CHAPTER IV
A CATASTROPHE AT THE POOL
Mr. Vansittart Merceron was not quite sure that Victor Sutton had anybusiness to call him "Merceron." He was nearly twenty years older thanVictor, and a man of considerable position; nor was he, as somemiddle-aged men are, flattered by the implication ofcontemporaneousness carried by the mode of address. But it is hard togive a hint to a man who has no inkling that there is room for one; andwhen Mr. Vansittart addressed Victor as 'Mr. Sutton' the lattergraciously told him to "hang the Mister." Reciprocity was inevitable,and the elder man asked himself, with a sardonic grin, how soon hewould be "Van."
"Coming to bathe, Merceron?" he heard under his window at eight o'clockthe next morning. "We're off to the Pool."
Mr. Vansittart shouted an emphatic negative, and the two young fellowsstarted off by themselves. Charlie's manner was affected by theceremonious courtesy which a well-bred host betrays towards a guest notvery well-beloved, but Victor did not notice this. It seldom occurredto him that people did not like him.
"Yes," he was saying, "I'm just twenty-nine. I've had my fling,Charlie, and now I shall get to business."
Charlie was relieved to find that according to this reckoning he hadseveral more years 'fling' before him.
"Next year," pursued Victor, "I shall marry; then I shall go intoParliament, and then I shall go ahead."
"I didn't know you were engaged."
"No, I'm not, but I'm going to be. I can please myself, you see; I'vegot lots of coin."
"Oh, yes, but can you please the lady?" asked Charlie.
"My dear boy," began Victor, "when you've seen a little more of theworld----
"Here we are," said Charlie. "Why, hullo! Who's that?"
A dripping head and a blowing mouth were visible in the middle of thePool.
"Willie Prime by Jove! 'Morning Willie;" and Charlie set about flingingoff his flannels, Victor following his example in a more leisurelyfashion.
Willie Prime was a little puzzled to know how he ought to treatCharlie. 'Charlie' he had been in very old days--then Master Charlie(that was Willie's mother's doing)--then Mr. Charles. But now Williehad set up for himself. He had played billiards with a lord, andfootball against the Sybarites, and, incidentally, hobnobbed with quitegreat people. It is not very easy to assert a social position when onehas nothing on, and only one's head out of water, but Willie did it.
"Good-morning--er--Merceron," said he.
Victor heard him, and put up his eyeglass in amazement; but he, in histurn, had only a shirt on, and the hauteur was a failure. Charlieutterly failed to notice the incident.
"Is it cold?" he shouted.
"Beastly," answered Willie. The man who has got in always tells the manwho is going to get in that it is "beastly cold."
"Here goes!" cried Charlie; and a minute later he was treading water byWillie's side.
"Miss Wallace all fit?" he asked.
"Thank you, yes, she's all right."
"And her friend?"
"All right, I believe."
"And when is it to be, old fellow?"
"Soon as I get a rise."
"What?" asked the unsophisticated Charlie, who knew the phrase chieflyin connection with fish.
"A rise of screw, you know."
"Oh, ah, yes--what a fool I am!" and Charlie disappeared beneath thewaves.
When they were all on the bank, drying, Willie, encouraged by not beingdiscouraged (save by Sutton's silence) in his advances, venturedfurther, and asked in a joking tone:
"And aren't you marked off yet? We've been expecting to hear of it forthe last twelve months."
"What do you mean'?"
"Why, you and Miss Bushell."
Charlie struggled through his shirt, and then answered, with his firsttouch of distance:
"Nothing in it. People've got no business to gossip."
"It's damned impertinent," observed Victor Sutton in slow anddeliberate tones.
Willie flushed.
"I beg pardon," he said gruffly. "I only repeated what I heard."
"My dear fellow, no harm's done," cried Charlie. "Who was the fool?"
"Well--in fact--my father."
The situation was awkward, but they wisely eluded it by laughter. But athought struck Charlie.
"I say, did your father state it as a fact?"
"Oh no; but as a certainty, you know."
"When?"
"Last night at supper."
Charlie's brow clouded. Miss B--that is, Agatha, was certain to havebeen at supper. However, all that could be put right in theevening--that one blessed evening left to him. He looked at Willie andopened his mouth to speak; but he shut it again. It did not seem to himthat he could question Willie Prime about the lady. She had chosen totell him nothing, and her will was his law. But he was yearning to knowwhat she was and how she came there. He refrained; and this time virtuereally had a reward beyond itself, for Willie would blithely have toldhim that she was a dressmaker (he called Nettie, however, the managerof a Court modiste's business), and that would not have pleased Charlie.
It was all very well for Charlie to count on that blessed evening; buthe reckoned without his host--or rather without his guests.
