AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
Meanwhile, Sir George and his daughter were waiting impatiently for
Copley. As they stood, the fashionable stream hurried by them. The road
outside was crammed with cabs and 'buses and motors, for all the
theatres were discharging their audiences. The street was one seething
mass when Copley joined his friends. They pressed together towards the
pavement, and Copley could scarcely conceal his annoyance that his car
was not in attendance. He supposed there was some misunderstanding and
suggested that it would save time if they took a cab.
"We might have some difficulty in getting two cabs," he said. "One of us
had better walk."
"I'll walk," Sir George answered. "I haven't had any exercise to-day,
and it will give me an appetite for supper."
May looked up vaguely alarmed. She had no fancy for a drive to the
Carlton in the company of Raymond Copley.
"Wouldn't it be better to walk along till we come to the end of the
street?" she proposed. "There would be more chance of getting a cab when
we are out of the crush."
Without waiting for a reply she stepped on to the pavement. In his
aggressive way Copley elbowed a clear path. The road seemed to be fuller
than ever of vehicles. Then there rose the quick cry of a woman's voice,
the sound of clashing metal, and before any one could realize it two
motors had overturned. Instantly all was confusion, and five minutes
later May found herself on the other side of the street alone and
presenting a somewhat conspicuous figure in her evening dress and cloak.
She was not frightened or alarmed. She had too much pluck and courage
for that. She thought the best thing would be to turn down this dark
side street and make her way to the Haymarket.
She walked quietly and fearlessly along, the road getting narrower as
she went. She passed one or two men who made audible remarks upon her
appearance, but she did not heed them. And, then, almost before she knew
what had happened, a man by her side began to pester her with remarks
which brought the blood flaming to her face. That the nighthawk was not
sober did not tend to improve the situation.
She looked about for some one to appeal to, and with sudden thankfulness
heard steps hurrying behind. Next moment she saw her tormentor lying on
his back in the gutter with another man standing over him.
"I am glad to be of assistance to you," the stranger said. "If you will
allow me to walk with you as far as the corner of the street I will call
a cab. I suppose you got separated from your party and this fellow
followed you."
"That is so," May replied. "I cannot sufficiently thank you."
She paused in the midst of her speech, for her rescuer's face was
shining out clear and distinct in the lamplight. At the same instant the
stranger turned and their eyes met.
"Harry," the girl murmured, "Harry!"
"Well, yes," the stranger laughed awkwardly. "This is rather an
unexpected meeting, isn't it?"
May made no reply at the moment. She was studying her companion
intently. She noticed how white his handsome face was. There was the
suspicion of suffering in his eyes. His dress was neat, but worn and
shabby, and yet there was an unmistakable air about Harry Fielden which
proclaimed that he had been accustomed to better things. He stood
half-defiant, half-smiling, and yet he held up his head as if he had
nothing to be ashamed of.
"Where have you been for the last two years?" May asked.
Harry Fielden shrugged his shoulders.
"It would be difficult to tell," he said. "In the first place, I tried
Australia. But things were worse there than they are here. America I
could not stand at any price; then I went to South Africa, where I
managed to starve. I had one slice of fortune, but was cruelly used by a
man I trusted. And now, if it be possible, I am poorer than ever. I am
trying to get employment at a stud farm or racing stable. It is the only
thing I really know."
May Haredale listened with trembling lips. Raymond Copley would have
been surprised had he seen the expression on her face. He might have
been uneasy, too.
"I am very sorry," the girl remarked. "Oh, my dear boy, how foolish you
have been! To think what you wasted! To think of that beautiful old
house!"
"I try not to think of it," Fielden said. "I was all the fool you took
me for, and worse. It was my misfortune that I had no one to look after
me. When I came into a fine property at the age of twenty-one I had no
knowledge of the world. And every blackguard and sponger who came along
I accepted at his own valuation. Well, it is an old story, May--a fool
and his money are soon parted. But, thank goodness! I never did anything
to be ashamed of. I never wronged man or woman and I pulled up in time
to pay all my debts. There is nothing left now but the old house, and
that I couldn't sell because it is not worth any one's while to buy it.
More for the sake of sentiment than anything else I have managed to pay
my subscriptions to my clubs. I still have the freedom of Tattersall's
and Newmarket, though I have known what it is to sleep out of doors, but
not till this minute did I fully realize what I threw away. Ah, we were
good friends in those days, May."
May Haredale nodded. It was difficult to speak at that moment, for she
and Harry Fielden had been more than friends. They had been brought up
together from childhood, and had been together at many a dance and
tennis party and many a clinking run with the hounds. Nothing had ever
passed between them, but it was a tacit understanding that Fielden and
May Haredale would wait for one another.
When the crash came and Fielden disappeared, May had made no sign, but
from that time she was more sedate and seemed to have left her old life
and spirits behind her.
"I had not forgotten you," she murmured presently. "We must try to do
something for you, Harry. I will speak to father. And then there is Mr.
Copley. He has a fine establishment near us and one of the largest
racing stables in the kingdom. But you don't know him. He is a South
African millionaire who has come into our neighbourhood since your
time."
"Oh, I have met some of them," Fielden said grimly. "They don't think
so much of them out there as folk do at home. I fancy I know the name. I
wonder if it is the same Copley I met on the Rand--but, no, that is out
of the question. So you think he might find me something to do? You
don't know what heartbreaking work it is, seeking occupation and finding
none. And I am anxious to work, goodness knows. I am young and strong,
steady and trustworthy, and there is no man living who knows more about
horses than I do. I wonder if you would mind speaking to this man for
me. I've got no pride now. I have had that knocked out of me. But
perhaps you would not like me to come down into the old neighbourhood
again. You might not care for it."
"Oh, my dear boy," May said reproachfully. "How can you talk like that!
You know that there are some friends who were ready to do anything for
you. But you would not give them a chance. You disappeared without so
much as saying good-bye."
"Well, you can understand my feelings," Fielden answered. "However, I've
got to go down to the old place to-morrow, in any case. There are some
things in the house that I need, and I shall hope to meet Joe Raffle. It
was very good of you to take Joe into your service. It was awfully kind
of your father to buy most of my horses. I hope there is a Derby winner
amongst them."
"We think so," May exclaimed. "We have great hopes of a Blenheim colt.
He hasn't been seen in public since the Middle Park Plate which he won
handsomely enough. We think he is the best horse we ever had, and people
appear to be of the same opinion. If he doesn't win the Derby I don't
know what will become of us. But get Raffle to take you over to Mallow's
to-morrow and he will show you the colt. It's only a matter of a few
hundred yards, as you will recollect, from our lodge gates to Mallow's
stables. Mallow is only a small trainer, but he suits us and is not
expensive. I wish you would stay down for a day or two. We shall be back
to-morrow night, and my father will be disappointed if he doesn't see
you. And now, really----"
"I am sorry," Fielden said. "I have no right to keep you talking here.
Come along and I will get you a cab. And if I can manage to stay at the
old place over to-morrow I will come and see you. How jolly if one of my
colts should win the Derby for Sir George!"
There was a tender smile on May's lips and a dash of colour in her face
as she drove presently to the Carlton. Sir George was waiting with fussy
anxiety. Copley looked disturbed and rather ill-tempered. They accepted
May's explanation. Naturally, they put down her heightened colour and
sparkling eyes to the excitement of her adventure.