Disappointed in his visit to the inn, Guest went back to his own
chambers, where his first act on reaching his room, with its lookout
over the old rookery, was to take out his pocketbook, and carefully
examine a photograph--a proof intrusted to his care that day--and which
he instantly pressed to his lips several times before restoring it to
its envelope, and returning it to his breast.
His next proceeding was to light his pipe, lie back, and think over Miss
Jerrold's words; and the more he thought over them the more they seemed
to fit with the situation.
One thought begat another till he grew startled at the growth emanating
from Miss Jerrold's suggestion.
Stratton had always been greatly attached to him, he knew, but he did
not always confide in him; he had a way of being extremely reticent,
especially over money matters, and he recalled a little upset they had
once had about a time when Stratton was hard pressed to get his rent
ready and had raised the money in what he (Guest) had dubbed a
disreputable way--that is to say, he had borrowed from "a relative"
instead of from his friend.
"The old lady's right," mused Guest, after a long period of thinking,
during which his ideas seemed to ripen. "Mr Brettison must know, and
depend upon it, he, being such a particular, high-souled man, was angry
with Stratton, and would not come to the wedding. Of course; I remember
now, Stratton did say that morning that Brettison was off, out
collecting. Now, how to find out where he has gone."
No idea came, for Brettison was one of the most erratic and enthusiastic
of beings. Being very wealthy, and living in the simplest way, money
was no object; and he would go off anywhere, and at any cost, to obtain
a few simple and rare plants for his herbarium. As Guest mused over the
matter, he recollected that Stratton said something about the south; but
whether it was south of England, France, or Italy, he could not
remember.
"Might be the South Pole," he muttered pettishly. "Fancy that old chap
having nothing better to do with his money than spend it over weeds!"
"Now, if I had half," he said, after refilling his pipe, "I could go to
the old admiral and say--Oh, what a fool I am!"
But somehow that idea about Brettison and his money seemed to pervade
his brain for the next few days, and to be mixed up with Stratton and
his troubles. He recollected the money lying in crisp banknotes upon
the table, and recalled that it was a heavy sum. That was an entirely
fresh view to take; could Stratton have borrowed that money from
Brettison? Likely enough, and that might have caused the estrangement.
People did not like lending money. They would offer to do so, but when
the demand was made they were a little bitter.
"`Neither a borrower nor a lender be,'" muttered Guest, quoting from his
favourite author, and then adding, "if you can help it."
"Bah! That upsets the idea of the lady in the case," he muttered
impatiently. "What a fool I am! As if it was likely that poor old Mal
would try to make his quietus with a bare bodkin--modernised into a
six-shooter--because old Brettison was huffed at his borrowing money. I
must pump it out of the poor fellow somehow."
That evening he went to Stratton's chambers, but could get no reply; and
he waited about on the stairs till, growing uneasy and suspicious once
more, he knocked again, and listened at the letter slit.
Just then he heard steps, and the occupant of the upstairs chambers
ascended to the landing.
"How do?" he said. "Mr Stratton's out. I met him on the Embankment
not half an hour ago."
That swept away the black, mental cobwebs once more for a time about
Guest's brain, and he went away relieved--but not before writing his
intention of dropping in about ten that night, and thrusting his card in
at the slit--to dine at his club, after which he went into the library
to read up some old legal cases, and think about Edie.
He was punctual to the time appointed in Benchers' Inn, but there was no
light in Stratton's window, none in Brettison's, and he waited till
eleven in the expectation of seeing his friend come back.
At the above hour he became convinced that Stratton had returned early
and gone to bed, so he went to his own chambers vexed and irritated,
after dropping another card into the letter-box, making an appointment
for the next evening at seven.
"Take him out for a bit of dinner. He seems to be very busy just now,
or else he is behaving very sensibly and taking exercise to get back his
strength."
Guest went to Benchers' Inn the next evening at seven, but the outer
door was closed, and after waiting for some time he went off to his club
and wrote a letter begging Stratton to make an appointment to see him.
Next day glided by and there was no reply. The chambers were still
closed, and the Brades had not seen their occupant; neither had Mr
Brettison come back.
Guest made light of the matter, and then went and called on the admiral,
who promptly begged him to stay to dinner, but the young man refused,
glanced at Edie, and stayed.
