The Hillman

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  XXVIII

  Louise ate a very small luncheon, but--an unusual thing for her--shedrank two glasses of wine. Just as she had finished, Sophy came in, withink-stained fingers and a serious expression.

  "You silly child!" Louise exclaimed. "No one told me you were here. Haveyou had any lunch?"

  "Long ago," Sophy replied. "I have been finishing your accounts."

  Louise made a little grimace.

  "Tell me the worst," she begged.

  "You are overdrawn at your bank, your bills are heavier than ever thismonth, and there are five or six special accounts--one for some electricfittings, another for the hire of a motor-car--which ought to be paid."

  "People are always wanting money!" Louise declared pettishly.

  "People always will want money," Sophy retorted, "so long as you earnthree thousand a year and spend four or five thousand!"

  Louise selected a cigarette and lit it.

  "Instead of scolding me, child," she yawned, "suppose you suggestsomething?"

  "What is there to suggest?" Sophy replied. "Your bank has written you toput your overdraft straight at once--it comes to about two hundred andseventy pounds. There are bills, for which the people are asking forpayment, and which come to about as much again. You've nothing but yourhundred pounds a week, and you're spending half of that, as it is."

  Louise flicked the ash from her cigarette.

  "And even you, my child, don't know the worst," she remarked. "There'sFenillon, my dressmaker. She doesn't send me a bill at all, but I oweher nearly six hundred pounds. I have to wear a shockingly unbecominggown in the second act, as it is, just because she's gettingdisagreeable."

  "Well, I've tried to set things straight," Sophy declared. "You'll haveeither to marry or to borrow some money. You can't go on much longer!"

  Louise was looking up at the ceiling. She sighed.

  "It would be nice," she said, "to have some one to pay one's bills andlook after one, and see that one wasn't too extravagant."

  "Well, you need some one badly," Sophy asserted. "I suppose you mean tomake up your mind to it some day."

  "I wonder!" Louise murmured. "Did you know that that terrible man fromthe hills--John Strangewey's brother--has been here this morning? Hefrightened me almost to death."

  "What did he want?" Sophy asked curiously.

  "He was a trifle vague," Louise remarked. "I gathered that if I don'tsend John back to Cumberland, he's going to strangle me."

  Sophy leaned across the table.

  "Are you going to send him back?" she asked.

  "I am in an uncertain frame of mind," Louise confessed. "I really can'tdecide about anything."

  Sophy poured herself out some coffee.

  "I think," she said, "that you'll have to decide about John beforelong."

  "About John, indeed!" Louise exclaimed lightly. "Who gave you the rightto call him by his Christian name?"

  Sophy colored.

  "I suppose I have just dropped into it," she remarked. "Tell me what youhave decided to do, Louise?"

  "Why should I do anything at all?"

  "You know very well," Sophy insisted, "that you have encouraged JohnStrangewey shamefully. You have persuaded him to live up here, to makenew friends, and to start an entirely new mode of life, just in the hopethat some day you will marry him."

  "Have I?" Louise asked. "Then I suppose I must keep my word--some day!"

  Sophy drew her chair a little nearer to her friend's. She passed her armaround Louise's waist; their heads almost touched.

  "Dear Louise," she whispered, "please tell me!"

  Louise was silent. Her hesitation became momentous. Her eyes seemed tobe looking through the walls. Sophy watched her breathlessly.

  "You ought to make up your mind," she went on. "You see, it isn't as ifthere was no one else. There is the prince."

  Sophy felt the fingers that she was clasping grow a little colder.

  "Yes," Louise repeated, "there is the prince. Sophy, I feel that I amdrifting into an impossible position. Every day is bringing me nearer toit."

  "I want to tell you this, Louise," Sophy said firmly. "John is gettingto know a great many people, and you know how men talk at the clubs.Aren't you sometimes afraid that he will hear things and misunderstand?"

  "I am expecting it every day," Louise admitted.

  "Then why don't you end it?"

  "Which way?"

  There was a silence between the two women. The muffled street noisesfrom outside became the background to a stillness which grew everymoment more oppressive. Louise returned to her former attitude. Shelooked steadfastly before her, her face supported by her hands.

  Sophy grew paler and paler as the minutes passed. There was somethingstrange and almost beautiful in Louise's face, something which had cometo her lately, and which shone from her eyes only at rare intervals.

  "You care for him, I believe!" Sophy cried at last. "You care for him!"

  Louise did not move.

  "Why not?" she whispered.

  "You, Louise!" Sophy gasped. "You, the great artist! Why, think of themen who have tried to make you care--poets, musicians--so many of them,so many famous men! It can't be true. John Strangewey is so far apart.He doesn't belong to your world."

  Louise leaned over and stroked her little friend's hair.

  "Child," she said, "that's all very true. I have had it ringing in mybrain for longer than you would believe. But now tell me something. No,look at me--don't be ashamed. Are you in love with John yourself?"

