"She said--what was it--the last thing. She said that he had threatened
to elope with her, and perhaps they mightn't come back for some time. I
thought it was a joke, but now I think of it--"
Granthope sprang up. "What time did they go?" he asked.
"Just before you came--they took the one forty-five."
"We can't reach her by telephone--they're not there yet. What time does
the next train go?"
Mr. Payson turned to an _Argonaut_ and looked at the time-table on the
last page. "Saturdays--four thirty-five," he said.
"I must go after her!" Granthope cried, almost desperate. "Don't you
see--don't you know women well enough to understand what a state of mind
she must be in, now? After our scene last night, the despair of it
would drive her to almost anything reckless, anything to make her
forget! It seemed wicked, monstrous, for us to meet again--it seemed
irrevocable, final. If Cayley has been pursuing her, as you say, she
may accept him in sheer desperation!"
"Go up there," said the old man. "Go up, and tell her everything. It
is better for you to tell her. Cayley will resent your appearance, but
don't mind that--get rid of him at any cost. You will have to manage
him. If Clytie is in love with you, I'll stand by her in whatever she
says. Don't think I'm a doting fool, Granthope, that I veer with the
wind, this way. I wanted her to marry Cayley, because I thought she'd
never know this, and he was a man of honor and intelligence. But I
didn't know that Felicia's boy was alive."
Granthope left in a tumult of doubt. He knew little of Cayley, save
that he was subtle and indefatigable with women--and that he was
unscrupulous enough to have betrayed his friend to Vixley. But how far
Clytie's revulsion of feeling would have carried her by this time, he
dared not think. She was in a parlous state, and ripe for any extreme
impulse.
The trip to Sausalito was almost intolerable. On the train to Mill
Valley, his anxiety smoldered till his spirit was ashes. His mind
fought all the way up the mountain track, faring to and fro, sinuously,
as the line wound, in tortuous loops, gaining altitude in tempered
grades. As they rose, the bay unfolded, shimmering below, curving about
the peninsula of San Francisco, where, amidst the pearl-gray, the
windows of the city caught, here and there, the level rays from the
vivid west. The air was cool and salt. As they rounded a spur, the
Pacific burst upon them, miles and miles of twinkling sparks on the
dullness of the sea floor. A bank of fog hovered upon the horizon.
Just above it the sun poised, then sank, bloody red, tingeing the cloud
with color and sending streamers to the zenith. Still his mind urged
the train to its climb. It was as if he put his shoulder to the car to
impel it upward in his haste, so intense was his expectancy. So, at
last, the train rolled up to the station by the Tavern.
There was a crowd waiting upon the platform, and his eyes sought here
and there for Clytie. There she was, incongruous with the
party--Cayley, easy, jocose, elegant--Mrs. Page, full-blown, sumptuous
and glossy, abandoned to frivolity, her black hair blowing in the
wind--and Gay P. Summer, jaunty, pink-and-white, immaculate in outing
attire. There was another lady whom Granthope did not know. He walked
rapidly up to them, calm, now, and confident, equal to the situation,
whatever it might be.
Mrs. Page pounced upon him with a little scream of delight, and towed
him up to the group. Clytie's narrow eyes widened in surprise, and she
turned paler as she looked at him in vain for an answer to her signal of
distress.
"Why, Mr. Granthope!" Mrs. Page shouted. "Did you _ever_ in your life!
What fun! Aren't you a duck to come--you're _just_ the man we want! If
I had _imagined_ that you could be induced to come up here, I would have
let you know! But then, probably, you wouldn't have come! We needed
another man so badly! I'm _so_ glad! I think you know all of us here,
except Miss Cavendish, don't you? Miss Cavendish, let me present Mr.
Granthope. You know I've told you about him."
Miss Cavendish smiled, looked him over with undisguised amusement, and
with a gesture passed him over to Clytie. Clytie gave him a cold hand,
looked him steadfastly in the eyes, then dropped hers and waited for her
cue.
"It's very good of you to take me in, Mrs. Page. I hope you don't mind
my inviting myself. I only just ran up for the night, and I don't want
to interfere with your plans at all."
"Oh, don't say a word! We were _dying_ for another man. We're all
delighted. Now we're six, you see--just right. You can flirt with the
chaperon."
"Come and have a drink, first thing," said Gay P. Summer, taking upon
himself seriously the conventional obligations of host. "You must be
cold, Granthope, without an overcoat. We'll be back in a minute,
Violet. Come on, Cayley!"
He led the way into the bar. Granthope followed with Cayley, watching
for a word in private. "I want to speak to you alone," he tossed over
his shoulder. Cayley nodded.
After the formalities were over, Granthope remarked: "Well, I think I'll
go in and get a room, Summer. You go out and get the ladies while
Cayley and I go up-stairs a minute."
Gay P., suspecting nothing, left the two men alone. Cayley took a seat
on a small table and waited. Granthope lost no time in preliminaries.
"Mr. Cayley," he said, pulling out his watch, "what time does the next
train go down the mountain?"
"There's one soon after nine, I believe--why?" Cayley answered.
Granthope looked at him without visible emotion and said nonchalantly,
"I think you'd better take it."
A hot flush burned in Cayley's cheeks, and he drew back as if ready
either to give or to receive a blow. "Did you come up here to tell me
that?" he said harshly.
"I did--that amongst other things."
"Are you trying to pick a quarrel with me? If you are, I think I can
accommodate you. Come outside."
"No, I came up here to avoid one. If I had met you anywhere else, I
suppose you'd be knocked down, by this time." Granthope's tone was
unimpassioned, matter-of-fact.
"This is getting interesting," said Cayley, now as suave as his
opponent. "May I ask you to explain?"
"I had a talk with Doctor Masterson this morning. You may not be
acquainted with him--he's a friend of Professor Vixley's, whom I
believe, you _do_ know."
Cayley's color went back, and his attitude relaxed from defiance to
something less assertive.
"He told me a few things about you, Mr. Cayley," Granthope went on
firmly. "I don't intend to repeat them. But what I do intend is that
you shall make whatever excuses you see fit to Mrs. Page and the others,
and leave here on the next train. Do you understand perfectly, or shall
I go into details?"
"Oh, I won't trouble you, Granthope," Cayley drawled. "I don't think
the crowd would be very amusing with you here, anyway. I'm much obliged
to you for giving me the opportunity to leave, I'm sure."
He smiled, Granthope smiled, and the two separated. Cayley walked up to
speak to the clerk in the office, and then sauntered toward the ladies
on the porch. Granthope was given a room, and went up-stairs.
When he returned the party was talking on the veranda, and there was no
chance to speak to Clytie alone. What he could do to reassure her by
his glance, he did, but she was evidently so much at a loss to account
for his appearance that she had placed some alarming interpretation upon
it. She did not speak, but her silence was unnoticed in Mrs. Page's
volubility. As they stood there, a bell-boy came out and notified
Cayley that there was a telephone call for him. Cayley apologized and
left to go inside. Granthope watched him with satisfaction.
Clytie moved off down the veranda a little way, and Granthope, seeing
his opportunity, followed her.