'I came for the same reason as yourself, dear boy. Because I was invited.'
'You acknowledge that you have no defence.'
'Pardon me, I acknowledge nothing and deny nothing.'
'That won't do for me,' said Boulger. 'I want the truth, and I'm going to get it. I've got a right to know.'
'Don't make such an ass of yourself,' cried Alec, shortly.
'By God, I'll make you answer.'
He went up to Alec furiously, as if he meant to seize him by the throat, but Alec, with a twist of the arm, hurled him backwards.
'I could break your back, you silly boy,' he cried, in a voice low with anger.
With a cry of rage Bobbie was about to spring at Alec when Dick got in his way.
'For God's sake, let us have no scenes here. And you'll only get the worst of it, Bobbie. Alec could just crumple you up.' He turned to the two men who stood behind, startled by the unexpectedness of the quarrel. 'Take him away, Mallins, there's a good chap.'
'Let me alone, you fool!' cried Bobbie.
'Come along, old man,' said Mallins, recovering himself.
When his two friends had got Bobbie out of the room, Dick heaved a great sigh of relief.
'Poor Lady Kelsey!' he laughed, beginning to see the humour of the situation. 'To-morrow half London will be saying that you and Bobbie had a stand-up fight in her drawing-room.'
Alec looked at him angrily. He was not a man of easy temper, and the effort he had put upon himself was beginning to tell.
'You really needn't have gone out of your way to infuriate the boy,' said Dick.
Alec wheeled round wrathfully.
'The damned cubs,' he said. 'I should like to break their silly necks.'
'You have an amiable character, Alec,' retorted Dick.
Alec began to walk up and down excitedly. Dick had never seen him before in such a state.
'The position is growing confoundedly awkward,' he said drily.
Then Alec burst out.
'They lick my boots till I loathe them, and then they turn against me like a pack of curs. Oh, I despise them, these silly boys who stay at home wallowing in their ease, while men work--work and conquer. Thank God, I've done with them now. They think one can fight one's way through Africa as easily as walk down Piccadilly. They think one goes through hardship and danger, illness and starvation, to be the lion of a dinner-party in Mayfair.'
'I think you're unfair to them,' answered Dick. 'Can't you see the other side of the picture? You're accused of a particularly low act of treachery. Your friends were hoping that you'd be able to prove at once that it was an abominable lie, and for some reason which no one can make out, you refuse even to notice it.'
'My whole life is proof that it's a lie.'
'Don't you think you'd better change your mind and make a statement that can be sent to the papers?'
'No, damn you!'
Dick's good nature was imperturbable, and he was not in the least annoyed by Alec's vivacity.
'My dear chap, do calm down,' he laughed.
Alec started at the sound of his mocking. He seemed again to become aware of himself. It was interesting to observe the quite visible effort he made to regain his self-control. In a moment he had mastered his excitement, and he turned to Dick with studied nonchalance.
'Do you think I look wildly excited?' he asked blandly.
Dick smiled.
'If you will permit me to say so, I think butter would have no difficulty in melting in your mouth,' he replied.
'I never felt cooler in my life.'
'Lucky man, with the thermometer at a hundred and two!'
Alec laughed and put his arm through Dick's.
'Perhaps we had better go home,' he said.
'Your common sense is no less remarkable than your personal appearance,' answered Dick gravely.
They had already bidden their hostess good-night, and getting their things, they set out to walk their different ways. When Dick got home he did not go to bed. He sat in an armchair, considering the events of the evening, and trying to find some way out of the complexity of his thoughts. He was surprised when the morning sun sent a bright ray of light into his room.
* * *
But Lady Kelsey was not yet at the end of her troubles. Bobbie, having got rid of his friends, went to her and asked if she would not come downstairs and drink a cup of soup. The poor lady, quite exhausted, thought him very considerate. One or two persons, with their coats on, were still in the room, waiting for their womenkind; and in the hall there was a little group of belated guests huddled around the door, while cabs and carriages were being brought up for them. There was about everyone the lassitude which follows the gaiety of a dance. The waiters behind the tables were heavy-eyed. Lucy was bidding good-bye to one or two more intimate friends.
