DAMNING EVIDENCE
The morning after Colonel Lane arrived so unexpectedly at Hawk’s Nest,
he made a false move.
Determined to put a stop to the visits of Miss Phyllis to the bungalow
at Gissing, he got up early and took the young lady’s cycle home, and
locking it in a shed, removed the key. His own cycle was also kept in
the shed, and so were the carpentering tools with which he occasionally
amused himself. But there was no reason for anyone except himself and
Phyllis ever to go there.
It was before breakfast that Colonel Lane locked up the cycle. He saw
Mrs. Ransom, who was much amazed, not to say a little frightened, to
see him at that hour. She was a quiet, reserved woman, with a good
housekeeping faculty--and no other. She was singularly lacking in
feminine curiosity, too, so when Colonel Lane told her that if Miss
Phyllis asked for the key of the shed she was to say he had it, she did
not even ask herself why the place was to be locked in the daytime.
The Colonel said he was going to breakfast at Hawk’s Nest and then
would be home. Miss Phyllis would be home in the afternoon.
As soon as breakfast was over (it was at a later hour now, as Uncle
Robert no longer went for his morning swim), Colonel Lane went home and
Phyllis did her packing.
After luncheon Phyllis said good-bye and went to get her cycle, when
she was told by the gardener that her father had taken it home before
breakfast.
Phyllis bit her lip with vexation. She had fully meant to cycle over to
see Philip before going home, and she knew quite well that her father
had done this thing to prevent any chance of such a proceeding. If she
went home her father would keep her there.
She made up her mind to outwit him.
Taking a tram, she went down to the Memorial, and thence on foot to a
shop where she knew she could hire a cycle.
So it happened that soon after three o’clock she presented herself at
the bungalow.
She knew nothing of the arrangement her father had made to be there at
four o’clock.
Philip was out, Davis said, so Phyllis put her cycle in the stable and
made herself comfortable by the fire to wait, removing her hat. As it
got near four o’clock she went to the window, and to her horror saw her
father cycling up the road.
In a panic she ran to the kitchen and told the astonished Davis on no
account to let her father know she was there, then fled into Philip’s
bedroom, and shut the door, scarcely daring to breathe.
She heard her father come in, and then Philip.
“No, I am not disposed to shake hands, Philip, till we have had a
little conversation,” she heard her father say.
In fact, she heard all that followed.
Philip knew from this opening remark that he had not been mistaken in
supposing that Colonel Lane was “on the war-path.”
“As you like, sir,” he replied coldly.
“There is something between you and Phyllis that you have been keeping
secret,” went on the Colonel.
Philip paled.
Had the Colonel discovered the secret marriage? and did he think Philip
had been a party to it? It was quite possible. The wonder was that it
had not all come out before, considering that it was duly registered in
St. Clement’s Church.
“Your face tells me that I am right,” went on the Colonel.
Philip was silent. He wanted to find out how much the Colonel knew.
“It is absolutely disgraceful!” thundered the soldier, “and unworthy of
a gentleman, this conduct of yours.”
Philip was now furious. He cursed the folly of women, and of Phyllis in
particular, but he was not going to give her away.
“These secret meetings at the bungalow--would any man of honor so lower
himself as to permit them?” demanded the Colonel.
“I will not tolerate such language even from you!” broke out Philip. “I
have done nothing dishonorable!”
“You will listen to just what I choose to say,” rejoined the Colonel.
“I will put a stop to all this once and for all. You should not marry
my daughter if there were not another man in the world--understand
that!”
“And why not?” asked Philip, who now saw daylight. “If I wanted to--why
not? What have you against me?”
“Everything, sir! everything!” rejoined the Colonel. “When was my
daughter last here?”
“Last week, I think,” replied Philip.
He then caught sight of the hat Phyllis had thrown on a chair and
forgotten in her haste to hide herself.
“The little fool!” he said inwardly, as he moved himself so as to hide
the chair. “She is here!”
It was this movement of Philip’s which was his undoing.
Colonel Lane’s eyes followed it; and he saw the hat.
“So,” he said with contempt, “you add lying to your other
accomplishments! There is her hat! Where have you hidden her?”
Philip was too dumbfounded to answer.
The Colonel strode towards the bedroom door.
Philip intercepted him. He was now sure that silly Phyllis was there,
and he feared that her father in his present mood would forget that his
daughter was no longer a child and might thrash her.
Colonel Lane took a pace back, his arms folded.
“Phyllis!” he called. “Come out of that room immediately!”
Then violent sobbing made itself heard from behind the door.
