The Wharf By The Docks Part 41

After this warning of the real danger in which Dudley lay, it was, of course, impossible for Mr. Wedmore to send poor Carrie away, at any rate until the arrival of some one who could take her place. And as there was clearly some sense in the doctor's suggestion that her knowledge of the case was valuable, Mr. Wedmore ended by sending up for one trained nurse to relieve her, instead of for two, as he had proposed.

And, after all, there seemed to be less danger in the direction of Max than he had supposed; for Carrie never once left the sick-room until the professional nurse arrived at ten o'clock that night. And as Mrs.

Wedmore was then in waiting to mount guard over Carrie, and to carry her off to her supper and then to her bedroom, the first day's danger to the susceptible son and heir seemed to have been got through rather well.

On the following morning, however, the well-watched Carrie escaped from the supervision of her jailers, and boldly made a direct attack upon Max under the family's nose.

Carrie was looking out of one of the back windows of the house to get a breath of fresh air, before taking her turn of duty in the sick-room, when she saw Max talking to one of the grooms outside the stables. He saw her, and his face flushed. Mrs. Wedmore, who was standing on guard a few paces from Carrie, noted the fact with maternal anxiety. She rather liked the girl, whose modest manners were as attractive as her pretty face; but with the fear of "entanglements" before her eyes, she tried to check her own inclination. Carrie turned to her abruptly.

"The nurse won't mind waiting a few minutes for me," said she, quickly.

"I must speak a few words to Mr. Max."

And before Mrs. Wedmore could get breath after this audacious statement, Carrie was down the stairs and half away across the yard, where Max hastened to meet her.

"I have something to say to you," she began at once with a grave face.

"Do you know that--_they've come_?"

"Who? Who have come?"

"The police."

Max started.

"Nonsense! What makes you think so? I've seen no one."

"I have, though. I've been expecting them, for one thing, and it's made me sharp, I suppose. But I've seen in the park, among the trees, this morning before anybody was up almost, a man walking about, taking his bearings and looking about him."

"One of the gardeners," said Max. "There are several."

"Oh, no, it wasn't a gardener. Can't you trust my London eyes? And listen: Presently another one came up, and they talked together. Then one went one way and the other another, not like gardeners or workingmen, but like men on the lookout."

"What should they be on the lookout for?" asked Max. "If they want Dudley, why don't they come up to the house? I don't doubt that by this time they know where he is."

Carrie said nothing; but there was in her eyes, as she glanced searchingly round her, a peculiar look of wistful dread which puzzled Max and made him wonder what fear it was that was in her mind.

CHAPTER XXIV.

MAX MAKES A STAND AND A DISCOVERY.

There was a pause, and then Carrie, without answering him, turned to go back into the house. But Max followed and caught her by the arm.

"Carrie," said he, "they're making a slave of you, without a word of thanks. You look worn out."

"No, I'm not," said she, briskly. "I've only taken my turns; I should look all right if it hadn't been for that long, tiring journey yesterday. I haven't quite got over that yet."

She was trying to free her hand, which Max was holding in his.

"You'll never be strong enough for a hospital nurse, Carrie!"

"Oh, yes, but I shall!" retorted she. And as she spoke, the pink color, the absence of which made her usually look so delicate, came into her cheeks. "And you must remember that I shall be better fed, better clothed then. I am not really weak at all."

"I repeat--you will never be strong enough for a nurse. Better take my advice and marry me, Carrie!"

But at that, a sudden impulse of hot anger gave the girl the necessary strength to s.n.a.t.c.h her hand away from him. She faced him fiercely.

"What! To be looked at always as your father, your mother, look at me now? As if I were a thief who must be watched, lest she should steal something? They needn't be afraid either, if only they knew! And before I go I'll tell them. Yes, I'll tell them what a mistake they make in thinking I want to take their son, their precious son, away from them!

That for their son!"

And Carrie, very ungratefully, to be sure, held her right hand close to the face of Max and snapped her fingers scornfully. She had seen Mrs.

Wedmore's eyes over the half blind of one of the windows, and the minx thought this little scene would be a wholesome lesson.

But Max, following the direction of Carrie's eyes, had also seen the watching face, and a manful spirit of defiance on the one hand, of pa.s.sion on the other, moved him to show both Carrie and his mother how things were going with him.

Seizing the girl round the waist when her little spurt of defiance was scarcely over, he held her head with his disengaged hand and pressed upon her eyes, her cheeks and her lips a dozen hot kisses.

"There!" said he, when at last he let her go, and she, staggering, blus.h.i.+ng, ran toward the shelter of the house. "That's what you get for being ungrateful, you little cat. And it's nothing to what you'll get from my mother, who's sure to say it's all your fault. And so--" roared he up the stairs after her, as she reached the top, "so it is, of course!"

But Carrie found a refuge inside the sick-room, where Dudley, who had pa.s.sed a better night than they had even hoped, was now lying with closed eyes, quiet and apparently calm.

It was upon Max himself, for a wonder, that the vials of the family wrath were poured. Mrs. Wedmore, happening to meet her husband while the last grievance against the girl was fresh, and before she had had the time to meditate on the result of a premature disclosure, made known to him the outrage of which she had been a witness, taking care to dwell upon the audacity of the girl in pursuing and provoking Max.

Mr. Wedmore listened in silence, and then said, curtly:

"Where is he now? Send him to me."

Max, bent upon making himself as conspicuous and, therefore, as offensive as possible, was whistling in the hall at the moment. And there was a defiant note in his very whistling which worked his father up to boiling point. Mr. Wedmore sprang off his chair and dashed open the door.

"Max, you fool, come here!" was his unpromising summons.

Max came at once, rather red in the face and bright of eyes. Mrs.

Wedmore, standing, frightened and anxious, in the background, thought she had never seen her darling boy look so handsome, so manly. He came in very quietly, without swaggering, without defiance, as if he had not noticed the offensive epithet.

His father, who was by this time on the post of vantage, the hearth-rug, with his hands behind him and his back to the fire, pointed imperiously to a chair.

"Sit down, sir."

Max sat down very deliberately on a chair other than the one his father had chosen for him, and looked down on the floor.

"So you are at your old tricks, your old habits!" began Mr. Wedmore.

Max looked up. Then he sat up.

"What old tricks and habits do you mean, sir?"

"Running after every girl you see, and in defiance of all decency, under your mother's very nose."