Lady Kelsey drank the hot soup with relief.
'My poor legs are dropping,' she said. 'I'm sure I'm far too tired to go to sleep.'
'I want to talk to Lucy before I go,' said Bobbie, abruptly.
'To-night?' she asked in dismay.
'Yes, I want you to send her a message that you wish to see her in your boudoir.'
'Why, what on earth's the matter?'
'She can't go on in this way. It's perfectly monstrous. Something must be done immediately.'
Lady Kelsey understood what he was driving at. She knew how great was his love, and she, too, had seen his anger when Lucy danced with Alec MacKenzie. But the whole affair perplexed her utterly. She put down her cup.
'Can't you wait till to-morrow?' she asked nervously.
'I feel it ought to be settled at once.'
'I think you're dreadfully foolish. You know how Lucy resents any interference with her actions.'
'I shall bear her resentment with fortitude,' he said, with great bitterness.
Lady Kelsey looked at him helplessly.
'What do you want me to do?' she asked.
'I want you to be present at our interview.'
He turned to a servant and told him to ask Miss Allerton from Lady Kelsey if she would kindly come to the boudoir. He gave his arm to Lady Kelsey, and they went upstairs. In a moment Lucy appeared.
'Did you send for me, my aunt? I'm told you want to speak to me here.'
'I asked Aunt Alice to beg you to come here,' said Boulger. 'I was afraid you wouldn't if I asked you.'
Lucy looked at him with raised eyebrows and answered lightly.
'What nonsense! I'm always delighted to enjoy your society.'
'I wanted to speak to you about something, and I thought Aunt Alice should be present.'
Lucy gave him a quick glance. He met it coolly.
'Is it so important that it can't wait till to-morrow?'
'I venture to think it's very important. And by now everybody has gone.'
'I'm all attention,' she smiled.
Boulger hesitated for a moment, then braced himself for the ordeal.
'I've told you often, Lucy, that I've been desperately in love with you for more years than I can remember,' he said, flushing with nervousness.
'Surely you've not snatched me from my last chance of a cup of soup in order to make me a proposal of marriage?'
'I'm perfectly serious, Lucy.'
'I assure you it doesn't suit you at all,' she smiled.
'The other day I asked you again to marry me, just before Alec MacKenzie came back.'
A softer light came into Lucy's eyes, and the bantering tones fell away from her voice.
'It was very charming of you,' she said gravely. 'You mustn't think that because I laugh at you a little, I'm not very grateful for your affection.'
'You know how long he's cared for you, Lucy,' said Lady Kelsey.
Lucy went up to him and very tenderly placed her hand on his arm.
'I'm immensely touched by your great devotion, Bobbie, and I know that I've done nothing to deserve it. I'm very sorry that I can't give you anything in return. One's not mistress of one's love. I can
only hope--with all my heart--that you'll fall in love with some girl who cares for you. You don't know how much I want you to be happy.'
Boulger drew back coldly. He would not allow himself to be touched, though the sweetness of her voice tore his heart-strings.
'Just now it's not my happiness that's concerned,' he said. 'When Alec MacKenzie came back I thought I saw why nothing that I could do, had the power to change the utter indifference with which you looked at me.'
He paused a moment and coughed uneasily.
'I don't know why you think it necessary to say all this,' said Lucy, in a low voice.
'I tried to resign myself. You've always worshipped strength, and I understood that you must think Alec MacKenzie very wonderful. I had little enough to offer you when I compared myself with him. I hoped against hope that you weren't in love with him.'
'Well?'
'Except for that letter in this morning's paper I should never have dared to say anything to you again. But that changes everything.'
He paused once more. Though he tried to seem so calm, his heart was beating furiously. He really loved Lucy with all his soul, and he was doing what seemed to him a plain duty.
'I ask you again if you'll be my wife.'
