Mrs. Royce was very much pleased to see her pet, Miss Moran, return.
She was well disposed toward Mr. Houseman, too, and willingly agreed
to put him up for a few days. She set to work at once to cook a good
lunch for them, but she did not hum under her breath, as was her usual
habit. In fact, she was greatly perplexed and worried.
When her guests were seated at the table, she retired, leaving them
alone; but she did not go very far. She remained close to the door, so
that she could look through the crack. She observed that Miss Moran
seemed very lively and cheerful with this newcomer—though she had been
quite as lively and cheerful with Captain Grey.
“Well, I don’t know, I’m sure!” said Mrs. Royce to herself, with a
sigh. “It beats _me_!”
For the question which so troubled her was—which young man was _the_
young man?
“Both of ’em as nice, polite young fellers as you’d want to see,” she
repeated. “T’ other one’s handsomer, but he’s kind of foreign-like and
gloomy. This one’s got more gumption. The way he walked in here, smart
as a whip, and asked for Miss Moran, an’ when I says she’s gone to
visit the Queltons, why, off he went, after her! I like a man with
gumption!”
So did Miss Moran. Charles Houseman seemed to her the only living,
vigorous creature in a world of ghosts, the only one whom she could
really understand. There were no shadowy corners about him. He was
altogether honest, direct, and uncomplicated. He had no tact and no
caution. He had come now, in the midst of this wretched tangle, and
she completely believed that he would cut the Gordian knot.
He had suggested that they should let the subject drop for a time.
“I think I’ve got the facts straight,” he said; “and now I want to
think them over a bit. Let’s take a walk, and talk about something
else.”
Lexy agreed to the entire program. If she was tired, she either didn’t
know it, or she forgot it in the joy of this beautifully careless
companionship. She could say exactly what came into her head to
Charles Houseman. He understood her. He was interested in every word
she spoke, and, what is more, she was aware of the profound admiration
that underlay his interest. He thought she was wonderful, and that
made her strangely happy.
“Do you know,” he said, “the first time I saw you, there in the park,
I—I liked the way you talked to me!”
“How?” asked Lexy, with great interest. “I thought I must have seemed
awfully irritating and mysterious.”
He grinned.
“You were awfully mad when I spoke to you,” he said; “but I liked
that. I don’t know—somehow you made me think of Joan of Arc.”
“Me?” cried Lexy. “With freckles, and such a temper? You couldn’t
imagine me listening to angels, could you?”
“Yes,” he said, “I could.”
She glanced at him to see if he was laughing, but he was not. His eyes
met hers with a quiet and steady look.
“I didn’t need to imagine much,” he said. “You’ve told me what you’ve
been through, and I can see for myself what you are. I don’t think
there ever was another girl like you!”
“Nonsense!” said Lexy, looking away. “I’m just pig-headed—that’s all.”
They had wandered across the fields until they came to a little river,
running clear and swift under the elm trees. By tacit consent they sat
down on the bank. They didn’t talk much. Houseman skipped stones with
skill and earnest attention, and Lexy watched the minnows flitting
past through the limpid water. The sky was an unclouded blue. The
sunlight came through the branches, where the leaves were scarcely
unfolded, and made little golden sparkles on the hurrying current. It
was all so quiet—and yet it wasn’t peaceful. The world seemed too
young, too warmly and joyously alive, for peace. The spring was
waiting in eagerness for the summer. This still, fresh, sunlit day was
only an interlude.
Casually, Houseman told her a good deal about himself.
“From Baltimore,” he said. “My people wanted me to go into the navy.
My father and grandfather were both navy, but I couldn’t see it. Too
cut and dried! I’m on a cargo steamer now, and I like it.”
And this information—with the additional facts that he was twenty-six,
that he had two brothers in the navy and three married sisters, and
that both of his parents were living—was all that he had to give about
himself. Lexy was satisfied. There he was, and anyone with eyes to see
and ears to listen could understand him. Honest, blunt, and careless,
fearing nothing, shirking nothing, and facing life with cheerful
unconcern, he was, she thought, a comrade and an ally without an
equal.
The sun was setting when they turned homeward. The sky was swimming in
soft, pale colors, and a little breeze blew, stirring the new leaves.
It was a poetic and even a melancholy hour; but Houseman found nothing
better to say than that he was hungry.
“So am I!” said Lexy.
They looked at each other as if they had discovered still another bond
between them. They were happy—so happy!
Mrs. Royce saw them from the kitchen window. They were strolling along
leisurely, side by side. They were quite composed and matter-of-fact,
and their desultory conversation was upon the subject of shellfish.
The young Baltimorean was an authority on oysters, but Lexy, as a New
Englander, had something to say on the subject of clam chowder.
Mrs. Royce was suddenly enlightened.
“He’s the one!” she said to herself. “Well, I’m real glad, I’m sure!”
