The Triumph of Hilary Blachland Part 8

The other took a side glance at his retreating guest.

"He's flurried," he said to himself. "These callow cubs don't know how to play the game. They do give it away so--give it away with both hands."

Then he went on tranquilly with what he was doing. He did not even go to the gate to see Spence off. He simply took him at his word. In social matters, Hilary Blachland was given to taking people at their word. If they didn't know their own minds, not being infants or imbeciles, that wasn't his affair.

Then his thoughts were diverted into another channel, and this was effected by the sight of Hlangulu. The Matabele was standing around, lending a hand here or there whenever he saw an opportunity. For some reason of his own he seemed anxious to be kept on there. That he would be of no use at all as a farm servant was obvious, equally so that he had no ambition to fill that _role_. The rather mysterious words he had uttered could refer to but one thing; namely, the exceedingly dangerous and apparently utterly profitless scheme talked over by the camp fire on the Matya'mhlope, and which there could be no doubt whatever but that he had overheard. That being so, was not Blachland indeed in this man's power?

Turning it over in his mind, Blachland could see two sides to the situation. Either Hlangulu designed to render him a service, and, incidentally, one much greater to himself--or his intent was wholly sinister, to set a trap for him to wit. He looked at Hlangulu. The Matabele's aspect was not prepossessing. It was that of a tall, gaunt native, with a sinister cast of countenance, never entirely free from something of a scowl,--in fact, an evil and untrustworthy rascal if appearances counted for anything at all. He tried to think whether he had ever given this man cause to harbour a grudge against him, and could recall nothing of the kind; but he did remember that Hlangulu was a clever and skilful hunter. Perhaps, after all, he had really gained the man's respect, and, to a certain extent, his attachment. He would keep him, at any rate for a while, but--would watch him narrowly.

"Hlangulu," he called. "Go now and hurry on the herd of trade cattle.

It should have been done before this."

"_Nkose_!"

And with this one word of salute the man started on his errand, not asking where the object thereof was to be found, where it had been last seen or anything. All of which was not lost upon Blachland. Decidedly he would keep Hlangulu, he told himself.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

"MERELY SPENCE."

"So that's your latest, is it, Hermia?"

The remark was inconsequent, in that it came on top of nothing at all.

The time was the cool of the evening, and Blachland, lying back in a deep cane chair, was lazily puffing out clouds of smoke. He had not been talking much, and what little he had said consisted of a few drowsy remarks about nothing in particular. Now, after an interval of silence, came the above inconsequent one.

"My latest! Who and what on earth are you talking about, Hilary?"

"Merely Spence."

"Oh, is that all? He's such a nice boy, though, isn't he?"

"Candidly, he's only like thirty-nine out of forty, colourless."

"How can you say that, Hilary? Why, he's awfully handsome."

"Oh, I wasn't referring to externals, I mean the more important side of him; and--there's nothing in him."

Hermia made no reply, she only smiled; but the smile was meant to convey that she knew better. Nothing in him! Wasn't there? If Hilary only knew?

Truth to tell, however, she was a little relieved. This was the first reference he had made to the subject, and his silence all these hours had rendered her uneasy. What if he suspected? Now he seemed to drop it as though it were not worth pursuing. She, however, paradoxically enough, intended to let him know that it was. Could she not make him just one atom jealous?

"Poor fellow, he's so lonely over at his camp," she pursued. "It does him good to come over here now and then."

"Who?" said Blachland. His mind was running on the subject of Umzilikazi's grave, and the trustworthiness or the reverse of Hlangulu.

"Who? Why, Justin of course. Weren't we talking about him?"

"Were--yes, that's it. We were, but I had forgotten all about him, and was thinking of something totally different. What were you saying?

That he was lonely in camp? Well, that's very likely; but then, you see, it's one of the conditions attendant upon prospecting. And he may as well chuck prospecting if he's going to spend life galloping over here."

Thought Hermia to herself, "He is a little jealous after all."

The other went on: "He's lonely in camp, and you're lonely here. That's about the British of it; eh, Hermia?"

"Well, can you wonder? Here I am, left all by myself to get through time as best I can. How long have you been away this time? Four weeks?"

"Just under. And this was a short trip. It is hard lines, rather; but then, you always knew what life up here was going to mean. You did it with your eyes open."

"It is mean of you to throw it at me. I never thought you would have done it," she flashed.

"Throw what? Oh, I see. I wasn't referring to--that. You might as well give me the benefit of the doubt, Hermia. You ought to know that I was referring to our coming out here at all. We might have gone anywhere else, so it wasn't England."

She looked down at him as he sat there, for she was standing, or restlessly moving about. How cool and pa.s.sionless he was now, she thought. He had not always been so. Decidedly he was tired of her.

She could not help drawing a mental contrast between him and the other.

The countenance of this one, with its well-cut features, but lined and weather-worn, dark and bronzed by sun and exposure, was indeed a contrast to that of the other, in its smooth, clear-skinned blue-eyed comeliness of youth. Yet, this one, sitting there, strong, reposeful-looking in his cool white raiment was, and would always be, _the_ one when she came to pa.s.s in review her polyandrous experiences.

Now his very tranquillity, indifference she called it, nettled her. At any other time, indeed, it would have served as a powerful draw in keeping her to him; now however, the entirely fresh excitement she had struck formed an effective counterblast. If he was tired of her, she would let him see that she was even more tired of him, whether she was so or not.

"To revert to Spence," he said. "What pleasure can it give you to make a bigger fool of the young idiot than his parents and Nature have already made him?"

"He isn't at all a fool," snapped Hermia, shortly.

"Not eh? Well, everything is relative, even in terminology. We'll call him not so wise as some other people, if you prefer it. If he was as wise, he might be over head and ears in love with you without giving it away at every turn--in fact, thrusting it into the very face of the ordinary observer."

"Why, Hilary, you really are jealous!" she cried with a ringing laugh.

For a moment, however, she had looked perturbed.

"Ha, ha! That's good--distinctly good. Jealous! There is, or ought to be, no such thing, once past the callowness of youth. The self-respect of any man should be above whining to any one woman because she prefers somebody else. The mere fact of her doing so renders her utterly valueless in his sight there and then."

"You don't really mean that, Hilary?" she said. "You're only just talking, you know."

"Try it and see."

His eyes were full on hers. For the life of her, she could not as straightly meet that straight, firm glance. This was the only man she had never been able to deceive. Others she could hoodwink and fool at will, this one never. So, with a light laugh, with a shade of nervousness in it that would have been patent to an even less acute faculty of perception than his, she rejoined--

"Well, you're out of it this time, Hilary. Justin isn't in love with me at all. Why, it's ridiculous!"

She turned away uneasily. For he knew that she was lying, and she knew that he did.

"One moment, Hermia," he called out to her. She paused. "While we are on the subject: are you not getting a little tired of--our partners.h.i.+p?"

"Why?"

"I've seen symptoms of it lately, and I don't think I'm mistaken.

Because, if you are, say so squarely and openly. It'll be much better in the long run."