'I don't understand what you mean,' she said slowly.
'You can't marry Alec MacKenzie now.'
Lucy flung back her head. She grew very pale.
'You have no right to talk to me like this,' she said. 'You really presume too much upon my good nature.'
'I think I have some right. I'm the only man who's related to you at all, and I love you.'
They saw that Lady Kelsey wanted to speak, and Lucy turned round to her.
'I think you should listen to him, Lucy. I'm growing old, and soon you'll be quite alone in the world.'
The simple kindness of her words calmed the passions of the other two, and brought down the conversation to a gentler level.
'I'll try my best to make you a good husband, Lucy,' said Bobbie, very earnestly. 'I don't ask you to care for me; I only want to serve you.'
'I can only repeat that I'm very grateful to you. But I can't marry you, and I shall never marry you.'
Boulger's face grew darker, and he was silent.
'Are you going to continue to know Alec MacKenzie?' he asked at length.
'You have no right to ask me such a question.'
'If you'll take the advice of any unprejudiced person about that letter, you'll find that he'll say the same as I. There can be no shadow of a doubt that the man is guilty of a monstrous crime.'
'I don't care what the evidence is,' said Lucy. 'I know he can't have done a shameful thing.'
'But, good God, have you forgotten that it's your own brother whom he killed!' he cried hotly. 'The whole country is up in arms against him, and you are quite indifferent.'
'Oh, Bobbie, how can you say that?' she wailed, suddenly moved to the very depths of her being. 'How can you be so cruel?'
He went up to her, and they stood face to face. He spoke very quickly, flinging the words at her with indignant anger.
'If you cared for George at all, you must wish to punish the man who caused his death. At least you can't continue to be his'--he stopped as he saw the agony in her eyes, and changed his words--'his greatest friend. It was your doing that George went to Africa at all. The least thing you can do is to take some interest in his death.'
She put up her hands to her eyes, as though to drive away the sight of hateful things.
'Oh, why do you torment me?' she cried pitifully. 'I tell you he isn't guilty.'
'He's refused to answer anyone. I tried to get something out of him, but I couldn't, and I lost my temper. He might give you the truth if you asked him pointblank.'
'I couldn't do that.'
'Why not?'
'It's very strange that he should insist on this silence,' said Lady Kelsey. 'One would have thought if he had nothing to be ashamed of, he'd have nothing to hide.'
'Do you believe that story, too?' asked Lucy.
'I don't know what to believe. It's so extraordinary. Dick says he knows nothing about it. If the man's innocent, why on earth doesn't he speak?'
'He knows I trust him,' said Lucy. 'He knows I'm proud to trust him. Do you think I would cause him the great pain of asking him questions?'
'Are you afraid he couldn't answer them?' asked Boulger.
'No, no, no.'
'Well, just try. After all you owe as much as that to the memory of George. Try.'
'But don't you see that if he won't say anything, it's because there are good reasons,' she cried distractedly. 'How do I know what interests are concerned in the matter, beside which the death of George is insignificant....'
'Do you look upon it so lightly as that?'
She turned away, bursting into tears. She was like a hunted beast. There seemed no escape from the taunting questions.
'I must show my faith in him,' she sobbed.
'I think you're a little nervous to go into the matter too closely.'
'I believe in him implicitly. I believe in him with all the strength I've got.'
'Then surely it can make no difference if you ask him. There can be no reason for him not to trust you.'
'Oh, why don't you leave me alone?' she wailed.
'I do think it's very unreasonable, Lucy,' said Lady Kelsey. 'He knows you're his friend. He can surely count on your discretion.'
'If he refused to answer me it would mean nothing. You don't know him as I do. He's a man of extraordinary character. If he has made up his mind that for certain reasons which we don't know, he must preserve an entire silence, nothing whatever will move him. Why should he answer? I believe in him absolutely. I think he's the greatest and most honourable man I've ever known. I should feel happy and grateful to be allowed to wait on him.'
'Lucy, what do you mean?' cried Lady Kelsey.
