Ellis left the office of the Morning Chronicle about eleven o'clock the
same evening and set out to walk home. His boarding-house was only a
short distance beyond old Mr. Delamere's residence, and while he might
have saved time and labor by a slightly shorter route, he generally
selected this one because it led also by Major Carteret's house.
Sometimes there would be a ray of light from Clara's room, which was on
one of the front corners; and at any rate he would have the pleasure of
gazing at the outside of the casket that enshrined the jewel of his
heart. It was true that this purely sentimental pleasure was sometimes
dashed with bitterness at the thought of his rival; but one in love must
take the bitter with the sweet, and who would say that a spice of
jealousy does not add a certain zest to love? On this particular
evening, however, he was in a hopeful mood. At the Clarendon Club, where
he had gone, a couple of hours before, to verify a certain news item for
the morning paper, he had heard a story about Tom Delamere which, he
imagined, would spike that gentleman's guns for all time, so far as Miss
Pemberton was concerned. So grave an affair as cheating at cards could
never be kept secret,--it was certain to reach her ears; and Ellis was
morally certain that Clara would never marry a man who had been proved
dishonorable. In all probability there would be no great sensation
about the matter. Delamere was too well connected; too many prominent
people would be involved--even Clara, and the editor himself, of whom
Delamere was a distant cousin. The reputation of the club was also to be
considered. Ellis was not the man to feel a malicious delight in the
misfortunes of another, nor was he a pessimist who welcomed scandal and
disgrace with open arms, as confirming a gloomy theory of human life.
But, with the best intentions in the world, it was no more than human
nature that he should feel a certain elation in the thought that his
rival had been practically disposed of, and the field left clear;
especially since this good situation had been brought about merely by
the unmasking of a hypocrite, who had held him at an unfair disadvantage
in the race for Clara's favor.
The night was quiet, except for the faint sound of distant music now and
then, or the mellow laughter of some group of revelers. Ellis met but
few pedestrians, but as he neared old Mr. Delamere's, he saw two men
walking in the same direction as his own, on the opposite side of the
street. He had observed that they kept at about an equal distance apart,
and that the second, from the stealthy manner in which he was making his
way, was anxious to keep the first in sight, without disclosing his own
presence. This aroused Ellis's curiosity, which was satisfied in some
degree when the man in advance stopped beneath a lamp-post and stood for
a moment looking across the street, with his face plainly visible in the
yellow circle of light. It was a dark face, and Ellis recognized it
instantly as that of old Mr. Delamere's body servant, whose personal
appearance had been very vividly impressed upon Ellis at the
christening dinner at Major Carteret's. He had seen Sandy once since,
too, at the hotel cakewalk. The negro had a small bundle in his hand,
the nature of which Ellis could not make out.
When Sandy had stopped beneath the lamp-post, the man who was following
him had dodged behind a tree-trunk. When Sandy moved on, Ellis, who had
stopped in turn, saw the man in hiding come out and follow Sandy. When
this second man came in range of the light, Ellis wondered that there
should be two men so much alike. The first of the two had undoubtedly
been Sandy. Ellis had recognized the peculiar, old-fashioned coat that
Sandy had worn upon the two occasions when he had noticed him. Barring
this difference, and the somewhat unsteady gait of the second man, the
two were as much alike as twin brothers.
When they had entered Mr. Delamere's house, one after the other,--in the
stillness of the night Ellis could perceive that each of them tried to
make as little noise as possible,--Ellis supposed that they were
probably relatives, both employed as servants, or that some younger
negro, taking Sandy for a model, was trying to pattern himself after his
superior. Why all this mystery, of course he could not imagine, unless
the younger man had been out without permission and was trying to avoid
the accusing eye of Sandy. Ellis was vaguely conscious that he had seen
the other negro somewhere, but he could not for the moment place
him,--there were so many negroes, nearly three negroes to one white man
in the city of Wellington!
The subject, however, while curious, was not important as compared with
the thoughts of his sweetheart which drove it from his mind. Clara had
been kind to him the night before,--whatever her motive, she had been
kind, and could not consistently return to her attitude of coldness.
With Delamere hopelessly discredited, Ellis hoped to have at least fair
play,--with fair play, he would take his chances of the outcome.