The Pomp of Yesterday Part 52

'But--but why didn't you write, Maurice?' stammered the other.

'Couldn't, my dear chap. For more than two years I was away from civilization; for six months I was a prisoner among the Turks; and when at length, after the taking of Baghdad I was released, I was too ill to do anything, Besides, I thought Jack Carbis would have set your minds at rest. But there, I shall have a great yarn to tell you later.'

To Norah Blackwater he was coldly polite. That she had become his brother's fiancee within a few months of his reported death evidently wounded him deeply, although he made not the slightest reference to it.

For my own part I was almost sorry for the girl. I do not believe she had ever cared for George St. Mabyn, although there could be no doubt of his fondness for her. Even when she had accepted him, her heart belonged to Maurice, but being desperately poor, and believing George to be the true heir to the St. Mabyn estates, she had given her promise. But this is only conjecture on my part. Nevertheless, it was impossible not to pity her. Her eyes, as she looked at Maurice, told their own story; she knew that she loved him; knew, too, that she had lost him for ever.

I was not present during the long conversation Maurice St. Mabyn and Jack Carbis had together that night, but before I went to sleep the latter came into my room.

'This has been a great night, Lus...o...b..,' he said.

'Great night!' I repeated. 'I can hardly believe that I have not been dreaming all the time.'

'But you haven't,' he replied with a laugh. 'All the same, I almost believed I was losing my head when Maurice St. Mabyn came into the room. Isn't he a splendid chap though? No noise, no bl.u.s.ter, no accusations. But he understood.'

'Understood what?'

'Everything.'

'And you believe that Maurice knows of George's complicity in Springfield's plans?'

'Of course he knows. But he'll not let on to George. He realizes that Springfield played on his brother's weakness and made his life one long haunting fear.'

'But what about Norah Blackwater?'

'Ah, there we have the tragedy!'

'Why, do you think Maurice cares for her still?'

'I'm sure she cares for him. But he's adamant. He'll never forgive her, never. I wonder--I wonder----'

'What?'

He started to his feet and left the room.

I hadn't a chance of speaking with him the next day, for he left by an early train with his father and mother. They had naturally insisted on his returning to his home with them, and although they asked me to accompany them, I was unable to do so, as I had to report myself to my C.O. on the following day. I had arranged to catch the afternoon train to London, and then motor to the camp in time for duty.

About eleven o'clock I saw Lorna Bolivick leave the house and make her way towards a rosery which had been made some little distance away.

'Lorna,' I said, 'I have to leave directly after lunch; you don't mind my inflicting myself on you, do you?'

She looked at me with a wan smile.

'It's splendid about Maurice St. Mabyn, isn't it?'

'It's wonderful,' she replied, but there was no enthusiasm in her tones.

There was a silence between us for some seconds, then I said awkwardly, 'His--his--coming was a wonderful vindication of my friend, wasn't it?'

'Did he need any vindication?' she asked.

'I imagined you thought so last night--forgive me,' I replied, angry with myself for having blurted out the words.

I saw the colour mount to her cheeks, and I thought her eyes flashed anger.

'It might seem as though everything had been pre-arranged,' I went on, 'but I'm sure he could not help himself. Never did a man love a woman more than Edgec.u.mbe--that is Jack Carbis, loves you. He felt it to be his duty to you to expose Springfield. He knew all along that he was an evil fellow.'

She did not speak, and again I went on almost in spite of myself.

'I have thought a good deal about what you said. Surely you never thought of marrying him?'

'Yes, I did.'

'Because you loved him?'

She shook her head. 'No, I never loved him,' she replied quickly, angrily. 'The very thought of----' she stopped suddenly, and was silent for a few seconds; and then went on, 'I cannot tell you. It would----; no, I cannot tell you.'

'I know it's no business of mine,' I continued,' and yet it is. No man had a better friend than Jack, and--and--owing to the peculiar way we were brought together perhaps, no man ever felt a deeper interest in another man than I feel in him. That is why----; I say, Lorna, I'm afraid he'd be mad with me for telling you, but--but--he'd give the world to marry you.'

'I shall never marry him,' and her words were like a cry of despair.

'But--but----'

'I shall never marry him,' she repeated, still in the same tones.

At that moment we heard Sir Thomas Bolivick's voice, and turning, saw him coming towards us with a look of horror on his face.

'I say, this is ghastly,' he said.

'What is it, dad?' asked Lorna anxiously.

'It's terrible, simply terrible,--and yet--you see--Maurice St. Mabyn has just telegraphed me. He says he has just received a message from Plymouth. That man Springfield was found dead an hour or so ago.'

'Found dead!' I gasped.

'Yes, in his room in the ---- Hotel. Committed suicide.'

I looked at Lorna's face almost instinctively. It was very pale, and there could be no doubt but that she was terribly shocked by the news.

And yet I felt sure I saw a look on her face which suggested relief.

But beyond her quick breathing she uttered no sound.

'It's terrible,' went on Sir Thomas, 'but after--after last night I'm not sure--it's--it's not a relief to us all. Evidently the fellow----; but--but it's terrible, isn't it? Of course the hotel people wired St.

Mabyn, as he told them at the bureau that he had just come from his house.'

'How did he die?' I asked.

'Poison,' replied Sir Thomas. 'He seems to have injected some sort of Indian poison into his veins. Evidently he had it with him, as the doctor says it is un.o.btainable anywhere in England. He left a letter, too.'

'A letter? To whom?'