The Cruise of the Make-Believes

  CHAPTER XI

  PURSUIT

  THE explanation of that coming of Daniel Meggison to the yacht is avery simple one. He had seen for himself that the game could not lastvery much longer; he knew that in all probability Byfield would flingcaution to the winds, and expose the trick that Meggison and his sonwere playing. Therefore he watched that young man with more anxietythan he really showed; despite the bravado he displayed, Meggison wasreally in deadly fear of what was to happen.

  The sudden going of Gilbert from the house, while it might have allayedthe suspicions of a less cunning man than Meggison, only served toincrease them in his case. He felt that in all probability Byfield hadbut gone away to seek advice or assistance; Meggison began to thinkthat after all the game had been played a little too boldly, and alittle too extravagantly. He blamed himself that he had not been morecautious; they might then have hung on for quite a long time.

  Prying about the house, in the hope to discover something, DanielMeggison became aware of the fact that no one seemed in the leastsurprised at Byfield's departure. True, a question was asked by SimonQuarle, but no definite answer given; Mr. and Mrs. Stocker paid noattention to chance visitors. The astounding thing to Daniel Meggisonwas that Bessie took no notice of Gilbert's departure, but went aboutthe house singing gaily, and evidently very busy over something in herroom. She flitted backwards and forwards to that room with an air ofgreat mystery.

  Meggison summoned courage at last to mount the stairs, and to set offin search of her. At the very door of the room, as he knocked, he wasconfronted by Bessie, who had opened it at that very moment; she smiledat him, and beckoned him in, and closed the door again.

  "My child," he whispered with deep anxiety--"what is happening?"

  "Father dear, I'm running away," she said, with eyes dancing like thoseof a child. "And you are going to run away with me."

  "But why, my dear? Why leave the beauties of the country?--why run awayat all? Please explain," he pleaded.

  "Sit down here, father, while I go on with my packing," shecommanded--"and I'll tell you all about it. It's so wonderful thatyou'll scarcely believe it at first; so strange that it would be hardfor anyone to believe it. Please don't interrupt me--because I shallhave things to pack for you presently, before we run away together."

  "I am of a singularly patient nature," said Daniel Meggison, seatinghimself and folding his hands. "Pray proceed, Bessie."

  She proceeded then glibly enough to tell him of all that had happened;of how the Prince of that fairy tale that had come true so strangelyhad come down there, and had told her that he loved her. There wasmuch that she could not tell her father, beyond the bald fact; but hewould understand, and he would know that when the Prince commanded, hiswilling slave must follow.

  "He wanted me to run away with him out into the world--to sail far overthe sea with him in this yacht that has been lent to him by a friend,"said Bessie, on her knees beside one of the new trunks, busily foldinggarments. "But of course that wouldn't do at all--because, although Iknow Gilbert perfectly, and know how good he is, ladies mustn't travelabout with gentlemen in that promiscuous way. More than all, it isnecessary of course that a certain poor old father, quite incapableof looking after himself, should not be left behind; therefore thatfather comes in, as usual, very happily." She jumped up at that point,specially to kiss the old reprobate, who was thinking long thoughts.

  "Wise little Bessie!" he said, patting her head. "I might have knownthat you would make no mistake over a matter of that kind. And sofriend Byfield wants to take away his bride that is to be, and giveher a little holiday on the sea--eh? Well--that seems a very excellentidea, and I promise you that you shall not find your poor old father inthe way. But a word of warning, my Bessie!" He turned in his chair, andfaced his daughter solemnly.

  "Yes, father dear?"

  "Not a word to anyone else--not a syllable!" he whispered. "Let usslip away together, leaving the other people in comfort here; we canwrite to them from some foreign port. Because, you see, we don't wantto annoy our friend Byfield; and he might not have accommodation foreverybody on this wonderful yacht. Your brother and the others will bevery comfortable here; but as we do not wish to make them envious, wewill say nothing about our new plans."

  "But when they find we're gone, they'll naturally be worried to knowwhat has become of us," urged Bessie.

  "True, my child, most true," he responded. "On second thoughts, itwould perhaps be better to leave a note for them--a carefully wordeddiplomatic note--not giving too much information, but just enough.Leave that to me. I'll go and get the few things together that I shallneed, and you can come and help me presently. Newhaven, did you say?I'm all excitement. It's a splendid notion!"

