The Captain’s attention was first attracted by the visitor whom he found
in the room. He bowed to the stranger; but the first impression produced
on him did not appear to have been of the favorable kind, when he turned
next to Mrs. Presty.
Observing that she was agitated, he made the customary apologies,
expressing his regret if he had been so unfortunate as to commit
an intrusion. Trusting in the good sense and good breeding which
distinguished him on other occasions, Mrs. Presty anticipated that he
would see the propriety of leaving her alone again with the person whom
he had found in her company. To her dismay he remained in the room; and,
worse still, he noticed her daughter’s absence, and asked if there was
any serious cause for it.
For the moment, Mrs. Presty was unable to reply. Her presence of
mind--or, to put it more correctly, her ready audacity--deserted her,
when she saw Catherine’s husband that had been, and Catherine’s husband
that was to be, meeting as strangers, and but too likely to discover
each other.
In all her experience she had never been placed in such a position of
embarrassment as the position in which she found herself now. The sense
of honor which had prompted Catherine’s resolution to make Bennydeck
acquainted with the catastrophe of married life, might plead her excuse
in the estimation of a man devotedly attached to her. But if the Captain
was first informed that he had been deceived by a person who was a
perfect stranger to him, what hope could be entertained of his still
holding himself bound by his marriage engagement? It was even possible
that distrust had been already excited in his mind. He must certainly
have heard a man’s voice raised in anger when he approached the
door--and he was now observing that man with an air of curiosity which
was already assuming the appearance of distrust. That Herbert, on his
side, resented the Captain’s critical examination of him was plainly
visible in his face. After a glance at Bennydeck, he asked Mrs. Presty
“who that gentleman was.”
“I may be mistaken,” he added; “but I thought your friend looked at me
just now as if he knew me.”
“I have met you, sir, before this.” The Captain made the reply with a
courteous composure of tone and manner which apparently reminded Herbert
of the claims of politeness.
“May I ask where I had the honor of seeing you?” he inquired.
“We passed each other in the hall of the hotel at Sandyseal. You had a
young woman with you.”
“Your memory is a better one than mine, sir. I fail to remember the
circumstance to which you refer.”
Bennydeck let the matter rest there. Struck by the remarkable appearance
of embarrassment in Mrs. Presty’s manner--and feeling (in spite of
Herbert’s politeness of language) increased distrust of the man whom he
had found visiting her--he thought it might not be amiss to hint
that she could rely on him in case of necessity. “I am afraid I have
interrupted a confidential interview,” he began; “and I ought perhaps to
explain--”
Mrs. Presty listened absently; preoccupied by the fear that Herbert
would provoke a dangerous disclosure, and by the difficulty of
discovering a means of preventing it. She interrupted the Captain.
“Excuse me for one moment; I have a word to say to this gentleman.”
Bennydeck immediately drew back, and Mrs. Presty lowered her voice. “If
you wish to see Kitty,” she resumed, attacking Herbert on his weak side,
“it depends entirely on your discretion.”
“What do you mean by discretion?”
“Be careful not to speak of our family troubles--and I promise you shall
see Kitty. That is what I mean.”
Herbert declined to say whether he would be careful or not. He was
determined to find out, first, with what purpose Bennydeck had entered
the room. “The gentleman was about to explain himself to you,” he said
to Mrs. Presty. “Why don’t you give him the opportunity?”
She had no choice but to submit--in appearance at least. Never had she
hated Herbert as she hated him at that moment. The Captain went on with
his explanation. He had his reasons (he said) for hesitating, in
the first instance, to present himself uninvited, and he accordingly
retired. On second thoughts, however, he had returned, in the hope--
“In the hope,” Herbert interposed, “of seeing Mrs. Presty’s daughter?”
“That was one of my motives,” Bennydeck answered.
“Is it indiscreet to inquire what the other motive was?”
“Not at all. I heard a stranger’s voice, speaking in a tone which, to
say the least of it, is not customary in a lady’s room and I thought--”
Herbert interrupted him again. “And you thought your interference might
be welcome to the lady! Am I right?”
“Quite right.”
“Am I making another lucky guess if I suppose myself to be speaking to
Captain Bennydeck?”
