T. Tembarom Part 83

"There is a good deal to be said for it," he summed it up. "It's plausible on ordinary sophisticated grounds. T. Tembarom would say, `It looks sort of that way."'

As Mrs. Braddle had done what she could in the matter of expounding her views of the uncertainties of the village att.i.tude, he had listened with stimulating interest. Mrs. Braddle's version on the pa.s.sing of T. Tembarom stood out picturesquely against the background of the version which was his own--the one founded on the singular facts he had shared knowledge of with the chief character in the episode. He had not, like Miss Alicia, received a communication from Tembarom. This seemed to him one of the attractive features of the incident. It provided opportunity for speculation. Some wild development had called the youngster away in a rattling hurry. Of what had happened since his departure he knew no more than the villagers knew. What had happened for some months before his going he had watched with the feeling of an intelligently observant spectator at a play. He had been provided with varied emotions by the fantastic drama. He had smiled; he had found himself moved once or twice, and he had felt a good deal of the thrill of curious uncertainty as to what the curtain would rise and fall on. The situation was such that it was impossible to guess. Results could seem only to float in the air. One thing might happen; so might another, so might a dozen more. What he wished really to attain was some degree of certainty as to what was likely to occur in any case to the American Temple Barholm.

He felt, the first time he drove over to call on Miss Alicia, that his indisposition and confinement to his own house had robbed him of something. They had deprived him of the opportunity to observe shades of development and to hear the expressing of views of the situation as it stood. He drove over with views of his own and with antic.i.p.ations.

He had reason to know that he would encounter in the dear lady indications of the feeling that she had reached a crisis. There was a sense of this crisis impending as one mounted the terrace steps and entered the hall. The men-servants endeavored to wipe from their countenances any expression denoting even a vague knowledge of it. He recognized their laudable determination to do so. Burrill was monumental in the unconsciousness of his outward bearing.

Miss Alicia, sitting waiting on Fate in the library, wore precisely the aspect he had known she would wear. She had been lying awake at night and she had of course wept at intervals, since she belonged to the period the popular female view of which had been that only the unfeeling did not so relieve themselves in crises of the affections.

Her eyelids were rather pink and her nice little face was tired.

"It is very, very kind of you to come," she said, when they shook hands. "I wonder "--her hesitance was touching in its obvious appeal to him not to take the wrong side,--"I wonder if you know how deeply troubled I have been?"

"You see, I have had a touch of my abominable gout, and my treasure of a Braddle has been nursing me and gossiping," he answered. "So, of course I know a great deal. None of it true, I dare say. I felt I must come and see you, however."

He looked so neat and entirely within the boundaries of finished and well-dressed modernity and every-day occurrence, in his perfectly fitting clothes, beautifully s.h.i.+ning boots, and delicate fawn gaiters, that she felt a sort of support in his mere aspect. The mind connected such almost dapper freshness and excellent taste only with unexaggerated incidents and a behavior which almost placed the stamp of absurdity upon the improbable in circ.u.mstance. The vision of disorderly and illegal possibilities seemed actually to fade into an unreality.

"If Mr. Palford and Mr. Grimby knew him as I know him --as--as you know him--" she added with a faint hopefulness.

"Yes, if they knew him as we know him that would make a different matter of it," admitted the duke, amiably. But, thought Miss Alicia, he might only have put it that way through consideration for her feelings, and because he was an extremely polished man who could not easily reveal to a lady a disagreeable truth. He did not speak with the note of natural indignation which she thought she must have detected if he had felt as she felt herself. He was of course a man whose manner had always the finish of composure. He did not seem disturbed or even very curious--only kind and most polite.

"If we only knew where he was!" she began again. "If we only knew where Mr. Strangeways was!"

"My impression is that Messrs. Palford & Grimby will probably find them both before long," he consoled her. "They are no doubt exciting themselves unnecessarily."

He was not agitated at all; she felt. it would have been kinder if he had been a little agitated. He was really not the kind of person whose feelings appeared very deep, being given to a light and graceful cynicism of speech which delighted people; so perhaps it was not natural that he should express any particular emotion even in a case affecting a friend--surely he had been Temple's friend. But if he had seemed a little distressed, or doubtful or annoyed, she would have felt that she understood better his att.i.tude. As it was, he might almost have been on the other side--a believer or a disbeliever--or merely a person looking on to see what would happen. When they sat down, his glance seemed to include her with an interest which was sympathetic but rather as if she were a child whom he would like to pacify. This seemed especially so when she felt she must make clear to him the nature of the crisis which was pending, as he had felt when he entered the house.

