The Imaginary Marriage Part 29

"Not--not definitely. It was too good an offer for a girl in her position to refuse without consideration."

"You lie!"

Slotman s.h.i.+fted uneasily. "I cannot force your belief."

"You're right, you can't. Well, go on--what more?"

"She came into this money; my proposal no longer tempted her. She then refused me, even though I told her that the past--her past--would be forgotten, that I would never refer to it."

"What past?" Hugh shouted.

"Hers and yours," Slotman said boldly. "A supposed marriage that never took place, her sudden disappearance from her school in June, nineteen hundred and eighteen, when that marriage was supposed to have been celebrated--but never was. Her story of leaving England for Australia--an obvious lie, Mr. Alston. All those things I knew. All those things I can prove--against her--and against you--and--and--"

Slotman's voice quivered. He leaped to his feet and uttered a shout for help.

The blood-red mist was before Hugh's eyes, and out of that mist appeared a vision of a face, an unpleasant face, with starting eyes and gaping mouth.

This he saw, and then his vision cleared, and with a shudder he released his hold on the man's throat, and Philip Slotman subsided limply into his chair.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE WATCHER

Helen Everard's pleasant face was beaming. Her smile expressed complete contentment and satisfaction, for everything was going as everything should go. Johnny was an accepted lover, Joan's future would be protected; she herself would be left free to make her long journey to the dear ones at the other side of the world. All was well!

Joan had been to London yesterday, had rushed off with scarcely a word, and had returned at night, tired and seemingly dispirited.

Joan, quiet and calm, smiled at Helen and kissed her good morning, but spoke hardly at all.

"You had a tiring day in Town yesterday, dear?"

"Very!"

"Shopping?"

"No!"

Helen asked no more questions. She thought of Hugh Alston. Could it be anything to do with him? She could never quite understand the position of Hugh Alston. Of course the talk about a marriage having taken place years ago between Hugh Alston and Joan was absurd, was ridiculous. Joan was proving the absurdity of it even now by accepting Johnny.

"Connie is coming over this afternoon to see you, Joan," she said. "She sent me a note over yesterday by a boy. Johnny has told her of course, and Connie is delighted beyond words. She sends you her dear love."

"Thank you!" Joan said calmly.

"Of course," Helen hesitated, "the marriage need not be long delayed.

You see--" She paused, and then went into explanations about Jessie and the children out in Australia, and her own promise to go to them.

"So this afternoon I want you and Connie to have a long, long talk,"

Helen said. "There will be so much for you to discuss. Connie is the business man, you know. Poor Johnny is hopeless when it comes to discussing things and--and arrangements. Of course, dear, you quite understand that Johnny is not well off."

"I know, but that does not matter."

"I know, but even though Johnny is one of the finest and straightest men living, it will be better if in some way your own money is so tied up that it belongs to you and to you only. Johnny himself would wish it. He doesn't want to touch one penny of your money!"

"I am sure of that." Joan rose. She went out into the garden. She wanted to get away from Helen's well-meant, friendly, affectionate chatter about the future, and about money and marriage. She went to the bench beside the pool and sat there, staring at the green water.

"It was true," she whispered to herself, "all true, what I said. I--I do despise him. How could I love a thing that I despised; and I do despise him!"

It was not of Johnny Everard she was thinking.

"He said--he said that he had a right, that my love for him gave him the right! How dared he?" A deep flush stole into her cheeks, and then died out.

She rose suddenly with a gesture of impatience.

"It is a lie! It is wrong, and it is nonsense. I am engaged to marry Johnny Everard, and there is no finer, better man living! I shall never see that other man again. Yesterday he and I parted for good and for always, and I am glad--glad!" And she knew even while she uttered the words that she was very miserable.

Connie Everard drove the pony-trap over to Starden. She brought with her a boy who would drive it back again. Later in the afternoon Johnny would drive the car over for her and take her back.

Connie, having attended carefully to her toilet, descended to the waiting pony-trap, and found, to her surprise and a little to her annoyance, that Ellice was already seated in the little vehicle.

"Ellice, dear, I am sorry, but--"

"You don't want to take me, Connie; but, all the same, I am going. I want to see--her!"

"Why?"

"I want to see her," the girl said. A dusky glow of sudden pa.s.sion came into her face. "I want to see her. There is no harm, is there?" She laughed shrilly. "I shan't hurt her by looking at her. I want to see her again, the woman that he loves." There was a shake in her voice, a suggestion of pa.s.sionate tears, but the child held herself in check.

"Ellice, darling, it will be better if you--"

"If I don't go. I know, but I am going. You--you can't turn me out, Connie. I am too strong; I shall cling to the sides of the cart."

There was a look, half of laughter, half of defiance, in the girl's eyes.

"Connie, I am going, and nothing shall prevent me!"

Connie sighed, and stepped into the cart and took up the reins. "Very well, dear!" she said resignedly.

"You are angry with me, Connie?"

"Why should you want to go to Starden?"

"I want to see her again. I want to--to understand, to--to know things."

"What do you mean, to understand, to know things?"