DANE'S SILENCE
It was in a combative humor that Hilton Dane presented himself in court
on the day of the poacher's trial. It was impossible to ignore the
summons, which alone had delayed his departure from The Larches; but the
time he spent there waiting had passed very uncomfortably. Lilian had,
so far as she could do so without attracting attention, sedulously
avoided his company; and he fancied that both Chatterton and his wife
regarded him with suspicion. Dane, knowing the iron-master's opinions,
surmised that Chatterton would not have blamed him had he frankly
related all that had passed; but he had pledged himself to secrecy, and
it never occurred to him to break his promise.
Therefore he kept his own counsel, and went into court prepared for
battle, further fortified by a contempt for the assumed omnipotence of
petty local magnates which men of his kind, who have tasted power in the
vigorous life of the newer lands, acquire. He decided that the prisoner,
who was very young, looked free from inherent vice, and worthy of a
chance to prove himself, in the main, honest. He was not absolutely
certain that the man was the one with whom he had grappled, and he gave
him the full benefit of the doubt. His answers provided the neighborhood
with a sensational topic for conversation, and, while there were some
who laughed at the legal functionaries' discomfiture and the witness's
nonchalance, the game preservers in the vicinity were emphatic in their
indignation.
In any case, Dane left the court amid the plaudits of the assembled
quarrymen, which the officials could not restrain. He hated the role of
popular hero but he felt a certain grim satisfaction, though he guessed
that every word he had spoken might cost him dearly. Also, because he
did nothing by halves, he sought the discharged prisoner.
"I don't know whether you are the right man or not, and I don't want
to," he said dryly. "If you are a wholly worthless rascal, you will no
doubt drift back into the clutches of the police, when it is probable
that the worthy gentlemen I addressed to-day will see that you don't get
out again. It would not surprise me if they starved you out of this
neighborhood; so, if you desire to make a fresh start, you will take
this letter to the English waterworks contractor to whom it is
addressed--and send your sister as much as possible of what he pays
you."
"Would you believe that I'm sairly sorry, sir?" began the lad; but Dane
turned upon him with a laugh and a frown.
"Sorry for what? Prove it by turning honest. Do you wish to convince me
I did wrong to-day?"
The poacher departed with grateful protestations, and Dane was glad that
he had vanished before Maxwell came up.
"I don't know whether I ought to congratulate you on your forensic
abilities, or otherwise, but the spectacle was worth the journey," he
said. "I hardly suspected that you possessed such talents; but why you
displayed them is, of course, another question."
"It is also my particular business," Dane replied stiffly, and frowned
when Maxwell smiled significantly.
"Confound you! Do you think----" he broke out; and Maxwell smiled again
in ironical fashion as he moved away.
"I might make use of your own rejoinder, and say that I generally find
it saves trouble to keep my opinions to myself," he returned. "However,
since you asked me, what would any person of the most modest discernment
think?"
Dane groaned inwardly as he climbed into the waiting vehicle, for the
last speech placed beyond all doubt the fact that the occupants of the
dog-cart had recognized him at Hallows Brig; and he knew that Lilian
Chatterton held somewhat puritanical views. He had, it was evident,
involved himself hopelessly.
That very evening, just as Dane had finished packing his few
possessions, an irate game-preserving gentleman drove over to The
Larches to express his indignation.
"I would not like to hurt your feelings, Chatterton, but your young
friend did not give wholly unbiased testimony to-day," he said.
"Considering his evident desire to shield the prisoner, I e'en felt it
my duty to----"
He got no farther, for the choleric iron-master was equally loyal to
those he honored with his good opinion, and prompt on any challenge to
take up the cudgels.
"If that is all you called to tell me, you might have spared yourself
the trouble, Black," he interrupted. "I have known Hilton Dane from
boyhood, as I knew his father before him; and I haven't the slightest
objection to hurting the feelings of any man who impugns the honesty of
my friends."
"I'm thinking ye are very generous," replied Black, relapsing into his
native idiom. "Man, do not be so testy, but bide and listen. He
described his adversary so well that the police at once identified and
arrested him; but he appeared troubled with a distressfully bad memory
in court to-day.
"'What are ye meaning by the words, "A man like the prisoner"?' the
fiscal asked him; and Mr. Dane answers: 'Just what I say.'
"'Can you not swear to him?' asked the fiscal severely; and your young
friend smiled. 'Could you swear to the complexion and color of the eyes
of any man who, on a dark night, had just kicked you hard upon the
knee?' says he.
