CHAPTER XVII
TROUBLE FOR MR. HAZLEWOOD
When Dick and Stella walked along the drive to the lane Harold Hazlewood,who was radiant at the success of his dinner-party, turned to RobertPettifer in the hall.
"Have a whisky-and-soda, Robert, before you go," he said. He led the wayback into the library. Behind him walked the Pettifers, Robertill-at-ease and wishing himself a hundred miles away, Margaret Pettiferboiling for battle. Hazlewood himself dropped into an arm-chair.
"I am very glad that you came to-night, Margaret," he said boldly. "Youhave seen for yourself."
"Yes, I have," she replied. "Harold, there have been moments this eveningwhen I could have screamed."
Robert Pettifer hurriedly turned towards the table in the far cornerof the room where the tray with the decanters and the syphons hadbeen placed.
"Margaret, I pass my life in a scream at the injustice of the world,"said Harold Hazlewood, and Robert Pettifer chuckled as he cut off the endof a cigar. "It is strange that an act of reparation should move you inthe same way."
"Reparation!" cried Margaret Pettifer indignantly. Then she noticed thatthe window was open. She looked around the room. She drew up a chair infront of her brother.
"Harold, if you have no consideration for us, none for your ownposition, none for the neighbourhood, if you will at all costs forcethis woman upon us, don't you think that you might still spare a thoughtfor your son?"
Robert Pettifer had kept his eyes open that evening as well as his wife.He took a step down into the room. He was anxious to take no part in thedispute; he desired to be just; he was favourably inclined towards StellaBallantyne; looking at her he had been even a little moved. But Dick wasthe first consideration. He had no children of his own, he cared for Dickas he would have cared for his son, and when he went up each morning bythe train to his office in London there lay at the back of his mind thethought that one day the fortune he was amassing would add a splendour toDick's career. Harold Hazlewood alone of the three seemed to have hiseyes sealed.
"Why, what on earth do you mean, Margaret?"
Margaret Pettifer sat down in her chair.
"Where was Dick yesterday afternoon?"
"Margaret, I don't know."
"I do. I saw him. He was with Stella Ballantyne on the river--in thedusk--in a Canadian canoe." She uttered each fresh detail in a moreindignant tone, as though it aggravated the crime. Yet even so she hadnot done. There was, it seemed, a culminating offence. "She was wearing awhite lace frock with a big hat."
"Well," said Mr. Hazlewood mildly, "I don't think I have anything againstbig hats."
"She was trailing her hand in the water--that he might notice itsslenderness of course. Outrageous I call it!"
Mr. Hazlewood nodded his head at his indignant sister.
"I know that frame of mind very well, Margaret," he remarked. "She cannotdo right. If she had been wearing a small hat she would have beenFrenchified."
But Mrs. Pettifer was not in a mood for argument.
"Can't you see what it all means?" she cried in exasperation.
"I can. I do," Mr. Hazlewood retorted and he smiled proudly upon hissister. "The boy's better nature is awakening."
Margaret Pettifer lifted up her hands.
"The boy!" she exclaimed. "He's thirty-four if he's a day."
She leaned forward in her chair and pointing up to the bay asked: "Why isthat window open, Harold?"
Harold Hazlewood showed his first sign of discomfort. He shifted inhis chair.
"It's a hot night, Margaret."
"That is not the reason," Mrs. Pettifer retorted implacably."Where is Dick?"
"I expect that he is seeing Mrs. Ballantyne home."
"Exactly," said Mrs. Pettifer with a world of significance in her voice.Mr. Hazlewood sat up and looked at his sister.
"Margaret, you want to make me uncomfortable," he exclaimed pettishly."But you shan't. No, my dear, you shan't." He let himself sink back againand joining the tips of his fingers contemplated the ceiling. ButMargaret was in the mind to try. She shot out her words at him like somany explosive bullets.
"Being friends is one thing, Harold. Marrying is another."
"Very true, Margaret, very true."
"They are in love with one another."
"Rubbish, Margaret, rubbish."
"I watched them at the dinner-table and afterwards. They are man andwoman, Harold. That's what you don't understand. They are notillustrations of your theories. Ask Robert."
"No," exclaimed Robert Pettifer. He hurriedly lit a cigar. "Any inferenceI should make must be purely hypothetical."
"Yes, we'll ask Robert. Come, Pettifer!" cried Mr. Hazlewood. "Let ushave your opinion."
Robert Pettifer came reluctantly down from his corner.
"Well, if you insist, I think they were very friendly."
"Ah!" cried Hazlewood in triumph. "Being friends is one thing, Margaret.Marrying is another."
Mrs. Pettifer shook her head over her brother with a mostaggravating pity.
"Dick said a shrewd thing the other day to me, Harold."
Mr. Hazlewood looked doubtfully at his sister.
"I am sure of it," he answered, but he was careful not to ask for anyrepetition of the shrewd remark. Margaret, however, was not in the mindto let him off.
"He said that sentimental philosophers sooner or later break their headsagainst their own theories. Mark those words, Harold! I hope they won'tcome true of you. I hope so very much indeed."
But it was abundantly clear that she had not a shadow of doubt that theywould come true. Mr. Hazlewood was stung by the slighting phrase.
"I am not a sentimental philosopher," he said hotly. "Sentiment Ialtogether abhor. I hold strong views, I admit."
"You do indeed," his sister interrupted with an ironical laugh. "Oh, Ihave read your pamphlet, Harold. The prison walls must cast no shadow andconvicts, once they are released, have as much right to sit down at ourdinner-tables as they had before. Well, you carry your principles intopractice, that I will say. We had an illustration to-night."