This delayed the visit which he had intended to pay Miss Jerrold, but he
went to her on the following day to report his ill success, and then to
the great institution where his friend ruled over the natural history
specimens.
To his surprise Stratton was not there, one of the officials informing
him that his chief had taken a month's vacation to recover his health.
"He seemed so broken down, sir, by study, that the committee suggested
it."
"And never said a word to me," thought Guest. "Well, the man who says
poor old Mal is mad is a fool, but he certainly does act very queerly.
Never mind. He'll come all right in time."
More days glided by, and Guest became alarmed, for he could get no
tidings of Stratton. The chambers were always closed, and no notice was
taken of the letters; so he went to Bourne Square on business--he made a
point of going there on business whenever he could--and was shown into
the drawing room, where Myra greeted him very kindly, though he noted a
peculiar, anxious, inquiring look in her eyes two or three times before
she rose and left the room.
"Now, Mr Guest," said Edie as soon as they were alone, "you have
something to communicate?"
"Something I want to say, but don't be quite so businesslike."
"I must," she said sharply. "Now tell me: something from--about Mr
Stratton."
He told her of his ill success, and she frowned.
"We don't want his name mentioned here, and we take not the slightest
interest in him; but as you are interested, and as news, of course you
can tell me anything. But isn't his conduct very strange?"
"More than strange."
"And you can't find Mr Brettison either?"
"No; but I'm not surprised at that. He's collecting chickweed and
`grundsel,' as Mrs Brade calls it, somewhere. But I shall be glad when
he comes back."
Edie sat thoughtfully for a few minutes.
"You see, directly you cannot get to see him because his doors are shut
you begin to think something is wrong."
"Naturally."
"And that's absurd, Percy--Mr Guest."
"No; no; don't take it back again like that," he pleaded.
"Mr Guest," she said emphatically. "Now look here: he must come to his
chambers sometimes, because he would want his letters."
"Possibly," said the visitor coldly, for that formal "Mr Guest" annoyed
him.
"And he communicates with the people at the institution."
"Yes, but he has given them no fresh address."
"Then naturally they write to his chambers, and Mal--this man gets his
letters from time to time. There's nothing shocking the matter. He is
avoiding you, and wants to break off the intimacy."
"Then he is not going to," said Guest with spirit. "I'm afraid he has
done something wrong some time."
"Indeed?" said Edie, with her eyes twinkling.
"I mean, men do."
"Oh!"
"I have, lots of times."
Edie grew a little more stately--a hard task, for she was too _petite_
to look dignified.
"I don't mean anything bad," said Guest hastily; "and if old Mal thinks
he is going to get rid of me he's mistaken. I'm not a woman, to throw a
fellow over because he's had some trouble in the past. I forgive him
whatever it is."
"I suppose wicked people find it easy to forgive other sinners?" said
Edie demurely.
"Of course. Poor old lad!" said Guest thoughtfully; "I wonder what he
did do."
"I'd rather not discuss such matters, if you please, Mr Guest," said
Edie coldly.
"Oh, very well, Miss Perrin. I thought I could come to you for help and
counsel as a very dear friend, if as nothing else, and, now I want your
help, you back out."
"No, I don't--Percy."
"Ah!"
Only that interjection, but it meant so much in words--and acts, one of
which resulted in the fair young girl pointing to the chair from which
Guest had risen, and saying, with a little flush in her cheeks:
"Suppose somebody had come into the room. Sit down, please, Mr Guest."
He obeyed.
"Now come; help me," he said. "We must forgive poor old Malcolm,
whatever it is; and one of these days perhaps, someone else will."
"No, never: that is impossible."
"But what can he have done?"
"I don't know, unless he has been married before, and killed his wife so
as to get married again."
Guest looked at her in horror, and she turned scarlet.
"I--I beg your pardon," she stammered. "I did not mean that."
"No," said Guest dryly. "I should think not."
Farther conversation was stayed by the entrance of Myra, looking rapt
and strange, as if in a dream. She did not seem to notice them, but
walked across to the window, and, as she went, Guest was shocked by the
alteration in her aspect. It was as if she had lately risen from a bed
of sickness, while that which struck him most was the weary, piteous
aspect of her eyes.
As she turned them upon him at last it was in a questioning way, which
he interpreted to mean, "I am dying for news of him, but it is
impossible for me to ask;" and a curious feeling of resentment rose
within him against Stratton, for he felt that he had literally wrecked,
the life of as true a woman as ever breathed.