  Sophy never hesitated.

  "From the very first moment I saw him," she confessed. "Don't let thatbother you, dear. He would never look at me except as a little pal. Inever expected anything from him--anything serious, of course--neverdared to hope for it. I have thrown myself at his head in the mostshameless manner. It is all no good. I never met any one like himbefore. Louise, do you know that he is good--really good?"

  "I believe he is," Louise murmured. "That is what makes it sowonderful."

  "It's all incomprehensible," Sophy declared wearily.

  There was a ring at the front door. Louise, from her place, could seethe long, gray bonnet of John's car. Almost before she could speak, hewas announced.

  "It's an atrocious time to come, I know--" he began apologetically.

  "You're in time for some coffee, anyhow," Sophy told him cheerfully."And I know Louise is glad to see you, because if you hadn't come I wasgoing to make her go through some accounts."

  "You know I am always glad to see you," Louise murmured, pointing to achair. "Sophy and I have been having a most interesting discussion, butwe have come to a _cul-de-sac_."

  "I really came," John explained, "to ask if you cared to come and see acollection of pictures. There's an Italian--a Futurist, of course--justunpacked his little lot and set them up over a curiosity-shop inClifford Street. He is sending out cards for next week, but I could takeyou to-day--that is, if you would care about it. We can go somewhere forsome tea afterward."

  Louise made a little grimace.

  "What bad luck!" she exclaimed.

  She stopped short. She felt that by her hesitation she had, in a sense,committed herself.

  "I have promised to go and have tea with the prince at Seyre House," shesaid. "It is an engagement we made last week."

  John set down his empty coffee-cup with a clatter. An inexplicable butdominating fury seemed to have suddenly assailed him. He took out acigarette and tried to light it. Sophy, after watching him for a momentin astonishment, slipped out of the room. Louise came over to his side.

  "Are you really so much disappointed?" she asked. "I am so sorry. If Ihad known that you were coming for me, I would have kept myself free."

  "It isn't that exactly," John answered. "It's something I can'taltogether explain. If you don't mind, I think I will be going. There issomething I must put right."

  He left without another word. She watched him step into his newmotor-car an
d drive away a little recklessly, considering the crowdedstate of the streets. He drew up, a few minutes later, outside the clubin Pall Mall, where, as it chanced, he had lunched that day with thePrince of Seyre.

  He found the prince still sitting in the smoking room, reading a review,over the top of which he glanced up as John approached, and noddednonchalantly.

  "Back again?" he murmured.

  "I came back to have a word with you, prince."

  The prince laid down the review, keeping his finger in the place.

  "Delighted!"

  "Not long ago," John went on, "in this room, some one--I think it wasMajor Charters--asked you what you were doing this afternoon. Youreplied that you were engaged. There were several others present, andthey began to chaff you. Perhaps I joined in--I don't remember. I thinkthat it was Major Charters who asked you, to use his own words, whetheryour appointment was with a lady. You replied in the affirmative. Therewas a little volley of chaff. You listened without contradiction to manyreferences concerning the nature of your afternoon's amusement."

  The prince nodded slightly. His face remained quite expressionless.

  "As a matter of fact," John concluded, "I have discovered by the purestaccident that Miss Maurel is to be your guest this afternoon at SeyreHouse."

  The prince inclined his head gently. He remained monosyllabic.

  "Well?"

  John frowned heavily.

  "Can't you see," he went on bluntly, "that if any one of those men whowere present, and heard what was said about your guest, found outafterward that it was Miss Maurel who came to see you--well, I need notgo on, need I? I am sure you understand. The things which were hinted atcould not possibly apply to her. Would you mind sending a note to MissMaurel and asking her to have tea with you some other afternoon?"

  "And why the deuce should I do that?" the prince asked, a trifle paler,but entirely self-possessed.

  "To oblige me," John replied.

  The prince wiped his eye-glass carefully upon his handkerchief.

  "Mr. Strangewey, you are a very amiable young man," he said equably, "towhom I have tried to show some kindness for Miss Maurel's sake. I reallydo not see, however--pardon my putting it plainly--what business thisis of yours."

  "It is my business," John declared, "because I have asked Miss Maurel tobe my wife, and because I am hoping that some day, before very long, shewill consent."

  The prince sat quite still in his chair, his eyes fixed upon a certainspot in the carpet. He had not even the appearance of being engaged inthought. He seemed only steeped in a sort of passivity. Finally, with asigh, he rose to his feet.

  "My young friend," he decided, "your statement alters the situation. Idid not credit you with matrimonial intentions. I must see what can bedone!"

  His lips had relaxed ever so slightly--so slightly that they showed onlya glimpse of his teeth in one straight, hard line. He looked at Johnmildly, and his words seemed destitute of all offense; yet John feltthat the lightnings were playing around them.

  "I shall write a note to Miss Maurel," the prince promised, as he madehis way toward the writing-table, "and ask her to visit me upon someother afternoon."