CHAPTER XV
MR. MCEACHERN INTERVENES
Life at the castle during the first few days of his visit filledJimmy with a curious blend of emotions, mainly unpleasant. Fate, inits pro-Jimmy capacity, seemed to be taking a rest. In the firstplace, the part allotted to him was not that of Lord Herbert, thecharacter who talked to Molly most of the time. The instantCharteris learned from Lord Dreever that Jimmy had at one timeactually been on the stage professionally, he decided that LordHerbert offered too little scope for the new man's talents.
"Absolutely no good to you, my dear chap," he said. "It's just asmall dude part. He's simply got to be a silly ass."
Jimmy pleaded that he could be a sillier ass than anybody living;but Charteris was firm.
"No," he said. "You must be Captain Browne. Fine acting part. Thebiggest in the piece. Full of fat lines. Spennie was to have playedit, and we were in for the worst frost in the history of the stage.Now you've come, it's all right. Spennie's the ideal Lord Herbert.He's simply got to be him-self. We've got a success now, my boy.Rehearsal after lunch. Don't be late." And he was off to beat up therest of the company.
From that moment, Jimmy's troubles began. Charteris was a young manin whom a passion for the stage was ineradicably implanted. Itmattered nothing to him during these days that the sun shone, thatit was pleasant on the lake, and that Jimmy would have given fivepounds a minute to be allowed to get Molly to himself for half-an-hourevery afternoon. All he knew or cared about was that the localnobility and gentry were due to arrive at the castle within a week,and that, as yet, very few of the company even knew their lines.Having hustled Jimmy into the part of CAPTAIN BROWNE, he gave hisenergy free play. He conducted rehearsals with a vigor thatoccasionally almost welded the rabble he was coaching into somethingapproaching coherency. He painted scenery, and left it about--wet,and people sat on it. He nailed up horseshoes for luck, and theyfell on people. But nothing daunted him. He never rested.
"Mr. Charteris," said Lady Julia, rather frigidly, after oneenergetic rehearsal, "is indefatigable. He whirled me about!"
It was perhaps his greatest triumph, properly considered, that hehad induced Lady Julia to take a part in his piece; but to the bornorganizer of amateur theatricals no miracle of this kind isimpossible, and Charteris was one of the most inveterate organizersin the country. There had been some talk--late at night, in thebilliard room--of his being about to write in a comic footman rolefor Sir Thomas; but it had fallen through, not, it was felt, becauseCharteris could not have hypnotized his host into undertaking thepart, but rather because Sir Thomas was histrionically unfit.
Mainly as a result of the producer's energy, Jimmy found himself oneof a crowd, and disliked the sensation. He had not experienced muchdifficulty in mastering the scenes in which he appeared; butunfortunately those who appeared with him had. It occurred to Jimmydaily, after he had finished "running through the lines" with aseries of agitated amateurs, male and female, that for all practicalpurposes he might just as well have gone to Japan. In this confusedwelter of rehearsers, his opportunities of talking with Molly wereinfinitesimal. And, worse, she did not appear to mind. She wascheerful and apparently quite content to be engulfed in a crowd.Probably, he thought with some melancholy, if she met his eye andnoted in it a distracted gleam, she put it down to the cause thatmade other eyes in the company gleam distractedly during this week.
Jimmy began to take a thoroughly jaundiced view of amateurtheatricals, and of these amateur theatricals in particular. He feltthat in the electric flame department of the infernal regions thereshould be a special gridiron, reserved exclusively for the man whoinvented these performances, so diametrically opposed to the truespirit of civilization. At the close of each day, he cursedCharteris with unfailing regularity.
There was another thing that disturbed him. That he should be unableto talk with Molly was an evil, but a negative evil. It wassupplemented by one that was positive. Even in the midst of thechaos of rehearsals, he could not help noticing that Molly and LordDreever were very much together. Also--and this was even moresinister--he observed that both Sir Thomas Blunt and Mr. McEachernwere making determined efforts to foster the state of affairs.
