Till the Clock Stops

by J. J. Bell

  CHAPTER VIII

  Teddy was not afraid of Mrs. Lancaster, but he soon gathered that she hadcome to stay, and as the situation seemed to him difficult for Doris, hetook his leave with assumed cheerfulness. In bidding the girl good-nighthe dropped in a whispered "to-morrow," which was, perhaps, more of acomfort to Doris than she would have admitted to herself. Immediatelyafter his departure she expressed her intention of going to bed.

  "Just for a moment, Doris. Do sit down again. We must settle what you aregoing to wear at the Thurstans' on the seventeenth." And Mrs. Lancasterplunged into a long discussion on frocks with numerous side issues.

  A few weeks ago she would certainly have hesitated over Bullard as ason-in-law. Now she was prepared to accept him as such, not, it should besaid, with joy and thanksgiving, yet not, on the other hand, withhopeless resignation. After all, he was richer than any of the men sheknew, and in view of her husband's deplorable confession it would bewell, if not vital, to have him on her side. Far better to abandon theidea of a title than to risk all continuing its pursuit. She would see toit that she did not have to abandon her other ambitions.

  When Bullard made his appearance, however, she betrayed no unusualinterest in the man.

  "Was Robert not thinking of going to bed?" she casually enquired.

  "He ought to be there now, Mrs. Lancaster. If I were you--"

  "I shan't be a minute," she said, rising, "but I really must lookafter him."

  Bullard closed the door, and came back to the hearth.

  "I am glad of this opportunity, Miss Doris," he said, "to tell yousomething that has been in my mind to say for a very long time. Don'tbe alarmed."

  She rose, but made no attempt to go from him. Perhaps instinct told herthat there could be no ultimate escape.

  "I don't wear my heart on my sleeve," he went on evenly, "but I dare sayyou have at least suspected my feelings for you. I have never flatteredmyself that you have regarded me as more than a friend of the house--agood friend, I hope--and you have known me so long that you may have cometo consider me an old friend in more senses than one. Yet here I am,Doris, asking you to marry me--"

  "Please, Mr. Bullard--" The whisper came from pale lips.

  He proceeded gently, steadily--"At present you would say that you cannotgive me the affection I desire, yet I would ask to be allowed to try toearn it. I can give you many things besides a whole-hearted admiration,Doris. You are the only woman I have ever thought of as wife. With me youwould be secure from worldly hardships, and I venture to believe that youwould never regret marrying me. One word more. You have been sad of late.No business of mine, perhaps, but if there is anything I can do, you maycommand me. Doris, will you marry me?"

  Perhaps she liked him better at that moment than ever she had done;certainly better than ever she would like him again. For he broke thelong silence with these words--

  "I have your father's permission, your mother's approval."

  "My father's permission!" she said faintly. For support she laid her armon the mantel. Her mind was in a turmoil. At last--"I cannot marry you,Mr. Bullard."

  "With all respect," he quietly answered, "I cannot take your wordsas final."

  She was not indignant, only afraid. "You speak of my father's'permission,'" she managed to say. "Does that include his 'approval'? Youwill forgive me, but--"

  "I will forgive you anything but a refusal."

  "Then please excuse my leaving you. I will come back."

  She went quickly to the library. From the table Mr. Lancaster raised aface whose haggard aspect almost made her cry out--so aged it was, sostricken with trouble. She closed the door, went over to the table, andhalted opposite him.

  "Father, do you really wish me to marry Mr. Bullard?"

  "My child, life--everything--is uncertain, and so--and so I would see youprovided for."

  "I am not afraid of poverty--compared with some things." She nervedherself. "Father, you and I used to be frank with each other. Willit--help you if I marry Mr. Bullard?"

  The man writhed. "Yes, Doris," he whispered at last.

  "In what way?" Again she had to wait for his reply.

  "It--it would save me..."

  "Save you?"

  "...from a grave difficulty..."

  "Difficulty?"

