The Hundredth Chance

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE NARROWING CIRCLE

  When Jake returned at length, he entered an atmosphere so unmistakablystormy that he looked instinctively to Maud for an explanation.

  The room was lighted and the curtains drawn. She was sitting in the lowchair by the fire doing some intricate crochet-work with knitted brows.There was tension in her attitude, tension in the firm compression ofher lips.

  Bunny lay on his sofa, hot-cheeked, fiery-eyed, beating an impatienttattoo with one hand on the table by his side. On the table lay thepresents that he had received that day, a box of paints and sketchingblock from his mother, a book from Maud, a small telescope from Jakehimself. But he was looking at none of them. His brows too wereclosely drawn. His teeth bit viciously into his lower lip.

  Maud did not raise her eyes at Jake's entrance. She seemed intent uponher work. He came and stood beside her.

  "I should have been back sooner," he remarked, "but Lord Saltash met me,and I had to take him back to the Castle in the dog-cart."

  Her fingers moved very rapidly. "I thought perhaps you would dine withhim," she said, in a voice that sounded very cold and aloof.

  "Not I," said Jake. "Give me my own fireside, and my clay pipe thatdoesn't go into aristocratic society!"

  She raised her eyes momentarily. "Are you a Socialist?" she asked.

  His eyes were unblinkingly upon her. "I guess not," he said, speakingwith something of a drawl. "I've seen life--lots of it--that's all. Asto my politics, well, I reckon they're mine and no one else's. I thinkjust what I like of everything and everybody." He turned those intenteyes suddenly upon Bunny. "What's wrong with the head of the family?"he asked.

  At once Bunny burst into speech. "Jake, it's--it's infernal that Ican't go to the races in Charlie's motor--to-morrow. He's offered totake me. Why shouldn't I go? Hang it all, I will go!" He banged hisclenched fist upon the table with the last passionate words.

  Maud kept her eyes upon her work. Her hands though they moved sorapidly, were not wholly steady. "He is not fit to go," she said.

  "That's not the reason you refused!" flung back Bunny, who was rapidlyworking himself up to fever pitch. "You said No just because youthought Jake would be jealous if you said you'd go. You're afraid ofhim, that's what's the matter with you,--afraid of his finding out thatyou're still in love with Charlie."

  He broke into his cracked, painful laugh, stopping abruptly as Jake leftthe hearth and stepped quietly to his side.

  "Don't touch me!" he said, shrinking sharply back.

  Jake stooped. His face was grim. "My son, I'm going to touch you," hesaid. "I'm going to carry you straight up to bed. You've had more thanenough excitement for to-day."

  "I'm not going to bed!" cried Bunny, his voice high and defiant. "I'mnot going for hours yet. Jake--Jake--leave me alone, do you hear?You're hurting me!"

  "Afraid you've got to be hurt," said Jake.

  He was slipping steady hands under the boy's writhing body. Maud hadrisen. She came swiftly forward. She touched Jake's shoulder, her facepale and agitated.

  "Don't, please, Jake!" she entreated. "It does more harm than good."

  He did not look at her or pay the smallest attention. Bunny was alreadyin his arms,--Bunny, purple with rage, waving his arms in blindimpotence.

  "P'raps you'd open the door for me!" said Jake, in his slow gentlevoice.

  She went to the door. Somehow it was the only thing left to do. Jakefollowed her with his burden.

  As he did so, Bunny ceased to struggle, realizing the mastery of thesteady arms that bore him, and spoke; in a voice of tense hostility.

  "You beastly groom!" he said.

  Jake said nothing whatever. He carried him firmly, unfalteringly, fromthe room.

  Maud closed the door softly behind him, and went back to her chair.

  But she did not take up her work again. She sat gazing into the firewith wide, troubled eyes. She was beginning to realize that oldassociations, old friends, could be nothing but a disturbing element inher life, beginning to wish with yearning sadness that Charlie had notcome back into it. She was tired--so tired, so sick at heart.

  As for Bunny, he had grown out of hand and would never be the same toher again. She was sure of it, she was sure of it. Nothing ever couldbe the same again in this new world that she had entered. It was aworld of harsh realities, wherein dwelt no softening magic. The fateshe had dreaded was surely closing in upon her. Whichever way sheturned, she found a narrowing circle.

  A long time passed. She began to grow anxious. What was happeningupstairs? Was it possible that Jake might after all lose his temper andvisit his wrath upon Bunny's rebellious head? Would he by any chancemake use of that frightful language which she had heard him employ onlya few days before to a negligent stable-boy? Bunny's bitter epithetdwelt in her memory. Surely Jake would be something more than human ifhe did not resent it!

