Two days later Sir John Maxton made an unexpected call upon the
doctor and it occurred to him that he might also have made an
unwelcome appearance; for he interrupted a tête-à-tête.
"I thought I should find the doctor in. Well, Ronnie, how are you
after all these years?"
Ronnie was relieved to see him--that was the impression which the
lawyer received. And Beryl, although she was her sweet, equable
self, would gladly have excused his presence. Maxton had an idea
that he had surprised them in the midst of a quarrel. The girl was
flushed and her eyes were unusually bright. Ronnie's countenance was
clouded with gloom. Sir John was sensitive to atmosphere.
"No, I really won't stay, I wanted to have a chat with the doctor
about the extraordinary story he told us the other night. I was
dining with the Lord Chief and some other judges last night and,
without mentioning names, of course, I repeated the story. They were
remarkably interested, Berham says that he had heard of such a case--"
"What is all this about?" asked Ronnie curiously. "You didn't tell
me anything, Beryl. Who, what and where is the 'case'?"
"Mr. Sault," she said shortly.
"Oh, Sault! He is an extraordinary fellow--I must meet him. They
say that he cannot read or write."
"Is that a fact?" Sir John Maxton looked at the girl.
"Yes--I believe so. Ronnie on the contrary is in the way of becoming
a famous writer, Sir John."
"So I hear." He wondered why she had so deliberately and so abruptly
brought the conversation into another channel.
Ronald Morelle, for his part, was not inclined to let the subject
drift. "It is quaint how that coon intrigues you all," he said, "oh,
yes, he is colored. You haven't seen him, John, or you wouldn't ask
that question."
"I have seen him; it did not appear to me that he was colored--he has
a striking face."
"At any rate, he seems to have struck you and Beryl all of a heap,"
said Ronnie smiling. "Really I must meet him. Are you going, Sir
John?" Maxton was taking his farewell of the girl. "Because if you
are, I'll walk a little way with you. 'Bye, Beryl."
"Goodbye, Ronnie," she said quietly.
Once in the street Maxton asked: "What is the matter with you and
Beryl?"
"Nothing--Beryl is just a little grandmotherly. She went to the
theatre last night with some people and she spotted me in a box."
"I see," said Sir John drily, "and of course you were not alone in
the box."
"Why on earth should I be?" demanded the other. "Beryl is really
unreasonable. She swore that my friend was a girl she had seen me
with in the park."
"And who was it--is that a discreet question?"
"No it isn't," said Ronnie instantly. "I don't think one ought to
chuck names about--it is most dishonorable and caddish. The lady was
a very great friend of mine."
"Then I probably know her," said Sir John wilfully dense. "I know
most of the people in your set, and I cannot imagine that you would
be scoundrel enough to escort the kind of girl you couldn't introduce
to me or Beryl or any other of your friends."
"I give you my word of honor," Ronnie was earnest, "that the lady was
not only presentable, but is known personally to you. The fact is,
that she had a row with her fiancé, a man I know very well, a
Coldstreamer, and I was doing no more than trying to reconcile
them--bring them together you understand. She was dreadfully
depressed, and I got a box at the theatre with the idea of cheering
her up. My efforts," he added virtuously, "were successful. Beryl
said that it was a girl--the daughter of a dear friend of mine, she
had seen me talking with in the park."
"What dear friend of yours was this?"
"I don't think you've met him," parried Ronnie.
"Did she have trouble with her fiancé, too?" asked Sir John
innocently. "Really, Ronnie, you are coming out strong as a
disinterested friend of distressed virgins! If I may employ the
imagery and language of an American burglar whom I recently
defended--Sir Galahad has nothing on you!"
"You don't believe me, John," said Ronnie injured.
"Of course I cannot believe you. I am not a child. You had some
girl with you, some 'pick up', innocent or guilty, God knows. I will
assume her innocence. The sophisticated have no appeal for you.
There was a girl named East--a chorus girl, if I remember rightly--"
"If you're going to talk about that disgraceful attempt to blackmail
me, I'm finished," said Ronnie resigned.
"Why didn't you charge her and her brother with blackmail? They came
to me--"
"Good lord, did they? I'll break that infernal blackguard's neck!"
"When will you meet him?" Ronnie did not answer.
"They came to me and I knew that the story was true. The brother, of
course, _is_ a blackmailer. He is levying blackmail now and you are
paying him--don't argue, Ronnie, of course you are paying him. You
said just now that you would break his neck, which meant to me that
you see him frequently--when he comes to draw his blood money. If it
were a case of blackmail, why did you not prosecute? The mere threat
of the prosecution would have been sufficient to have sent him to
ground--it struck me that the girl was acting under the coercion of
her brother, and I do not think you would have had any trouble from
her. Ronnie, you are rotten." He said this as he stopped at the
corner of Park Lane and Piccadilly, and Ronnie smiled nervously.
"Oh come now, John, that is rather a strong expression."
"Rotten," repeated the lawyer. He screwed a monocle in his eye and
surveyed his companion dispassionately. "Chorus girls--shop
girls--the mechanics of joy who serve Madame Ritti--that made you
jump, eh? I know quite a lot about you. They are your life. And
God gave you splendid gifts and the love of the sweetest, dearest
girl in this land."
"Who is this?" asked the young man slowly.
"Beryl. You do not need to be told that. Search the ranks of your
light women for her beauty, Ronnie."
A girl passed them, a wisp of a girl on the borderline of womanhood.
She carried a little bag and was hurrying home from the store where
she was employed. Even as he listened to the admonition of his
companion, Ronnie caught her eyes and smiled into them--she paused
and looked round once--he was still watching her.
"I am afraid I must leave you, John, I've a lot of work to do, and
you are quite mistaken as to my character--and Beryl." He left the
lawyer abruptly and walked toward the gates of the park where the
girl had stopped, ostensibly to tie a shoe-lace.
Sir John saw her pass leisurely into the park; a few seconds later
Ronnie had followed. His time was his own, for Evie Colebrook was
working that evening, the annual stocktaking was in progress, as she
had told him when they were at the theatre on the previous night.
"Rotten!" repeated Maxton, and stalked gloomily to his club.