Ambrotox and Limping Dick Part 7

"I've been trying to kid myself that I'm like the d.a.m.n fool who runs away from the girl he's getting fond of because he's afraid of marriage.

But I'm not. I'm the coward who's up to his knees, and funks letting himself all in for fear of not being able to reach what he's at least able to swim for."

At dinner, Amaryllis, in sheer kindness of heart, shone with good humour, readiness of reply and flow of conversation. Randal, while he felt that she now and then forced the note, caught her motive, and responding, smoothed her way. But d.i.c.k, having from childhood accepted Randal's immunity from love as an axiom, took it all in good faith, and emerging by quick degrees from his taciturnity, soon had his share of the talk and laughter.

He too had noticed at first a certain strain and effort in the girl's manner; but put it down to the absence of her father from the table. And so, when the trunk-call came to tell them he was dining with the Secretary of State and would be home late, and Amaryllis seemed to "settle into her stride," d.i.c.k thought of the matter no further, but only of her.

After coffee in the hall, Randal excused himself on the plea of letter-writing, and Amaryllis, alone with his brother, fell silent.

For a minute he watched her un.o.btrusively, and wondered why the life had gone out of her.

"Sleepy, Miss Caldegard?" he asked at last.

"No," she replied. "Tired--a little--and worried. Everybody's so keen on something. Father on--you know what. You, though I've never seen you do anything, look keener than any man I ever saw; and Sir Randal's keen about horrid business-letters. Generally I don't even want to open mine."

"'Cause you don't want to answer 'em," suggested d.i.c.k.

"Yes," admitted the girl, laughing--and suddenly stopped.

"What's up?" asked d.i.c.k.

"You've reminded me," she answered, pressing the bell beside her, "that there's one of my letters this morning that I never looked at. We were talking such a lot. I remember the look of the envelope. I haven't a notion what was in it."

"Might be money," suggested d.i.c.k.

"Or bad news," said Amaryllis. "I hate letters. When you want them, they don't say enough. When you don't, they say too much." Then, to the parlour-maid she had summoned: "I have left some letters on my table. If there's one that hasn't been opened, please bring it to me." And to d.i.c.k: "I wonder what it's like having dinner with Home Secretaries."

"Nearest I've been to it was having breakfast with a Prime Minister," he answered. "It was soon over, and not so bad as it might have been. The omelette was dispersed by shrapnel, and a machine-gun found the range of the coffee-pot."

"What did the Prime Minister do?" asked the girl.

"Forgot where the door was, and went out of office by the window."

"Was it a war?"

"Oh, no," said d.i.c.k. "Only Mexico."

The parlour-maid returned with a sealed letter. Until she was gone, Amaryllis eyed the writing on the envelope with reluctant displeasure; then looked at d.i.c.k.

"Please do," he said.

When she had glanced at the letter.

"I wish you'd said don't," she complained. "Neither money nor bad news.

Foolishness from an unpleasant person--that's all."

On the point of tearing it, she checked herself.

"It's dad's business after all," she murmured, more to herself than d.i.c.k; and rising, went upstairs quickly, as about to return.

As she disappeared from the eyes which could not help watching her, Randal came up the narrow corridor from the study. d.i.c.k sank back into his chair and looked up at his brother.

"Billiards?" said Randal. "Give me fifty, and I'll play you a hundred up."

d.i.c.k shook his head. "Too lazy," he answered.

"Miss Caldegard gone to bed?" asked Randal.

"Looked as if she was coming back--though she did say she was tired."

"Then I'll practise that canon you were showing me. See you again," said Randal, and went upstairs.

In the pa.s.sage above he met Amaryllis. The sound of their voices, but not their words, trickled down to d.i.c.k in the hall.

Then she came; and the man, lest he should show in his face the pleasure that came with her, did not look at the girl until she was at the foot of the stair; and when he did raise his eyes, it was to find hers averted, and to see her turn at once to her left and make for the study.

Just as she was disappearing into the narrow corridor, he saw, or thought that he saw, her white shoulder shaken by a sob without sound.

With an eager instinct he sprang to his feet--and sat down again. If she wanted his help, she would ask for it.

Almost at once, however, he rose again, unsatisfied and restless; and hardly knew what he was doing before he found himself at the study door, and in his ears a sound which told him that he had read her shoulders correctly.

He went in, closing the door as softly as he had opened it.

Randal had left his shaded lamp burning on the writing-table. And there, s.h.i.+ning head bent over the table and lit by the broad circle of light, her body shaken with suppressed sobbing, was Amaryllis.

d.i.c.k was close to her before he realized that she had not heard his approach. Gently he touched her arm.

Without starting, she looked round at him, and he saw the tears on her face.

"Excuse my b.u.t.ting in," he said. "Do tell me what's the matter."

The girl tried to speak and failed.

"I'm a stranger to almost everybody here," he said. "When you're in a hole, the stranger's about the best man to take troubles to."

Amaryllis shook her head.

"Come, let's see if I can't help," pleaded d.i.c.k.

In her mind Amaryllis, as she felt the tender concern of his voice, and looked up into the brown face above the white s.h.i.+rt-front, was struck with a consoling sense of protection, and knew that, while he was the last person she could "take her trouble to," yet his was the sympathy which would most surely soften, if it could not remove, any misfortune which could ever befall her.

"I can't--I can't! I wish I could," she said, winking her eyes. "But I'm going to be good. Please be a dear, Mr. Bellamy, and go back to the hall. I shall be all right soon."

"Promise?"

"Honest," said Amaryllis.

d.i.c.k closed the door behind him, and walked up the pa.s.sage with the limp which was always more strongly marked in moments of preoccupation.