THE ADVERTISEMENT
Hench felt annoyed with himself for talking so freely about his
private affairs in the presence of Spruce, yet he could not see how he
could have done otherwise. Madame Alpenny, disregarding the obvious
fact that his proposal for her daughter's hand was not for public
discussion, had appealed to the little man for information concerning
the suitor, and in this way the Nut had been drawn into the
conversation. If was not that Hench affected reticence, as he was a
singularly frank man; or that there was anything to conceal in his
past life, since that was free from punishable misdeeds. But it
irritated him that Spruce should meddle, as the man appeared to have a
finger in everybody's pie, and Hench saw no reason why he should have
anything to do with this particular pastry. For this reason he gave
his old schoolfellow the cold shoulder.
Spruce objected to this, as it was his aim to ingratiate himself, with
a view to possible happenings which would place him in possession of
money. At the outset Hench's friendship had not appeared to be worth
cultivating, as he was poor, aggressively honest, and not at all a man
to be exploited by the unscrupulous. But after Hench's confidence
regarding the papers at the lawyers', Spruce scented a mystery which
might be profitable. His suspicions, which at the outset were of the
very faintest description, received colour and were rendered more
substantial by the knowledge that Madame Alpenny had been acquainted
with the young man's father. Spruce had noted her hesitation in
replying to the question concerning the telling of the family history,
and was satisfied in his own mind that she knew more than she would
admit. The fact that after the conversation in the drawing-room she
was willing to consider the proposal of marriage to Zara, implied that
there was something in the wind. Having regard to Madame Alpenny's
poverty and to her desire that Zara should marry a wealthy man, that
something undoubtedly had to do with money. As yet Spruce was very
vague about the whole matter, as his information was not accurate
enough to enable him to act. But the key to the mystery, whatever it
might be, was in the possession of Madame Alpenny, therefore the Nut
watched her carefully. If she was agreeable that Zara should become
the wife of Hench, there was certainly money to be gained by her as
the result of the marriage; and if Hench was likely to possess riches,
Spruce made up his mind to share in the same.
For this reason he ignored the young man's bearish manner and scant
civility, which otherwise he would not have tolerated. Spruce was
amiability itself, and went out of his way to amuse the paying guests,
so that Mrs. Tesk looked upon him as quite an acquisition. He played
the piano, he sang songs, he performed conjuring tricks, and made
himself generally agreeable. Also he escorted Zara to the Bijou
Music-hall and there became acquainted with the management, with the
stage hands, and with the hangers-on of the profession. In a week he
was quite at home behind the scenes, and even became friendly with
Mrs. Jedd, who was the mother of Bottles, and the wardrobe mistress.
In fact, he ingratiated himself with every one and was highly popular;
meantime watching Madame Alpenny with the ardour of a cat at a
mouse-hole, and giving his best attentions to Hench. These were so
coldly received that finally he remonstrated in a most plaintive
manner.
"I don't see why you should be so confoundedly disagreeable," he
said after seven days of hard work to be polite; "we are two gentlemen
who are stranded here, and may as well chum up for the sake of
company."
"I don't wish to chum up, as you call it, with any one," retorted
Hench coldly.
"Not with Zara?" Spruce could not help giving his friend the dig.
"That is my business."
"I never suggested otherwise. But I would point out that Madame
Alpenny's resolve to consider your marriage proposition favourably is
due to me. Had I not guided the conversation as I did, she would never
have remembered her meeting with your father. It is the romance of
that which has inclined her to permit your wooing."
"Madame Alpenny would have remembered without your help."
"I think not. You have been here along with her for six months and
have had endless conversations. But until I made a third----"
"An inconvenient third."
"Oh, as you will. But until I made a third, she did not recollect the
adventure of her youth which has softened her towards you. This being
the case, I don't see why you should hold me at arm's length."
"I am not taking the trouble to consider you in any way," said Hench
in his most freezing manner. "We were never chums at school, and I see
nothing in you to make me more friendly now. It is true that you
offered to help me with money, but as I don't require your help in
that way, I lie under no obligation to you. Why the dickens can't you
go back to the West End?"
