"Then am I to understand that the conditions affecting your marriage are still an entire secret?"
"That is so," said Miss McCabe, "and I guess from what the marchioness told me, your reference, that you can keep a secret."
"To keep secrets is the very essential of my vocation," said Merton.
But _this_ secret, as will be seen, he did not absolutely keep.
"The arrangements," he added, "are most judicious."
"Guess Pappa was "cute," said Miss McCabe, relapsing into her adopted mannerisms.
"I think I now understand the case in all its bearings," Merton went on.
"I shall give it my serious consideration. Perhaps I had better say no more at present, but think over the matter. You remain in town for the season?"
"Guess we"ve staked out a claim in Berkeley Square," said Miss McCabe, "an agreeable location." She mentioned the number of the house.
"Then we are likely to meet now and then," said Merton, "and I trust that I may be permitted to wait on you occasionally."
Miss McCabe graciously a.s.sented; her chaperon, Lady Rathcoffey, was summoned by her from the inner chamber and the society of Miss Blossom, the typewriter; the pair drove away, and Merton was left to his own reflections.
"I do not know what can be done for her," he thought, "except to see that there is at least one eligible man, a gentleman, among the crowd of compet.i.tors, and that he is a likely man to win the beautiful prize. And that man is Bude, by Jove, if he wants to win it."
The Earl of Bude, whose name at once occurred to Merton, was a remarkable personage. The world knew him as rich, handsome, happy, and a mighty hunter of big game. They knew not the mysterious grief that for years had gnawed at his heart. Why did not Bude marry? No woman could say.
The world, moreover, knew not, but Merton did, that Lord Bude was the mysterious Mr. Jones Harvey, who contributed the most original papers to the Proceedings of the Geographical and Zoological Societies, and who had conferred many strange beasts on the Gardens of the latter learned inst.i.tution. The erudite papers were read, the eccentric animals were conferred, in the name of Mr. Jones Harvey. They came from outlandish addresses in the ends of the earth, but, in the flesh, Jones Harvey had been seen by no man, and his secret had been confided to Merton only, to Logan, and two other school friends. He did good to science by stealth, and blushed at the idea of being a F.R.S. There was no show of science about Bude, and nothing exotic, except the singular circ.u.mstance that, however he happened to be dressed, he always wore a ring, or pin, or sleeve links set with very ugly and muddy looking pearls. From these ornaments Lord Bude was inseparable; to chaff about presents from dusky princesses on undiscovered sh.o.r.es he was impervious. Even Merton did not know the cause of his attachment to these ungainly jewels, or the dark memory of mysterious loss with which they were a.s.sociated.
Merton"s first care was to visit the divine Althaea, Mrs. Brown-Smith, and other ladies of his acquaintance. Their cards were deposited at the claim staked out by Miss McCabe in Berkeley Square, and that young lady soon "went everywhere," and publicly confessed that she "was having a real lovely time." By a little diplomacy Lord Bude was brought acquainted with Miss McCabe. She consented to overlook his possession of a coronet; t.i.tles were, to this heroine, not marvels (as to some of her countrywomen and ours), but rather matters of indifference, scarcely even suggesting hostile prejudice. The observers in society, mothers and maids, and the chroniclers of fashion, soon perceived that there was at least a marked _camaraderie_ between _the elegant aristocrat_, hitherto indifferent to woman, untouched, as was deemed, by love, and the lovely Child of Freedom. Miss McCabe sat by him while he drove his coach; on the roof of his drag at Lord"s; and of his houseboat at Henley, where she fainted when the crew of Johns Hopkins University, U. S., was defeated by a length by Balliol (where Lord Bude had been the favourite pupil of the great Master). Merton remarked these tokens of friendship with approval.
If Bude could be induced to enter for the great compet.i.tion, and if he proved successful, there seemed no reason to suppose that Miss McCabe would be dissatisfied with the People"s choice.
Towards the end of the season, and in Bude"s smoking-room, about five in the July morning after a ball at Eglintoun House, Merton opened his approaches. He began, cautiously, from talk of moors and forests; he touched on lochs, he mentioned the Highland traditions of water bulls (which haunt these meres); he spoke of the _Beathach mor Loch Odha_, a legendary animal of immeasurable length. The _Beathach_ has twelve feet; he has often been heard crashing through the ice in the nights of winter.
These tales the narrator has gleaned from the lips of the Celtic peasantry of Letter Awe.
"I daresay he does break the ice," said Bude. "In the matter of cryptic survivals of extinct species I can believe a good deal."
"The sea serpent?" asked Merton.
"Seen him thrice," said Bude.
"Then why did not Jones Harvey weigh in with a letter to _Nature_?"
"Jones Harvey has a scientific reputation to look after, and knows he would be laughed at. That"s the kind of hair-pin _he_ is," said Bude, quoting Miss McCabe. "By Jove, Merton, that girl--" and he paused.
"Yes, she is pretty," said Merton.
"Pretty! I have seen the women of the round world--before I went to--well, never mind where, I used to think the Poles the most magnificent, but _she_--"
"Whips creation," said Merton. "But I," he went on, "am rather more interested in these other extraordinary animals. Do you seriously believe, with your experience, that some extinct species are--not extinct?"
"To be sure I do. The world is wide. But they are very shy. I once stalked a Bunyip, in Central Australia, in a lagoon. The natives said he was there: I watched for a week, squatting in the reeds, and in the grey of the seventh dawn I saw him."
"Did you shoot?"
"No, I observed him through a field gla.s.s first."
"What is the beggar like?"
"Much like some of the Highland water cattle, as described, but it is his ears they take for horns. Australia has no indigenous horned animal. He is, I should say, about nine feet long, marsupial (he rose breast high), and web-footed. I saw that when he dived. Other white men have seen him--Buckley, the convict, for one, when he lived among the blacks."
"Buckley was not an accurate observer."
"Jones Harvey is."
"Any other queer beasts?"
"Of course, plenty. You have heard of the Mylodon, the gigantic Sloth?
His bones, skin, and hair were lately found in a cave in Patagonia, with a lot of his fodder. You can see them at the British Museum in South Kensington. Primitive Patagonian man used the female of the species as a milch-cow. He was a genial friendly kind of brute, accessible to charm of manner and chopped hay. They fed him on that, in a domesticated state."
"But he is extinct. Hesketh Pritchard went to look for a live Mylodon, and did not find him."
"Did not know where to look," said Bude.
"But you do?" asked Merton.
"Yes, I think so."
"Then why don"t you bring one over to the Zoo?"
"I may some day."
"Are there any more survivors of extinct species?"
"Merton, is this an interview? Are you doing Mr. Jones Harvey at home for a picture paper?"
"No, I"ve dropped the Press," said Merton, "I ask in a spirit of scientific curiosity."
"Well, there is the Dinornis, the Moa of New Zealand. A bird as big as the Roc in the "Arabian Nights.""
"Have you seen _him_?"
"No, but I have seen _her_, the hen bird. She was sitting on eggs. No man knows her nest but myself, and old Te-iki-pa, the chief medicine-man, or Tohunga, of the Maori King. The Moa"s eyrie is in the King"s country.
It is a difficult country, and a dangerous business, if the c.o.c.k Moa chances to come home."
"Bude, is this worthy of an old friend, this _blague_?"
"Do you doubt my word?"
"If you give me your word I must believe--that you dreamed it."
_Then a strange thing happened_.