With Edged Tools Part 43

"Oh yes," replied Jocelyn, with a carefully modulated interest, "I have met them both. Mr. Oscard lunched with us shortly before we left Africa."

"Ah, that was when he disappeared so suddenly. We never got quite to the base of that affair. He left at a moment's notice on receipt of a telegram or something, only leaving a short and somewhat vague note for my--for us. He wrote from Africa, I believe, but I never heard the details. I imagine Jack Meredith was in some difficulty. But it is a wonderful scheme this, is it not? They are certain to make a fortune, I understand."

"So people say," replied Jocelyn. It was a choice to tell all--to tell as much as she herself knew--or nothing. So she told nothing. She could not say that she had been forced by a sudden breakdown of her brother's health to leave Loango while Jack Meredith's fate was still wrapped in doubt. She could not tell Lady Cantourne that all her world was in Africa--that she was counting the days until she could go back thither.

She could not lift for a second the veil that hid the aching, restless anxiety in her heart, the life-absorbing desire to know whether Guy Oscard had reached the Plateau in time. Her heart was so sore that she could not even speak of Jack Meredith's danger.

"How strange," said Lady Cantourne, "to think that you are actually living in Loango, and that you are the last person who has spoken to Jack Meredith! There are two people in this house to-night who would like to ask you questions from now till morning, but neither of them will do it. Did you see me go through the room just now with a tall gentleman--rather old."

"Yes," answered Jocelyn.

"That was Sir John Meredith, Jack's father," said Lady Cantourne in a lowered voice. "They have quarrelled, you know. People say that Sir John does not care--that he is heartless, and all that sort of thing. The world never says the other sort of thing, one finds. But--but I think I know to the contrary. He feels it very deeply. He would give worlds to hear some news of Jack; but he won't ask it, you know."

"Yes," said Jocelyn, "I understand."

She saw what was coming, and she desired it intensely, while still feeling afraid--as if they were walking on some sacred ground and might at any moment make a false step.

"I should like Sir John to meet you," said Lady Cantourne pleasantly.

"Will you come to tea some afternoon? Strange to say, he asked who you were not half an hour ago. It almost seems like instinct, does it not?

I do not believe in mystic things about spirits and souls going out to each other, and all that nonsense; but I believe in instinct. Will you come to-morrow? You are here to-night with Mrs. Sander, are you not?

I know her. She will let you come alone. Five o'clock. You will see my niece Millicent. She is engaged to be married to Jack Meredith, you know. That is why they quarrelled--the father and son. You will find a little difficulty with her too. She is a difficult girl. But I dare say you will manage to tell her what she wants to know."

"Yes," said Jocelyn quietly--almost too quietly, "I shall manage."

Lady Cantourne rose, and so did Jocelyn.

"You know," she said, looking up into the girl's face, "it is a good action. That is why I ask you to do it. It is not often that one has the opportunity of doing a good action to which even one's dearest friend cannot attribute an ulterior motive. Who is that man over there?"

"That is my brother."

"I should like to know him; but do not bring him to-morrow. We women are better alone--you understand?"

With a confidential little nod the good lady went away to attend to other affairs; possibly to carry through some more good actions of a safe nature.

It was plain to Jocelyn that Maurice was looking for some one. He had just come, and was making his way through the crowd. Presently she managed to touch his elbow.

"Oh, there you are!" he exclaimed; "I want you. Come out of this room."

He offered her his arm, and together they made their way out of the crowded room into a smaller apartment where an amateur reciter was hovering disconsolately awaiting an audience.

"Here," said Maurice, when they were alone, "I have just had this telegram."

He handed her the thin, white submarine telegraph-form with its streaks of adhesive text.

"Relief entirely successful. Meredith Joseph returned Loango. Meredith bad health."

Jocelyn drew a deep breath.

"So that's all right--eh?" said Maurice heartily.

"Yes," answered Jocelyn, "that is all right."

CHAPTER x.x.x. OLD BIRDS

Angels call it heavenly joy; Infernal tortures the devils say; And men? They call it--Love.

"By the way, dear," said Lady Cantourne to her niece the next afternoon, "I have asked a Miss Gordon to come to tea this afternoon. I met her last night at the Fitzmannerings. She lives in Loango and knows Jack.

I thought you might like to know her. She is exceptionally ladylike and rather pretty."

And straightway Miss Millicent Chyne went upstairs to put on her best dress.

We men cannot expect to understand these small matters--these exigencies, as it were, of female life. But we may be permitted to note feebly en pa.s.sant through existence that there are occasions when women put on their best clothes without the desire to please. And, while Millicent Chyne was actually attiring herself, Jocelyn Gordon, in another house not so far away, was busy with that beautiful hair of hers, patting here, drawing out there, pinning, poking, pressing with all the cunning that her fingers possessed.

When they met a little later in Lady Cantourne's uncompromisingly solid and old-fas.h.i.+oned drawing-room, one may be certain that nothing was lost.

"My aunt tells me," began Millicent at once, with that degage treatment of certain topics. .h.i.therto held sacred which obtains among young folks to-day, "that you know Loango."

"Oh yes--I live there."

"And you know Mr. Meredith?"

"Yes, and Mr. Oscard also."

There was a little pause, while two politely smiling pairs of eyes probed each other.

"She knows something--how much?" was behind one pair of eyes.

"She cannot find out--I am not afraid of her," behind the other.

And Lady Cantourne, the proverbial looker-on, slowly rubbed her white hands one over the other.

"Ah, yes," said Millicent unblus.h.i.+ngly--that was her strong point, blus.h.i.+ng in the right place, but not in the wrong--"Mr. Oscard is a.s.sociated with Mr. Meredith, is he not, in this hare-brained scheme?"

"I believe they are together in it--the Simiacine, you mean?" said Jocelyn.

"What else could she mean?" reflected the looker-on.

"Yes--the Simiacine. Such a singular name, is it not? I always say they will ruin themselves suddenly. People always do, don't they? But what do you think of it? I SHOULD like to know."

"I think they certainly will make a fortune," replied Jocelyn--and she noted the light in Millicent's eyes with a sudden feeling of dislike--"unless the risks prove too great and they are forced to abandon it."

"What risks?" asked Millicent, quite forgetting to modulate her voice.

"Well, of course, the Ogowe river is most horribly unhealthy, and there are other risks. The natives in the plains surrounding the Simiacine Plateau are antagonistic. Indeed, the Plateau was surrounded and quite besieged when we left Africa."