Of this, he had sufficient proof one evening when, after schemingand plotting in a way that had made the great efforts of Machiavelliand Richelieu seem like the work of raw novices, he had cut Molly outfrom the throng, and carried her off for the alleged purpose ofhelping him feed the chickens. There were, as he had suspected,chickens attached to the castle. They lived in a little world ofnoise and smells at the back of the stables. Bearing an iron potfull of a poisonous-looking mash, and accompanied by Molly, he hadfelt for perhaps a minute and a half like a successful general. Itis difficult to be romantic when you are laden with chicken-feed inan unwieldy iron pot, but he had resolved that this portion of theproceedings should be brief. The birds should dine that evening onthe quick-lunch principle. Then--to the more fitting surroundings ofthe rose-garden! There was plenty of time before the hour of thesounding of the dressing-gong. Perhaps, even a row on the lake--
"What ho!" said a voice.
Behind them, with a propitiatory smile on his face, stood hislordship of Dreever.
"My uncle told me I should find you out here. What have you got inthere, Pitt? Is this what you feed them on? I say, you know, queercoves, hens! I wouldn't touch that stuff for a fortune, what? Looksto me poisonous."
He met Jimmy's eye, and stopped. There was that in Jimmy's eye thatwould have stopped an avalanche. His lordship twiddled his fingersin pink embarrassment.
"Oh, look!" said Molly. "There's a poor little chicken out there inthe cold. It hasn't had a morsel. Give me the spoon, Mr. Pitt. Here,chick, chick! Don't be silly, I'm not going to hurt you. I'vebrought you your dinner."
She moved off in pursuit of the solitary fowl, which had edgednervously away. Lord Dreever bent toward Jimmy.
"Frightfully sorry, Pitt, old man," he whispered, feverishly."Didn't want to come. Couldn't help it. He sent me out." Hehalf-looked over his shoulder. "And," he added rapidly, as Molly cameback, "the old boy's up at his bedroom window now, watching usthrough his opera-glasses!"
The return journey to the house was performed in silence--on Jimmy'spart, in thoughtful silence. He thought hard, and he had beenthinking ever since.
He had material for thought. That Lord Dreever was as clay in hisuncle's hands he was aware. He had not known his lordship long, buthe had known him long enough to realize that a backbone had beencarelessly omitted from his composition. What his uncle directed,that would he do. The situation looked bad to Jimmy. The order, heknew, had gone out that Lord Dreever was to marry money. And Mollywas an heiress. He did not know how much Mr. McEachern had amassedin his dealings with New York crime, but it must be somethingconsiderable. Things looked black.
Then, Jimmy had a reaction. He was taking much for granted. LordDreever might be hounded into proposing to Molly, but what earthlyreason was there for supposing that Molly would accept him? Hedeclined even for an instant to look upon Spennie's title in thelight of a lure. Molly was not the girl to marry for a title. Heendeavored to examine impartially his lordship's other claims. Hewas a pleasant fellow, with--to judge on short acquaintanceship--anundeniably amiable disposition. That much must be conceded. Butagainst this must be placed the equally undeniable fact that he wasalso, as he would have put it himself, a most frightful ass. He wasweak. He had no character. Altogether, the examination made Jimmymore cheerful. He could not see the light-haired one, even with SirThomas Blunt shoving behind, as it were, accomplishing the knight'sends. Shove he never so wisely, Sir Thomas could never make a Romeoout of Spennie Dreever.