  And then suddenly she heard his square footfall on the uncarpetedstairs, and a great wave of agitation went through her. All her beingquivered at the thought of him, his unyielding mastery, his utterconfidence. Two eyes, one black, one grey, seemed to flash a mockingquestion out of the depths of the fire into which she gazed. Her heartgave a little quiver of misgiving that yet was oddly mingled withsatisfaction. No, she was not wholly sorry that Lord Saltash had comeback into her life. He was so subtly refreshing. He sounded deeps inher of which none other guessed. His gaiety of soul called back hervanished youth.

  Jake entered, and she turned her head, masking her embarrassment with aresolute effort. "Oh, Jake, come and sit down! I am so sorry this hashappened."

  He pulled forward a chair and dropped into it. "The little chap isovertired," he said. "He'll be better left to himself for a bit."

  He spoke in a quiet, temperate voice. She realized with relief that hehad not taken Bunny's bitter outburst seriously. She took up her workagain.

  "He is always difficult to manage when he gets caught by one of thesemoods," she said. "And he is apt to say wild things."

  Jake began to fill his pipe, making no comment.

  Maud worked on for several seconds, still struggling against an uneasyfeeling of shyness.

  After a little, in a low voice she spoke again. "Jake, I think--withyou--that if Dr. Capper will examine Bunny and--and perhaps operate onhim, it had better be done--as soon as possible."

  "That so?" said Jake.

  She knew that he turned his head to look at her, and a hot sense ofdiscomfiture surged through her. She worked with fevered speed, as ifmuch depended upon it.

  "Of course--of course I want him to have--every chance. I am not soselfish as that. But--but--the anxiety will be very hard to bear. Idread it more than I can possibly say."

  Her lips quivered suddenly. She became silent, still desperately makingstitches that she could hardly see. She had not meant to make any appealfor sympathy. It had, as it were, escaped her from sheer embarrassment.She had never felt more utterly ill at ease in Jake's presence than shefelt that night.

  He did not immediately respond though she knew that he continued towatch her with those lynx-like, brilliant eyes. But after a very decidedpause, his hand, square and steady, came forth and stopped her feveredworking.

  "Sit still for a bit, my girl!" he said. "Give yourself a rest!"

  She started sharply at his touch, but gave in at once, suffering him todraw the work from her hands.

  "Say, now," he said, "when you married me, I made myself a vow that youshouldn't be burdened any more beyond your strength. This anxiety youspeak of, will it be harder to bear than to see Bunny suffering and notbe able to help?"

  She shook her head. Her eyes were full of tears.

  "Guess you're overwrought," he said gently. "Why don't you lie down onthe sofa? P'raps you'd get a sleep."

  She mastered herself with an effort. "No, thank you. I am quite allright
. Of course Bunny's welfare comes before everything and alwayswill with me. Do you know, I think I will run up to him and see that hehas all he wants."

  "No, my girl, no! You stay where you are!" said Jake. "I've got him inhand. Don't you go making more trouble!"

  She glanced at him with quick uneasiness. "But is he happy? Is hecomfortable? I never leave him for long when he is like this. Once hedragged himself right out of bed and on to the floor. He was worse forweeks after."

  "He won't do that to-night," said Jake.

  But she was not reassured. "He may. How can you tell? He can be quiteviolent sometimes."

  "He won't be to-night," said Jake with unmistakable conviction.

  "What have you been doing to him?" she said, with quick suspicion.

  He put a restraining hand upon her for she seemed on the verge ofrising. "Now, don't you meddle!" he said. "The boy will be all right;only leave him alone! He won't come to any mischief because he can't.I've tied him down. No, he ain't uncomfortable," as she uttered a sharpcry of protest. "I saw to that before I put out the light and left himto come to his senses. He won't hurt, I tell you. You leave himalone!"

  But Maud was already on her feet. "How could you?" she panted. "Howdare you?"

  He rose with her, still holding her. "Now be reasonable!" he said, in avoice of soft persuasion. "I'm real fond of the little chap, and I'mtrying to make a man of him. He knows that all right. It's disciplinehe wants and discipline he's going to have. Don't you get interfering!You'll do more harm than good."

  "Let me go!" breathed Maud.

  She was white to the lips as she said it, white and desperate. Her eyesburned like two stars. But Jake held her still.

