Roger Ingleton, Minor Part 49

The tutor's face clouded, and his gla.s.s dropped with a tw.a.n.g from his eye.

"Don't make that mistake again, Brandram--unless," and here his lips relaxed into a quiet smile, "you mean by somebody, Miss Jill."

Dr Brandram read a good deal in this short sentence, and, like a good friend, let the subject drop.

"As Tom has gone to the Rectory to dinner," said the tutor, "I take it the neighbourhood for twenty miles round will know of my return by this time. Meanwhile I must go back and possibly find out some thing from Oliphant himself."

Captain Oliphant, however, was in no mood for confidences. The sudden return of his co-trustee was extremely unwelcome at this juncture-- indeed so manifestly unwelcome that Mr Armstrong was convinced he had come back not a day too soon.

The captain professed great annoyance and indignation at what he termed the desertion of his ward, and demanded to know when the tutor proposed to return to his duties.

"In fact, sir," said he, "I desire to know what brings you here in this uncalled-for manner."

"Business, my dear sir," replied the tutor. "It need not incommode you."

"Your proper place is with your pupil. Where have you left him?"

"In London, prosecuting a search which neither you nor I consider to be very hopeful. I should not be surprised to see him back any day."

"And may I ask the nature of the very pressing business which forms the pretext of this abrupt return? Am I to understand you and my ward have quarrelled?"

"No, sir; we are excellent friends. It's getting late; I'll say good night."

"By the way," said he at the door, "while I am here, there are a few small matters connected with the accounts which seemed to my unpractised eye, when I went through Pottinger's books, to require some little elucidation. If you have an hour or so to spare to-morrow, I should like to go through them with you. Good night."

He did not stay to notice the sudden pallor of his colleague's face, nor did he overhear the gasp which greeted the closing of the door.

The captain did not go to bed that night. For an hour he sat motionless in his chair, staring blankly into the fire; then, with a sudden access of industry, he went to the safe, and producing account-books, bank books, cheques, and other doc.u.ments, spent some troubled hours over their contents. That done, for another hour he paced the floor, dismally smoking a cigar. Finally, when the early March dawn filtered through the blinds, he quitted the house, and surprised Mr Pottinger by an unexpected visit at breakfast-time. Thence he proceeded to the bank; and after transacting his business there, returned easier in mind, but exhausted in body, to the seclusion of his room at Maxfield.

The tutor meanwhile was abroad on horseback with Tom and Jill. The three took a scamper over the downs, and returned by way of the sh.o.r.e.

Biding with Tom and Jill, as may be imagined, was a series of compet.i.tive exercises, rather than a straightforward promenade. Tom was an excellent rough horseman; and Jill, when Mr Armstrong was at hand, was not the young lady to stick at anything. They had tried handicaps, water-jumps, hurdles, and were about to start for a ding-dong gallop along the mile of hard strand which divided them from Maxfield, when the tutor's eye detected, perched a little way up the cliff, the figure of a young lady sketching.

"I'll start you two," said he, "I scratch for this race. Ride fair, Tom; and Jill, give the mare her head when you get past the boulders. I shall go back by the downs. Are you ready now? Pull in a bit, Tom.

Now--off you go!"

Not waiting to watch the issue of this momentous contest, he turned to where Rosalind sat, and reining up at the foot of her perch, dismounted.

She came down to meet him, palette in hand.

"Mr Armstrong, I am so glad to see you. I want to speak to you dreadfully. Are you in a great hurry?"

"Not at all. Brandram told me you were in trouble, and I was wondering when and where I should have the opportunity of asking how I can help you."

He tied his horse to a stake, and helped her back to her seat on the cliff.

There was an awkward pause, which he occupied by examining her picture with a critical air.

"Do you like it?" said she.

"I don't know. I'm no great judge. Do you?"

"I did, before you came. I'm not so sure now. Do sit down and let me say what I want to say."

The tutor, with a flutter at his breast, sat meekly, keeping his eyes still on the picture.

"Mr Armstrong, it's about Mr Ratman."

"So Brandram said. What of him?"

Rosalind told her father's story, except that she omitted any reference to the desperate proposition for satisfying his claims.

"I am sure it is a fraud, or blackmail, or something of the sort. For all that, he threatens to ruin father."

"What does the debt amount to?"

"Father spoke of thousands."

"Does the creditor offer no terms?"

Rosalind flushed, and looked round.

"None; that is, none that can be thought of for a moment."

"I understand," said the tutor, to whom the reservation was explicit enough.

"The difficulty is, that he has disappeared. If we could find him I would--"

"You would allow me to go to him," said the tutor. "No doubt the opportunity will soon come. He wants money; he is bound to turn up."

"But why should you be mixed up in father's troubles?" asked Rosalind after a pause.

"Your father's troubles are yours; your troubles are--shall we say?-- Roger's; Roger's troubles are mine."

There was another long silence, during which Rosalind took up her brushes and began work again on the picture, Mr Armstrong critically looking on.

"Have you no troubles of your own, then, that you have so much room in you for those of other people?" she said at last.

"I have had my share, perhaps. Your picture, with its wide expanse of calm sea, was just reminding me of one of them."

"Tell me about it."

"It was years ago, when, before I was a singer in London-- You knew I followed that honourable vocation once, don't you?"

"I have heard father speak of it. Why not?"

"No reason at all. But before that I worked at the equally honourable profession of a common sailor on a s.h.i.+p between New York and Ceylon. At that time I was about as wild and reckless as they make them, and deluded myself into the foolish belief that I enjoyed it. How I had come to that pa.s.s I needn't tell you. It wasn't all of a sudden, or without the a.s.sistance of other people. I had a comrade on board--a man who had once been a gentleman, but had come down in the world; who was nearly as bad as I, but not quite; for he sometimes talked of his home and his mother, and wished himself dead, which I never had the grace to do."

"Are you making this all up for my benefit," asked Rosalind, "or is it true?"