VII
CAPTAIN STEWART MAKES A KINDLY OFFER
Ste. Marie scowled.
"A caller would come singularly malapropos just now," said he. "I'vehalf a mind not to go to the door. I want to talk this thing over withyou."
"Whoever it is," objected Hartley, "has been told by the concierge thatyou're at home. It may not be a caller, anyhow. It may be a parcel orsomething. You'd best go."
So Ste. Marie went out into the little passage, blaspheming fluently thewhile. The Englishman heard him open the outer door of the flat. Heheard him exclaim, in great surprise:
"Ah, Captain Stewart! A great pleasure! Come in! Come in!"
And he permitted himself a little blaspheming on his own account, forthe visitor, as Ste. Marie had said, came most malapropos, and, besides,he disliked Miss Benham's uncle. He heard the American say:
"I have been hoping for some weeks to give myself the pleasure ofcalling here, and to-day such an excellent pretext presented itself thatI came straightaway."
Hartley heard him emit his mewing little laugh, and heard him say, withthe elephantine archness affected by certain dry and middle-agedgentlemen:
"I come with congratulations. My niece has told me all about it. Luckyyoung man! Ah--"
He reached the door of the inner room and saw Richard Hartley standingby the window, and he began to apologize profusely, saying that he hadhad no idea that Ste. Marie was not alone. But Ste. Marie said:
"It doesn't in the least matter. I have no secrets from Hartley. Indeed,I have just been talking with him about this very thing."
But for all that he looked curiously at the elder man, and it struck himas very odd that Miss Benham should have gone straight to her uncle andtold him all this. It did not seem in the least like her, especially ashe knew the two were on no terms of intimacy. He decided that she musthave gone up to her grandfather's room to discuss it with that oldgentleman--a reasonable enough hypothesis--and that Captain Stewart musthave come in during the discussion. Quite evidently he had wasted notime in setting out upon his errand of congratulation.
"Then," said Captain Stewart, "if I am to be good-naturedly forgiven formy stupidity, let me go on and say, in my capacity as a member of thefamily, that the news pleased me very much. I was glad to hear it."
He shook Ste. Marie's hand, looking very benignant indeed, and Ste.Marie was quite overcome with pleasure and gratitude; it seemed to himsuch a very kindly act in the elder man. He produced things to smoke anddrink, and Captain Stewart accepted a cigarette and mixed himself arather stiff glass of absinthe--it was between five and six o'clock.
"And now," said he, when he was at ease in the most comfortable of thelow cane chairs, and the glass of opalescent liquor was properly curdledand set at hand--"now, having congratulated you and--ah, welcomed you,if I may put it so, as a probable future member of the family--I turn tothe other feature of the affair."
He had an odd trick of lowering his head and gazing benevolently upon anauditor as if over the top of spectacles. It was one of his elderlyways. He beamed now upon Ste. Marie in this manner, and, after a moment,turned and beamed upon Richard Hartley, who gazed stolidly back at himwithout expression.
"You have determined, I hear," said he, "to join us in our search forpoor Arthur. Good! Good! I welcome you there, also."
Ste. Marie stirred uneasily in his chair.
"Well," said he, "in a sense, yes. That is, I've determined to devotemyself to the search, and Hartley is good enough to offer to go in withme; but I think, if you don't mind--of course, I know it's verypresumptuous and doubtless idiotic of us--but, if you don't mind, Ithink we'll work independently. You see--well, I can't quite put it intowords, but it's our idea to succeed or fail quite by our own efforts. Idare say we shall fail, but it won't be for lack of trying."
Captain Stewart looked disappointed.
"Oh, I think--" said he. "Pardon me for saying it, but I think you'rerather foolish to do that." He waved an apologetic hand. "Of course, Icomprehend your excellent motive. Yes, as you say, you want to succeedquite on your own. But look at the practical side! You'll have to goover all the weary weeks of useless labor we have gone over. We couldsave you that. We have examined and followed up, and at last given over,a hundred clews that on the surface looked quite possible of success.You'll be doing that all over again. In short, my dear friend, you willmerely be following along a couple of months behind us. It seems to me apity. I sha'n't like to see you wasting your time and efforts."
He dropped his eyes to the glass of Pernod which stood beside him, andhe took it in his hand and turned it slowly and watched the light gleamin strange pearl colors upon it. He glanced up again with a little smilewhich the two younger men found oddly pathetic.