  The matter of getting from the house was not after all so great adifficulty as may be imagined, for the simple reason that that astuteservant in charge of the place saw in this packing up merely theexodus of extraordinary tenants, one of whom at least had been mostundesirable. That they should demand that the thing be done secretlyseemed under the circumstances reasonable enough; so that the luggagewas actually smuggled out of the house, and taken out to a back gate,where a hired carriage was waiting.

  "I've left the note in a prominent position, explaining enough to settheir minds at rest," said Daniel Meggison, chuckling to himself as hegot into the carriage with the girl.

  Mr. Daniel Meggison understood, of course, exactly what had happened;saw, or thought he saw, that Gilbert had cunningly determined tolift Bessie neatly out of all the business, and leave the others toface the music as best they might. Daniel felt certain that secretinstructions had been given to the servants at the house--instructionswhich were not to include Bessie; and that Gilbert Byfield had made uphis mind to play a new game for himself alone. It is probable that onthe score of morality alone Daniel Meggison did not regard the matterseriously; but this proposed desertion of himself was little short of acrime.

  "After this," he though to himself, "I'll put the screw on a bit. Hethinks he'll play fast and loose with me; he thinks he'll leave mein the lurch--does he? He doesn't know poor old Daniel! Bessie's theticket--and I'll stick to her through thick and thin--poor child! Afterall, it's rather lucky that she loves her father so fondly!"

  As we already know they arrived on board the yacht _Blue Bird_ in duecourse, something to the astonishment of Gilbert Byfield, and givinghim a new problem to be faced. So far as the note that had been writtenby Daniel Meggison was concerned--a mere shadowy trail, indicatingvaguely the way they had taken--that was to be found some hours laterby Mr. Aubrey Meggison.

  Now, Aubrey had discovered for the first time on the previous day thereal secret of that mysterious fortune the origin of which had morethan puzzled him from the first. He was not a brilliant youth, but heknew enough to understand that his father was probably the last man inthe world ever to have money to speculate with, or ever to be luckyin any impossible speculation in which he might indulge. Aubrey hadbeen willing enough to accept his share of that impossible fortune,and to shut his eyes resolutely to everything outside the actual goodrealities that came to him; but he had a feeling that in some fashiona crash would come, involving him with the rest, in the near future.The conversation he had overheard between Daniel and Gilbert Byfieldhad given him the clue; and he had sprung to his father's rescue withthe instinct of one who desires to save himself first of all. But fromthat moment it became necessary that he should watch the source of theunexpected wealth, the better to be sure that that source did not rundry.

  He knew that Gilbert was in a mood to kick over the traces; he was notsurprised to find that the master of the house at Fiddler's Green hadsuddenly gone. But when he discovered that Daniel Meggison and Bessiewere also missing, he began to be possessed by a great fear; and when alittle later he discovered the note that had been left by his father,that fear was changed at once into a certainty of disaster.

  The note had been left to him, as the eldest son, as a species ofbaneful legacy; it
lay upon his dressing-table.

  "MY DEAR AUBREY,

  "You will have gathered, from the conversation you accidentally overheard yesterday, that our good friend Mr. Byfield is naturally restive at the prospect of providing for the wants not of one person alone, but of a family. In that restiveness I cordially agree with him; I feel that it is time a growing lad--or youth--or young man--whichever you prefer--should be doing something to provide for his own wants. Mr. Byfield is interested in the welfare of your sister, and I foresee for her an alliance in the future which will lift her into that sphere to which I have always felt the family should properly belong.

  "Mr. Byfield understands that father and child must not be separated; therefore I accompany Bessie. We are about to start on a voyage, but our ultimate destination is unknown; it will, however, probably be some foreign port. Let me advise you, my son, to keep a stout heart, and to wrest from the world that portion which belongs equally to every one of her sons. I shall expect to hear that you are doing well, and are a credit to the family whose name you bear."

  Your father, "DANIEL MEGGISON."

  Aubrey Meggison remained for some minutes plunged in gloom afterreading the letter; then he said some uncomplimentary things concerningthat father who had been so willing to desert him. Child of thatfather, however, he came quickly to the conclusion that somethingmust be done. He shivered at the thought of being left alone in theworld--even such a world as that of Arcadia Street--with no one to feedhim, and with no convenient Bessie from whom to borrow half-crowns andshillings.

