Part 50 (1/2)
Again he put a hand upon the bell-pull. Simultaneously Dorothy and Kirkwood rose.
”Mr. Brentwick,” said the girl, her eyes starred with tears of grat.i.tude, ”I don't, I really don't know how--”
”My dear,” said the old gentleman, ”you will thank me most appropriately by continuing, to the best of your ability, to resemble your mother more remarkably every minute.”
”But I,” began Kirkwood----.
”You, my dear Philip, can thank me best by permitting me to enjoy myself; which I am doing thoroughly at the present moment. My pleasure in being invited to interfere in your young affairs is more keen than you can well surmise. Moreover,” said Mr. Brentwick, ”so long have I been an amateur adventurer that I esteem it the rarest privilege to find myself thus on the point of graduating into professional ranks.” He rubbed his hands, beaming upon them. ”And,” he added, as a maid appeared at the door, ”I have already schemed me a scheme for the discomfiture of our friends the enemy: a scheme which we will discuss with our dinner, while the heathen rage and imagine a vain thing, in the outer darkness.”
Kirkwood would have lingered, but of such inflexible temper was his host that he bowed him into the hands of a man servant without permitting him another word.
”Not a syllable,” he insisted. ”I protest I am devoured with curiosity, my dear boy, but I have also bowels of compa.s.sion. When we are well on with our meal, when you are strengthened with food and drink, then you may begin. But now--d.i.c.kie,” to the valet, ”do your duty!”
Kirkwood, laughing with exasperation, retired at discretion, leaving Brentwick the master of the situation: a charming gentleman with a will of his own and a way that went with it.
He heard the young man's footsteps diminish on the stairway; and again he smiled the indulgent, melancholy smile of mellow years. ”Youth!” he whispered softly. ”Romance!... And now,” with a brisk change of tone as he closed the study door, ”now we are ready for this interesting Mr.
Calendar.”
Sitting down at his desk, he found and consulted a telephone directory; but its leaves, at first rustling briskly at the touch of the slender and delicate fingers, were presently permitted to lie unturned,--the book resting open on his knees the while he stared wistfully into the fire.
A suspicion of moisture glimmered in his eyes. ”Dorothy!” he whispered huskily. And a little later, rising, he proceeded to the telephone....
An hour and a half later Kirkwood, his self-respect something restored by a bath, a shave, and a resumption of clothes which had been hastily but thoroughly cleansed and pressed by Brentwick's valet; his confidence and courage mounting high under the combined influence of generous wine, substantial food, the presence of his heart's mistress and the admiration--which was unconcealed--of his friend, concluded at the dinner-table, his narration.
”And that,” he said, looking up from his savory, ”is about all.”
”Bravo!” applauded Brentwick; eyes s.h.i.+ning with delight.
”All,” interposed Dorothy in warm reproach, ”but what he hasn't told--”
”Which, my dear, is to be accounted for wholly by a very creditable modesty, rarely encountered in the young men of the present day. It was, of course, altogether different with those of my younger years. Yes, Wotton?”
Brentwick sat back in his chair, inclining an attentive ear to a communication murmured by the butler.
Kirkwood's gaze met Dorothy's across the expanse of s.h.i.+ning cloth; he deprecated her interruption with a whimsical twist of his eyebrows.
”Really, you shouldn't,” he a.s.sured her in an undertone. ”I've done nothing to deserve...” But under the spell of her serious sweet eyes, he fell silent, and presently looked down, strangely abashed; and contemplated the vast enormity of his unworthiness.
Coffee was set before them by Wotton, the impa.s.sive, Brentwick refusing it with a little sigh. ”It is one of the things, as Philip knows,” he explained to the girl, ”denied me by the physician who makes his life happy by making mine a waste. I am allowed but three luxuries; cigars, travel in moderation, and the privilege of imposing on my friends. The first I propose presently, to enjoy, by your indulgence; and the second I shall this evening undertake by virtue of the third, of which I have just availed myself.”
Smiling at the involution, he rested his head against the back of the chair, eyes roving from the girl's face to Kirkwood's. ”Inspiration to do which,” he proceeded gravely, ”came to me from the seafaring picaroon (Stryker did you name him?) via the excellent Wotton. While you were preparing for dinner, Wotton returned from his const.i.tutional with the news that, leaving the corpulent person on watch at the corner, Captain Stryker had temporarily, made himself scarce. However, we need feel no anxiety concerning his whereabouts, for he reappeared in good time and a motor-car. From which it becomes evident that you have not overrated their pertinacity; the fiasco of the cab-chase is not to be reenacted.”
Resolutely the girl repressed a gasp of dismay. Kirkwood stared moodily into his cup.
”These men bore me fearfully,” he commented at last.
”And so,” continued Brentwick, ”I bethought me of a counter-stroke. It is my good fortune to have a friend whose whim it is to support a touring-car, chiefly in innocuous idleness. Accordingly I have telephoned him and commandeered the use of this machine--mechanician, too.... Though not a betting man, I am willing to risk recklessly a few pence in support of my contention, that of the two, Captain Stryker's car and ours, the latter will prove considerably the most speedy....
”In short, I suggest,” he concluded, thoughtfully lacing his long white fingers, ”that, avoiding the hazards of cab and railway carriage, we motor to Chiltern: the night being fine and the road, I am told, exceptionally good. Miss Dorothy, what do you think?”