"You perhaps do not know"--the appeal which had shown itself in her eyes was in her voice--"that the solicitors have decided, after a great deal of serious discussion and private inquiry in London, that the time has come when they must take open steps."

"In the matter of investigation?" he inquired.

"They are coming here this afternoon with Captain Palliser to--to question the servants, and some of the villagers. They will question me," alarmedly.

"They would be sure to do that,"--he really seemed quite to envelop her with kindness--"but I beg of you not to be alarmed. Nothing you could have to say could possibly do harm to Temple Barholm." He knew it was her fear of this contingency which terrified her.

"You do feel sure of that?" she burst forth, relievedly. "You do-- because you know him?"

"I do. Let us be calm, dear lady. Let us be calm."

"I will! I will!" she protested. "But Captain Palliser has arranged that a lady should come here--a lady who disliked poor Temple very much. She was most unjust to him."

"Lady Joan Fayre?" he suggested, and then paused with a remote smile as if lending himself for the moment to some humor he alone detected in the situation.

"She will not injure his cause, I think I can a.s.sure you."

"She insisted on misunderstanding him. I am so afraid--"

The appearance of Pearson at the door interrupted her and caused her to rise from her seat. The neat young man was pale and spoke in a nervously lowered voice.

"I beg pardon, Miss. I beg your Grace's pardon for intruding, but--"

Miss Alicia moved toward him in such a manner that he himself seemed to feel that he might advance.

"What is it, Pearson? Have you anything special to say?"

"I hope I am not taking too great a liberty, Miss, but I did come in for a purpose, knowing that his Grace was with you and thinking you might both kindly advise me. It is about Mr. Temple Barholm, your Grace--" addressing him as if in involuntary recognition of the fact that he might possibly prove the greater support.

"Our Mr. Temple Barholm, Pearson? We are being told there are two of them." The duke's delicate emphasis on the possessive p.r.o.noun was delightful, and it so moved and encouraged sensitive little Pearson that he was emboldened to answer with modest firmness:

"Yes,--ours. Thank you, your Grace."

"You feel him yours too, Pearson?" a shade more delightfully still.

"I--I take the liberty, your Grace, of being deeply attached to him, and more than grateful."

"What did you want to ask advice about?"

"The family solicitors. Captain Palliser and Lady Joan Fayre and Mr.

and Miss Hutchinson are to be here shortly, and I have been told I am to be questioned. What I want to know, your Grace, is--" He paused, and looked no longer pale but painfully red as he gathered himself together for his anxious outburst--"Must I speak the truth?"

Miss Alicia started alarmedly.

The duke looked down at the delicate fawn gaiters covering his fine instep. His fleeting smile was not this time an external one.

"Do you not wish to speak the truth, Pearson?"

Pearson's manner could have been described only as one of obstinate frankness.

"No, your Grace. I do not! Your Grace may misunderstand me--but I do not!"

His Grace tapped the gaiters with the slight ebony cane he held in his hand.

"Is this "--he put it with impartial curiosity--"because the truth might be detrimental to our Mr. Temple Barholm?"

"If you please, your Grace," Pearson made a firm step forward, "what is the truth?"

"That is what Messrs. Palford & Grimby seem determined to find out.

Probably only our Mr. Temple Barholm can tell them."

"Your Grace, what I'm thinking of is that if I tell the truth it may seem to prove something that's not the truth."

"What kinds of things, Pearson?" still impartially.

"I can be plain with your Grace. Things like this: I was with Mr.

Temple Barholm and Mr. Strangeways a great deal. They'll ask me about what I heard. They'll ask me if Mr. Strangeways was willing to go away to the doctor; if he had to be persuaded and argued with. Well, he had and he hadn't, your Grace. At first, just the mention of it would upset him so that Mr. Temple Barholm would have to stop talking about it and quiet him down. But when he improved--and he did improve wonderfully, your Grace--he got into the way of sitting and thinking it over and listening quite quiet. But if I'm asked suddenly--"

"What you are afraid of is that you may be asked point-blank questions without warning?" his Grace put it with the perspicacity of experience.

"That's why I should be grateful for advice. Must I tell the truth, your Grace, when it will make them believe things I'd swear are lies-- I'd swear it, your Grace."