Mr. Bingle Part 19

"Quite well, thank you," he said at the end of a deep exhalation.

Indeed he was quite without breath when he came to the "thank you." It would have been better if he hadn't tried to be so courteous. "Quite well," would have been sufficient. He realised, as he wheezily filled his lungs, that the "thank you" was entirely superfluous. In any event, it wasn't so important that he should have gone to the pains of upsetting his dignity in order to say it, no matter if it was the proper thing to say. He always hated anything that caused him to become red in the face.

"It's quite a relief," said Mrs. Bingle, brightening. It would have been dreadful if anything HAD been the matter with the lobster.

But Mr. Force knew nothing whatever about the suspected lobster and being in considerable doubt as to just how much of Miss Glenn's story the Bingles had learned, very naturally believed that the good lady was concerned about Mrs. Force's peace of mind rather than her state of health. He grew perfectly scarlet and mumbled something about his wife sleeping like a log, and then hastily followed Mr. Bingle out of the room.

"Troubles never come singly, do they, Force?" said Bingle as they mounted the stairs. He sighed deeply.

"So they say," said Force, also sighing. He was thinking of the interview that was to come. He was wondering just how he was going to explain things to Mr. Bingle.

"She isn't to be married till spring, but--Oh, well, I suppose I shouldn't complain." Mr. Force stopped stock-still on the stairs.

"Mar-married?" he gasped. "Are you crazy?"

"Almost," said Mr. Bingle promptly. "If anything more happens, I'll be wholly so. Come in, Force. Now, old chap, what's on YOUR mind?" They had entered the study. Mr. Bingle faced his visitor after closing the door carefully behind him. "Out with it? Don't keep me in suspense.

Has--has the case finally gone against me?"

"Who is going to be married in the spring?" demanded Force, wiping his brow.

"Miss Fairweather. I thought you knew."

"Oh, the devil! Of course not! What do I know about Miss Fairweather's affairs?"

"Flanders is the man. He's the lucky dog. An old affair, Force.

Tremendously romantic story back of--"

"Needn't mind, Bingle. I don't care to hear it at present. I've got something a great deal more important to think about--dammit." He sat down heavily, and began fumbling for his cigar case. His forehead was dripping wet.

"It must be serious," said Mr. Bingle slowly, "or you wouldn't be swearing as you do, Force. I've never heard you swear before."

"It is serious. Of all the improbable, dime novel, h.e.l.lish--But tell me, Bingle: how much do you know?"

"How much do I know about what?"

"Didn't that fellow blab anything to you last night?"

"Bla--blab?"

Force pointed to a chair. "Sit down. Are you sure no one can hear what I'm saying?"

"No one but yours truly," said Mr. Bingle, a.s.suming a jauntiness he did not feel. He sat down, his back as stiff as a board.

His visitor leaned forward, his hands grasping the arms of the chair.

"Well, I'll tell you something, Bingle, that will paralyse you. I--I didn't sleep a wink last night."

"That doesn't paralyse me. Neither did I--"

"This is no time to be funny, Bingle," said the other roughly. "Do you want to know what kept me awake all night, suffering the torments of the d.a.m.ned?"

"I do," responded Mr. Bingle, casting a quick glance at Mr. Force's jaw. He knew what it was to have a toothache.

"Well, it was that miserable business about--about Kathleen," said Force, a querulous note creeping into his voice. Mr. Bingle did not think it worth while to tell him that it was the same miserable business that kept him awake. "Now, I want the truth, Bingle. I want to be sure before I go ahead. It means a great deal to both of us. Was Kathleen's mother named Agnes Glenn?"

"It was," said Mr. Bingle, his eyes narrowing with the dawn of comprehension.

"Did you ever see her?"

"Once, just before she died."

"Describe her, Bingle."

"I can't. Good Lord, man, my eyes were blind with tears all the time I was--"

"Never mind," broke in Force. "We won't go into that, after all. Did she tell you anything about herself, her past life, her--her trouble?"

"Not a word. She was just about to enter the future life, Force. She hadn't much to say. Simply said that she hoped I'd be good to her little baby, that's all. Go on, man."

Mr. Force appeared to be lost in bleak abstraction. The curt command brought him out of it with a start.

"She went by the name of Mrs. Hinman, you say. No other name was mentioned, then or afterwards?"

"No."

"I can tell you something about her, Bingle. She lived for three years as the wife of a man who called himself Hinman. She wasn't his wife and that wasn't his name. She'd been on the stage. She went to live with this man as his wife. She was a good girl up to the time she met this man and fell in love with him. Her home was in the West. Her parents were respected, G.o.d-fearing people. They never knew that she--that she took up the life she led with--Hinman. Don't interrupt me, Bingle. If I don't get it out now, I'll never have the courage to try it again. No man was ever in such a desperate plight as I find myself in to-day.

I'll come straight to the point. I am the man called Hinman and--this child you've got here with you is--mine."

He might have had the grace to exhibit some sign of shame or compunction, but he did nothing of the kind. He merely looked defiant, as if expecting Mr. Bingle to say something that he could resent.

But Mr. Bingle sank deeper into his chair, his chin buried, his eyes fastened in a sort of horror upon the face of the President of the great bank. He was incapable of uttering a word.

After a little while Force went on: "Blood will tell. All this accounts for the peculiar, inexplicable attraction that Kathleen has held for me. It is like a chapter out of an impossible novel. It--"

"And perhaps it accounts for the antipathy the poor child has for you,"

said Mr. Bingle, his voice a trifle shrill and uncertain. He did not take his gaze from the face of his visitor. "It now seems quite natural to me."

"Nonsense! The child had no means of knowing or even suspecting that I--"

"She had a birthright, Force. You can't take that away from her. The hatred for her father was born in her. G.o.d wouldn't let her hate the wrong man, you know."

Force got up from the chair, tremendously moved all of a sudden. A piteous, pleading look came into his eyes, and his face, once arrogant, was now haggard with despair.

"Bingle, I--I want you to help me. For G.o.d's sake, do what you can for me. Put into practice your beautiful Christmas Carol teachings. I--I want her. She must be made to understand that I love her, she must be made to feel that she is everything in the world to me. She looks like her mother. I thought it was fancy on my part, but now I know. Good G.o.d, little did I know where fate was going to lead me when I employed those fellows to find the child of Agnes Glenn. Little did I know that it would lead me to your door, Bingle."

Mr. Bingle arose. He was very pale and shaken, but he managed to control himself with remarkable fort.i.tude.

"I have not told you that Agnes Glenn died of starvation--and carbolic acid," he said slowly. "Have your detectives told you that?"

"Carbolic acid?" whispered Force, with staring eyes. "Starvation? Good G.o.d, man--not that!"

"Yes--THAT! The Society found her when she was about gone. I was notified. We were looking for a child. This baby of hers was then about two years old. Mrs. Bingle and I went to the poor little flat where they had found her, after the neighbours had told the police of her plight. She was sick unto death. I said that we would care for her baby as if it were our own. Then I made arrangements to have her removed to a hospital at once. While we were out of the room, she took the carbolic acid. That's the way it happened, Force. That was the end of Agnes Glenn. She was a splendid character, Force. She did not betray you. She stuck by you to the very end. She protected you a great deal better than you protected her."