Stratton opened the door without a word. Guest followed him in, to find
himself in a plainly furnished sitting room, beyond which seemed to be
the bedroom, while the two windows looked out westward over the Thames.
There was no sign of feminine occupation, and Guest felt staggered.
"Well," said Stratton bitterly, "you do not answer me. What do you
want?"
"You to be the same fellow I always knew. Why have you come here?"
"You are inquisitorial, but I'll answer: Because it suits me. My rooms
yonder are dark and depressing. I am ill, and want to sit here and
breathe the fresh air and think. Is there anything wonderful in that?"
"No; but you need not play hide-and-seek with your friends."
"I have no friends," said Stratton coldly. "I am not the first man who
ever took to a solitary life. It suits my whim. Now, please go and
leave me to myself."
"Very well," said Guest, after a momentary hesitation; and he rose.
"You have no friends?" he said.
"None."
"Well, I have," said Guest. "You are one of them, and you'll tell me
I'm right some day."
Stratton did not take the hand extended to him, and Guest went out by no
means disconcerted, but contented and pleased with his day's work.
"Something to tell Edie," he said to himself joyously; and he hurried up
to the admiral's to communicate his news.
"That's a step forward," the girl cried eagerly; "now you must go on.
Persevere."
"I will," he said, catching her enthusiasm.
"Don't let him drive you away."
"Indeed I will not," cried Guest, "only you might let me hold your
hands."
"Stuff; they are quite safe."
"For me?" he whispered passionately.
"Percy Guest, do you know the meaning of the word _taboo_? Yes, I see
you do by your sour look."
"Not sour, Edie--disappointed."
"Because you are selfish, sir. All we have to do in this life is to
study others."
"Oh! Is it?" he protested.
"Yes, and I now vow, swear, and declare that I will never even think of
being happy myself till I can see Myra herself again; so now you know
what to expect."
"Oh, very well," he said with a dissatisfied look. "But look here,
Edie, if I don't turn up some day you'll know what it means."
"That you will be found at your chambers with a pistol in your hand?"
said Edie contemptuously.
"Do you think I should be such an idiot?" he cried indignantly.
The look she gave him made peace, and at last Guest rose to go, looking
very thoughtful.
"Yes!" cried Edie, watching him merrily.
"I didn't know I spoke," he said, "but I was thinking that the way to
put matters straight again would be to bring them together somehow."
"Oh, indeed!" said Edie sarcastically; but Guest was too intent upon his
thoughts to notice her manner, and he went on dreamily:
"Of course, Stratton could not come here now."
"I should not advise him to do so while uncle's about."
"No, of course not," continued Guest. "But I was thinking whether it
would be possible for Myra to go, of course with you, and--perhaps I
could arrange it--catch him at his chambers. He would explain
everything to her, I'm sure, and you see perhaps after all it may not be
so bad."
"Oh, no, perhaps not," said Edie, with a sneering intonation which
escaped Guest in his infatuation over his new idea for serving two
people whom he esteemed. Then, unable to control herself, she burst out
with: "Oh, how can people be so stupid? As if it were possible that
Myra could ever speak to such a man again."
It gradually dawned upon Guest that he had made a terrible blunder, and
he went back to his chambers snubbed and fully determined never more to
risk his position with Edie by trying to fight his friend's battle and
piece together the broken fibres of the suddenly disruptured skein.
He was no little surprised, then, some weeks later, after dining at the
admiral's and listening to several of the old man's old sea stories, to
find Edie, upon reaching the drawing room, revive the idea as they sat
talking together in a low tone, while Myra played, and her father took
his nap.
"Don't talk about it," he said softly. "Every man makes a fool of
himself sometimes. I suppose I did then."
"There does not seem to be much foolishness in trying to serve others,"
whispered Edie.
"I say, don't," said Guest in a low tone after gazing wonderingly in his
companion's face. "You are laying a trap for me to fall into, and it's
too bad."
"No, I'm not, Percy," she replied. "I've thought a great deal since
about what you said. I was very indignant then, but now I think quite
differently."
"You do?"
"Yes. Why should we study etiquette, and be punctilious when other
people's life's happiness is concerned?"
"Well, that's what I thought, but you jumped upon me."
"I didn't, sir. I only said--"
"Enough to make me miserable for days. That's all."
"Please forgive me, Percy."
"Jump on me again, Edie," he whispered passionately--"ten times, a
hundred times as hard, so as to ask forgiveness again like that."
"If you are so stupid, I will not say another word."
"Mute as a fish."
"Can't you understand how wretched it must make Myra feel to see other
people happy?"
"Then you are happy, little one?"
"No, and I never shall be while matters are like this. Hush, speak low,
and as if we were talking about pictures and Monday Pops. Now tell me,
how does Malcolm seem?"
"More mad and wretched than ever."
"And you can't win his confidence at all?"
"Not a bit. I go and see him every day, generally at that place of his
in Sarum Street, though I sometimes catch him at the inn, for he has a
habit of going there at a certain time, and I found it out."
"Well?"
"He insults me, bullies me, threatens me, says everything he can think
of to break with me; but I go all the same."
"That's right. I like men to be faithful to their friends."
"Hah!" Guest gave vent to a sigh of satisfaction.
"But you can't get him to confide in you?"
"No."
"You must be very stupid."
"That's it."
"I am sure I could get him to confide in me."
"You? Why, you'd win the confidence of a Memnon."
"Don't be silly. But tell me, Percy--do you think, now, that Malcolm
Stratton has been very wicked? I mean, do you think he has married
anyone else?"
"No," said Guest flatly, "I feel sure he hasn't."
"Then we will have the matter cleared up."
"How?"
"Myra shall go and see him, and ask him why he has treated her so
badly."
"But it will be such bad form."
"I don't care what it is! It would be much worse form for us to let the
poor thing take to her bed and die."
"But surely she is not so bad as that," whispered Guest, who felt moved
by the sob he heard in his companion's throat.
"Worse, worse," whispered Edie. "You don't see what I do. You don't
know what I do. Breaking hearts are all poets' nonsense, Percy, but
poor Myra is slowly wasting away from misery and unhappiness. Uncle
doesn't see it, but I know, and if something isn't done soon I shall
have no one left to love."
"Edie!"
"I mean like a sister. O Percy, I'd rather see her forgive him and
marry him, however wicked he has been, than live like this."
A few chords in a minor key floated through the drawing room, and Edie
shivered.
"Tell me," she said after a few minutes, "do you think he acted as he
did because he didn't love her--because he felt that he couldn't take a
woman who had been engaged to someone else?"
"I'm sure he loves her with all his heart, and I feel as certain that he
would not let such a thing stand in his way."
"Then I'm reckless," said Edie excitedly. "I don't care a bit what the
world may say. Myra shall go to him and see him."
"She would not."
"I'll make her, and if uncle kills me for it afterward, well, he must."
"I should like to catch him trying to," said Guest.
"No, no; I don't mean that. Then what do you think of my plan?" said
Edie. "You should come here to fetch us to some exhibition--to see
something; any evening would do. We could let them be together for a
little while and then bring them back."
"Capital!" said Guest; "only isn't that my plan, little one?"
"Oh, what does it matter which of us thought of it?"
"Not a bit," he said, pressing the hand that lay so near him; and a
little later on, with the understanding that if Myra would consent the
attempt should be made, Guest left the house.