"It was not even respectful; and when the rabble cheered there was more
than me who agreed with the fiscal: 'This place is a court of
justice--or it ought to be,' said he."
Black, pausing, betrayed his indignation with a gesture, while
Chatterton laughed in aggressive fashion.
"Considering my worthy neighbors' prejudices, I think there was
something in that last remark," he said.
Just then Lilian, who may have overheard part of the colloquy, appeared
in an opening in the tall hedge.
"Did you convict the malefactor, Mr. Black?" she asked.
"No," said that gentleman ruefully. "Unfortunately we did not, although
I'm thinking that we did our best."
Lilian smiled a little, and Chatterton's eyes twinkled as he glanced at
her encouragingly.
"Was that quite in accordance with the spirit of our glorious
constitution?" she asked.
"Eh?" said Black sharply. "What's this I'm saying; and I see ye are
laughing at me. I mean his guilt was manifest, but a friend of yours
showed considerable audacity, forby a trace of talent, in his efforts to
release him. Ye will mind that it's a principle of British justice to
give even a poacher fair play, my dear young lady."
"So I was always taught," Lilian replied artlessly.
Thomas Chatterton chuckled again, and pointed toward a man who, in turn,
passed through the opening in the hedge.
"I fancy that Mr. Black is anxious to talk to you, Hilton," he said.
Black, however, had evidently found two adversaries sufficient without
engaging a third, and, as sometimes happens, he did not recollect the
crushing things he might have said until the opportunity had passed; so,
after a stiff greeting, he allowed Chatterton, who was rarely ungenerous
to a beaten enemy, to lead him away.
Lilian had disappeared, but not before the manner in which she had
ignored Dane had roused him to precipitate action. He forgot his
prudence in a sudden fit of anger, and, remembering only that he might
never have another opportunity for speech with her, he followed the
girl. Miss Chatterton, however, had a fair start, and, perhaps being
warned by the sound of his hurried footsteps, made the most of it; so
that while Dane pursued her down two avenues, and through a shrubbery,
the situation grew rapidly ludicrous. The humor of it did not strike him
then, and he saw only the flicker of a white dress receding before him.
Finally he came upon the fugitive in a narrow path between rows of
choice chrysanthemums, where, as there was no room for two to pass,
Lilian turned upon him with an ominous light in her eyes. It was evident
that Miss Chatterton was seriously angry, as well as a little
breathless.
"What brings you here?" she demanded.
Dane was not, as a rule, readily disconcerted; but for a moment the
power of lucid speech deserted him.
"I came----" he gasped.
"That is unfortunately evident," retorted Lilian, chillingly. "What I
desire to know is why, considering the size of the garden, you must,
after seeing I wished to be alone, choose this particular path!"
Dane had slight cause for merriment, but he actually laughed.
"Any other place would have suited me, but you went so fast!"
This was a blunder, and he realized it as he heard the gravel crunch in
a manner that suggested the pressure of somebody's heel. Lilian had
clearly roused herself to face the situation.
"Admitting that it was so, will you explain why you cannot take a hint?"
"I will," Dane said quietly, though he was once more maladroit. "I
wished to ask why you have avoided me like contagion lately?"
"Is that a necessary question, or is it generous to place the onus of
such an explanation upon me?"
"Perhaps not," he admitted. "I am not so quick of wit as I could wish,
to-day, but I am going away early to-morrow, and it may be very long
before I see you again; so I could not help asking it. We have known
each other a long time, Lily, and I would not care to leave England
feeling that you were displeased with me."
"Have I told you that I was displeased?" asked the girl.
"Speech was hardly necessary."
Lilian Chatterton was not deficient in courage, and she no longer tried
to evade the difficulty. "Please understand that I have neither the
right nor the desire to inquire into your motives, but--since you
insist--there are limits within which one must restrict one's
friendship; and after comparing your own account of your nocturnal
adventures with what I heard Mr. Black relate about your conduct in
court to-day, it is hardly possible to avoid concluding that you have
overstepped them."
"There may be an explanation. Is it fair, as you reminded that very
gentleman, to condemn any one unheard?"
"Can you furnish one?" asked Lilian, with a quickness which was not
wholly lost upon her companion. If he had spoken plainly, it is possible
that the explanation might have changed a good deal for both of them;
but that was just what the man had pledged himself not to do. He was not
a casuist, and, having no time for reflection, saw only one course open
to him. It was too late when he realized that it was the worst one
possible from any point of view.
"I am afraid I cannot, at present," he said.
The girl's eyes grew almost wicked, for his hesitation was fatal, and
she was angry that she had even allowed him to draw her into the
discussion.