"I shall go back," lied Spruce, "when I gather sufficient material
for my proposed book. Meanwhile, my friend----"
"Meanwhile," repeated Hench, cutting him short, "suppose you mind your
own business and leave mine alone."
"Had I left your business alone, Madame Alpenny would not now be so
agreeable to you, old fellow," said Spruce, persistently polite.
"However, since you object, I shall meddle no more. All the same, if I
can do you a good turn I am perfectly willing to do so."
"Don't be worthy and pose as a bed-rock Christian!"
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," sighed the little man, who knew
perfectly well what was implied; "but as you are bent upon making
yourself disagreeable, you will be pleased to hear that I am returning
to the West End to-morrow for a few days."
"I hope you'll stay there," growled Hench wrathfully, and quite unable
to get rid of this gadfly. "I prefer to be alone."
"You will be more alone than you think," retorted Spruce tartly.
"Madame Alpenny is going away also for a few days. She told Mrs. Tesk,
who told me."
"Just like you, to go interfering with other people's business,
Spruce. Madame Alpenny can go away without the world coming to an
end." He paused, then asked a question which he immediately regretted
having put. "Where's she going?"
"Ah!" Spruce chuckled cynically, "you are curious in spite of your
pretended dislike to meddle with what doesn't concern you. Well, she
is going to see if any West End manager will come to see Zara dancing
at the Bijou Music-hall, with a view to getting her daughter a better
engagement."
"I hope she will succeed," said Hench heartily. "Zara is a rare dancer
and well deserves better luck."
"If she goes, you will be parted."
"Oh, hang your interference!" cried Hench, and walked out of the
smoking-room.
"Better make hay while the sun shines," Spruce called out after him,
and, after his usual manner, chuckled when the door banged by way of
reply.
There appeared to be a perfect exodus from The Home of the Muses, for
Bracken also became conspicuous by his absence. He went to see his
mother at Folkestone, who was a widow, as news came that her health
was not what it might be. But the greatest surprise was when Bottles
came to Hench on the morning of the exodus, dressed in his best
clothes and smiling all over his freckled face. He was blushing also,
which was a rare thing for the imp to do, and made a request which
accounted for the same.
"Would you mind, sir--I mean, am I asking too much--that is, if you
won't think it sauce on my part," he stumbled amongst his words and
blushed deeper.
"Out with it, Bottles! What is it? Speak straight and to the point."
Jedd did so and very bluntly. "I want you to lend me five shillings,
sir. Oh, I'll pay it back out of my wages at sixpence a week, see if I
don't"--the boy went through a pantomine--"that wet; that dry; cut my
throat if I tell a lie."
Hench, who had every reason to trust Bottles, and who considered him
to be a lad with a future if clever wits went for anything, produced a
couple of half-crowns from his slender resources. "There you are! You
needn't pay me back."
"Oh, but I will, sir, thanking you all the same," said Bottles,
pocketing the cash. "Mother's brought me up proper, she has, and
always told me never to borrer. But I can't help borrering this time;
it's business."
"What business?"
"Private," said the lad stiffly; "but the five bob shall be paid back,
honest, Mr. Hench."
"Well, Bottles, I admire your principles and will accept the sixpence
a week repayment. But why are you so excited and why this splendour of
dress?"
"I'm going down the country to see my brother, sir."
"Your brother. I never knew you had a brother."
"Oh, yes sir, please. We're twins, we are, and I'm the elder by half
an hour, as mother always says. Peter's a page in a lady's house in
the country, and Mrs. Tesk allows me to go and see him sometimes. I
asked her if I could go to-day, and she said that as Mr. Spruce and
Mr. Bracken and Madame Alpenny were away for a few days, and there
wouldn't be much work, that she would let me go."
"Well," said Hench with a good-natured laugh, "I hope you'll enjoy
yourself, my lad. So you are Simon and your brother is Peter. Eh?"
"Yes, sir. Called after the Chief Apostle, sir. Mother reads her
Bible even though she's only looking after the clothes at the Bijour
Music-hall. I'm going to stay away for two days, Mr. Hench, and p'raps
three. But I won't waste my time; oh no, not much, you bet, sir."
