The Twelfth Hour Part 38

"I knew you know all about things, Mr. Vere," said Savile, accepting a cigarette and a cus.h.i.+oned deck-chair, "and I thought I'd ask your advice about something."

Jasmyn was completely at a loss. Could it be a question of a tenner? It so often was. But no, he felt sure that it was nothing quite so commonplace, or quite so simple.

In a few minutes he had heard and thoroughly taken in the whole story.

He was most interested, and particularly sympathetic about Sylvia, though from his own point of view--the worldly social-conventional view--she ought to have done better. As he thought it over he walked up and down the winter garden.

Some birds were twittering in gold cages among the palms and plants, and every now and then he stopped to talk to them in the little language one uses to pets, which irritated Savile to the verge of madness.

"I know of one thing," said Jasmyn, "and only one, that might do. I know a charming young fellow who's been ordered to travel for a year, and needs a companion. He doesn't want to go, a bit; but his relatives might be able to persuade him to, if he took a fancy to Woodville, and I'm sure he would. He's just a little mad. That would be delightful for your friend if he could get it: yachting for six months; a motoring tour in Italy; all sorts of nice things. He's a man called Newman Ferguson."

"But you see, it's Woodville himself who wants a companion," said Savile. "I don't think in his present state he'd be particularly keen on being shut up alone on a yacht with a raving lunatic, and struggling with him in a padded state-room. I shouldn't think he'd do for the post.

Then, I don't see how his going away for a year would help."

"True, my dear boy. How clever you are! Well, I suppose I must think it over, and look round."

Savile looked very disappointed.

"I mustn't let you go without giving you some hope, though. I see how much your heart is in it!" said Jasmyn good-naturedly.

"Can you give any general sort of advice?" Savile asked. "How _does_ a chap get things?"

"It's very, very difficult, dear Savile, and it's getting more and more difficult--unless you're related to somebody--or have heaps of money.

The really best thing, of course, for our friend, would be to go into some kind of business. I'll look out and see if something turns up. Now look here," and Jasmyn put his arm in Savile's, "if it's something of that sort, and it's merely some--a--cash for capital that's required, let him look upon me as his banker. Tell him that, Savile. You'll know how."

"No, I shan't know how, Mr. Vere. He wouldn't like it. And then, besides, you see he doesn't know anything about it--I mean about my coming to you like this. Sylvia doesn't, either. Of course, old Woodville would be very pleased if I went and told him he'd got some capital appointment. He'd soon forgive me then for my cheek in interfering. But not what you've just said. Awfully jolly of you, though."

Jasmyn took a few steps back and stared at Savile.

"You mean to say you've undertaken this all on your own? Why, you're a marvel! Haven't you really mentioned it to a soul?"

"As a matter of fact," said Savile scrupulously, "I _did_ just mention something about it--not your name or theirs, of course--to the girl I'm engaged to. But she doesn't know any more about it than she did before."

Jasmyn exploded with laughter.

"Savile, you'll go far. So much prudence combined with so much pluck--why you'll end by being Prime Minister!"

"I shouldn't care for that. Besides, I can't," Savile said apologetically, "I'm going into the army."

"And what about _your_ engagement?"

"Nothing about it. It won't make any difference."

"To whom?"

"Why, to me--or to _her_ either--so far as that goes."

"Tell me why you're so keen about Woodville, and what you're taking all this trouble for, old boy?"

"Why, for my sister, of course!" Savile answered, surprised.

"You're a dear good boy. And you shan't be disappointed. As soon as I hear of anything I'll let you know, and we'll talk it over again. When do you go back to school?"

"In a few days," said Savile, getting up to go.

"Poor chap! Well, well, we'll see what happens. Must you go now? Cheer up. It's sure to come all right. And I say, Savile----"

"Yes?"

"Remember me kindly to your fiancee, won't you?"

"Of _course_ I shan't! She's never heard of you. Her mother doesn't let her read the papers, not even the _Morning Post_. And besides, it's quite a private engagement."

"You can trust me, Savile. Just tell me one thing," Jasmyn said, with an inquisitive leer. "Is she dark or fair?"

"Not very," said Savile.

CHAPTER XXIII

SAVILE AND BERTIE

As Wilton was convinced that a satisfactory ending to the trouble was imminent, he naturally felt a great desire to be, somehow, the cause of Felicity's renewed happiness; to get, as it were, the credit of it. That his admiration (to put it mildly) should take the form of chivalrous devotion would be, at least, something; especially as it was evident that no other satisfaction was likely to come his way. Her one other confidant was Savile; and it struck Bertie that a kind of confederation with the boy might be a success.

Besides, it would be fun.... Savile hadn't ever been cordial with him, but had retained a rather cool, ironical manner, as if suspicious of his att.i.tude. Bertie had that peculiar vanity that consists in an acute desire to be able to please everybody. He had always felt absurdly annoyed at being unable to gain Savile's approval. And the wish to make a conquest of every one connected with Her was no doubt part of his reason for sending Savile an urgent message to come and see him immediately.

He was now waiting in his rooms at Half-Moon Street for the boy's arrival.

Savile had promised to come round in a reserved and cautious note, but the request had given him intense gratification and joy. He felt he really was becoming a person of importance.

The instant Savile arrived he made up his mind that as soon as he was grown up and able to have rooms of his own, they should be arranged, in every particular, exactly like Wilton's. But instead of the Romney, the one picture that Bertie possessed, and which bore so striking a likeness to Felicity, he decided he would have in its place a large portrait of Madame Patti.

"Look here, old boy, perhaps you think this rather cheek of me. But we both know that your sister's rather worried just now."

"She _is_ a bit off colour," admitted Savile.

"Well, why on earth don't you put it straight?"

Savile's expression remained impa.s.sible. He said:

"Think I ought?"

"You're the only person who can."

"All right," said Savile. "I'll write to Chetwode."