CHAPTER XII
ANOTHER!
"I shall never, never forgot your generosity, John."
"No, Mary. It was your honesty and courage that did it."
"I told Mr. Ellerton the whole story, and he seemed positivelyastonished."
"And Miss Bellairs admitted that when she wrote she considered such atiling utterly impossible. She's changed a little, Mary. She's not socheerful and light-hearted as she used to be."
"Think what she's gone through. I've noticed just the same in Mr.Ellerton, but--"
"You hope to restore him soon?"
"Oh, well, I expect Miss Bellairs--what a pretty girl she is,John--will soon revive too, now she is with you again. John, have; youobserved anything peculiar in Aunt Sarah's manner?"
"To tell you the truth, I fancied she was rather short with me once ortwice at dinner."
"I believe she is--isn't pleased at--at what's happened. She hasn'ttaken much to Mr. Ellerton, and you know she liked you so much, that Ithink she still wants you as one of the family."
John laughed: then he leant forward and said in a low voice:
"Have you settled anything about dates?"
"No. Mr. Ellerton--well he didn't introduce the subject: so of course Ididn't. Have you?"
"No, we haven't. I made some suggestion of the kind, but Miss Bellairsdidn't fall in with it. She won't even let me ask her father's consentjust yet."
"Mr. Ellerton proposes not to announce our--anything--for a few days."
"Well," said John, "I shall insist on an announcement very shortly, andyou ought to do the same, Mary. We know the evils--" He checkedhimself, but Mary was not embarrassed.
"Of secret engagements?" she said calmly. "We do indeed."
"Besides it's a bore. I couldn't go with Miss Bellairs to the theatreto-night, because she said it would look too marked."
"Yes, and Mr. Ellerton said that if he dined here he might as wellannounce our engagement from the statue of Strasburg."
John frowned, and Mary perceiving the bent of his thoughts ventured tosay, though with a timid air unusual to her:
"I think they're the least little bit inconsiderate, don't you,John--after all we have done for them?"
"Well, I don't mind admitting that I do feel that. I do not considerthat Miss Bellairs quite appreciates the effort I have made."
Mary sighed.
"We mustn't expect too much of them, must we?" she asked.
"I suppose not," John conceded; but he still frowned.
When we consider how simple the elements of perfect happiness appear tobe, regarded in the abstract, it becomes surprising to think howdifficult it is to attain them in the concrete. A kind magician maygrant us all we ask, may transport us whither we would go, dower uswith all we lack, bring to us one desired companion after another, butsomething is wrong. We have a toothache, or in spite of our richcurtains there's a draught, or the loved one haps not to be at themoment congenial: and we pitifully pray the wizard to wave his wandagain. Would any magician wave his for these four troublesome folk? Itmust be admitted that they hardly deserved it.
Nevertheless a magician was at work, and, with the expiration of thenext night, his train was laid. At eleven o'clock in the forenoon ofFriday, Roger Deane had a final interview with the still hesitatingPainter.
"But if the police should come, Sir Roger?" urged the fearful man.
"Why, you'll look a fool, that's all. Isn't the figure high enough?"
"Most liberal, Sir Roger, but--but it will alarm my wife."
"If you come to that, it'll alarm my wife."
"Very true, Sir Roger." Painter seemed to derive some comfort from thisindirect community of feeling with the aristocracy.
"It'll alarm everybody, I hope. That's what it's for. Now mind--2.30sharp--and when the coffee's been in ten minutes. Not before! I musthave time for coffee."
"Very good, Sir Roger."
"Is the ladder ready?"
"Yes, Sir Roger."
"And the what's-its-name?"
"Quite ready, Sir Roger."
"Let's see it."
It was inspected and pronounced satisfactory. Then Roger Deane set outto return to his hotel, murmuring contentedly:
"If that don't make up their minds for 'em, I don't know what will."
Then he paused suddenly.
"Gad! Will the women have hysterics?" he asked, but in a moment headded, reassuring himself, "Maud never has, and, hang it, we mustchance the rest."
Arrived at home he found Arthur Laing kicking his heels in thesmoking-room.
"Lunching with you to-day, ain't I, somewhere in the Palais-Royal?"asked the visitor.
"Yes, some place the General's found out. Look here, Laing, are you anervous man?"
"Nervous! What do you take me for?"
"Lose your head in moments of excitement?"
"I never have 'em."
"Oh, well, hang you! I say, Laing, you're not a fool. Just look here.Anything I say--anything, mind--at lunch today, you're not tocontradict. You're to back me up."
"Right you are, old chap."