  "...disgrace." His head drooped. And suddenly all that mattered to heartwas swamped by a wave of loving pity. She ran round to him and claspedhim, and kissed him. "Oh, my dear," she sighed, "it was never, neveryour fault."

  Then she went back to the drawing-room. She looked straight at Bullard ashe stood by the fire, well-dressed, well-groomed, and just ratherwell-fed. And there and then she made up her mind.

  "Mr. Bullard," she said calmly, "I promise to marry you, if you stillwish it, a year hence; but I will not be engaged to you formally oropenly. That is all I can say--all I can offer you."

  He frowned slightly at her tone rather than her words. The leasttrustworthy people are not the least trusting, and he did not doubt,knowing her as he did, that she would redeem any promise she made,nor was he particularly anxious for marriage within a year. But hehad his vanity.

  "Do you mean," he asked with increased suavity, "that you would wish toignore my existence until the year is up?"

  "Not your existence, Mr. Bullard--we should meet as before, Isuppose--but--well, I think you must see what I mean."

  He bowed. "It shall be as you will, Doris. Enough that I have your wordfor a year hence. Or"--he smiled--"let us say, when the clock stops,which your father will tell you is practically the same thing. Don't lookso puzzled! Will you give me your hand on it?" The man was not withoutdignity; he made no attempt to detain her hand.

  "Thank you and good-night," he said. "I will pay my respects to Mrs.Lancaster to-morrow afternoon."

  He went out with the step of success. He had not only secured a wife tobe proud of, but had, he believed, disarmed a possible enemy. For sometime he had had vaguely uneasy moments with regard to Teddy France.

  When the door had closed Doris dropped her face in her hands, but hereyes remained dry. Five minutes later, Mrs. Lancaster, coming in,received the calm and brief announcement that her daughter had promisedto marry Mr. Bullard a year hence; that until then he was to be regardedas an ordinary acquaintance, and that he would call upon Mrs. Lancasteron the following afternoon.

  The mother was not heartless. "You are doing this to help your father,Doris. I know all about it. It is--it is noble of you!"

  The girl looked at her, and the question rushed to her lips--"Oh, whyhave _you_, his wife, never done anything to help him?" But it remainedunuttered. "Good-night, mother," she said, and hastened to the refugeof her room.

  She wrote a few lines to Teddy, stating simply what she had done. Afterthat she gave way.

  * * * * *

  About the same hour, in Dr. Handyside's study, four hundred miles away, aconference of three people was drawing to a close. Earlier in the day Cawhad received a belated visit from Mr. Harvie, the Glasgow lawyer, who,owing to illness, had been unable to attend to business since hisclient's death. Beyond the information that Caw had been left the sum ofL5,000 free of duty, the old housekeeper an annuity, and the doctorL1,000, Mr. Harvie had little to say. The rest of his late client'sfortune, the house and its contents, were already Alan's--if the youngman were still alive, and Mr. Harvie, whatever his own ideas might be,was under an obligation to assume as much until--a slight grimace ofdisapproval--"the clock stopped." "I have other instructions," he added,"but they are not to be acted on at present." He had returned to town bythe last steamer.

  "So we have come back to where we started," Dr. Handyside was saying."The sum total of our discoveries is that we can do next to nothing. If Ihadn't become so intimate with your master's character--not his affairs,you understand, Caw--I should have had very little respect for hismethods. As for his motives, they are no business of ours."

  "If I may say so," returned Caw, who would have been h
appier standing atattention than sitting in Miss Handyside's company, "you take a loftyview of the matter, sir, and you put it in a nutshell when you say thathis motives are none of our business. I am sorry to have brought you andMiss Handyside into the trouble--"

  "I rather think I came in," observed Miss Handyside with a smile.

  "Which is a fact, miss. And very welcome, too, if I may say so. Also, Mr.Craig trusted you both."

  "Wherefore it is up to us to trust his wisdom and respect hiswishes," said Handyside. "The green box must remain where it is andtake its chance."