The Bushells came to lunch, Millie driving her terrified mother in alofty gig; and at lunch Millie recounted her vision of Agatha Merceron.She did not believe it, of course; but it was queer, wasn't it? VictorSutton rose to the bait at once.
"We'll investigate it," he cried. "Merceron," (he meant the patient Mr.Vansittart), "didn't yon once write an article on 'Apparitions' for_Intellect_?"
"Yes, I proved there were none," answered Mr. Vansittart.
"That's impossible, you know," remarked Mrs. Marland gently.
"We'll put you to the proof this very evening," declared Mr. Sutton.
Charlie started.
"Are you game, Miss Bushell?" continued Victor.
"Ye--yes, if you'll keep quite near me, answered Millie, with a playfulshudder. Charlie reflected how ill playfulness became her, and frowned.But Millie was pleased to see him frown; she enjoyed showing him thatother men liked to keep quite near to her.
"Then this evening we'll go in a body to the Pool."
"I shall not go," shuddered Mrs. Marland.
"An hour after sunset!"
"Half an hour. She might be early--and we'll stay half an hour after.We'll give her a fair show."
"Come," thought Charlie. "I shall get an hour with Agatha."
"You'll come, Charlie?" asked Victor.
"Oh, all right," he answered, hiding all signs of vexation. He couldget back by six and join the party. But why was Mrs. Marland looking athim?
The first step, however, towards getting back is to get there, andCharlie found this none so easy. After lunch came lawn-tennis, and hewas impressed. Mr. Vansittart played a middle-aged game, and Victor hadfound little leisure for this modest sport among his more ambitiousamusements. Charlie had to balance Millie Bushell, and he spent a veryhot and wearying afternoon. They would go on: Victor declared it wasgood for him, Uncle Van delighted in a hard game (it appeared to be avery hard game to him from the number of strokes he missed), and Milliegrew in vigor, ubiquity, and (it must be added) intensity of color asthe hours wore away. It was close on five before Charlie, with a groan,could throw down his racquet.
"Poor boy!" said Mrs. Marland.
"Charlie, dear," called Lady Merceron, who had been talking comfortablyto Mrs. Bushell in the shade, "come and hand the tea. I'm sure you mustall want some. Millie, my dear, how hot you look!"
"She never will take any care of her complexion, complained Mrs.Bushell.
"Take care of your stom--your health--and your complexion will takecare of itself," observed Mr. Vansittart.
"Charlie! Where; is the boy?" called Lady Merceron again.
The boy was gone. He was flying as fast as his legs would take him tothe Pool. Where was that cherished interview now? He could hope onlyfor a few wretched minutes--hardl
y enough to say good-by once--beforehe must hustle--yes, positively hustle--Agatha out of sight. He hadheard that abominable Sutton remark that they might as well startdirectly after tea.
He was breathless when he burst through the willows. But there he cameto a sudden, a dead stop, and then drew back into shelter again. Thereon the bank, scarcely a dozen feet from it, sat two people--a. youngman with his arm round a young woman's waist. Willie Prime and NettieWallace, "by all that's damnable!" as Sir Peter says! Charlie saidsomething quite as forcible.
He felt for his watch, but he had left it with his waistcoat on thelawn. What was the time? Was it going quickly or slowly? Could heafford to wait, or must he run round to the road and intercept Agatha?Five minutes passed in vacillation.
"I'll go and stop her," he said, and began a cautious retreat. As hemoved he heard Willie's voice.
"Well, my dear, let's be off," said Willie.
Nettie rose with a sigh of content, adjusted her hat coquettishly, andsmoothed her skirts.
"I'm ready, Willie. It's been beautiful, hasn't it?"
They came towards Charlie. Evidently they intended to regain the roadby the same path as he had chosen. Indeed, from that side of the Poolthere was no choice, unless one clambered round by the muddy bank.
"We must make haste," said Willie. "Father'll want his tea."
If they made haste they would be close on his heels. Charlie shrankback behind a willow and let them go by; then, quick as thought, rushedto his canoe and paddled across--up the steps and into the temple herushed. She wasn't there! Fate is too hard for the best of ussometimes. Charlie sat down and, stretching out his legs, staredgloomily at his toes.
Thus he must have sat nearly ten minutes, when a head was put round theCorinthian pilaster of the doorway.
"Poor boy! Am I very late?"
Charlie leapt up and forward, breathlessly blurting out joy tempered byuneasiness.
Agatha gathered the difficulty of the position.
"Well," said she, smiling, "I must disappear, and you must go back toyour friends."
"No," said Charlie. "I must talk to you."
"But they may come any moment."
"I don't care!"
"Oh, but I do. Charlie, what's the matter? Oh, didn't I ever call you'Charlie' before? Well, Charlie, if you love me (yes, I know!) you'llnot let these people see me."
"All right! Come along. I'll take you to the road and come back.Hullo! What's that?"
