Charles Rex Part 16

"Who's looking after her now?" said Jake. "Where is she?"

Saltash pushed back his chair with a movement of impatience. "Did you think I'd bring her to Burchester for all the county to blab about? She's under my protection--and she's safe." He spoke with a certain fierceness, and in a moment was pacing the room, his face arrogantly lifted. "I know very well the sort of story that's going round, but if you're a white man you'll help me to give it the lie. I know I'm a blackguard, Jake,--never pretended to be anything else. But I hope I'm a gentleman as well--at least where women are concerned. That child is none the worse in mind or body for being thrown on my hands. You've got to believe that."

"All right," said Jake.

Saltash paced jerkily on, his hands behind him. "I want you to have her because you're straight, and she'll come to no harm with you. You never even parley with the devil, do you, Jake? Remember that time--it's ten years ago, more--when a man tried to tempt you to tamper with one of your horses and you horsewhipped him for his baseness."

"I prefer not to remember it, my lord," said Jake.

Saltash stopped suddenly by his chair and gripped his shoulder with a wiry hand. "I've liked you ever since," he said. "Look here, Jake! I'm not tempting you to do anything wrong now. I'm asking you to do something that doesn't appeal to you; but if you do it, it'll be one of the most decent actions of your life. That child is quite alone just now--except for me. Will you take her--like a good chap--till something else safe turns up?"

Jake sat slowly forward. "I'll have to talk it over with Maud," he said.

Saltash's grip s.h.i.+fted impatiently. "You know very well what Maud will say. Don't be an a.s.s about it! Say No--if you mean to say No--at once!"

There came the quiet tread of approaching feet on the gravelled terrace and the sound of low voices talking together. Jake lifted his head. His face was grim. He looked Saltash straight in the eyes.

"You've told me the plain truth about her. You swear it?"

Saltash's swarthy countenance was in shadow, but those strange eyes of his gleamed oddly, with the sort of fitful s.h.i.+ning that comes from a coat of mail in an uncertain light. They did not flinch from Jake's straight regard, neither did they wholly meet it.

"Is my oath really more valuable than my word, Jake?" he said, with a wry twist of the lips. "Most people don't find it so."

Jake stood up, a figure square and forceful. For a moment he faced Saltash with a level scrutiny that--possibly--pierced the coat of mail.

Then abruptly he smiled. "I will take your word, my lord," he said.

"And the child?" said Saltash.

Jake nodded. "The child too--if Maud agrees."

"Thanks," said Saltash, and smiled back at Jake--the smile that gave his ugly face so great a charm. "I am obliged to you, Jake. I think Maud will agree."

"Shall we go to her?" said Jake.

CHAPTER IV

SALTASH

They joined the two on the terrace, and presently they were all laughing together at Saltash's drolleries. He knew how to bring effervescence to the very quietest waters. They sat for a s.p.a.ce on a seat in the soft spring starlight, while below them on the down there thrilled the unspeakable music of nightingales singing far and near. Then after a while Jake strolled away for his nightly inspection of the stables, taking Bunny with him, and Saltash and Maud were left alone.

He moved close to her at once, his arm stretched behind her along the back of the seat. At their feet lay an old red setter, Chops, who had belonged to Jake before his marriage and had devoted himself to Maud ever since.

"By Jove, this is peaceful!" said Saltash, and stopped to caress the old dog with a gentle hand. "Do you know, Maud, it's a good thing you never married me if this sort of thing makes you happy."

She smiled her quiet, contented smile. "I think it is a good thing too, Charlie. It certainly would never have satisfied you."

"Nothing does," he declared restlessly. "I'm a wanderer on the face of the earth, and I don't pick up much as I go along. I'm getting old, you know. Life isn't what it was."

Maud was silent for a few moments, the starlight in her eyes. "I sometimes wonder," she said at length, "if you have ever really lived yet."

He laughed on a mocking note. "My dear girl, I--who have done everything!"

She shook her head. "No, not everything, Charlie."

"Everything that's bad," he suggested recklessly.

She put out a hand to him that went into his quick hold and lay there with perfect confidence. "I don't think you're really old," she said. "I think you're just beginning to grow up. No, don't laugh! I am quite serious. You are just beginning to discriminate between the things that are worth while and those that are not."

"Is anything worth while?" said Saltash.

"Yes, yes. Heaps of things. But not the things you care for,--not just the wild pleasures of life. Charlie, I'm not good at expressing things, and I'm afraid--just a little--of trespa.s.sing, even though we are such old friends."

Her voice had a wistful note. He carried her hand to his lips. "_Ma belle reine_, is it possible? You?"

Her fingers closed upon his. "I hate you to be world-tired and lonely.

But I would rather have you that than feeding on husks."

"I'm not doing that at the present moment," he said. "I'm living like a beastly hermit--except that I cut my nails and brush my hair occasionally. You've heard about the woman on the yacht, of course?"

Her silence answered him, and he laughed again.

"A lie, _chere reine_! There was no woman."

"Oh, Charlie!" she said impulsively. "Forgive me for believing it!"

He made a royal gesture. "I forgive you. Moreover, the lie was not without foundation. There was a child on board of the female species,--very small and badly frightened. We saved her between us, Larpent and I. She belongs to Larpent--not to me."

"You mean she is his daughter?" questioned Maud.

"That is exactly what I mean. Dull explanation, isn't it? Larpent was badly damaged. He is undergoing repairs in a nursing home, and the child--well, I've got to look after the child. _Figurez-vous, ma chere!_ I--a protector of infants! _Un peu comique, n'est-ce pas?_"

"Ah!" Maud said, with compa.s.sion. "The poor little thing must come to us.

I will take care of her. When will you bring her?"

"You think her present plight is not to be endured for another moment?"

laughed Saltash. "_Bien!_ I will send her to you tomorrow."

"Ah! I don't mean she is not in safe keeping," protested Maud. "How old is she? Older than Eileen?"

"A little older than that," said Saltash. "She's nineteen."

"Oh!" said Maud.

"Perhaps you do mean it now!" gibed Saltash, getting up in his sudden fas.h.i.+on.