"And the more infernal nonsense it sounds, the more you're to take youroath about it."
"I'm there."
"And finally, you're on no account to lay a finger either on MissTravers or on Dora Bellairs."
"Hullo! I'm not in the habit of beating women at any time, let alone ata lunch-party."
"I mean what I say: you're not to touch either of them. If you doyou'll spoil it. You're to go for Miss Bussey."
"She's not done me any harm."
"Never mind. As soon as the row begins and I say, 'Save the ladies!'you collar Miss Bussey. See?"
"Oh, I see. Seems to me we're going to have a lively lunch. Am I tocarry the old lady?"
"Yes."
"Oh, by Jove! How's my biceps? Just feel, will you?"
Deane felt and gravely pronounced the muscle to be equal to its task.Laing was much gratified, and awaited the unknown future withphilosophic patience.
Sir Roger had predicted "a jolly lunch," but, in its early stages, theentertainment hardly earned this description. Something was wrongsomewhere; Dora started by refusing, very pointedly, to sit nearCharlie Ellerton; and yet, when she found herself between Ashforth andLaing, she was absent, silent, and melancholy. Charlie, on the otherhand, painfully practised a labored attentiveness to Mary Travers whichcontrasted ill with his usual spontaneous and gay courtesy. Miss Busseywore an air of puzzled gravity, and Laing kept looking at her with acalculating eye. He seemed to be seeking the best grip. Lady Deane andthe General, engrossed in a tete-a-tete discussion, did little topromote the hilarity of the table, and it was left to Deane to maintainthe flow of conversation as he best could. Apparently he found the taska heavy one, for, before long, he took a newspaper out of his pocket,and, a propos to one of his own remarks, began to read a highlydecorated account of the fearful injuries under which the last victimof the last diabolical explosion had been in danger of succumbing. SirRoger read his gruesome narrative with much emphasis, and as he laiddown the paper he observed:
"Well, I hope I'm not more of a coward than most men, but in face ofdynamite--ugh!" and he shuddered realistically.
"I should make for the door," said Laing.
"Yes, but in this case the bomb was at the door!"
"Then," said Laing, "I should exit by the window."
"But this poor man." remarked Mary Travers, "stayed to rescue the womanhe loved," and her eyes rested for an instant in confident affection onCharlie Ellerton.
"We should all do as much, I trust," said John, glancing at DoraBellairs.
"I'm sure I hope you won't have to," said Dora, rather ungraciously.
"Think what a convincing test of affection it would be," suggestedDeane persuasively. "After that you could never doubt that the manloved you."
"My good Sir Roger," observed Miss Bussey, "it would be commonhumanity."
"Suppose there were two girls," said Laing, "and you couldn'
t take 'emboth!"
Deane hastily interposed.
"Haven't we had enough of this dreary subject?" he asked, and hefrowned slightly at Laing.
"Isn't it about time for coffee?" the General suggested.
Deane looked at his watch.
"What does the time matter, Deane, if we're ready?"
"Not a bit. 2.20. That's all right," and he rang the bell.
Painter came in with the coffee: the little man looked rather pale andnervous, but succeeded in serving the company without upsetting thecups. He came to Deane last.
"Is everything ready?" whispered that gentleman, and receiving atrembling "Yes, sir," he added, "in ten minutes."
"This," he observed out loud, "has been a pleasant gathering--apleasant end to our outing."
"What? You're going?" asked Miss Bussey.
"Yes: my wife and I cross to England to-morrow."
"I shall go the next day," announced the General, "if Dora is ready."
John threw a glance toward Dora, but she was busy drinking her coffee.
"Well," said Deane, "I hope we may soon meet again, under equallydelightful circumstances, in London. At any rate," he added with alaugh, "there we shall be safe from----"
Crash! A loud noise came from the door, as if of some metallicsubstance thrown against the panels.
"Hullo!" said Laing.
"Oh, somebody tumbled downstairs," said Deane reassuringly. "Don'tmove, Miss Bussey."
"Oh, but Sir Roger, what is it? What do you think? It didn't sound atall like what you say."
The General laughed.
"Come, Miss Bussey, I don't suppose it's----"
As he spoke the form of Painter appeared at the open window. He wasbreathless, and shrieked hastily:
"Dynamite, dynamite! Save yourselves! It'll be off in a minute."
"Then I shall be off in half a minute," said Laing.
There was a rush to the door, and Laing, remembering his instructions,joined hastily in it.
"No, no. The bomb's there!" cried Painter, excitedly.
They stood still in horror for ten seconds.
"To the window, to the window, for your lives! Save the ladies!" criedSir Roger Deane.