  "Only thing to be done, as far as I can see, is to stick to theguv'nor," he murmured disconsolately. "The guv'nor'll stick to Bessie,and I suppose Bessie'll stick to that bounder Byfield. Well, there'llbe a nice string of us; and even if I am at the tail-end of it, I don'tmean to be dropped. Only thing is--where have they gone to?"

  He knew that it was quite useless to raise a hue and cry, because thatwould have set others on the track, and so have spoilt his own game. Hedetermined to make cautious inquiries, and in the meantime to appearquite unsuspicious. And it happened that he received assistance from anunexpected quarter.

  Mrs. Ewart-Crane had had a sleepless night. She saw herself flouted andlaughed at by this slip of a girl who had been picked out of a certainslum called Arcadia Street--saw in imagination that imp of commonwickedness known as Bessie Meggison setting her at naught, and leadingGilbert Byfield where she would. Mrs. Ewart-Crane thought of herdaughter, and of that daughter's future--felt that this boy-and-girlcourtship of years before should be made a binding thing once forall. If Mr. Gilbert Byfield did not know what was due to himself andhis friends, he must be taught; and Mrs. Ewart-Crane, as a lady and amother (for so she reckoned herself, in that order and in those actualwords) was the one to teach him.

  Rising after that troubled night, she determined to wait until theunlucky Jordan Tant should put in an appearance; she meant to seizeupon him as a convenient messenger. It happened, however, that Mr.Jordan Tant was quite content to let well alone; he believed thatGilbert was gone, and was safely out of the way for a considerable timeto come. Tant would very gladly have carried the ladies back to Londonin due course, there to teach them to forget the existence of any suchperson as Gilbert Byfield.

  With this object in view, Mr. Jordan Tant, suspecting that he mightbe wanted in the business, kept out of the way; so that it happenedthat it was quite late in the afternoon--long after repeated messageshad been sent down to the inn to summon him--that he put in a sheepishappearance at the cottage where dwelt Mrs. Ewart-Crane and her daughter.

  Mrs. Ewart-Crane may be said to have seized him in no uncertainfashion, and to have pointed the way. He protested and pleaded; but allto no purpose. Mrs. Ewart-Crane demanded to know what had happened orwas happening; and her dignity forbade that she should take any activepart in the matter personally. Clearly Jordan Tant was the man sent byProvidence for such a purpose.

  So Jordan Tant went--and Jordan Tant arrived at the house at the verymoment when the whole discovery had burst upon that house. Mr. GilbertByfield himself, as an apparent visitor, might not have been missed;but Bessie--the very head and front of everything--and Daniel Meggison,whose dictatorial tones had been heard everywhere at all times andseasons in that house; these were the people to be missed indeed. Mrs.Stocker complained first of discourteous behaviour on the part of hostand hostess; later on became suspicious that all was not well, andwondered sarcastically if her brother had gone in search of yet anotherfortune. This suggestion she made with an accompaniment of sniffs andfolded hands, and some pursing of lips.

  Still Aubrey Meggison was discreetly silent. He wanted to find out whathad happened, solely on his own account; he wanted to know what hadbecome of that father who had so basely deserted him; but on the otherhand he did not want, as he tersely expressed it, "a crowd."

  Simon Quarle sprang into the very heart of the matter, strident-tonguedand fierce. It was his Bessie that was concerned, and he passionatelyswept aside any suggestion that anyone else might be injured. Where wasshe?--and what was being done?--those were the questions to which hedemanded an instant answer--questions which he shook before the facesof all with whom he came in contact.

  Mr. Tant, coming in the guise of a friend of Mr. Gilbert Byfield,was seized upon eagerly as someone having information. What did heknow?--and what was he prepared to tell? Mr. Tant looked round onthe eager faces, and feeling that for once he held a position ofimportance, waved the questioners aside, and declined to answer.

  "I know nothing of Mr. Byfield's movements," he said. "There certainlyhas been a suggestion that he might be leaving here shortly--but beyondthat I know nothing."