"You are unjust, Margaret," and Mr. Hazlewood rose from his chair withsome dignity. "You speak of Mrs. Ballantyne, not for the first time, asif she had been tried and condemned. In fact she was tried andacquitted," and in his turn he appealed to Pettifer.
"Ask Robert!" he said.
But Pettifer was slow to answer, and when he did it was withoutassurance.
"Ye-es," he replied with something of a drawl. "Undoubtedly Mrs.Ballantyne was tried and acquitted"; and he left the impression on thetwo who heard him that with acquittal quite the last word had not beensaid. Mrs. Pettifer looked at him eagerly. She drew clear at once ofthe dispute. She left the questions now to Harold Hazlewood, andPettifer had spoken with so much hesitation that Harold Hazlewood couldnot but ask them.
"You are making reservations, Robert?"
Pettifer shrugged his shoulders.
"I think we have a right to know them," Hazlewood insisted. "You are asolicitor with a great business and consequently a wide experience."
"Not of criminal cases, Hazlewood. I bring no more authority to judgethem than any other man."
"Still you have formed an opinion. Please let me have it," and Mr.Hazlewood sat down again and crossed his knees. But a little impatiencewas now audible in his voice.
"An opinion is too strong a word," replied Pettifer guardedly. "Thetrial took place nearly eighteen months ago. I read the accounts of itcertainly day by day as I travelled in the train to London. But they weresummaries."
"Full summaries, Robert," said Hazlewood.
"No doubt. The trial made a great deal of noise in the world. But theywere not full enough for me. Even if my memory of those newspaper reportswere clear I should still hesitate to sit in judgment. But my memoryisn't clear. Let us see what I do remember."
Pettifer took a chair and sat for a few moments with his foreheadwrinkled in a frown. Was he really trying to remember? His wife ask
edherself that question as she watched him. Or had he something to tellthem which he meant to let fall in his own cautiously careless way? Mrs.Pettifer listened alertly.
"The--well--let us call it the catastrophe--took place in a tent in somestate of Rajputana."
"Yes," said Mr. Hazlewood.
"It took place at night. Mrs. Ballantyne was asleep in her bed. The manBallantyne was found outside the tent in the doorway."
"Yes."
Pettifer paused. "So many law cases have engaged my attention since,"he said in apology for his hesitation. He seemed quite at a loss. Thenhe went on:
"Wait a moment! A man had been dining with them at night--oh yes, Ibegin to remember."
Harold Hazlewood made a tiny movement and would have spoken, but Margaretheld out a hand towards him swiftly.
"Yes, a man called Thresk," said Pettifer, and again he was silent.
"Well," asked Hazlewood.
"Well--that's all I remember," replied Pettifer briskly. He rose and puthis chair back. "Except--" he added slowly.
"Yes?"
"Except that there was left upon my mind when the verdict was published avague feeling of doubt."
"There!" cried Mrs. Pettifer triumphantly. "You hear him, Harold."
But Hazelwood paid no attention to her. He was gazing at hisbrother-in-law with a good deal of uneasiness.
"Why?" he asked. "Why were you in doubt, Robert?"
But Pettifer had said all that he had any mind to say.
"Oh, I can't remember why," he exclaimed. "I am very likely quite wrong.Come, Margaret, it's time that we were getting home."
He crossed over to Hazlewood and held out his hand. Hazlewood, however,did not rise.
"I don't think that's quite fair of you, Robert," he said. "You don'tdisturb my confidence, of course--I have gone into the casethoroughly--but I think you ought to give me a chance of satisfying youthat your doubts have no justification."
"No really," exclaimed Pettifer. "I absolutely refuse to mix myself up inthe affair at all." A step sounded upon the gravel path outside thewindow. Pettifer raised a warning finger. "It's midnight, Margaret," hesaid. "We must go"; and as he spoke Dick Hazlewood walked in through theopen window.
He smiled at the group of his relations with a grim amusement. Theycertainly wore a guilty look. He was surprised to remark someembarrassment even upon his father's face.
"You will see your aunt off, Richard," said Mr. Hazlewood.
"Of course."
The Pettifers and Dick went out into the hall, leaving the old man in hischair, a little absent, perhaps a little troubled.
"Aunt Margaret, you have been upsetting my father," said Dick.
"Nonsense, Dick," she replied, and her face flushed. She stepped into thecarriage quickly to avoid questions, and as she stepped in Dick noticedthat she was carrying a little paper-covered book. Pettifer followed."Good-night, Dick," he said, and he shook hands with his nephew verywarmly. In spite of his cordiality, however, Dick's face grew hard as hewatched the carriage drive away. Stella was right. The Pettifers were theenemy. Well, he had always known there would be a fight, and now thesooner it came the better. He went back to the library and as he openedthe door he heard his father's voice. The old man was sitting sunk in hischair and repeating to himself:
"I won't believe it. I won't believe it."
He stopped at once when Dick came in. Dick looked at him with concern.
"You are tired, father," he said.
"Yes, I think I am a little. I'll go to bed."
Hazlewood watched Dick walk over to the corner table where the candlesstood beside the tray, and his face cleared. For the first time in hislife the tidy well-groomed conventional look of his son was a realpleasure to him. Richard was of those to whom the good-will of the worldmeant much. He would never throw it lightly away. Hazlewood got up andtook one of the candles from his son. He patted him on the shoulder. Hebecame quite at ease as he looked into his face.
"Good-night, my boy," he said.
"Good-night, sir," replied Dick cheerfully. "There's nothing like actingup to one's theories, is there?"
"Nothing," said the old man heartily. "Look at my life!"
"Yes," replied Dick. "And now look at mine. I am going to marry StellaBallantyne."
For a moment Mr. Hazlewood stood perfectly still. Then he murmuredlamely:
"Oh, are you? Are you, Richard?" and he shuffled quickly out of the room.
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