SIR CARROLL RAE.
I was tired with thinking and planning and loss of sleep, and that
night I led Lossing away, an easy captive, to the gondola station by
the Art Gallery. He had been in low spirits all day, and had not
presented himself at Washington Avenue since I had told him of
Voisin's visit there, which I did, word for word, just as Miss Ross
had related it to me, and with a purpose.
He was a reserved fellow, and I quite agreed with Miss Ross it was
time for him to throw off his reserve; so, after I had assured myself
that our gondoliers had made no choice collection of 'pidgin English,'
I began to talk, first of Voisin and then of June Jenrys. Suddenly I
turned toward him.
'Lossing, pardon the question, but have you ever known Voisin previous
to your meeting in New York?'
'I?' abstractedly. 'W--why, Masters?'
'Well, it might easily have been, you know. A man meets so many when
he travels much.'
'Oh!' with a short laugh; 'and I, you fancy, have travelled much?'
'Why, Lossing, the fact in your case is evident--in your manner,
speech, everything.' And I went back to Voisin, and his audacity in
addressing Miss Jenrys, finishing by calling him a 'fortune-hunting
adventurer.'
Lossing pulled off his cap, and perching it upon his knee, turned his
fair head to look up and down the water-way, and then faced me
squarely.
'Masters, that's precisely what the fellow called me.'
'Nonsense!' I said sharply.
'And isn't it true?'
'Not in my eyes.'
He was silent for a time, then:
'Masters,' he began, 'I've been on the point of opening my heart to
you more than once. I am discouraged. I have wooed, yes, and won, June
Jenrys with hardly a thought of how I could care for her or for
myself. Gad! How thoughtless and selfish I have been! And yet you will
think me an ass when I say that, up to this moment, I have never
troubled myself nor been troubled about money matters. So help me
heaven, Masters, I never once thought of her fortune, or my lack of
it, in all my wooing of June Jenrys!'
'I don't doubt it,' I said easily, 'not in the least. It's not in
nature that you should be, at your age, half man and half financial
machine. It's contrary to your education.' And, smiling inwardly, I
began deliberately to fold a cigarette paper.
'My education!' He turned upon me sharply. 'What--I beg your pardon,
Masters, but what the deuce do you know about my education?'
'I'm a very observing person,' I replied amiably; 'haven't you noticed
it?'
He was silent so long that, when I had finished making my cigarette
and lighted it, I asked, after a puff or two: 'Lossing, is there
anything I can say or do that will help you? I see that you are
troubled. If it's money only, bless me, your talents will stand you in
money's stead. Brains have a money value in this country, you know.'
It was more than I at first meant to say. I was treading on delicate
ground, and I knew it.
'Brains! Well, there it is! There's where my "education," as you say,
stands in the way. It's no use, Masters, our points of view are not
the same. To understand mine you must know what my past has been. That
would convince you how little my brain could be relied upon to stand
me in lieu of a fortune in this pushing, rushing, electric America of
yours. And my story--well, if I am to tell it, I must tell it to her
first, and--good heavens!' he groaned, 'when I have told it, I shall
seem to her more like a fortune-hunter than even now.'
He was in the depths, and if I meant to speak first, now was my time.
I tossed my cigarette into the water, and sat erect and facing him.
'What would you give,' I asked slowly, 'if I could show you a way
out--a safe and right and happy way?'
'Give! Man alive! I'd give you my gratitude all my life long, first,
and after that anything you could ask and I could grant.
But--pshaw!--I know you're immensely clever, Masters, and I know
you're my friend, but----'
'There, don't say anything that you will have to retract; and now, I
won't presume to advise you, sir,' very respectfully, 'but if I were
in your place I would either go to June Jenrys and tell her my whole
story, or else let me tell it to her.'
'Let you!'
'And in going, to pave the way, if I were you, I would send in my
card, and that card should read, "Sir Carroll Rae."'
The murder was out now, and before he could recover from his surprise
I launched into my story, telling of my chief's letter, and of the one
from Sir Hugo Rae which accompanied it, also of the vivid description
which set me to staring at all good-looking blonds.
'My meeting with you in Midway, when you inquired after Miss Jenrys so
anxiously, was my first clue,' I said. 'On that occasion I noted that
you answered the description very well, also that you were not an
American.' He looked at me surprised. 'Oh, your English is perfect;
but it's neither Yankee nor yet Mason and Dixon's English. It's very
fine and polished, but it's different. Oh, I never mistook you for an
American, Sir Carroll Rae; but I might not have given heed to that
first clue, had I not read Miss Jenrys' letter to Hilda O'Neil; then I
said, "Suppose the good-looking guard is this Mr. Lossing, and that
Lossing is Rae?" And then I began to cultivate you.'
'Ah! I begin to understand.'
'Then,' I went on, 'came other tests. Rae was an athlete; Lossing
knocked out a lunch-room beat scientifically, Rae possessed a high and
rich tenor voice; so, I found, did Lossing.'
'When?' he interposed.
'On the night you--ahem--fell into the lagoon. I heard you near the
band-stand singing in the chorus.'
'I see!'
'Then Rae was a fine rider. Lossing can ride also, even a British
cavalry nag. In fine, I studied you from first to last, supposing you
to be Rae, a member of the English aristocracy.'
'Oh, I say!'
'There you go! An American never would say that. Every word of yours,
every act pointed to the same conclusion. You were all that a young
Englishman of good family and fortune should be; and so, Sir
Carroll----'
'Stop! It gives me actual pleasure to find one flaw in your wonderful
summing-up. I am not Sir Carroll. Sir Hugo, my half-brother, bears the
title, and Sir Hugo and I saw little of each other and were never
warm friends.'
'One moment, Sir Carroll. Since that first letter from England, my
chief has received another. Sir Hugo is dead.'
* * * * *
When he had recovered somewhat from the surprise and shock--for a
shock it was, in truth--he told how, being left to the guardianship of
his elder brother--Sir Hugo was fifteen years the elder--he had yet
seen little of him, Sir Hugo being seldom at home for long.
'Sir Hugo's mother, the first Lady Rae, died when he was a lad, and
there were no other children by that marriage,' he said. 'My mother
inherited consumption, and three sisters, all my elders, died in
childhood. My mother died when I was a babe, and I was given to the
care of Lady Lossing, my mother's elder and favourite sister. I grew
to manhood in her house at Dulnith Hall, or in London. When Sir Hugo
took possession at last he developed a tyrannical temper. He did not
choose to marry, and so I must do so. He selected a wife for me, an
heiress, of course, and not too young nor pretty, though an English
gentlewoman, and a fit wife for a king, if he loved her, which I did
not.
'Well, we quarrelled bitterly. I threatened to come to America, and he
bade me go and never to return while he lived. Now, my father had left
me nothing, only commending me to Sir Hugo's generosity, which, so
long as I consulted his wishes, was free enough. Of my own I had a few
hundred pounds left me by my mother. I took that and came to this
country. I was introduced into society by a fellow-countryman, who
thought my change of name a mere lark, and who soon went home, and
then straightway I fell in love with June Jenrys.'
'Well,' I said, after signalling one of the gondoliers to row us to
shore, 'I have showed you the way out; have I earned my reward, Sir
Carroll Rae?'
With a swift movement he caught my hand between both his own.
'Best of friends,' he exclaimed, 'you can never ask of me a favour
that I will not grant, if given the ability to do so; and now----'
'And now,' I echoed as our boat came to the landing, 'there is yet
time for you to make that delayed call upon the ladies.'