It was while sitting in the billiard-room one night after dinner,watching his rival play a hundred up with the silent Hargate, thatJimmy came definitely to this conclusion. He had stopped there towatch, more because he wished to study his man at close range thanbecause the game was anything out of the common as an exposition ofbilliar
ds. As a matter of fact, it would have been hard to imagine aworse game. Lord Dreever, who was conceding twenty, was poor, andhis opponent an obvious beginner. Again, as he looked on, Jimmy waspossessed of an idea that he had met Hargate before. But, once more,he searched his memory, and drew blank. He did not give the thingmuch thought, being intent on his diagnosis of Lord Dreever, who bya fluky series of cannons had wobbled into the forties, and was nowa few points ahead of his opponent.
Presently, having summed his lordship up to his satisfaction andgrown bored with the game, Jimmy strolled out of the room. He pausedoutside the door for a moment, wondering what to do. There wasbridge in the smoking-room, but he did not feel inclined for bridge.From the drawing-room came sounds of music. He turned in thatdirection, then stopped again. He came to the conclusion that he didnot feel sociable. He wanted to think. A cigar on the terrace wouldmeet his needs.
He went up to his room for his cigar-case. The window was open. Heleaned out. There was almost a full moon, and it was very light outof doors. His eye was caught by a movement at the further end of theterrace, where the shadow was. A girl came out of the shadow,walking slowly.
Not since early boyhood had Jimmy descended stairs with such a rareburst of speed. He negotiated the nasty turn at the end of the firstflight at quite a suicidal pace. Fate, however, had apparentlywakened again and resumed business, for he did not break his neck. Afew moments later, he was out on the terrace, bearing a cloak which,he had snatched up en route in the hall.
"I thought you might be cold," he said, breathing quickly.
"Oh, thank you," said Molly. "How kind of you!" He put it round hershoulders. "Have you been running?"
"I came downstairs rather fast."
"Were you afraid the boogaboos would get you?" she laughed. "I wasthinking of when I was a small child. I was always afraid of them. Iused to race downstairs when I had to go to my room in the dark,unless I could persuade someone to hold my hand all the way thereand back."
Her spirits had risen with Jimmy's arrival. Things had beenhappening that worried her. She had gone out on to the terrace to bealone. When she heard his footsteps, she had dreaded the advent ofsome garrulous fellow-guest, full of small talk. Jimmy, somehow, wasa comfort. He did not disturb the atmosphere. Little as they hadseen of each other, something in him--she could not say what--haddrawn her to him. He was a man whom she could trust instinctively.
They walked on in silence. Words were pouring into Jimmy's mind, buthe could not frame them. He seemed to have lost the power ofcoherent thought.
Molly said nothing. It was not a night for conversation. The moonhad turned terrace and garden into a fairyland of black and silver.It was a night to look and listen and think.
They walked slowly up and down. As they turned for the second time,Molly's thoughts formed themselves into a question. Twice she was onthe point of asking it, but each time she checked herself. It was animpossible question. She had no right to put it, and he had no rightto answer. Yet, something was driving her on to ask it.
It came out suddenly, without warning.
"Mr. Pitt, what do you think of Lord Dreever?"
Jimmy started. No question could have chimed in more aptly with histhoughts. Even as she spoke, he was struggling to keep himself fromasking her the same thing.
"Oh, I know I ought not to ask," she went on. "He's your host, andyou're his friend. I know. But--"
Her voice trailed off. The muscles of Jimmy's back tightened andquivered. But he could find no words.
"I wouldn't ask anyone else. But you're--different, somehow. I don'tknow what I mean. We hardly know each other. But--"
She stopped again; and still he was dumb.
"I feel so alone," she said very quietly, almost to herself.Something seemed to break in Jimmy's head. His brain suddenlycleared. He took a step forward.
A huge shadow blackened the white grass. Jimmy wheeled round. It wasMcEachern.
"I have been looking for you, Molly, my dear," he said, heavily. "Ithought you must have gone to bed."
He turned to Jimmy, and addressed him for the first time since theirmeeting in the bedroom.
"Will you excuse us, Mr. Pitt?"
Jimmy bowed, and walked rapidly toward the house. At the door, hestopped and looked back. The two were standing where he had leftthem.