The Second Honeymoon Part 32

"Then you should go yourself."

"I promised I wouldn't--unless she asked me to. If you were anything of a sport----"

In the end Sangster consented to go. He was not anxious to undertake the journey, much as he wanted to see Christine again. At the end of the second week he went off early one morning without telling Jimmy of his intentions, and was back in town late the same night. Jimmy was waiting for him in the rooms in the unfas.h.i.+onable part of Bloomsbury.

It struck Sangster for the first time that Jimmy was beginning to look old; his face was drawn--his eyes looked worried. He turned on his friend with a sort of rage when he entered.

"Why couldn't you have told me where you were going. Here I've been waiting about all day, wondering where you were and what was up."

"I've been to see your wife--and there's nothing up."

"You mean you didn't see her?"

"Oh, yes, I did."

"Well--well!" Jimmy's voice sounded as if his nerves were worn to rags; he could hardly keep still.

"She seemed very cheerful," said Sangster slowly. He spoke with care, as if he were choosing his words. "Miss Leighton was with her; and we all had tea together."

"At Upton House?"

"Yes."

Jimmy's eyes were gleaming.

"How does the old place look?" he asked eagerly. "Gad! don't I wish I'd got enough money to buy it myself. You've no idea what a ripping fine time we used to have there years ago."

"I'm sure you did; but--well, as a matter of fact, I believe the house is sold."

"Sold!"

"Yes; a man named Kettering--a friend of your brother's, I believe--is negotiating for it, at any rate. Whether the purchase is really completed or not, I----"

"Kettering!" Jimmy's voice sounded angry. "Kettering--that stuck-up a.s.s!" he said savagely.

Sangster laughed.

"I shouldn't have described him as stuck-up at all," he said calmly.

"He struck me as being an extremely nice sort of fellow."

"Was he there, then?"

"Yes--he's staying somewhere in the neighbourhood temporarily, I believe, from what I heard; at any rate, he seemed very friendly with--with your wife and Miss Leighton."

Jimmy began pacing the room.

"I remember him well," he said darkly, after a moment. "Big chap with a brown moustache--pots of money." He walked the length of the room again. "Christine ought not to encourage him," he burst out presently.

"What on earth must people think, as I'm not there."

"I don't see any harm," Sangster began mildly.

Jimmy rounded on him:

"You--you wouldn't see harm in anything; but Christine's a very attractive little thing, and----" He broke off, flus.h.i.+ng dully.

"Anyway, I won't have it," he added snappily.

"I don't see how you're going to stop it, unless----"

"Unless what?"

"Unless you go down there." Sangster spoke deliberately now. In spite of his calm a.s.sertion that there was no harm in Kettering's visit to Upton House, his anxious eyes had noticed the indefinable something in Kettering's manner towards Christine that had struck Gladys Leighton that first evening. Sangster knew men well, and he knew, without any plainer signs or telling, that it was not the house itself that took Kettering there so often, but the little mistress of the house, with her sweet eyes and her pathetic little smile.

He got up and laid a hand on Jimmy's shoulder as he spoke.

"Why not go down yourself?" he said casually.

Jimmy swore.

"I said I wouldn't. . . . I'm not going to be the first to give in.

It was her doing--she sent me away. If she wants me she can say so."

"She has her pride, too, you know,"

Jimmy swore again. He was feeling very ill and upset; he was firmly convinced that he was the most ill-used beggar in the whole of London.

Remorse was gnawing hard at his heart, though he was trying to believe that it was entirely another emotion. He had not slept properly for nights; his head ached, and his nerves were jumpy.

"I'll not go till she sends for me," he said again obstinately.

Sangster made no comment.

He did not see Jimmy again for some days, though he heard of him once or twice from a mutual acquaintance.

"Challoner's going to the devil, I should think," so the mutual acquaintance informed him bluntly. "What's the matter with the chap?

Hasn't anybody got any influence over him? He's drinking hard and gambling his soul away."

Sangster said "Rubbis.h.!.+" with a confidence he was far from feeling.

He did not really believe it; he knew Jimmy was a bit reckless and inclined to behave wildly when things did not entirely go to his taste, but he considered this a gross exaggeration of the truth; he made a mental note to look Jimmy up the following day.

But it was the very same night that Costin, Jimmy Challoner's man, presented himself at the rooms in the unfas.h.i.+onable part of Bloomsbury and asked anxiously for Mr. Sangster.

Sangster heard his voice in the narrow pa.s.sage outside and recognised it. He left his supper--a very meagre supper of bread and cheese, as funds were low that week--and went to the door.

"Do you want me, Costin?"

The man looked relieved.

"Yes, sir--if you please, sir. It's Mr. Challoner, I'm afraid he's very ill, but he won't let me send for a doctor, so I just slipped out and came round to you, sir."