  "Does nobody know anything?" wrathfully demanded Mrs. Stocker, glaringat her husband as though she fully expected that mild little man to behiding important information in his quaking breast. "Are we all to betreated in this fashion, and no explanations to be given whatever?"

  It was at that moment that the vanity which possessed Mr. AubreyMeggison overcame all other feelings, and demanded to have speech.Aubrey had up to this moment been ignored; more than that, he had beenignored by this aristocratic-looking, well-dressed stranger. He thrusthis way into the circle, elbowing out of it Mr. Edward Stocker, asbeing the weakest there, and faced Mr. Jordan Tant.

  "Seein' that everybody seems to be at sixes and sevens, and not quiteto know what they're talkin' about, it mightn't be a bad idea if whatI might call the last representative of the family put in a spoke.There's a lot of jawin' goin' on--and yet nobody seems to know anythingat all. If I might say a word, p'raps I could elucidate what seemsto be regarded as a bit of a mystery, but which ain't, mind you, anymystery at all."

  "Why--what in the world do _you_ know about it?" demanded Mrs. Stockerfiercely.

  "What I know about it is this," replied Aubrey calmly, as he drew thenote from his pocket, and flicked at it with a finger. "The guv'nor'staken it into his head to go--likewise that sweet sister of mine; andby all accounts our precious friend Byfield has gone also. No thought,mind you, of what's goin' to become of me, or of what I'm to do, leftwith this blessed house on my hands. Also to say nothin' of hintsthrown out as to the necessity for me to earn my own livin'. That'swhat I know about it."

  "I knew it," said Jordan Tant. "I was certain in my own mind that whenit came to the point Byfield would shake himself free of you all, andgo away. But I certainly did not anticipate that he would take the girlor her father."

  "So you know the truth--do you?" demanded Simon Quarle, elbowing hisway up to Mr. Tant. "You know the whole disgraceful truth--do you? Isuppose you're one of his precious friends--eh?"

  "Mr. Byfield is certainly a friend of mine," said Jordan Tant. "And Iam the more sorry that he seems to have been sponged upon by all sortsof people with whom he should have had nothing to do."

  "Sponged upon!" Mrs.
Stocker literally took him by one shoulder, andturned him round so that he faced her. "My brother, let me tell you,has a private fortune of his own----"

  "Private fiddlesticks, ma'am," broke in Simon Quarle. "He never hada penny to bless himself with, until he happened to light upon asoft-hearted man who took an interest in his daughter Bessie. Thatsoft-hearted man was Gilbert Byfield; and all this house, and theservants, and the rioting and the feasting, and the champagne and whatnot--it's all been paid for by him. So much for your brother's fortune,ma'am!"

  "I'll not believe it," exclaimed Mrs. Stocker, seeing the matterclearly enough now, but clinging to straws. "It's ridiculous!"

  "It happens to be true," said Mr. Tant. "Byfield's friends have longbewailed this absurd infatuation of his, and have done their best toget him away from it; now he has finally defied all their efforts, andhas actually run away with this young person."

  "Regardin' the fact that she's my sister--would you wish to offer anyexplanation of that remark to me?" asked Aubrey, with dignity.

  "Don't forget, my friend, that she has gone with her father," SimonQuarle reminded Tant in his harsh voice. "There's not a word can bebreathed against the girl; understand that."

  "The only question is--where have they gone?" demanded Mrs. Stocker."Personally, I should like to see my brother; I should like to let himunderstand that never for one instant was I deceived about the matter;never for one instant did I believe his tales of this fortune--and hisspeculations--and so forth. He would find it difficult to deceive me, Ithink. I saw through the whole business from the very beginning."

  "All I can tell you is this," said Mr. Tant, turning towards the door."Our friend Byfield--or perhaps I should say _my_ friend Byfield--isan extremely wealthy man, and has a yacht--the _Blue Bird_--lying atNewhaven. He has gone there, and will doubtless be found on boardby anyone sufficiently interested in him to follow. So far as I'mconcerned--I wash my hands of him altogether. Good day to you!"

  Mr. Tant put on his hat, and walked with his little mincing steps outof the house; from the windows they saw him going down the drive, andturning out into the high road. There was a silence for a moment ortwo until he had disappeared; then Mrs. Stocker, in the most startlingfashion, demanded of her husband why he was standing staring there.

