“It’s Hugh,” she explained. “He has rung up from the War Office or
somewhere--says he has just got back from France and wants to see me
at once. I think he might have waited till to-morrow morning. I can
scarcely keep my eyes open, I am so sleepy.”
Lady Conyers glanced at the clock.
“It isn’t really so late,” she remarked, “and I dare say, if the poor
man’s been travelling all day, he’d like to say good-night to you.”
Geraldine made a little grimace.
“I shall go into the morning room and wait for him,” she announced.
“He’ll very likely find me asleep.”
The Admiral looked up from behind the Times.
“Where’s that nice young fellow Granet?” he asked. “Why didn’t you bring
him in to dinner?”
“Well, we didn’t get back until nearly eight,” Geraldine reminded her
father. “I didn’t think he’d have time to change and get back here
comfortably.”
“Fine young chap, that,” Sir Seymour remarked. “The very best type of
young English soldier. We could do with lots like him.”
Geraldine left the room without remark. She could hear her father
rustling his paper as she disappeared.
“Can’t think why Geraldine didn’t pick up with a smart young fellow like
Granet instead of an old stick like Thomson,” he grumbled. “I hate these
Army Medicals, anyway.”
“Major Thomson has a charming disposition,” Lady Conyers declared
warmly. “Besides, he will be very well off some day--he may even get the
baronetcy.”
“Who cares about that?” her husband grunted. “Geraldine has all the
family she needs, and all the money. How she came to choose Thomson from
all her sweethearts, I can’t imagine.”
Geraldine, notwithstanding her fatigue, welcomed her lover very
charmingly when he arrived, a few minutes later. Major Thomson was still
in travelling clothes, and had the air of a man who had been working at
high pressure for some time. He held her fingers tightly for a moment,
without speaking. Then he led her to the sofa and seated himself beside
her.
“Geraldine,” he began gravely, “has what I say any weight with you at
all?”
“A good deal,” she assured him.
“You know that I do not like Captain Granet, yet you took him with you
down to Portsmouth today and even allowed him to accompany you on board
the _Scorpion_.”
Geraldine started a little.
“How do you know that already?” she asked curiously.
He shook his head impatiently.
“It doesn’t matter. I heard. Why did you do it, Geraldine?”
“In the first place, because he offered to motor us down after we had
missed the train. There are heaps of other reasons.”
“As, for instance?”
“Well, Olive and I preferred having an escort and Captain Granet was a
most agreeable one. He took us down in a car his uncle has just given
him--a sixty horse-power Panhard. I never enjoyed motoring more in my
life.”
“You are all very foolish,” Thomson said slowly. “I am going to tell you
something now, dear, which you may not believe, but it is for your good,
and it is necessary for me to have some excuse for the request I am
going to make. Granet is under suspicion at the War Office.”
“Under suspicion?” Geraldine repeated blankly.
“Nothing has been proved against him,” Thomson continued, “and I tell
you frankly that in certain quarters the idea is scouted as absurd. On
the other hand, he is under observation as being a possible German spy.”
Geraldine for a moment sat quite still. Then she broke into a peal of
laughter. She sat up, a moment later, wiping her eyes.
“Are you really serious, Hugh?” she demanded.
“Absolutely,” he assured her, a little coldly.
She wiped her eyes once more.
“Hugh, dear,” she sighed, patting his hand, “you do so much better
looking after your hospitals and your wounded than unearthing
mare’s-nests like this. I don’t think that you’d be a brilliant success
in the Intelligence Department. As to the War Office, well, you know
what I think of them. Captain Granet a German spy, indeed!”
“Neither the War Office nor I myself,” Thomson continued, “have arrived
at these suspicions without some reason. Perhaps you will look at the
matter a little more seriously when I tell you that Captain Granet will
not be allowed to return to the Front.”
“Not be allowed?” she repeated. “Hugh, you are not serious!”
“I have never been more serious in my life,” he insisted. “I am not in
a position to tell you more than the bare facts or I might disclose some
evidence which even you would have to admit throws a rather peculiar
light upon some of this young man’s actions. As it is, however, I can do
no more than warn you, and beg you,” he went on, “to yield to my wishes
in the matter of your further acquaintance with him.”
There was a moment’s rather curious silence. Geraldine seemed to be
gazing through the walls of the room. Her hands were clenched in one
another, her fingers nervously interlocked.
“I shall send for him to come and see me the first thing to-morrow
morning,” she decided.
“You will do nothing of the sort,” Thomson objected firmly.
She turned her head and looked at him. He was conscious of the
antagonism which had sprung up like a wall between them. His face,
however, showed no sign.
“How do you propose to prevent me?” she asked, with ominous calm.
“By reminding you of your duty to your country,” he answered.
“Geraldine, dear, I did not expect to have to talk to you like this.
When I tell you that responsible people in the War Office, officials
whose profession it is to scent out treachery, have declared this young
man suspect, I am certainly disappointed to find you embracing his cause
so fervently. It is no personal matter. Believe, me,” he added, after a
moment’s pause, “whatever my personal bias may be, what I am saying to
you now is not actuated in the slightest by any feelings of jealousy.
I have told you what I know and it is for you to make your choice as to
how much or how little in the future you will see of this young man.
But I do forbid you, not in my own name but for our country’s sake to
breathe a single word to him of what I have said to you.”
“It comes to this, then,” she said, “that you make accusations against a
man and deny him the right of being heard?”
“If you choose to put it like that, yes,” he assented. “Only I fancied
that considering--considering the things between us, you might have
taken my word.”
He leaned a little towards her. If she had been looking she could
scarcely have failed to have been touched by the sudden softness of his
dark eyes, the little note of appeal in his usually immobile face. Her
eyes, however, were fixed upon the diamond ring which sparkled upon her
third finger. Slowly she drew it off and handed it to him.
“Hugh,” she said, “the things you speak of do not exist any more between
us. I am sorry, but I think you are narrow and suspicious. You have
your own work to do. It seems to me mean to spend your time suspecting
soldiers who have fought for their king and their country, of such a
despicable crime.”
“Can’t you trust me a little more than that, Geraldine?” he asked
wistfully.
“In what way?” she demanded. “I judge only by the facts, the things you
have said to me, your accusations against Captain Granet. Why should you
go out of your way to investigate cases of suspected espionage?”
“You cannot believe that I would do so unless I was convinced that it
was my duty?”
“I cannot see that it is your business at all,” she told him shortly.
He rose from his place.
“I am very sorry, Geraldine,” he said. “I will keep this ring. You are
quite free. But--look at me.”
Against her will she was forced to do as he bade her. Her own attitude,
which had appeared to her so dignified and right, seemed suddenly
weakened. She had the feeling of a peevish child.
“Geraldine,” he begged, “take at least the advice of a man who loves
you. Wait.”
Even when he had opened the door she felt a sudden inclination to call
him back. She heard him go down the hall, heard the front door open and
close. She sat and looked in a dazed sort of way at the empty space
upon her finger. Then she rose and went into the drawing-room, where her
father and mother were still reading. She held out her hand.
“Mother,” she announced, “I am not engaged to Major Thomson any more.”
The Admiral laid down his newspaper.
“Damned good job, too!” he declared. “That young fellow Granet’s worth a
dozen of him. Never could stick an Army Medical. Well, well! How did he
take it?”
Lady Conyers watched her daughter searchingly. Then she shook her head.
“I hope you have done wisely, dear,” she said.