"By the door, here."
And upon that Shere Ali"s voice changed to one of appeal. There came a note of longing into his voice. He looked at Violet Oliver with burning eyes. He seemed unaware Linforth was standing by.
"You will not fail me?" he said; and Linforth moved impatiently.
"No. I shall be there," said Violet Oliver, and she spoke hurriedly and moved by through the doorway. Beneath her eyelids she stole a glance at her companion. His face was clouded. The scene which he had witnessed had jarred upon him, and still jarred. When he spoke to her his voice had a sternness which Violet Oliver had not heard before. But she had always been aware that it might be heard, if at any time he disapproved.
""Your friend," you called him, speaking to me," he said. "It seems that he is your friend too."
"He was with you at La Grave. I met him there."
"He comes to your house?"
"He has called once or twice," said Mrs. Oliver submissively. It was by no wish of hers that Shere Ali had appeared at this dance. She had, on the contrary, been at some pains to a.s.sure herself that he would not be there. And while she answered Linforth she was turning over in her mind a difficulty which had freshly arisen. Shere Ali was returning to India. In some respects that was awkward. But Linforth"s ill-humour promised her a way of escape. He was rather silent during the earlier part of their supper. They had a little table to themselves, and while she talked, and talked with now and then an anxious glance at Linforth, he was content to listen or to answer shortly. Finally she said:
"I suppose you will not see your friend again before he starts?"
"Yes, I shall," replied Linforth, and the frown gathered afresh upon his forehead. "He dines to-morrow night with me at Chatham."
"Then I want to ask you something," she continued. "I want you not to mention to him that I am paying a visit to India in the cold weather."
Linforth"s face cleared in an instant.
"I am glad that you have made that request," he said frankly. "I have no right to say it, perhaps. But I think you are wise."
"Things are possible here," she agreed, "which are impossible there."
"Friendship, for instance."
"Some friendships," said Mrs. Oliver; and the rest of their supper they ate cheerily enough. Violet Oliver was genuinely interested in her partner. She was not very familiar with the large view and the definite purpose. Those who gathered within her tiny drawing-room, who sought her out at b.a.l.l.s and parties, were, as a rule, the younger men of the day, and Linforth, though like them in age and like them, too, in his capacity for enjoyment, was different in most other ways. For the large view and the definite purpose coloured all his life, and, though he spoke little of either, set him apart.
Mrs. Oliver did not cultivate many illusions about herself. She saw very clearly what manner of men they were to whom her beauty made its chief appeal--lean-minded youths for the most part not remarkable for brains--and she was sincerely proud that Linforth sought her out no less than they did. She could imagine herself afraid of Linforth, and that fancy gave her a little thrill of pleasure. She understood that he could easily be lost altogether, that if once he went away he would not return; and that knowledge made her careful not to lose him. Moreover, she had brains herself. She led him on that evening, and he spoke with greater freedom than he had used with her before--greater freedom, she hoped, than he had used with anyone. The lighted supper-room grew dim before his eyes, the noise and the laughter and the pa.s.sing figures of the other guests ceased to be noticed. He talked in a low voice, and with his keen face pushed a trifle forward as though, while he spoke, he listened. He was listening to the call of the Road.
He stopped abruptly and looked anxiously at Violet.
"Have I bored you?" he asked. "Generally I watch you," he added with a smile, "lest I should bore you. To-night I haven"t watched."
"For that reason I have been interested to-night more than I have been before."
She gathered up her fan with a little sigh. "I must go upstairs again," she said, and she rose from her chair. "I am sorry. But I have promised dances."
"I will take you up. Then I shall go."
"You will dance no more?"
"No," he said with a smile. "I"ll not spoil a perfect evening." Violet Oliver was not given to tricks or any play of the eyelids. She looked at him directly, and she said simply "Thank you."
He took her up to the landing, and came down stairs again for his hat and coat. But, as he pa.s.sed with them along the pa.s.sage door he turned, and looking up the stairs, saw Violet Oliver watching him. She waved her hand lightly and smiled. As the door closed behind him she returned to the ball-room. Linforth went away with no suspicion in his mind that she had stayed her feet upon the landing merely to make very sure that he went.
He had left his mother behind, however, and she was all suspicion. She had remarked the little scene when Shere Ali had unexpectedly appeared.
She had noticed the embarra.s.sment of Violet Oliver and the anger of Shere Ali. It was possible that Sir John Ca.s.son had also not been blind to it.
For, a little time afterwards, he nodded towards Shere Ali.
"Do you know that boy?" he asked.
"Yes. He is d.i.c.k"s great friend. They have much in common. His father was my husband"s friend."
"And both believed in the new Road, I know," said Sir John. He pulled at his grey moustache thoughtfully, and asked: "Have the sons the Road in common, too?" A shadow darkened Sybil Linforth"s face. She sat silent for some seconds, and when she answered, it was with a great reluctance.
"I believe so," she said in a low voice, and she shivered. She turned her face towards Ca.s.son. It was troubled, fear-stricken, and in that a.s.sembly of laughing and light-hearted people it roused him with a shock. "I wish, with all my heart, that they had not," she added, and her voice shook and trembled as she spoke.
The terrible story of Linforth"s end, long since dim in Sir John Ca.s.son"s recollections, came back in vivid detail. He said no more upon that point. He took Mrs. Linforth down to supper, and bringing her back again, led her round the ball-room. An open archway upon one side led into a conservatory, where only fairy lights glowed amongst the plants and flowers. As the couple pa.s.sed this archway, Sir John looked in. He did not stop, but, after they had walked a few yards further, he said:
"Was it pale blue that Violet Oliver was wearing? I am not clever at noticing these things."
"Yes, pale blue and--pearls," said Sybil Linforth.
"There is no need that we should walk any further. Here are two chairs,"
said Sir John. There was in truth no need. He had ascertained something about which, in spite of his outward placidity, he had been very curious.
"Did you ever hear of a man named Luffe?" he asked.
Sybil Linforth started. It had been Luffe whose continual arguments, entreaties, threats, and persuasions had caused the Road long ago to be carried forward. But she answered quietly, "Yes."
"Of course you and I remember him," said Sir John. "But how many others?
That"s the penalty of Indian service. You are soon forgotten, in India as quickly as here. In most cases, no doubt, it doesn"t matter. Men just as good and younger stand waiting at the milestones to carry on the torch.
But in some cases I think it"s a pity."
"In Mr. Luffe"s case?" asked Sybil Linforth.
"Particularly in Luffe"s case," said Sir John.
CHAPTER X
AN UNANSWERED QUESTION
Sir John had guessed aright. Shere Ali was in the conservatory, and Violet Oliver sat by his side.
"I did not expect you to-night," she said lightly, as she opened and shut her fan.
"Nor did I mean to come," he answered. "I had arranged to stay in the country until to-morrow. But I got my letter from the India Office this morning. It left me--restless." He uttered the word with reluctance, and almost with an air of shame. Then he clasped his hands together, and blurted out violently: "It left me miserable. I could not stay away," and he turned to his companion. "I wanted to see you, if only for five minutes." It was Violet Oliver"s instinct to be kind. She fitted herself naturally to the words of her companions, sympathised with them in their troubles, laughed with them when they were at the top of their spirits.
So now her natural kindness made her eyes gentle. She leaned forward.
"Did you?" she asked softly. "And yet you are going home!"