CHAPTER XXXIX
THE COLONEL'S MISSION
Wrayson was greeted enthusiastically, as he entered the clubbilliard-room, by a little circle of friends, unbroken except for theabsence of Stephen Heneage. The Colonel came across and laid his handaffectionately on his arm.
"How goes it, Herbert?" he asked. "The seabreezes haven't tannedyou much."
"I'm all right," Wrayson declared. "Had a capital time."
"You'll dine here to-night, Herbert?"
Wrayson shook his head.
"I meant to," he declared, "but another engagement's turned up. No! Idon't want to play pool, Mason. Can't stop. Colonel, do me a favour."
The Colonel, who was always ready to do any one a favour, signified hiswillingness promptly enough. But even then Wrayson hesitated.
"I want to talk to you for a few minutes," he said, "without all thesefellows round. Should you mind coming down into the smoking-room?"
The Colonel rose promptly from his seat.
"Not a bit in the world," he declared. "We'll go into thesmoking-room. Scarcely a soul there. Much cooler, too. Bring yourdrink. See you boys later."
They found two easy-chairs in the smoking-room, of which they were thesole occupants. The Colonel cut off the end of his cigar and madehimself comfortable.
"Now, my young friend," he said, "proceed."
Wrayson did not beat about the bush.
"It's about your daughter Louise, Colonel," he said. "She won'tmarry me!"
The Colonel pinched his cigar reflectively.
"She always was a most peculiar girl," he affirmed. "Does she giveany reasons?"
"That's just what she won't do," Wrayson explained. "That's just why I'vecome to you. I--I--Colonel, I'm fond of her. I never expected to feellike it about any woman."
The Colonel nodded sympathetically.
"And although it may sound conceited to say so," Wrayson continued, "Ibelieve--no! I'm sure that she's fond of me. She's admitted it. There!"
The Colonel smiled understandingly.
"Well." he said, "then where's the trouble? You don't want my consent.You know that."
"Louise won't marry me," Wrayson repeated. "That's the trouble. She won'texplain her attitude. She simply declares that marriage for her is animpossibility."
The Colonel sighed.
"I'm afraid," he murmured, regretfully, "that my daughter is a fool."
"She is anything but that," Wrayson declared. "She has some scruple. Whatit is I can't imagine. Of course, at first I thought it was because wewere, both of us, involved in that Morris Barnes affair. But I know nowthat it isn't that. Heneage, who threatened me, and indirectly her, haschucked the whole business. Such danger as there was is over. I--"
"Interrupting you for one moment," the Colonel said quietly, "what hasbecome of Heneage?"
"He's in a very queer way," Wrayson answered. "You know he started on hotto solve this Morris Barnes business. He warned us both to get out of thecountry. Well, I saw him last night, and he was a perfect wreck. Helooked like a man just recovering from a bout of dissipation, orsomething of the sort."
"Did you speak to him?" the Colonel asked.
"I was with him some time," Wrayson answered. "His manner was just aschanged as his appearance."
The Colonel was looking, for him, quite grave. His cigar had gone out,and he forgot to relight it.
"Dear me," he said, "I am sorry to hear this. Did he allude to the MorrisBarnes affair at all?"
"He did," Wrayson answered. "He gave me to understand, in fact, that hehad discovered a little more than he wanted to."
The Colonel stretched out his hand for a match, and relit his cigar.
"You believe, then," he said, "that Heneage has succeeded in solving themystery of Barnes' murder, and is keeping the knowledge to himself?"
"That was the conclusion I came to," Wrayson admitted.
The Colonel smoked for a moment or two in thoughtful silence.
"Well," he said, "it isn't like Heneage. I always looked upon him as aman without nerves, a man who would carry through any purpose he sethimself to, without going to pieces about it. Shows how difficult it isto understand the most obvious of us."
Wrayson nodded.
"But after all," he said, "it wasn't to talk about Heneage that Ibrought you down here. What I want to know, Colonel, is if you can helpme at all with Louise."
The Colonel's forehead was furrowed with perplexity.