"That is comprehensible," she said. "You must already have taxed your
imagination severely, and it is perhaps natural that the testimony of a
quite disinterested gentleman should be more convincing. Besides, as I
said already, it is certainly not my part to judge you."
"Then I can only hope that you will hear the full truth from some other
person you consider more worthy of credit," Dane said somberly.
Miss Chatterton returned no answer, but, drawing her skirt to her side,
brushed past the man, who stepped recklessly among the chrysanthemums.
She had, of course, no intention of looking back in his direction, but,
on turning at the end of the alley, it was almost necessary to do so,
and she sometimes remembered, with both a smile and a sigh, how he had
stood, a somewhat commanding, as well as a slightly ludicrous figure,
staring straight before him, knee-deep among the chrysanthemums. That,
however, was afterward, for then Lilian was in a royal rage with herself
as well as the man, because she had allowed anything he could say or do
to disturb her serenity.
Dane sighed a little, but there was resolution as well as indignation in
his face as he moved away, and left the gardener, who had witnessed the
scene with indignation, to assess the damage.
"Would nothing fit yon theatrical ijiot but stamping my new quilled
Regents flat?" the gardener grumbled.
Early the next morning Chatterton and Dane stood waiting for the South
express in the little country station.
"I don't altogether understand what you have been doing, Hilton, and,
though nobody seems quite pleased with you, I won't ask," said the
iron-master. "I know you had a good reason for it, whatever it was; and
if that meddlesome Black or any of his friends feel inclined to make
further unpleasant suggestions, I shall enjoy the opportunity for a
little plain speaking. If you ever change your mind, remember what I
said; and don't close with any offer unless it's tempting, but come
back and wait at The Larches for a better. I can't help saying I'm
sorry you did not altogether hit it with Lilian. Modern young women,
however, often appear to consider cheap smartness more becoming than the
genuine cordiality they may feel."
"It was not Miss Chatterton's fault, sir," declared Dane, who, growing
slightly confused, wished the iron-master would favor anything else with
his fixed attention. He was thankful that the approach of the express
prevented the conversation from progressing further in that direction.
A few evenings later, Lilian dismounted from her pony in the shadow of a
copse. For some reason she had been restless all day, and sought solace
in a ride across the moor. The saddle had slipped a little, and she
spent some time tightening the girth. Meanwhile two men came to a
standstill in the stubble beyond the hedge, and she recognized Carsluith
Maxwell in one spare figure. The sunset beat into his face, and she saw
it was stamped with a curious melancholy as he looked down the
deep-wooded valley toward Culmeny. Ridges of brown moorland, whose
slopes were streaked by dark firs, hemmed the hollow in, and the tower
rose blackly in the mouth of it against the shimmer of the sea.
"It is an inheritance to be proud of, sir," Carsluith said. "Perhaps it
is because of the contrast with the rank luxuriance of the tropics, and
their stifling heat, but each time I come home to the old place and
breathe this keen sweet air, I feel that I love it better."
The second man, turning, laid his hand on the speaker's shoulder, and as
he did so Lilian recognized the master of Culmeny.
"It will be yours some day which cannot be very distant now," the elder
man replied. "It is a barren heritage, and I have long regretted that,
after the girls are provided for, its revenues will do little more than
cover the interest on the burden you must take up along with it."
"I hope that day will be long in coming, sir; and I shall never rest
contented until by some means I win enough to restore our former
prosperity. To-morrow will see me on my way to London, and we must hope
that my latest venture will prove successful!"
Lilian could not escape without attracting attention, and she was so
close to the two men that she heard Brandram Maxwell sigh.
"I do not approve of it, but know I cannot dissuade you," he said, with
a certain pride as well as wistfulness in the glance he cast upon his
son. "I had hoped you might have settled here--and think she is good as
well as bonny--but that was not to be. Prosperity! The old place was aye
needy, and its plenishing has cost the life of many of those who have
gone before you. You will mind Andrew's answer when he fell out dying in
the retreat from Derby: 'I'm not caring greatly where I lie,' said he.
'Our kirkyard is not contracted. It runs from the Low Countries to the
sands of Cree.' Maybe it's your destiny, but you will not forget that an
old man is longing for the sight of you, longing the more because----"
He ceased abruptly, and Lilian noticed that Carsluith Maxwell made the
slightest gesture of negation, while his face darkened a little. She
recalled an old superstitious tale.
"We have outgrown belief in those fables, sir," he declared.
The ruler of Culmeny made no direct answer.
"The old tale is told over often, and the end is the same. God keep you,
and bring you safe home from that dark land," he said solemnly.
