"Great Scotland!" he exclaimed abruptly. "I know you--or ought to.
You"re the little newspaper chap who saved my life at Magersfontein.
Thought there was something familiar about you the moment I saw you. You remember me, eh?"
He turned back his goggles impetuously, and showed Carey his face.
Yes; Carey remembered him very well indeed, though he was not sure that the acquaintance was one he desired to improve. He took the proffered hand with a certain reserve.
"Yes; I remember you. I don"t think I ever heard your name, but that"s a detail. You came out of it all right, then?"
"Oh, yes; more or less. Nothing ever hurts me." The big man"s laugh had in it a touch of bitterness. "Where are you bound for? Come along with me in the car; I"ll take you where you want to go." He seized Carey by the shoulder, impelling him with boisterous cordiality towards the vehicle. "Jump in, my friend. My name is Coningsby--Major Coningsby, of Crooklands Manor--mad Coningsby I"m called about here, because I happen to ride straighter to hounds than most of "em. A bit of a compliment, eh? But they"re a shocking set of m.u.f.fs in these parts. You don"t live here?"
"No; I am down on a visit to my cousin, Lady Emberdale. She lives at Crooklands Mead. I"ve come down a day sooner than I was expected, and the train was two hours late. I"m Reginald Carey." He stopped before the step of the car. "It"s very good of you, but I won"t take you out of your way on such a beastly night. I can quite well walk."
"Nonsense, man! It"s no distance, and it isn"t out of the way. I"ve only just motored down to get an evening paper. You"re just in time to dine with me. I"m all alone, and confoundedly glad to see you. I know Lady Emberdale well. Come, jump in!"
Thus urged, Carey yielded, not over-willingly, and took his seat in the car.
Directly they started, he knew the reason for his companion"s pseudonym, for they whizzed out of the yard at a speed which must have disquieted the stoutest nerves.
It was the maddest ride he had ever experienced, and he wondered by what instinct Major Coningsby kept a straight course through the darkness.
Their own lamps provided the only light there was, and when they presently turned sharply at right angles he gathered himself together instinctively in preparation for a smash.
But nothing happened. They tore on a little farther in darkness, travelling along a private road; and then the lights of a house pierced the gloom.
Coningsby brought his car to a standstill.
"Tumble out! The front door is straight ahead. My man will let you in and look after you. Excuse me a moment while I take the car round!"
He was gone with the words, leaving Carey to ascend a flight of steps to the hall door. It opened at once to admit him, and he found himself in a great hall dimly illumined by firelight. A servant helped him to divest himself of his overcoat, and silently led the way.
The room he entered was furnished as a library. He glanced round it as he stood on the hearth-rug, awaiting his host, and was chiefly struck by the general atmosphere of dreariness that pervaded it. Its sombre oak furniture seemed to absorb instead of reflecting the light. There was a large oil-painting above the fireplace, and after a few seconds he turned his head and saw it. It was the portrait of a woman.
Young, beautiful, queenly, the painted face looked down into his own, and the man"s heart gave a sudden, curious throb that was half rapture and half pain. In a moment the room he had just entered, with all the circ.u.mstances that had taken him there, was blotted from his brain. He was standing once more on the rocking deck of a steamer, in a tempest of wind and rain and furious sea, facing the storm, exultant, with a woman"s hand fast gripped in his.
"Are you looking at that picture?" said a voice. "It"s my wife--dead now--lost--five years ago--at sea!"
Carey wheeled sharply at the jerky utterance. Coningsby was standing by his side. He was staring upwards at the portrait, a strange gleam darting in his eyes--a gleam not wholly sane.
"It doesn"t do her justice," he went on in the same abrupt, headlong fashion. "But it"s better than nothing. She was the only woman who ever satisfied me. Her loss damaged me badly. I"ve never been the same since.
There"ve been others, of course, but she was always first--an easy first. I shall want her--I shall go on wanting her--till I"m in my grave." His voice was suddenly husky, as the voice of a man in pain.
"It"s like a fiery thirst," he said. "I try to quench it--Heaven knows I try! But it comes back--it comes back."