"I should like to see you succeed," said Captain Stewart. "I like to seeyouth and courage and high hope succeed." He said: "I am past the age ofromance, though I am not so very old in years. Romance has passed me by,but--I love it still. It still stirs me surprisingly when I see it inother people--young people who are simple and earnest, and who--and whoare in love." He laughed gently, still turning the glass in his hand. "Iam afraid you will call me a sentimentalist," he said, "and an elderlysentimentalist is, as a rule, a ridiculous person. Ridiculous or not,though, I have rather set my heart on your success in this undertaking.Who knows? You may succeed where we others have failed. Youth has such away of charging in and carrying all before it by assault--such a way ofoverleaping barriers that look unsurmountable to older eyes! Youth!Youth! Eh, my God," said he, "to be young again, just for a littlewhile! To feel the blood beat strong and eager! Never to be tired! Eh,to be like one of you youngsters! You, Ste. Marie, or you, Hartley!There's so little left for people when youth is gone!"
He bent his head again, staring down upon the glass before him, and fora while there was a silence which neither of the younger men cared tobreak.
"Don't refuse a helping hand," said Captain Stewart, looking up oncemore. "Don't be over-proud. I may be able to set you upon the rightpath. Not that I have anything definite to work upon--I haven't, alas!But each day new clews turn up. One day we shall find the real one, andthat may be one that I have turned over to you to follow out. One neverknows."
Ste. Marie looked across at Richard Hartley, but that gentleman wasblowing smoke-rings and to all outward appearance giving them his entireattention. He looked back to Captain Stewart, and Stewart's eyesregarded him, smiling a little wistfully, he thought. Ste. Marie scowledout of the window at the trees of the Luxembourg Gardens.
"I hardly know," said he. "Of course, I sound a braying ass inhesitating even a moment; but, in a way, you understand, I'm so anxiousto do this or to fail in it quite on my own. You're--so tremendouslykind about it that I don't know what to say. I must seem veryungrateful, I know; but I'm not."
"No," said the elder man, "you don't seem ungrateful at all. Iunderstand exactly how you feel about it, and I applaud yourfeeling--but not your judgment. I am afraid that for the sake of asentiment you're taking unnecessary risks of failure."
For the first time Richard Hartley spoke.
"I've an idea, you know," said he, "that it's going to be a matterchiefly of luck. One day somebody will stumble on the right trail, andthat might as well be Ste. Marie or I as your trained detectives. If youdon't mind my saying so, sir--I don't want to seem rude--your traineddetectives do not seem to accomplish much in two months, do they?"
Captain Stewart looked thoughtfully at the younger man.
"No," he said, at last. "I am sorry to say they don't seem to haveaccomplished much--except to prove that there are a great many placespoor Arthur has _not_ been to and a great many people who have _not_seen him. After all, that is something--the elimination of ground thatneed not be worked over again." He set down the glass from which he hadbeen drinking. "I cannot agree with your theory," he said. "I cannotagree that such work as this is best left to an accidental solution.Accidents are too rare. We have tried to go at it in as scientific a
wayas could be managed--by covering large areas of territory, by keepingthe police everywhere on the alert, by watching the boy's old friendsand searching his favorite haunts. Personally, I am inclined to thinkthat he managed to slip away to America very early in the course ofevents, before we began to search for him, and, of course, I am having acareful watch kept there as well as here. But no trace has appeared asyet--nothing at all trustworthy. Meanwhile, I continue to hope and towork, but I grow a little discouraged. In any case, though, we shallhear of him in three months more if he is alive."
"Why three months?" asked Ste. Marie. "What do you mean by that?"
"In three months," said Captain Stewart, "Arthur will be of age, and hecan demand the money left him by his father. If he is alive he will turnup for that. I have thought, from the first, that he is merely hidingsomewhere until this time should be past. He--you must know that he wentaway very angry, after a quarrel with his grandfather? My father is nota patient man. He may have been very harsh with the boy."
"Ah, yes," said Hartley; "but no boy, however young or angry, would befoolish enough to risk an absolute break with the man who is going toleave him a large fortune. Young Benham must know that his grandfatherwould never forgive him for staying away all this time if he stayed awayof his own accord. He must know that he'd be taking tremendous risks ofbeing cut off altogether."
"And besides," added Ste. Marie, "it is quite possible that your father,sir, may die at any time--any hour. And he's very angry at his grandson.He may have cut him off already."
Captain Stewart's eyes sharpened suddenly, but he dropped them to theglass in his hand.
"Have you any reason for thinking that?" he asked.
"No," said Ste. Marie. "I beg your pardon. I shouldn't have said it.That is a matter which concerns your family alone. I forgot myself. Thepossibility occurred to me suddenly for the first time."