"What do you mean?" asked his patron, considerably mystified.
"I'll tell you some day, sir, as you've a right to know."
"Know what?"
"What I've got up my sleeve. It may be rot, and it may be something
else. All I can tell you, sir, is, that when the time comes, you'll
know. S'elp me Bob, I'll tell you everything," and Bottles panted with
excitement.
"Bottles, you've muddled your brain with your adventure and detective
penny-dreadful yarns. Well, go on your Sexton Blake errand, and mind
you have a good time. I shall miss your attentions, though," ended
Hench kindly.
"I hope you won't miss 'em very much, sir. I've told Amelia to see as
you get everything you want. She's only a gal, but she'll do her best
for my sake, sir," ended Bottles grandly. "She and me's going to marry
when we're rich."
"Go away, you precocious imp, and don't talk nonsense."
"There's many a true word spoke in nonsense, as mother says, sir.
She's great on proverbs, is mother!" and with this parting shot
Bottles rapidly disappeared, grinning amiably and very much excited.
Hench wondered at the boy's mysterious hints and could not for the
life of him see how they could have anything to do with his own
affairs. However, thinking that Bottles was merely drawing on his
imagination, he dismissed the matter from his mind.
And, indeed, for the next few days, and until the return of the
absent, the young man found his hands full enough. Zara being alone,
with neither her mother nor Bracken at her elbow, Hench thought that
he might as well take advantage of the opportunity to carry on an
uninterrupted wooing. He escorted Zara to the music-hall and escorted
her home again. He took her sundry walks, gave her sundry meals in
restaurants, and provided her with cheap amusements in the form of
cinematograph entertainments. Zara, who really liked Hench, was very
grateful for his attentions, but she resolutely refused to allow him
to make love to her. With the dexterity of a woman she managed to keep
him at arm's length; but one evening while he conducted her to
business the young man managed to get nearer to his divinity.
Certainly the crowded streets, flaring with gas-lights, were unfit
surroundings for love-making. But Hench had to carry on his romance as
best he could, since Zara was so clever in throwing obstacles in his
way. On this occasion, however, he broke through them.
"You are very cruel to me," he remarked, after many minutes of
desultory conversation, and seizing the opportunity when the pair
turned down into a quiet side street, "very cruel indeed."
The handsome girl was silent for a moment or so. "It's no use my
pretending to misunderstand you, Mr. Hench," she said at length.
"What's the time?"
Rather surprised by the irrelevance of the question, Hench looked at
his very cheap watch. "Eight o'clock."
"Well, I'm not on until a quarter to nine, and although I do take a
long time to dress, I can give you ten minutes."
"Oh, thank you, Zara. You are----"
"Don't make any mistake, Mr. Hench. I won't have those ten minutes
spent in love-making, which would bore me and waste your time."
"No time spent upon you is wasted, Zara."
"There you are wrong. It is time we had an explanation. So long as
mother objected to you as she does to Ned----"
"To Ned?"
"I mean to Mr. Bracken," said Zara, colouring and wincing. "Well then,
so long as she was in that frame of mind, I let things slide. But now
mother seems inclined to consider you as a possible son-in--law, and I
must appeal to you."
"Command me in any way."
"Then don't worry me with attentions. Oh, I don't mind your behaving
like a gentleman, as you have been doing, to pass the time while
mother is away. I am very grateful to you for the amusement you have
given me. But"--added the girl, leaning against the railings of a
convenient dwelling-house--"I am not in love with you, no more than
you are with me."
"I do love you," said Hench, frowning; "what's the use of saying
otherwise?"
"You don't love me, I tell you," insisted Zara petulantly. "Trust a
woman to understand the exact state of a man's heart. You like me, you
admire me, you think me a good sort, but love"--she shook her
head--"you don't understand love as Ned--I mean, Mr. Bracken--does."
"Oh, call him Ned by all means," said Hench quietly. "I see you are
friendly enough with him to do so."
"I am engaged to him."
"With your mother's consent?"