  "Will you permit me, Edward, to remain any longer in a house in whichI have been insulted--defrauded--held up to ridicule? As you are wellaware, I am compelled to accompany you whenever I receive orders to doso; such is my wifely duty. But at the present moment I implore you totake me away."

  "Certainly, my love," said Mr. Stocker feebly. "Only I should haveliked to know what had happened to poor Bessie; I always took aninterest in the girl, and I was in a way--(subject, of course, to yourdecision in the matter, my dear)--quite fond of her. I should haveliked to know----"

  "Your wife, I believe, stands first," said Mrs. Stocker, pointing tothe door. "I suggest, Edward--for of course I would not wish to put myviews before yours--I suggest that you lead the way, and that I follow.We can then decide privately what is best for us to do."

  So Mr. Edward Stocker, with a protesting glance at the others, led theway, and Mrs. Stocker followed. In the hall, with the door closed, Mrs.Stocker literally took him by the collar, and after administering ashake to him, the better to rouse his wits, spoke her mind.

  "Edward Stocker--I am going after them," she said. "I am not going toallow that wretched brother of mine to triumph in such a manner asthis; I intend to let him know exactly what I think of him. As for thegirl"--Mrs. Stocker bridled and breathed hard--"I fancy I shall havea word to say to her also when we meet. Edward Stocker--our way liesstraight for Newhaven and this vessel called _Blue Bird_."

  "But, my love--I am not a good sailor," protested little Mr. Stocker.

  "Idiot!--I don't anticipate a voyage," exclaimed Mrs. Stocker. "We maybe in time to stop them; that's my idea."

  Aubrey Meggison, left with Simon Quarle, looked at the latterdubiously; and then, in his despair, decided to seek that gentleman'sadvice. Simon was pacing about the room, with his hands clasped behindhim, and muttering to himself.

  "Speakin' of myself for a moment--what would you advise?" said Aubrey.

  "Advise? What do you mean?" snarled Mr. Quarle, turning upon him.

  "As a man--and as a brother," said Aubrey a little feebly. "To saynothing of a being that's been abandoned, and left to what I might callhis fate. What do you think I ought to do?"

  "Do? See if you can find some honest work somewhere--preferablyroad-mending, or something of that sort," snapped the other; and turnedand walked out of the room.

  "Gentlemanly chap, that," said Aubrey, addressing the furniture."Road-mendin' indeed! I think I know a trick worth two of that. If thisman Byfield is so fly with his money, why shouldn't I have a turn athim? An outraged brother ought to count for something. Is it to be leftto the old man to deal with him? Not much! Newhaven, wasn't it? I'llhave a look at this blessed _Blue Bird_ on my own account!" He buttonedhis coat with some show of resolution, and went hurriedly out of theroom.

  It has to be recorded that Mr. Simon Quarle, on his knees in his room,hurriedly packing his small bag, had arrived also at a decision. He wascramming things in ruthlessly, muttering savagely to himself as he didso.

  "Oh!--my Bessie--child in the ways of the world--and child most ofall where your heart is touched--is there anyone that can look afteryou? You'll be lost, body and soul, among the lot of 'em, if your oldfriend Simon doesn't stir himself. Devils!--harpies!--vultures!--theyshall reckon with me when it comes to the pinch. I'm for Newhaven!"

  Meanwhile, Mr. Jordan Tant had walked straight back to the cottage,in search of Mrs. Ewart-Crane and Enid. There, with many gestures,and with the air of a man whose feelings of right and wrong had beenoutraged, he told his story. "If Gilbert had only listened to me," heended pathetically--"but he never would learn to draw the line."

  "One thing I am resolved upon," said Mrs. Ewart-Crane grimly--"andthat is that poor Gilbert shall not be absolutely lost. He must berescued; he must be snatched away from these people, against his willif necessary. As I have already hinted, my mind is pretty well made up;we will go at once to Newhaven, and see what can be done."

  "We?" Enid looked at her mother in bewilderment.

  "That was the word I used," said Mrs. Ewart-Crane sternly. "Jordan, Iam sure, would not allow us to go on such an expedition alone; he willdoubtless be willing to lend us his support--morally and physically."

  "Certainly--if you wish it," said Jordan Tant humbly. "Most delighted.To Newhaven, by all means."