IN SIGHT OF PORT
"Good-morning, Carrissima!" said Colonel Faversham on Thursday morning,
rubbing his palms briskly together as he entered the dining-room. "It
looks as if there's going to be a change in the weather. A little rain
will do good."
"Will it?" answered Carrissima, perfunctorily.
"What's the matter?" he demanded. "You're not eating anything. Always
have a good breakfast. Lay a foundation for the day. Look at me!
When my appetite fails, I shall begin to think it's time I gave in."
He made an enormous breakfast, and when at last it ended, took out his
cigar-case. Having lighted a cigar, he carried the newspaper to his
smoking-room and sat down, only to get up again the next minute. He
did not care a scrap about the news! The Socialists might upset the
constitution for all Colonel Faversham minded this morning! His
thoughts already outran him to Golfney Place, where he fully expected
to hear from Bridget's lips that she should be prepared to marry him
within a week or a fortnight at the latest.
How enchantingly coy the dear girl had been yesterday! Taking down a
Continental Bradshaw from one of the bookshelves, he looked up the
route to Milan. She had chosen Rome, Naples and Capri for the
honeymoon, and of course she should have her own way! Unable to
control his impatience after half-past ten, Colonel Faversham went to
his dressing-room, limping up-stairs as no one was looking, and
imparted a more militant twirl to his moustache. When he reached the
hall again Knight held his thin overcoat and handed his top-hat, gloves
and malacca cane.
Seeing a taxi-cab Colonel Faversham hailed it, so that he reached
Golfney Place earlier than ever before. As he rang the bell he could
scarcely control his muscles. He coughed so violently that one or two
people looked back at him in passing. He shifted the position of his
hat so often as he waited for Miller to open the door, that he might
have been making a series of automatic bows to imaginary acquaintances.
He stamped his feet and felt that his necktie was in the middle of his
shirt front, and then he rang a second time.
"Good heavens!" he muttered, "why can't the man come! Why can't he let
me in!"
Miller opened the door at last, in the act of thrusting one arm into
his coat. By the time Colonel Faversham had crossed the threshold the
butler had assumed his usual deferential stoop and his manner was as
suave as ever.
"Good-morning, Miller," said Colonel Faversham, pacified the instant he
obtained admittance. "I am rather early. Miss Rosser?"
"Miss Rosser is not here, colonel," was the astounding answer.
"Not here! Good gracious! What do you mean?"
"Miss Rosser left the house at half-past three yesterday afternoon,
colonel."
"Do you mean to tell me she has not returned?" demanded Colonel
Faversham.
"No," said Miller.
"But I have an appointment with her this morning!"
"I understand that Miss Rosser is not coming back, colonel," answered
Miller.
Colonel Faversham was ceasing to look entirely bewildered. He grew
exceedingly red in the face; his eyes appeared to be starting out of
his head. Horrible thoughts occurred to him. He glared at Miller as
if he were responsible for Bridget's departure, and with miserable
sensations he began to put a new interpretation upon the coyness which
he had found so seductive yesterday morning.
"Miss Rosser," said Miller, "left a letter for you."
"Why on earth couldn't you tell me so at once!" demanded Colonel
Faversham.
"And a parcel," said Miller.
"Where are they? Where are they?" exclaimed the colonel; and Miller
went to the rear of the hall, returning the next moment with a
fair-sized, brown-paper parcel in his hand. It obviously contained the
crocodile-hide dressing-bag, which had been Bridget's birthday present;
the handle, indeed, projected for convenience of transport.
"Would you like to step into the dining-room, colonel?" suggested
Miller, giving him a square envelope.
"Damn the dining-room!" shouted Colonel Faversham, as with trembling
fingers he broke the seal, whilst Miller still held the bag. Colonel
Faversham did not wait to fix his eye-glass.
"DEAR COLONEL FAVERSHAM" (he read),
"How sorry I am to give you pain, and I know that I am doing so. I
cannot possibly marry you, and I have not the courage to say so to your
face. Why didn't you understand how hard I tried to tell you this
morning--you really might have helped me out! You have always been so
very kind. I positively hate to treat you badly. I have put all your
presents inside the dressing-bag. Please try to forgive me, although I
don't suppose you ever will! If it is any consolation to you, I
feel--oh, so miserable!
"Yours sincerely,
"BRIDGET ROSSER."
Although the contents of the letter were easy enough to master, Colonel
Faversham must needs fix his monocle, in order to read it again. "That
infernal Jimmy!" he muttered, then folded the sheet of paper and
bestowed it in his breast pocket.
"The parcel, colonel," suggested Miller, as he turned towards the door.
For a moment Colonel Faversham stood scowling at the butler and what he
held in his hand. His first impulse was to refuse to have anything to
do with it; but, after all, its contents were of considerable value.
He might, perhaps, leave it at his club, although it could not remain
there for ever, and perhaps it would be better to take it at once to
Grandison Square and lock it up in the smoking-room cupboard.
At last he put out his hand, and came forth to the doorstep holding the
crocodile-hide bag.