But the elder man looked up at him with a smile.
"Pray don't apologize," said he. "Surely we three can speak franklytogether! And, frankly, I know nothing of my father's will. But I don'tthink he would cut poor Arthur off, though he is, of course, very angryabout the boy's leaving in the manner he did. No, I am sure he wouldn'tcut him off. He was fond of the lad, very fond--as we all were."
Captain Stewart glanced at his watch and rose with a little sigh.
"I must be off," said he. "I have to dine out this evening, and I mustget home to change. There is a cabstand near you?" He looked out of thewindow. "Ah, yes! Just at the corner of the Gardens."
He turned about to Ste. Marie, and held out his hand with a smile. Hesaid:
"You refuse to join forces with us, then? Well, I'm sorry. But, for allthat, I wish you luck. Go your own way, and I hope you'll succeed. Ihonestly hope that, even though your success may show me up for anincompetent bungler."
He gave a little kindly laugh, and Ste. Marie tried to protest.
"Still," said the elder man, "don't throw me over altogether. If I canhelp you in any way, little or big, let me know. If I can give you anyhints, any advice, anything at all, I want to do it. And if you happenupon what seems to be a promising clew come and talk it over with me.Oh, don't be afraid! I'll leave it to you to work out. I sha'n't spoilyour game."
"Ah, now, that's very good of you," said Ste. Marie. "Only you make meseem more than ever an ungrateful fool. Thanks, I will come to you withmy troubles if I may. I have a foolish idea that I want to follow out alittle first, but doubtless I shall be running to you soon forinformation."
The elder man's eyes sharpened again with keen interest.
"An idea!" he said, quickly. "You have an idea? What--May I ask whatsort of an idea?"
"Oh, it's nothing," declared Ste. Marie. "You have already laughed atit. I just want to find that man O'Hara, that's all. I've a feeling thatI should learn something from him."
"Ah!" said Captain Stewart, slowly. "Yes, the man O'Hara. There'snothing in that, I'm afraid. I've made inquiries about O'Hara. It seemshe left Paris six months ago, saying he was off for America. An oldfriend of his told me that. So you must have been mistaken when youthought you saw him in the Champs-Elysees; and he couldn't very wellhave had anything to do with poor Arthur. I'm afraid that idea is hardlyworth following up."
"Perhaps not," said Ste. Marie. "I seem to start badly, don't I? Ah,well, I'll have to come to you all the sooner, then."
"You'll be welcome," promised Captain Stewart. "Good-bye to you!Good-day, Hartley. Come and see me, both of you. You know where I live."
He took his leave then, and Hartley, standing beside the window, watchedhim turn down the street, and at the corner get into one of the fiacresthere and drive away.
Ste. Marie laughed aloud.
"There's the second time," said he, "that I've had him about O'Hara. Ifhe is as careless as that about everything, I don't wonder he hasn'tfound Arthur Benham. O'Hara disappeared from Paris--publicly, thatis--at about the time young Benham disappeared. As a matter of fact, heremains, or at least for a time remained, in the city without lettinghis friends know, because I made no mistake about seeing him in theChamps-Elysees. All that looks to me suspicious enough to be worthinvestigation. Of course," he admitted, doubtfully--"of course, I'm nodetective; but that's how it looks to me."
"I don't believe Stewart is any detective, either," said RichardHartley. "He's altogether too cocksure. That sort of man would ratherdie than admit he is wrong about anything. He's a good old chap, though,isn't he? I liked him to-day better than ever before. I thought he wasrather pathetic when he went on about his age."
"He has a good heart," said Ste. Marie. "Very few men under thecircumstances would come here and be as decent as he was. Most men wouldhave thought I was a presumptuous ass, and would have behavedaccordingly."
Ste. Marie took a turn about the room, and his face began to light upwith its new excitement and exaltation.
"And to-morrow!" he cried--"to-morrow we begin! To-morrow we set outinto the world and the Adventure is on foot! God send it success!"
He laughed across at the other man; but it was a laugh of eagerness, notof mirth.
"I feel," said he, "like Jason. I feel as if we were to set sailto-morrow for Colchis and the Golden Fleece."
"Y-e-s," said the other man, a little dryly--"yes, perhaps. I don't wantto seem critical, but isn't your figure somewhat ill chosen?"
"'Ill chosen'?" cried Ste. Marie. "What d'you mean? Why ill chosen?"
"I was thinking of Medea," said Richard Hartley.
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Jason: A Romance Page 7