"It's them!" exclaimed the lady.
It was. The pair dived back into the temple. On the opposite bank stoodMillie Bushell, Mr. Vansittart, and Victor Sutton.
"Hullo, there, Charlie, you thief!" cried Victor. "Bring that canoeover here. Miss Bushell wants to get to the temple."
"Hush! Don't move!" whispered Agatha.
"But they know I'm here; they see that confounded canoe."
"Charlie! Charlie!" was shouted across in three voices.
"What the devil--," muttered Charlie.
"They mustn't see me," urged Agatha.
Victor Sutton's voice rose clear and distinct,
"I'll unearth him!" he cried. "I know the way round. You wait here withMiss Bushell, Merceron."
"Oh, he's coming round!"
"I must chance it," said Charlie, and he came out of hiding. A crygreeted him. Victor was already started, but stopped. Charlie embarkedand shot across.
"You villain! You gave us the slip," cried Uncle Van.
Miss Bushell began quietly to embark. Uncle Van followed her example.
"Oh, Mr. Merceron, you'll sink us!" cried Millie.
Charlie sat glum and silent. The situation beat him completely.
Uncle Van drew back. Millie seized the paddle and propelled the canoeout from the bank.
"You come round with me, Merceron," called Sutton, and the two menturned to the path. "No," added Victor. "Look here, we can climb roundhere," and he pointed to the bank. There was a little narrow muddytrack, but it was enough.
The canoe was half-way across; the two men--Victor leading at a goodpace--were half-way round. Charlie glanced at the window of the templeand caught a fleeting glance of a despairing face. "If you love me,they mustn't see me!"
"Here, give me the paddle!" he exclaimed, and reached forward for it.
"No, I can do it," answered Millie, lifting the instrument out of hisreach.
Charlie stepped forward--rather, he jumped forward, as a man jumps overa ditch. There was a shriek from Millie; the canoe swayed, tottered,and upset. In a confused mass, Millie Bushell and Charlie were hurledinto the water. Victor and Uncle Van, hardly five yards from the steps,turned in amazement.
"Help! help!" screamed Millie.
"Help!" echoed Charlie. "I can't hold her up. Victor, come and help me!Uncle Van, come along!"
"The devil!" murmured Uncle Van,
"Quick, quick!" called Charlie; and Victor, with a vexed laugh, peeledoff his coat and jumped in. Mr. Vansittart stood with a puzzled air.Then a happy thought struck him. He turned and trotted back the way hehad come. He would get a rope!
As he went, as Victor reached the stragglers in the water, a slimfigure in white, with a smile on her face, stole cautiously from thetemple and disappeared in the wood behind. Charlie saw her go, but heheld poor Millie's head remorselessly tight towards the other bank.
And that was the last he saw of the Lady of the Pool.
Millie Bushell landed, her dripping clothes clinging round her. Victorwas shivering, for the evening had turned chilly. Uncle Van had a bitof rope from the boat-shed in his hand, and a doubtful smile on hisface.
"We'd best get Miss Bushel home," he suggested, and they started ingloomy procession. Charlie, in remorse, gave Millie his arm.
"Oh, how could you?" she murmured piteously. She was cold, she was wet,and she was sure that she looked frightful.
I--I didn't do it on purpose, "Charlie blurted out eagerly.
"On purpose! Well, I suppose not," she exclaimed, bewildered. Charlieflushed. Victor shot a swift glance at him.
Half-way home they met Mrs. Marland and the whole affair had to beexplained to her. Charlie essayed the task.
"Still, I don't see how you managed to upset the canoe," observed Mrs.Marland.
"No more do I," said Victor Sutton. Charlie gave it up.
"I'm so sorry, Millie," he whispered. "You must try to forgive me."
So, once again, the coast was left clear for Agatha Merceron, if shecame that night. But, whether she did or not, the other Agatha came nomore, and Charlie's great resolve went unfulfilled. Yet the nextevening he went: alone to the temple, and he found, lying on the floor,a little handkerchief trimmed with lace and embroidered with the nameof "Agatha." This he put in his pocket, thanking heaven that hisdesperate manoeuvre had kept the shrine inviolate the day before.
"Poor Millie!" said he. "But then I had to do it."
"I hear," remarked Lady Merceron a few days later, "that one of Mr.Prime's friends has left him--not Willie's young lady--the other."
"Has she?" asked Charlie.
No one pursued the subject, and, after a moment's pause, Mrs. Marland,who was sitting next to Charlie, asked him in a low voice whether hehad been to the Pool that evening--.
"No," answered Charlie. "I don't go every night."
"Oh, poor dear Miss Bushell!" laughed Mrs. Marland; and, when Charlielooked inquiringly at her, she shook her head.
"You see, I know something of young men," she explained.