"My dear Herbert," he declared, "there is no man in the world I wouldsooner have for a son-in-law. But what can I do? Louise wouldn't listento me in any case. I haven't any authority or any influence over her. Isay it to my sorrow, but it's the truth. If it were my little girl downat home, now, it would be a different matter. But Louise has taken herlife into her own hands. She has not spoken to me for years. Shecertainly would not listen to my advice."
"Then if you cannot help me directly, Colonel," Wrayson continued, "canyou help me indirectly? I have asked you a question something like thisbefore, but I want to repeat it. I have told you that Louise refuses tomarry me. She has something on her mind, some scruple, some fear. Can youform any idea as to what it may be?"
The Colonel was silent for an unusually long time. He was leaning back inhis chair, looking up through the cloud of blue tobacco smoke to theceiling. In reflection his features seemed to have assumed a graver andsomewhat weary expression.
"Yes!" he said at last, "I think that I can."
Wrayson felt his heart jump. His eyes were brighter. An influx of newlife seemed to have come to him. He leaned forward eagerly.
"You will tell me what it is, Colonel?" he begged.
The Colonel looked at him with a queer little smile.
"I am not sure that I can do that, Herbert," he said. "I am not surethat it would help you if I did. And you are asking me rather more thanyou know."
Wrayson felt a little chill of discouragement.
"Colonel," he said, "I am in your hands. But I love your daughter, and Iswear that I would make her happy."
The Colonel looked at his watch.
"Do you know where Louise is?" he asked quietly.
"Number 17, Frederic Mansions, Battersea," Wrayson answered.
The Colonel rose to his feet.
"I will go down and see her," he said simply. "You had better wait herefor me. I will come straight back."
"Colonel, you're a brick," Wrayson declared, walking with himtowards the door.
"I'll do my best, Herbert," he answered quietly, "but I can't promise. Ican't promise anything."
Wrayson watched him leave the club and step into a hansom. He walked alittle more slowly than usual, his head was a little bent, and he passeda club acquaintance in the hall without his customary greeting. Wraysonretraced his steps and ascended towards the billiard-room, with his firstenthusiasm a little damped. Was his errand, he wondered, so grievouslydistasteful to his old friend, or was the Colonel losing at last themagnificent elasticity and vigour which had kept him so long independentof the years?
There were others besides Wrayson who noticed a certain alteration in theColonel when he re-entered the billiard-room an hour or so later. Hisusual greeting was unspoken, he sank a little heavily into a chair, andhe called for a drink without waiting for some one to share it with him.They gathered round him sympathetically.
"Feeling the heat a bit, Colonel?"
"Anything wrong downstairs?"
The Colonel recovered himself promptly. He beamed upon them allaffectionately, and set down an empty tumbler with a little sigh ofsatisfaction.
"I'm all right, boys," he declared. "I couldn't find a cab--had to walkfurther than I meant, and I wanted a drink badly. Wrayson, come overhere. I want to talk to you."
Wrayson sat down by his side.
"I've done the best I could," the Colonel said. "Things may not come allright for you quite at once, but within a week I fancy it'll be allsquared up. I've found out why she refused to marry you, and you can takemy
word for it that within a week the cause will be removed."
"You're a brick, Colonel," Wrayson declared heartily. "There's only onething more I'd love to have you to tell me."
"I'm afraid--" the Colonel began.
"That you and Louise were reconciled," Wrayson declared. "Colonel, therecan't be anything between you two, of all the people in the world, therecan't be anything sufficient to keep you and her, father and daughter,completely apart."
"You are quite right, Wrayson," the Colonel assented, a little morecheerfully. "Well, you may find that all will come right very soon now.By the by, I've been talking to the Baroness. I want you to let me be atyour rooms to-morrow night."
Wrayson hesitated for a moment.
"You know how we stand?" he asked.
"Exactly," the Colonel answered. "I only wish that I had known before.You will have no objection to my coming, I suppose?"
"None at all," Wrayson declared. "But, Colonel! there is one morequestion that I must ask you. Did Louise speak to you about her brother?"
The Colonel nodded.
"She blamed me, of course," he said slowly, "because I had never toldher. It was his own desire, and I think that he was right. I havetelegraphed for him to come over. He will be here to-night or to-morrow."
Wrayson left the club, feeling almost light-hearted. It was the old storyover again--the Colonel to the rescue!
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