Here the pair forestalled the unwilling spectator's intention by moving
away, and left her troubled. She had done nothing to raise false hopes
in Carsluith Maxwell, and in that respect her conscience was clear; but
there had been a strange somberness in both men's faces, and she felt
that she was mainly responsible for sending the younger one to Africa.
He was of good family and accomplished, and she wondered why, when many
another damsel would have gladly listened, she had so promptly declined
him as a suitor. Then, even as she reflected that there was no one else
she preferred to him, a tinge of color crept into her face, and,
dismissing the subject, she mounted, and sent the pony at a gallop
across the next meadow.
* * * * *
It was a depressing afternoon when Carsluith Maxwell found Dane lounging
in the smoking-room of a London hotel. The air outside was foul with
smoke and fog; and it was little more cheerful within. Dane was in
distinctly low spirits. He had spent a fortnight haunting the offices of
engineering firms, financiers, and company promoters, and had discovered
once more that anybody willing to take up his invention would require
the lion's share of the contingent profit. He could hear of no
remunerative professional engagement; and the contractors who had
promised him the foreign commission stated that the work would not be
begun for some time.
"You do not look exactly pleased with either the world or yourself,"
observed Maxwell.
"I certainly don't feel so," Dane said shortly. "Several things have
gone wrong with me lately, and I'm even more troubled than usual by a
chronic shortness of capital. I want ten thousand pounds rather more
badly than most folks do, and no mental effort will show me where to
raise more than five."
Maxwell looked hard at the speaker.
"If you are willing to risk a good deal on a chance of obtaining the
money, I think I can show you a way."
Dane laughed harshly.
"There is no risk you could mention which, for the sake of five thousand
pounds, I would not run."
"If you join me you will run a good many," said Maxwell. "There were
reasons why I could not make the offer until to-day. Give me about ten
minutes to explain the venture."
Dane drew in a deep breath when his companion concluded; then held out a
big hand.
"It is a bargain," he said simply. "Half the profit, half the expense
and peril. I can start any time after to-morrow."
They shook hands on it, while the blue cigar smoke curled about them;
and the bargain they made was kept faithfully in the face of manifold
perils, and in spirit as well as in letter. Long afterward, Dane
remembered that Maxwell's smile was much the same when, clenching the
hot rifle barrels, they watched the flintlocks flashing through thicker
wreaths of a more deadly vapor.
All arrangements had been made when Maxwell departed; and Dane sat down
to write Chatterton a letter. When that gentleman received it, he first
used expressions which should have cost him five shillings, and then,
seeking his wife, thrust it down before her with quite unnecessary
violence.
"The man has taken leave of his senses!" he exclaimed. "Read that, and
tell me if you don't think so."
"Is this the beginning of another ancient-right crusade, or the effect
of the lobster salad? You will remember that I warned you," said Mrs.
Chatterton.
"This is not a time to indulge in puerile levity! It is that--that
confounded idiot, Hilton! He and the other madman, Maxwell, have gone
out to look for gold mines in one of the deadliest holes in Africa. He
says he wanted five thousand pounds, and, when he knows it was his duty,
could not come to me!"
Mrs. Chatterton read the letter, and then tried to flash a warning at
her husband before she glanced in her niece's direction. Lilian who had
leaned forward as though listening intently, sank back into her chair.
"Perhaps they may find the gold mine; and Carsluith Maxwell is by no
means an idiot," she said. "Indeed, he always struck me as a shrewd,
determined man."
"Determined enough," fumed her husband. "They're all made that way.
Maxwell rebuilt his iniquitous obstruction four times after I tore it
up; but there's something in Carsluith's dark face I don't care to see.
I've seen the sign on other men, and it implies a tragedy. Besides, from
what Black told me, they're an unlucky family, with an hereditary
weakness for dying fully dressed. Any mad venture they could get
themselves decently killed in seems to have been irresistible to those
men of Culmeny. I'd have given three times the money to prevent
Carsluith from decoying poor Hilton. Do the fools fancy nuggets grow on
palm trees?"
Chatterton, receiving no answer, retired to what he called his study,
where they heard him banging books about. Lilian sat silent with hands
crossed in her lap. She, also, she fancied, had seen the shadow in
Carsluith Maxwell's face, and she felt both troubled and anxious about
him and about somebody else.
A week later Mrs. Chatterton, entering her niece's room in search of
some trifle, came upon a book the girl had been reading. She looked
thoughtful when she saw that the volume treated of travels in West
Africa, and that the marker in it rested between the last pages.