"Good-morning, colonel!" said Miller, but although his tone was even
more suave and respectful than usual, Colonel Faversham fancied he
detected in it something ironic. No doubt the man had formed his own
opinion as to what was going on; but, thank goodness, nobody outside
Number 5, Golfney Place had the faintest suspicion of his engagement!
He quite understood that this was broken beyond repair. Colonel
Faversham knew when he was beaten. He had been treated in the most
abominable manner, and he never desired to see Bridget's face again.
Unaccustomed to carry a parcel through the streets, he was annoyed
inasmuch as he could not see any kind of cab until he drew near to his
own house, and unfortunately Carrissima happened to be looking out at
the dining-room window.
She could not, however, see his face, and as he had left home in such
ebullient spirits a little while ago, she went to meet him in the hall,
where her eyes at once fell upon the bag.
"What is that?" she asked brightly. "A present for little Victor?"
"No," exclaimed the colonel, mimicking her voice, "it isn't a present
for little Victor! What in the world should I be doing with a present
for little Victor at this hour of the day?"
She naturally perceived that something must have occurred seriously to
ruffle him, even if he had not slammed the door of the smoking-room so
violently behind him. It did not take Carrissima long to draw her own
conclusions. It is true she was ignorant of her father's engagement to
Bridget, but she had anticipated his deposition by Jimmy Clynesworth,
until Mark's conduct had complicated the outlook. On the whole,
Carrissima was inclined to think that the climax had been reached this
morning; that Colonel Faversham, having gone to Golfney Place, had
quarrelled with Bridget, who had insisted on returning such presents as
he had from time to time given to her.
While Colonel Faversham remained hidden in his smoking-room,
Carrissima's mind was busy with his affairs, until about three-quarters
of an hour later she happened to be crossing the hall, and saw Jimmy on
the doorstep in conversation with Knight.
"Oh, Jimmy!" she exclaimed, "do come in!"
Without any hesitation he entered the hall, accompanying her up-stairs
to the drawing-room.
"I don't know whether you have heard the news," he said, as he shut the
door.
"Not a word!" was the answer. "I am positively dying to hear it."
A smile broke over Jimmy's face.
"Bridget has left Golfney Place!" he cried.
"When did she go?" asked Carrissima.
"At half-past three yesterday afternoon."
"Has she sought refuge where she ought to have sought it long ago?"
"Where is that?" demanded Jimmy.
"With her aunts at Sandbay!"
"By the bye," he said, "can you tell me their name?"
"Now--let me see!" answered Carrissima, reflecting for an instant. "Oh
yes--Dobson. I feel certain that is right. It sounds quite ordinary,
doesn't it?"
Jimmy Clynesworth had gone to bed the previous night, but not to sleep
very early, with the fixed determination to stand clear of Bridget for
the future. He felt, indeed, too distrustful of himself to re-approach
her and yet remain loyal to his old friend Colonel Faversham.
When, however, he went into his own den to smoke an after-breakfast
pipe, the first thing his eyes rested upon was a copy of one of David
Rosser's novels. It obviously ought to be returned! He knew that
Bridget valued her complete collection of her father's works. Of
course nothing would have been easier than to send it by his man, or,
for that matter, by the parcel post.
But Jimmy determined to take back the book in person; he would not
enter the house, he would leave it at the door and just ask Miller how
Bridget was this morning! At the back of his mind probably was some
subconscious, unrecognized desire to seize any chance of seeing her
once more if only for a moment, but on reaching the house he heard a
repetition of the story with which Miller had overwhelmed Colonel
Faversham.
For the instant Jimmy also was almost overwhelmed, but by vastly
different sensations. He had no suspicion that Bridget intended to
break off her engagement until the moment when Miller told him of the
colonel's recent visit. Then Jimmy reached the truth by a leap.
Bridget had gone away to escape from her elderly _fiancé_! At the time
Jimmy believed that her announcement yesterday morning was prompted by
a sense of duty--a little belated, no doubt.
She saw how it was with him, but having already plighted her troth she
felt compelled to issue that unexpected warning. Now, however, Jimmy
saw her conduct in another light. She had made up her mind to have
done with Colonel Faversham at all costs! Lacking the courage to tell
him so to his face, she had opened her heart to the man whom she loved
and on whose love she counted.
From Bridget's point of view, Jimmy saw that he had failed her at the
pinch. Still, she had acted for herself, not, perhaps, in the most
desirable manner! Still, she must have made her bid for freedom, and
now it came to the point, this seemed to be all that Jimmy cared about.
It is true he had spoken to Bridget of his high regard for candour, but
even that by no means equalled his regard for herself.
Whatever she had done, and Jimmy perceived that she must have treated
Colonel Faversham less than well, this was not the time for criticism.
The salient fact was that she had shaken herself free! Such a
desirable end appeared to excuse almost any means. Bridget's
disappearance did not in the least alarm him. There would be little
difficulty in finding her again; the point was that he had become
justified in undertaking the search.
Having thanked and tipped Miller, Jimmy set about the quest at once,
and determined to take the bull by the horns. He would go to Grandison
Square in the first place, see Colonel Faversham, and ascertain beyond
a doubt that the coast was clear. Colonel Faversham, too, or
Carrissima might perchance be able to suggest some clue to Bridget's
hiding-place.