  "Say, now!" he drawled. "Aren't you a bit unreasonable? I've taken alot of trouble to bring him into line. And, as I tell you, I haven'thurt any part of him, except his pride, and that'll soon mend. Maud, mygirl, now don't act the fool! Don't, I say, don't!"

  She had made a sharp effort to wrest her arm free; but he frustrated it,taking her two wrists very gently but very decidedly into his squarehold.

  "Let me go!" she cried again, her pale lips trembling. "How--how dareyou hold me against my will? Jake, you--forget yourself!"

  He was looking at her with a hint of humour in his red-brown eyes. Theywere shining too, shining with a hot intensity, as though the leapingflames of the fire were reflected there. But at her words, he let hergo very abruptly and turned from her. He took up his pipe again,standing so that she saw only his broad back and gleaming hair, whileshe waited behind him in palpitating silence.

  Some seconds passed before he spoke. And then: "All right, my girl," hesaid. "Have it your own way! I reckon he's your brother more thanmine, and I know you have his welfare at heart. If you think it to hisinterest to go and undo him--he ain't uncomfortable, mind you! I saw tothat--I shan't interfere either way. Do whatever seems good to you!"

  So he delivered himself, and having spoken sat squarely down and pulledout his match-box as though the matter were at an end.

  She stood irresolute, facing him.

  "Well? Aren't you going?" he said, after a moment.

  And still she stood, feeling the strain to be past yet not daring torelax her guard.

  Jake struck a match and held it to his pipe, looking at her whimsicallybetween great puffs of smoke.

  "There! Sit down!" he said, after a meanest. "Leave the child alonefor a bit! I'll go up to him myself before long."

  Casual as was his voice, the force of his personality reached anddominated her. It was certainly not of her own volition that sheobeyed.

  She sat down again in the low chair before the hearth. "I know he willhave a bad night," she said uneasily.

  "It won't be any the worse for this," said Jake, with confidence. "And,now, look here, my girl, I want to ask you something--just in a friendlyway."

  Maud's hands clasped each other hard. There was no repose in herattitude. "What is it?" she asked, in that aloof voice of hers thatemanated from intense shyness rather than pride.

  Jake was smoking steadily. The heavy odour of his tobacco filled theroom. "I don't want to give any offence," he said. "But it seems to methat Lord Saltash is on a footing of intimacy with you and Bunny thatrather points to your not knowing the sort of person he really is."

  Maud's eyes grew suddenly darker. She looked him full in the face. "Iknow him too well to discuss him with any--outsider," she said.

  "That so?" said Jake, slightly drawling. "Well, that certainly makesmatters rather more complicated. I know him, too--awfully well,--sowell that I shall have to request you to keep the young man at arespectful distance; for he certainly won't stay there if you don't."

  Maud sat tensely still. Several moments of utter silence passed away.Then, almost under her breath, she spoke. "Are you absurd enough to bejealous?"

  Jake's eyes watched her unwaveringly through the smoke. "Would it bevery absurd of me?" he asked gravely.

  "Utterly." She spoke the one word with a free disdain.

  He bent his head slightly. "Since you say so--it goes. At the sametime, it might be well for you to remember that Lord Saltash invariablyhunts for himself. He is not a man that any woman can safely trust. Hehas his points, maybe, but--he is not sound."

  Very steadily he delivered his verdict, and Maud received it in unbrokensilence. More or less she knew it to be true, and yet very bitterly didshe resent its utterance. It was as if he had exposed to her theworthlessness of a possession which for old sake's sake she treasuredthough conscious that in itself it was without value. For she had neveridealized Charlie Burchester. Even in the old days of close intimacyshe had always seen the feet of clay, though in her fond woman's way shehad sought to overlook them. It was intolerable to have them pointed outto her by one whom she still curiously regarded as a comparativestranger.

  She had nothing to say on her friend's behalf. Reason warned her thatit would be useless to attempt to take up the cudgels in his defence.And so she sat in silence, inwardly burning, outwardly calm.

  Jake smoked on for several minutes, then quietly rose. "I'll go up andsettle the youngster now," he said. "And you have made up your mind onthe other subject? I am to write to Capper?"

  She did not answer for a moment; her eyes were fixed upon the fire.

  He paused beside her, and again there came to her that sense of warmth,of bodily force, that seemed to reach her from the very centre of theman's being, rushing out to her, enveloping her.

  She made a slight, involuntary movement of withdrawal. "I have said so,"she said.

  He paused no longer. "Then so be it!" he said, and walked away to thedoor.