"No. You know very well that mother wants me to marry a rich man, and
Ned is poor, although he does hope to get a few hundred pounds now
that his mother is dying. I love him and I intend somehow to marry
him."
"That is unpleasant hearing for me, Zara."
"Indeed, it isn't, Mr. Hench. I know quite well what has led you to
propose marriage to me----"
"I never have proposed as yet," interpolated Hench quickly.
"No. But you intended to. If I had not prevented you from going too
far these last few days you would have proposed. Come now, isn't that
the truth?"
"Yes! And to make you understand me fully I ask you now to be my
wife."
"Then I refuse. I love Ned, and Ned only, even though he's but a poor
violinist in the orchestra and earns little money. He loves me also,
and in a way which you cannot comprehend."
"Why not?"
"Because your heart has never been touched either by me or by any
other woman. It's no use your saying that it has been. I know you
better than you do yourself, Mr. Hench."
The young man felt slightly mortified. "You appear to have a bad
opinion of me, Mademoiselle."
"Indeed, I have a most excellent opinion of you. Make no mistake about
that, Mr. Hench. You are an honourable gentleman; you are extremely
kind-hearted and you will be an admirable husband--to the woman you
love."
"You are the woman, believe me!" cried Hench impetuously.
Zara shook her proud head, smiling, and looked less fierce than usual.
"Oh, what children men are. They want a toy and cry when they don't
get it, yet break it when it is in their possession. I am the toy, Mr.
Hench, and you are the child who wants it."
"And if I got the toy I would break it. Eh?"
"Yes," said the dancer frankly, and began to walk on slowly, as the
ten minutes were nearly up, "and I'll tell you why. You are a lonely
man, who has no home, no relations, no centre in life, if I may put it
so. Having an intensely domestic nature--that nature which makes an
admirable husband, a devoted father, and which is domestic in its
essence--you want a wife to create a centre round which you can
revolve. I happen to be passably good-looking, to have some good
qualities, and to be an agreeable companion. Therefore, liking me, you
mistake that liking for love, and offer me a respectable but dull
future. Any other woman, decently kind and presentable, would suit you
just as well as I would, and with her you would believe yourself to be
in love as you think you are with me. But a happy marriage is not
built up upon such a foundation, Mr. Hench, believe me. A woman wants
love, she wants a heart. You can give me neither."
"And Mr. Bracken can?"
"Yes! Otherwise I wouldn't marry him. If mother is successful and can
get me a West End engagement, I daresay I'll have plenty of men
fluttering about me, and can pick and choose amongst lovers of higher
rank and with more money than poor Ned has. But I won't find one who
loves me as he does."
"I don't quite understand the kind of love you mean," murmured Hench,
perplexed.
"Of course you don't, for the very simple reason that you require an
explanation. True love comes from within and not from without. When
you really feel the passion you require no explanation. Come and tell
me when you really fall in love, Mr. Hench, if I am not right."
"Where did you learn how to talk in this way?" asked Hench, who was
beginning to see that she was right.
"Experience has taught me, and experience is a great teacher. I am
older than you think, Mr. Hench."
"You are only three and twenty. Your mother told me so."
"I am older in experience, for you know that a woman is always twice
as old as a man in the ways of the world. However, here is the Bijou,
and I must go in to get ready for my work. You understand what I mean,
don't you?"
"Yes. I daresay my love is of a very feeble quality."
"Don't be bitter and don't pity yourself, Mr. Hench. Your liking for
me is perfectly honourable, and I am sure you would make a kind
husband. But love--you know nothing of love. I said that before, I
fancy, and I say it again." She offered her gloved hand. "Come! Let us
be friends, nothing nearer, nothing dearer. Otherwise you will make me
unhappy."
Round the corner of the music-hall, where no one was about, Hench bent
over Zara's hand and kissed it. "Let it be as you say," he said
firmly; "all the same, I envy Bracken his future wife."
"You will meet a woman who will suit you better than I will," Zara
assured him, and her great black eyes shone. "When you do, come and
tell me how wholly correct I have been. And another thing, Mr. Hench,
don't let mother bully me about you."