  "If you hadn't told us," said Marjorie to Caw, "that you were the last tosee inside the box, I should be imagining all sorts of things. And thosetwo men were his friends!"

  Caw's expression resumed its usual stolidity. To have replied thatthey had ceased to be his master's friends would have involvedexplanations which he did not feel at liberty to impart even to thosetrustworthy people.

  "Do you think they will try again, Caw?" the girl pursued. "I wish youhad not sent back the money--"

  "Don't be absurd, Marjorie!" said her father. "Caw had no choice."

  "Well, sir, I was sorely tempted to stick to it as a bit of revenge, butI asked myself what my master would have done--and then, as you say, sir,there was no choice. As to your question, miss, I answer 'Yes.' A manlike Mr. Bullard--I'm not so sure of the other--would not give up tryingfor such a prize. You see, I learned his ways out there in the old days.All his successes were made by bold methods. He feared nothing, cared fornobody. Oh, yes, he is bound to have another try, though I don't fancy itwill be to-morrow or the next day."

  "One would almost imagine," remarked the doctor, easing his injured footon the supporting chair, "that the beggars guessed you were powerless inthe matter."

  Caw shook his head. "Hardly that, sir. They had a sight of myrevolver--though, of course, that was after I had made sure they had gotthe box, and was only a miserable attempt to give them a shake-up. Butthey were not to know that. Their strong point is this, sir. They havethe knowledge that the existence of the diamonds is practically a secret.Even Mr. Alan, even the lawyer has never heard of them. Only Bullard,Lancaster, and Caw knew of them; and Caw is in the minority. And they sayto themselves--'Once we get the box, we have only to swear that itcontained papers belonging to us, that Mr. Craig had the loan of it, andso forth.' Then how is Caw going to disprove their words? they askthemselves. 'Can't be done! If Caw begins to talk of half-a-million indiamonds left in a writing-table drawer, he'll only get laughed at, andif we've nothing better to do, we can get up an action for slander.'There you are, sir! That's what I fancy I see at the back of their heads,and I'm sure I'm right."

  "I believe you are, Caw!" cried Marjorie. "What do you say, father?"

  "I am inclined to accept the diagnosis," replied the doctor, smiling ather eagerness. "Well, Caw, just one question more. What is your position,supposing those two gentlemen made an attempt by deputy?"

  At that Caw smiled for the first time. "If I may say so, sir, I thinkyour services would be required for the deputy!" Becoming grave, headded--"I have taken the liberty of running a new wire along the passage,sir. The opening of the door of my master's room will cause a bell toring--not too loudly--in the quarters you have kindly provided for me inthis house."

  "Capital!" said the doctor.

  "And if you, sir, would be good enough to give your housekeeper someexplanation that would satisfy her without giving away things--"

  "That will be all right, Caw," Miss Handyside assured him. "When you getto know Mrs. Butters, you will realise that she is not as others are,being a woman absolutely without curiosity."

  "Thank you, miss." Caw smiled faintly and got up. "Unless there isanything more, sir--" he began.

  "Nothing at all," said the doctor kindly.

  "Thank you, sir. Good-night, sir. Good-night, miss."

  "Trustworthy chap," Handyside remarked when the door had closed. "Thelegacy seems to have made no difference, though it upset him for themoment. And he knows all that's worth knowing about cars and electriclighting," he added rather irrelevantly. "I believe we'll be able to givehim enough to do, after all."

  "Between ourselves, father," said Marjorie suddenly, "have you theslightest hope of Alan Craig's return?"

  "Not the slightest, my dear. He was a fine lad. I wish you had met him,but you were always gadding somewhere when he visited his uncle."

  "I shan't be doing much gadding in the near future," she remarkedthoughtfully.

  "Why this sudden change from years of neglecting your only father?"

  "I'm going to be on the spot in case anything happens next door."

  "Indeed!" said the doctor drily.