A faint smile dawned upon her lips, and she glanced from him to Edie and
back--a look which made the crimson on Edie's cheeks grow deeper, as the
girl said quickly:
"Mr Guest came to tell me how hard he is trying to get some news, and
what he has done."
"News!" cried Myra excitedly, and her hands were raised toward their
visitor, but she let them drop to her sides as her brows contracted.
"He has been telling me that he has--"
"Where is papa--has he come back?" said Myra, coldly ignoring her
cousin's proffered information, and a few minutes later Guest shook
hands and went away.
"Her pride keeps her silent," he said thoughtfully. "No wonder, but
she'd give the world to hear the least bit of news. Poor girl! She'd
forgive him almost anything. I must, and will, find it all out before
I've done."
But the days grew into weeks, and Guest's visits to Bourne Square were
always barren of news, save that he was able to announce that Stratton
certainly did go to his chambers now and then. This he found out from
the porter's wife, who bitterly bewailed the state into which they were
falling.
"You may shake your head at me, Mr Guest," she said, "and it's our
secret, for not a word shall ever leave my lips, but let me ask you, is
it in the behaviour of a gentleman as has got all his change--"
"Got all his--Oh, I see, you mean his senses."
"Why, of course, sir, to keep his rooms shut up as he does, and never a
duster or a brush put inside the door."
"He is afraid of his specimens being disturbed, Mrs Brade."
"Oh, dear, no, sir. It never was his way. I'd got used to his manners
and customs--we understood each other, and if I lifted up a bottle or a
specimen, whether it was a bird or only a bone, down it went in the same
place again, so exact that you couldn't tell it had been moved."
"But Mr Brettison does the same, Mrs Brade."
"Him, sir?" said the woman contemptuously; "that's different. One knows
he's a little bit queer. It's nothing new for him to be away months
together, and then come back loaded with rubbidge."
"When did you say Mr Stratton came here last?"
"Four days ago, sir, and I went after him, and begged and prayed of him,
with a pail and broom in my hand, to let me do him up, but he only
pynted downward like a man in a play; and there's his place going to
rack and ruin."
"Next time he comes, Mrs Brade," said Guest, slipping a sovereign into
her hand, "send your husband on to me directly and try and keep Mr
Stratton till he comes back."
"That I will, sir," she cried eagerly; and she kept her word over and
over again, but to Guest's intense chagrin always too late.
"Just comes in quickly, sir, runs up to his rooms and gets his letters,
and goes out the other way."
This occurred till Guest grew damped, then angry, then damped again;
but, in spite of his disheartened state, he manfully resumed his search,
for whenever he was disposed to give it up as what he called a bad job,
he was forced on by Edie with the greatest eagerness--"to save _her_
life."
There was a time when Guest thought of getting professional help, but a
strange dread of something terrible being wrong kept him back from this,
and he spent every spare hour in seeking for his friend in every resort,
but all in vain. Still he heard of him again and again, and of his
calling at the institution, where he had a fresh release from duty
granted him for a month; and feeling that he was bound to run against
his friend sooner or later, Guest relaxed his efforts, and the very next
day caught sight of Stratton in a cab, followed it till it turned down
one of the Strand _culs-de-sac_, saw him alight at a great house
overlooking the river and pay the cabman; and then followed him in, and
up a great winding stone staircase to a door on the upper floor.
"She lives there," thought Guest with a feeling of rage in his breast,
and, running lightly up the last few steps, he crept unobserved behind
Stratton, and laid a hand upon his shoulder just as he was thrusting a
latchkey into the lock.
Stratton gave a violent start, but did not turn round. He only uttered
a low sigh.
"Very well," he said. "I have been expecting you for weeks."
"Stratton!" cried Guest reproachfully, and his friend turned slowly
round so haggard and aged a countenance that Guest was startled.
"You?" said Stratton, with a curious, dazed look around, as if for
someone else whom he had expected to see there.
"I thought--I thought--" He paused, and then after an interval: "Well,
you have found me. What do you want?"
Guest did not reply for the moment, but looked sharply from his friend
to the door and back.
"There is someone in there!" he said to himself; "and for Myra's sake I
will know the truth."
Then aloud:
"Take me into your room; we can't talk here."
Stratton made a quick movement before the door as if to keep him back.