"There's no chance. I am too poor to be your husband so far as Madame
Alpenny is concerned, even though she likes me better than she did."
Zara looked at him curiously. "Are you sure that you are poor?" she
asked in an enigmatic tone, and then ran into the music-hall, through
the dark stage door, before he could reply.
Hench strolled home leisurely, wondering what she meant by her last
speech. Of course he was poor. She knew it; so did Madame Alpenny; so
did every one in the boarding-house. Yet she implied a doubt.
Resolving to ask for an explanation when occasion served, the young
man dismissed this particular matter from his mind, and thought of his
misfortune in losing Zara. He had always admired her, and now that she
had spoken to him so eloquently he admired her more than ever.
Hitherto more or less silent, she had never displayed the common-sense
qualities of her mind before. Therefore Hench saw that she was not
only a handsome woman and an accomplished girl, but had considerable
mental powers. Otherwise she could scarcely have placed the truth so
plainly before him as she had done. And with a sigh the pseudo-lover
confessed that it was the truth. What he felt was not love, for,
although he regretted his dismissal from the wooing of a noble woman,
he by no means felt broken-hearted, as Bracken would have done. Hench
recognized that his desire for Zara was only a strong wish for a home
and a wife and a family, and--as she put it--for a centre round which
his life could revolve. Having arrived at this conclusion he decided
to leave the girl alone, and wait until fortune brought him to the
feet of his true mate. "And I must have some sort of mate in the
world, anyhow," added Hench to himself, by way of comfort.
Henceforth the relations of the two were much more unembarrassed, for
it was a brother and sister connection--frank and markedly
comfortable. During the remainder of Madame Alpenny's absence, Hench
took Zara about as usual, and she confided in him her love for
Bracken, her plans for the accomplishment of that love, and her many
difficulties with her mother. Madame Alpenny, it seemed, was by no
means an angel, as she possessed a furious temper, and wasted all her
money in gambling. She was an ill woman to cross, since her nature was
vindictive and eminently determined to have its own way. Zara gave
Hench to understand that if she could marry Bracken and pension her
mother she would be truly happy. At present she was very miserable,
and only the hope of escaping from her mother's clutches in the manner
described enabled her to endure trouble. Hench, in his new character
of her brother, consoled her, and promised to do what he could to
forward her aims. But he did not see at the present moment how he
could do anything.
Madame Alpenny returned on the third day, but the other absentees
still remained away. The old woman looked very satisfied with herself,
and hinted that she had done good business which would improve Zara's
position. She was markedly civil to Hench, and encouraged him greatly
to pay attentions to her daughter. As the two now understood one
another, to do this was easy--both for Hench to pay them and for Zara
to receive them--but Madame Alpenny remained in the dark as to the
true meaning of their comedy. Then, on the second day after her
return, a surprising thing happened, with which she had to do. What it
was Hench learned while sitting at a lonely breakfast. Madame Alpenny,
who always took that meal in her own room, came down unexpectedly
arrayed in a greasy dressing-gown and flourishing a newspaper in her
hand. "Rhaiadr! Rhaiadr!" she called out excitedly. "What does it
mean?" Hench looked at her in surprise. "Tumbling water, you told me,"
he said, after an astonished pause. "Don't you remember----?"
"No! No! I don't mean that." She clapped _The Express_ on the table
before him, and pointed with one chubby finger at an advertisement. "I
mean, what do you make of that? Rhaiadr! No one can have anything to
do with that word but your father--and you."
Hench, more puzzled than ever by her excitement, read the
advertisement upon which her finger rested. "If Rhaiadr," he read
aloud, "will come to the Gipsy Stile at Cookley, Essex, at eight
o'clock on the 1st of July, he will hear of something greatly to his
advantage."
"There!" said Madame Alpenny triumphantly, and looking more shapeless
than ever in her dressing-gown; "what do you think of that?"
"It has nothing to do with me," said Hench, with a shrug.
"Nothing to do with you!" she screamed. "Why, the name Rhaiadr shows
that it has everything to do with you. Go there and see what it means.
Ah, I always said that you were a mystery; now I am sure of it." And
she rubbed her hands.