“I shall be glad to hear, sir, how you have arrived at the knowledge of
my name.”
“Shall we say, Captain, that I have arrived at it by instinct?”
His face, as he made that reply, alarmed Mrs. Presty. She cast a look
at him, partly of entreaty, partly of warning. No effect was produced by
the look. He continued, in a tone of ironical compliment: “You must pay
the penalty of being a public character. Your marriage is announced in
the newspapers.”
“I seldom read the newspapers.”
“Ah, indeed? Perhaps the report is not true? As you don’t read the
newspapers, allow me to repeat it. You are engaged to marry the
‘beautiful widow, Mrs. Norman.’ I think I quote those last words
correctly?”
Mrs. Presty suddenly got up. With an inscrutable face that told no
tales, she advanced to the door. Herbert’s insane jealousy of the man
who was about to become Catherine’s husband had led him into a serious
error; he had driven Catherine’s mother to desperation. In that state of
mind she recovered her lost audacity, as a matter of course. Opening the
door, she turned round to the two men, with a magnificent impudence of
manner which in her happiest moments she had never surpassed.
“I am sorry to interrupt this interesting conversation,” she said; “but
I have stupidly forgotten one of my domestic duties. You will allow me
to return, and listen with renewed pleasure, when my household business
is off my mind. I shall hope to find you both more polite to each other
than ever when I come back.” She was in such a frenzy of suppressed rage
that she actually kissed her hand to them as she left the room!
Bennydeck looked after her, convinced that some sinister purpose was
concealed under Mrs. Presty’s false excuses, and wholly unable to
imagine what that purpose might be. Herbert still persisted in trying to
force a quarrel on the Captain.
“As I remarked just now,” he proceeded, “newspaper reports are not
always to be trusted. Do you seriously mean, my dear sir, to marry Mrs.
Norman?”
“I look forward to that honor and that happiness. But I am at a loss to
know how it interests you.”
“In that case allow me to enlighten you. My name is Herbert Linley.”
He had held his name in reserve, feeling certain of the effect which he
would produce when he pronounced it. The result took him completely by
surprise. Not the slightest appearance of agitation showed itself in
Bennydeck’s manner. On the contrary, he looked as if there was something
that interested him in the discovery of the name.
“You are probably related to a friend of mine?” he said, quietly.
“Who is your friend?”
“Mr. Randal Linley.”
Herbert was entirely unprepared for this discovery. Once more, the
Captain had got the best of it.
“Are you and Randal Linley intimate friends?” he inquired, as soon as he
had recovered himself.
“Most intimate.”
“It’s strange that he should never have mentioned me, on any occasion
when you and he were together.”
“It does indeed seem strange.”
Herbert paused. His brother’s keen sense of the disgrace that he had
inflicted on the family recurred to his memory. He began to understand
Randal’s otherwise unaccountable silence.
“Are you nearly related to Mr. Randal Linley?” the Captain asked.
“I am his elder brother.”
Ignorant on his part of the family disgrace, Bennydeck heard that reply
with amazement. From his point of view, it was impossible to account for
Randal’s silence.
“Will you think me very inquisitive,” Herbert resumed, “if I ask whether
my brother approves of your marriage?”
There was a change in his tone, as he put that question which warned
Bennydeck to be on his guard. “I have not yet consulted my friend’s
opinion,” he answered, shortly.
Herbert threw off the mask. “In the meantime, you shall have my
opinion,” he said. “Your marriage is a crime--and I mean to prevent it.”
The Captain left his chair, and sternly faced the man who had spoken
those insolent words.
“Are you mad?” he asked.
Herbert was on the point of declaring himself to have been Catherine’s
husband, until the law dissolved their marriage--when a waiter came in
and approached him with a message. “You are wanted immediately, sir.”
“Who wants me?”
“A person outside, sir. It’s a serious matter--there is not a moment to
lose.”
Herbert turned to the Captain. “I must have your promise to wait for
me,” he said, “or I don’t leave the room.”
“Make your mind easy. I shall not stir from this place till you have
explained yourself,” was the firm reply.
The servant led the way out. He crossed the passage, and opened the door
of a waiting-room. Herbert passed in--and found himself face to face
with his divorced wife.