CHAPTER VIII
AND THE RIFLE
Thresk, alone in the tent, looked impatiently towards the grass-screen.He wanted half-a-dozen words with Stella alone. Here was the opportunity,the unhoped-for opportunity, and it was slipping away. Through the opendoorway of the tent he saw Ballantyne standing by a big fire and menmoving quickly in obedience to his voice. Then he heard the rustle of adress in the corridor, and she was in the room. He moved quickly towardsher, but she held up her hand and stopped him.
"Oh, why did you come?" she said, and the pallor of her face reproachedhim no less than the regret in her voice.
"I heard of you in Bombay," he replied. "I am glad that I did come."
"And I am sorry."
"Why?"
She looked about the tent as though he might find his answer there.Thresk did not move. He stood near to her, watching her face intentlywith his jaw rather set.
"Oh, I didn't say that to wound you," said Stella, and she sat down onone of the cushioned basket-chairs. "You mustn't think I wasn't glad tosee you. I was--at the first moment I was very glad;" and she saw hisface lighten as she spoke. "I couldn't help it. All the years rolledaway. I remembered the Sussex Downs and--and--days when we rode therehigh up above the weald. Do you remember?"
"Yes."
"How long was that ago?"
"Eight years."
Stella laughed wistfully.
"To me it seems a century." She was silent for a moment, and though hespoke to her urgently she did not answer. She was carried back to thehigh broad hills of grass with the curious clumps of big beech-trees upontheir crests.
"Do you remember Halnaker Gallop?" she asked with a laugh. "We found itwhen the chains weren't up and had the whole two miles free. Was thereever such grass?"
She was looking straight at the bureau, but she was seeing that greenlane of shaven turf in the haze of an August morning. She saw it rise anddip in the open between long brown grass. There was a tree on theleft-hand side just where the ride dipped for the first time. Then it ranstraight to the big beech-trees and passed between them, a wide glade ofsunlight, and curved out at the upper end by the road and dipped downagain to the two lodges.
"And the ridge at the back of Charlton forest, all the weald to LeithHill in view?" She rose suddenly from her chair. "Oh, I am sorry thatyou came."
"And I am glad," repeated Thresk.
The stubbornness with which he repeated his words arrested her. Shelooked at him--was it with distrust, he asked himself? He could not besure. But certainly there was a little hard note in her voice which hadnot been there before, when in her turn she asked:
"Why?"
"Because I shouldn't have known," he said in a quick whisper. "I shouldhave gone back. I should have left you here. I shouldn't have known."
Stella recoiled.
"There is nothing to know," she said sharply, and Thresk pointed ather throat.
"Nothing?"
Stella Ballantyne raised her hand to cover the blue marks.
"I--I fell and hurt myself," she stammered.
"It was he--Ballantyne."
"No," she cried and she drew herself erect. But Thresk would not acceptthe denial.
"He ill-treats you," he insisted. "He drinks and ill-treats you."
Stella shook her head.
"You asked questions in Bombay where we are known. You were not toldthat," she said confidently. There was only one person in Bombay whoknew the truth and Jane Repton, she was very sure, would never havebetrayed her.
"That's true," Thresk conceded. "But why? Because it's only here in campthat he lets himself go. He told us as much to-night. You were here atthe table. You heard. He let his secret slip: no one to carry tales, noone to spy. In the towns he sets a guard upon himself. Yes, but he looksforward to the months of camp when there are no next-door neighbours."
"No, that's not true," she protested and cast about for explanations."He--he has had a long day and to-night he was tired--and when you aretired--Oh, as a rule he's different." And to her relief she heardBallantyne's voice outside the tent.
"Thresk! Thresk!"
She came forward and held out her hand.
"There! Your camel's ready," she said. "You must go! Goodbye," and as hetook it the old friendliness transfigured her face. "You are a great mannow. I read of you. You always meant to be, didn't you? Hard work?"
"Very," said Thresk. "Four o'clock in the morning till midnight;" and shesuddenly caught him by the arm.
"But it's worth it." She let him go and clasped her hands together. "Oh,you have got everything!" she cried in envy.
"No," he answered. But she would not listen.
"Everything you asked for," she said and she added hurriedly, "Do youstill collect miniatures? No time for that now I suppose." Once moreBallantyne's voice called to them from the camp-fire.
"You must go."
Thresk looked through the opening of the tent. Ballantyne had turned andwas coming back towards them.
"I'll write to you from Bombay," he said, and utter disbelief showed inher face and sounded in her laugh.
"That letter will never reach me," she said lightly, and she went up tothe door of the tent. Thresk had a moment whilst her back was turned andhe used it. He took his pipe out of his pocket and placed it silently andquickly on the table. He wanted a word with her when Ballantyne was outof the way and she was not upon her guard to fence him off. The pipemight be his friend and give it him. He went up to Stella at thetent-door and Ballantyne, who was half-way between the camp-fire and thetent, stopped when he caught sight of him.
"That's right," he said. "You ought to be going;" and he turned againtowards the camel. Thus for another moment they were alone together, butit was Stella who seized it.
"There go!" she said. "You must go," and in the same breath she added:
"Married yet?"
"No," answered Thresk.
"Still too busy getting on?"
"That's not the reason"--and he lowered his voice to a whisper--"Stella."
Again she laughed in frank and utter disbelief.
"Nor is Stella. That's mere politeness and good manners. We must show thedear creatures the great part they play in our lives." And upon that allher fortitude suddenly deserted her. She had played her part so far, shecould play it no longer. An extraordinary change came over her face. Thesmiles, the laughter slipped from it like a loosened mask. Thresk sawsuch an agony of weariness and hopeless longing in her eyes as he hadnever seen even with his experience in the Courts of Law. She drew backinto the shadow of the tent.
"In thirteen days you'll be steaming up the Channel," she whispered, andwith a sob she covered her face with her hands. Thresk saw the tearstrickle between her fingers.
Ballantyne at the fire was looking back towards the tent. Thresk hurriedout to him. The camel was crouching close to the fire saddled and ready.
"You have time," said Ballantyne. "The train's not in yet," and Threskwalked to the side of the camel, where a couple of steps had been placedfor him to mount. He had a foot on the step when he suddenly clapped hishand to his pocket.
"I've left my pipe," he cried, "and I've a night's journey in front ofme. I won't be a second."
He ran back with all his speed to the tent. The hangings at the door wereclosed. He tore them aside and rushed in.
"Stella!" he said in a whisper, and then he stopped in amazement. He hadleft her on the very extremity of distress. He found her, though to besure the stains of her tears were still visible upon her face, busy withone of the evening preparations natural in a camp-life--quietly,energetically busy. She looked up once when he raised the hanging overthe door, but she dropped her eyes the next instant to her work.
She was standing by the table with a small rook-rifle in her hands. Thebreech was open. She looked down the barrel, holding up the weapon sothat the light might shine into the breech.
"Yes?" she said, and with so much indifference that she did not lift hereyes from her wo
rk. "I thought you had gone."
"I left my pipe behind me," said Thresk.
"There it is, on the table."
"Thank you."
He put it in his pocket. Of the two he was disconcerted and at a loss,she was entirely at her ease.
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