“Say what you like to me, sir,” said Philip, his back still against the
door, “but don’t be hard on Phyllis. She is such a child!”
“The more shame to you!” roared the Colonel, “for so taking advantage
of her innocence. Move away, and let her obey her father.”
“Let me come out, Philip!” sobbed Phyllis.
Philip moved away from the door, the handle of which he had kept
gripped tightly till then.
Phyllis, her hair fallen from its securing pins, her face blurred with
weeping, entered the room.
“Philip didn’t know I was here. Indeed he did not!” she cried. “He is
the best friend I have, and you want to separate us! I am miserable; I
am a most wretched girl, and if you knew everything you would pity me!”
“Fiddlesticks!” replied the Colonel unkindly.
He had seen Phyllis weeping and despairing before.
“Philip does not want to marry me. It is all a mistake!” sobbed
Phyllis. “He _could_ not marry me if he wished to ever so.”
“Is she going to confess?” thought Philip. “I hope to goodness she is!”
But she was not.
“I suppose Philip has a wife already that he is ashamed to own to,
then? That is what your words imply.”
“Oh, no! no!” cried Phyllis.
“Think you have said too much, eh?” sneered the Colonel. “Go and wash
your face and do your hair, and come home. You have evidently got a
cycle from somewhere.”
“You will be sorry some day for the injustice you have done me, sir,”
Philip said, thinking only of himself and the false position into which
the folly of Phyllis had placed him. He had taken her part, but he was
intensely angry with her. He wished he had never seen her.
Of course, his mother and Mr. Burns would hear the Colonel’s version,
and he, Philip, would be unable to defend himself, because he had
promised Phyllis to keep her secret. It was intolerable!
When Phyllis was going away she cast an imploring glance at him for
sympathy, but he turned his head away.
After his visitors had gone, Philip was so angry and so upset that he
could not stay indoors. He took his hat and strode across the field
towards the White House.
He had no conscious intention to go there, but finding himself at the
gate, he entered.
He must get a change of some sort. That idiotic little Phyllis had
spoiled all chance of work for him. He felt in great need of sympathy.
It was Pierre who admitted him, and great was his surprise to find, not
the bulky Colonial as he had expected, but Miss Le Breton having tea
alone.
“Bring another cup, Pierre,” Eweretta said, with great self-possession,
when she had given her hand to Philip. “I am sorry, Mr. Barrimore,
but both my mother and my uncle have driven into Hastings,” she said
calmly, “but I expect them back any moment now.”
She sat at the little tea-table, a beautiful, composed figure, in a
closely-fitting dark blue dress. She seemed to create an atmosphere of
peace around her. The bright firelight made purple glints in her black
hair.
“You will find me a dull companion, I fear, Miss Le Breton,” Philip
said lamely. “I don’t know why I came. I have had a very unpleasant
quarter of an hour with Colonel Lane.”
She looked inquiry.
“You see,” he blurted out (he must speak), “Colonel Lane has got the
idea I want to marry his daughter, and he is furious.”
“And don’t you?” she asked quietly.
“No! by heaven, I don’t!” he answered with conviction; “besides, I
couldn’t if I wanted to.”
She waited.
“Phyllis has got into a scrape; I can’t tell you what, because I have
promised to keep her secret. She has treated me like a big brother,
and come to me with her troubles. I have tried to help her, and this is
my reward.”
Eweretta looked her astonishment.
“Colonel Lane thinks I have got up a secret intrigue with the girl. He
won’t believe my word. There was no end of a row.”
Eweretta filled a tea-cup which Pierre had brought, and passed it to
Philip.
“I ought not to be telling you this,” went on the young man, “but I
have my weak moments like the rest.”
“We all have weak moments, certainly,” said Eweretta, “but I don’t
think they are always our worst.”
“Don’t you?” said Philip. “I should have thought you would have held
different ideas. Your sister--your half-sister--despised weakness.”
“Perhaps that was because she had always been happy,” said Eweretta.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Philip. “She was very different from you in
many ways.”
“Perhaps you are different from the Philip Barrimore she knew,” said
Eweretta.
“I am,” said Philip. “I was a better fellow, I think, when she knew me.
I was less selfish and hard, and--conceited!”
He laughed. Somehow it amused him to hear himself saying such things of
himself.
As for Eweretta, she liked him better than she had done since the
renewal of their acquaintance. But no more intimate talk was possible,
for just then Mrs. Le Breton and Mr. Alvin returned.
Philip went soon afterwards, saying that he must pack a bag, as he
intended running up to town.