He swung round on his heel and went to the table. There followed the clink of gla.s.ses, but Carey did not turn. His eyes had left the picture, and were fixed, stern and unwinking, upon the fire that glowed at his feet.
Again he seemed to feel the clasp of a woman"s hand, free and confiding, within his own. Again his heart stirred responsively in the quick warmth of a woman"s perfect sympathy.
And he knew that into his keeping had been given the secret of that woman"s existence. The five years" mystery was solved at last. He understood, and, understanding, he kept silent faith with her.
III
It was two hours later that Carey presented himself at his cousin"s house. He entered un.o.btrusively, as his manner was, knowing himself to be a welcome guest.
The first person to greet him was Gwen, who, accompanied by a college youth of twenty, was roasting chestnuts in front of the hall fire. She sprang up at the sound of his voice, and, flushed and eager, rushed to meet him.
"Why, Reggie, my dear old boy, who would have thought of seeing you to-night? Come right in! Aren"t you very cold? How did you get here?
Have you dined? This is Charlie Rivers, the Admiral"s son. Charlie, you have heard me speak of my cousin, Mr. Carey."
Charlie had, several times over, and said so, with a grin, as he made room for Carey in front of the blaze, taking care to keep himself next to Gwen.
Carey considerately fell in with the manoeuvre and, greetings over, they huddled sociably together over the fire, and fell to discussing the birthday party which was to be held on the morrow.
Gwen was a curious blend of excitement and common sense. She had been busily preparing all day for the coming festivity.
"There"s one visitor I want you both to be very good to," she said, "and see that she takes plenty of refreshments, whether she wants them or not."
Young Rivers grimaced at Carey.
"You can have my share of this unattractive female," he said generously.
"It"s Gwen"s schoolmistress, and I"ll bet she"s as heavy as a sack of coals."
"I can"t dance. I"m lame," said Carey. "But I don"t mind sitting out in the refreshment room to please Gwen. How old is she, Gwen? About twice my age?"
Gwen did not stop to calculate.
"Older than that, I should think. Her hair is quite grey, and she"s very sad and quiet. I am sure she has had a lot of trouble. Very likely she won"t want to dance either, so there will be a pair of you. Her name is _Mademoiselle_ Treves, but she is only half French, and speaks English better than I do. She never goes anywhere, so I do want her to have a good time. You will be kind to her, won"t you? I"ll introduce you to her as early as possible. We are all going to wear masks till midnight."
"Stupid things--masks," said Charlie very decidedly. "Don"t like "em."
Gwen turned upon him.
"It"s much the fairest way. If we didn"t wear them, the pretty girls would get all the best dances."
"Oh, well, you wouldn"t be left out, anyway," he a.s.sured her.
At which compliment Gwen sniffed contemptuously, and pointedly requested Carey to give her a few minutes in strict privacy before they parted for the night.
He saw that she meant it; and when Charlie had reluctantly taken himself off he went with his young cousin to her own little sitting-room upstairs before seeking Lady Emberdale in the drawing-room.
Gwen could scarcely wait till the door was closed before she began to lay her troubles before him.
"It"s Mummy!" she told him very seriously. "You can"t think how sick and disgusted I am. Sit down, Reggie, and I"ll tell you all about it! Being Mummy"s trustee, perhaps you will have some influence over her. I have none. She thinks I"m prejudiced. And I"m not, Reggie. There"s nothing to make me so except that Charlie is a nice boy, and the Admiral a perfect darling."
She paused for breath, and Carey patiently waited for further enlightenment. It came.
"Of course," she said, seating herself on the arm of his chair, "I"ve always known that Mummy would marry again some day or other. She"s so young and pretty; and I haven"t minded the idea a bit. Poor, dear Dad was always such a very, very old man! But I do want her to marry someone nice now the time has come. All through the summer holidays I felt sure it was going to be the Admiral, and I was so pleased about it.
Charlie and I used to make bets about its coming off before Christmas.
He was ever so pleased, too, and we"d settled to join together for the wedding present so as to get something decent. It was all going to be so jolly. And now," with a great sigh, "everything"s spoilt.