But now Lucy had cast off all reserve. She did not mind what she said.
'I mean that I care more for his little finger than for the whole world. I love him with all my heart. And that's why he can't be guilty of this horrible thing, because I've loved him for years, and he's known it. And he loves me, and he's loved me always.'
She sank exhausted into a chair, gasping for breath. Boulger looked at her for a moment, and he turned sick with anguish. What he had only suspected before, he knew now from her own lips; and it was harder than ever to bear. Now everything seemed ended.
'Are you going to marry him?' he asked.
'Yes.'
'In spite of everything?'
'In spite of everything,' she answered defiantly.
Bobbie choked down the groan of despairing rage that forced its way to his throat. He watched her for a moment.
'Good God,' he said at last, 'what is there in the man that he should have made you forget love and honour and common decency!'
Lucy made no reply. But she buried her face in her hands and wept. She rocked to and fro with the violence of her tears.
Without another word Bobbie turned round and left them. Lady Kelsey heard the door slam as he went out into the silent street.
XVII
Next day Alec was called up to Lancashire.
When he went out in the morning, he saw on the placards of the evening papers that there had been a colliery explosion, but, his mind absorbed in other things, he paid no attention to it; and it was with a shock that, on opening a telegram which waited for him at his club, he found that the accident had occurred in his own mine. Thirty miners were entombed, and it was feared that they could not be saved. Immediately all thought of his own concerns fled from him, and sending for a time-table, he looked out a train. He found one that he could just catch. He took a couple of telegram forms in the cab with him, and on one scribbled instructions to his servant to follow him at once with clothes; the other he wrote to Lucy.
He just caught the train and in the afternoon found himself at the mouth of the pit. There was a little cro
wd around it of weeping women. All efforts to save the wretched men appeared to be useless. Many had been injured, and the manager's house had been converted into a hospital. Alec found everyone stunned by the disaster, and the attempts at rescue had been carried on feebly. He set himself to work at once. He put heart into the despairing women. He brought up everyone who could be of the least use and inspired them with his own resourceful courage. The day was drawing to a close, but no time could be lost; and all night they toiled. Alec, in his shirt sleeves, laboured as heartily as the strongest miner; he seemed to want neither rest nor food. With clenched teeth, silently, he fought a battle with death, and the prize was thirty living men. In the morning he refreshed himself with a bath, paid a hurried visit to the injured, and returned to the pit mouth.
He had no time to think of other things. He did not know that on this very morning another letter appeared in the Daily Mail, filling in the details of the case against him, adding one damning piece of evidence to another; he did not know that the papers, amazed and indignant at his silence, now were unanimous in their condemnation. It was made a party matter, and the radical organs used the scandal as a stick to beat the dying donkey which was then in power. A question was put down to be asked in the House.
Alec waged his good fight and neither knew nor cared that the bubble of his glory was pricked. Still the miners lived in the tomb, and forty-eight hours passed. Hope was failing in the stout hearts of those who laboured by his side, but Alec urged them to greater endeavours. And now nothing was needed but a dogged perseverance. His tremendous strength stood him in good stead, and he was able to work twenty hours on end. He did not spare himself. And he seemed able to call prodigies of endurance out of those who helped him; with that example it seemed easier to endure. And still they toiled unrestingly. But their hope was growing faint. Behind that wall thirty men were lying, hopeless, starving; and some perhaps were dead already. And it was terrible to think of the horrors that assailed them, the horror of rising water, the horror of darkness, and the gnawing pangs of hunger. Among them was a boy of fourteen. Alec had spoken to him by chance on one of the days he had recently spent there, and had been amused by his cheeky brightness. He was a blue-eyed lad with a laughing mouth. It was pitiful to think that all that joy of life should have been crushed by a blind, stupid disaster. His father had been killed, and his body, charred and disfigured, lay in the mortuary. The boy was imprisoned with his brother, a man older than himself, married, and the father of children. With angry vehemence Alec set to again. He would not be beaten.
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