So glad was she that she at once began to make a superb chocolate
cake, and she hummed a song about a young man on Springfield Mountain,
who killed a “pesky sarpent.”
George Grey heard her. He was in the sitting room, smoking, and
apparently reading a book; but he never turned a page. He lit one
cigarette after another, and his hand was steady. He looked as he
always looked—fastidiously neat, self-possessed, and a little haughty;
but in spirit he was suffering horribly.
Lexy knew that as soon as she saw him, because she knew him and liked
him so well. She held out her hand to him, not even pretending to
smile, but searching his face with an anxious and friendly glance.
“Here’s Mr. Houseman, Caroline Enderby’s _fiancé_,” she said. “I’ve
told him the whole thing, so if there’s anything new—”
Captain Grey stiffened perceptibly. He couldn’t see what possible
connection anybody’s _fiancé_ could have with his affairs. He shook
hands with Houseman, but not very nicely; and Houseman was not
excessively cordial.
Lexy took no notice of this nonsense. Her mood of happy confidence had
passed now, and the dark and mysterious shadow had come back. There
was something of greater importance to think about than her personal
affairs.
“Captain Grey,” she said, with a sort of directness, “I didn’t tell
you before, but I’m going to tell you now. I saw Caroline in that
house, and this morning I found—this.”
He looked at the handkerchief, and then at Lexy.
“But—” he began.
“It means that she’s been there, or that she’s there now,” Lexy went
on. “It’s time we found out. Of course, I know how you feel about Dr.
Quelton. He’s your sister’s husband, and you didn’t want—”
“It doesn’t make much difference now,” he said. “If you’ll wait a day
or so, she—”
He turned away abruptly, and took out his cigarette case.
“What do you mean?” cried Lexy.
“It won’t be long,” he said quietly. “She—my sister—he says it won’t
be more than twenty-four hours, at the most.”
“Oh, no! It can’t be! Captain Grey, don’t believe him!”
“I tried not to,” he said. “I—well, we had a bit of a row, and I made
him let me bring in another doctor from the village here. He said the
same thing.”
“What did the doctor say it was?” asked Houseman.
“Pernicious anæmia. There’s nothing to be done.”
Captain Grey seemed to find some difficulty in lighting his cigarette;
but when he had done so, and had drawn in a deep breath, he turned
back toward Lexy with a smile that startled her. She had never
imagined he could look like that. It was a wolfish kind of smile,
lighting his dark face with a sort of savage mirth.
“When it’s over,” he said, “I’ll be very pleased to help you to hang
him, if you can; or I’ll wring his neck myself.”
The other two stared at him in silence for a moment.
“You think he’s—” Houseman began.
“I don’t know whether he has actually murdered her or not,” said
Captain Grey, “but he has destroyed her—utterly wasted and ruined her
life. He taught her to take that damned drug; and when Miss Moran
broke the bottle—”
“Oh! Did he tell you?”
“He did. He says you’ve killed her. There was some rare drug in it
that he can’t get for a fortnight or so, and she can’t live without
it.”
“Captain Grey!” she cried, white to the lips. “I didn’t—”
“I know,” he said gently. “You meant to help, and I’m glad you did it.
She’s better dead. This afternoon, for a little while, she
was—herself. She talked to me. She was very weak, but she was herself.
She asked me to help her not to take it again. She thought she was
getting better. Then that”—he paused—“that damned brute brought in a
lawyer, so that she could make her will. She couldn’t believe it. She
looked up at me. ‘Oh, I’m not going to _die_, am I?’ she said. Before
I could answer her, he told her she must be prepared. Then I—”
Again he turned away.
“And you let him alone?” inquired Houseman.
“It’s not time to settle with him—yet,” said the other. “That’s why I
came away, because I don’t want to kill him—yet. She’s unconscious
now. She will be, until it’s finished. I’m going back later, but I
wanted to come, here—” He ceased speaking. “To you,” his eyes said to
Lexy.
She forgot everything else, then, except this tormented and suffering
human being who had turned to her for comfort. She pushed him gently
down into a chair, and seated herself on the arm of it. She took both
his hands and patted them, while she racked her brain for the right
thing to say.
“We’ll do _something_!” she said. “There’s no reason to be in despair.
That young country doctor was probably entirely under the influence of
Dr. Quelton. We’ll get some one else. We’ll telephone to one of the
big hospitals in New York and find out who’s the very best man, and
we’ll get him out here. Mr. Houseman will ring up—”
But Mr. Houseman had disappeared. Worse still, Mrs. Royce’s telephone
was out of order.
“Never mind!” said Lexy. “We’ll have a nice hot cup of tea, and then
we’ll go to the grocery store. There’s a telephone there.”
She made the captain drink his tea and eat a little. Then she ran
upstairs for her hat; and she was very angry at Charles Houseman for
running away.