The Hillman Part 36

Lady Hilda shook her head.

"Fred is our last hope as a chaperon," she remarked carelessly, as she took his arm. "I expect he'll turn up later."

Dinner--which, as John observed when they entered the room, was laid only for two--was served at a small, round table drawn pleasantly up to the fire. John, who had never admired his hostess more, put all disquieting thoughts behind him and thoroughly enjoyed the dainty meal.

The pleasant warmth of the room, the excellent champagne, and Lady Hilda's amusing conversation, unlocked his tongue. He talked much more freely than usual of his life in c.u.mberland, of the various half-formed plans which he had made as to the spending of his unexpected fortune, of the new pleasure he found in motoring, of his almost pathetic efforts to understand and appreciate the town life which at heart he hated. A clever listener, like most good talkers, Lady Hilda frequently encouraged him with a sympathetic word or two.

They were sitting over their coffee and liqueurs in two great easy chairs drawn up to the fire, when John glanced at the clock with a little start.

"Why, it's nearly ten o'clock!" he exclaimed. "What on earth can have become of your brother?"

Almost as he spoke the telephone-bell rang. It stood on a little table behind him. Lady Hilda, who was leaning back in her chair in an att.i.tude of luxurious repose, pointed lazily to it.

"Answer it for me, there's a dear man," she begged.

John took up the receiver. He recognized the voice at once--it was Lady Hilda's brother who spoke.

"I say, is Lady Hilda there?" he asked.

"Yes, where are you?" John replied. "I am John Strangewey. We have been expecting you all the evening."

"Expecting me?" was the reply. "What on earth are you talking about? And what are you doing in the wilderness?"

"I am spending the week-end with your sister," John replied. "I understood that you were coming."

The young man at the other end laughed derisively.

"Something better to do, old chap!" he said. "I am dining with Flo Henderson--just speaking from her flat. Send Hilda along, there's a good fellow."

John turned around. His eyes met Lady Hilda's, and he understood. He handed the receiver to her in silence. Of the conversation which pa.s.sed he scarcely heard a word. As soon as it began, in fact, he left the room and went across the hall to the billiard room. The lights were already lit, and cues, ready chalked, were standing by the table.

John went through a few moments of dismayed wonder. He glanced out of the window toward the garage, which was all in darkness. He heard the soft sweep of Lady Hilda's skirts across the hall, the closing of the door as she entered. Her eyes met his, as he turned around, with something of challenge in them. Her lips were curved in a faintly ironical smile.

"Well?" she exclaimed, a little defiantly. "Shall I telephone to London for a chaperon?"

"Not unless you think it necessary," John replied, suddenly feeling the fire of battle in his blood. "I can a.s.sure you that I am to be trusted.

On the other hand, if you prefer it, I can motor back to town; or I can go to the inn, and come and take you on the river in the morning."

It was obvious that she was a little surprised. She came over to him, put her hands upon the billiard table, and looked up into his face.

"Don't be a goose," she begged, "and please don't imagine foolish things. I suppose my telegram to Fred must have gone wrong. Anyhow, I don't think we need anybody else. We've got along very well so far to-day, haven't we?"

"I've enjoyed every moment of it," John declared cheerfully, "and I am looking forward more than I can tell you to beating you at billiards, to sleeping once more with my windows wide open and no s.m.u.ts, and to having another pull on that river in the morning. Let me give you fifteen this time. I want to play my best!"

She took up her cue with a little sigh of half-puzzled relief. They played two games, the second one at John's insistence. Then the butler brought in whisky and soda.

"Is there anything further to-night, madam?" he asked, after he had arranged the tray.

"Nothing," Lady Hilda answered. "You can go to bed."

They played the last game almost in silence. Then Lady Hilda replaced her cue in the rack and threw herself into one of the easy chairs.

"Bring me a whisky-and-soda," she said. "We'll have one cigarette before we go to bed."

John obeyed her, and sat by her side. She looked at him a little questioningly. His unhesitating acceptance of the situation had puzzled her. There was nothing but the slightest change in his manner to denote his realization of the fact that the house-party was a sham.

"I believe you are cross," she exclaimed suddenly.

"On the contrary," John replied, "I have had a thoroughly delightful day."

"You don't like people who tell fibs," she went on. "You know quite well, now, that my house-party was a farce. I never asked the Daunceys, I never sent a telegram to Fred. It was simply rotten luck that he rang me up. I asked you down here to spend the week-end with me--alone."

He looked her in the face, without the slightest change of expression.

"Then I think that it was exceedingly nice of you," he said, "and I appreciate the compliment. Really," he went on, with a smile, "I think we are quite safe, aren't we? You are known as a man-hater, and you are allowed special privileges because you are what you are. And I am known to be in love with another woman."

She frowned slightly.

"Does the whole world, then, know of your infatuation?" she asked.

"It may know, for all I care," John replied simply. "I am hoping that after Monday Louise will let me announce it."

There was a short silence. A portion of the log fell to the hearth, and John carefully replaced it upon the fire.

"Do you remember," she asked, dropping her voice almost to a whisper, "what I said to you the first night we met at Covent Garden, before I had any particular interest in you, before I had come to like you?"

John made no reply. Why did she again remind him of what she had said that night?

"I advised you," she went on, "not to be too rash. I think I told you that there were better things."

"There is no better thing in the world," John said simply, "than to give every feeling of which you are capable to the woman you love."

She frowned and threw her cigarette into the hearth.

"You talk," she declared, "either like George Alexander on the stage, or like a country b.u.mpkin! Why doesn't some one teach you the manners of civilized life?"

"Lady Hilda," he replied, "I am past teaching. You see, the fact of it is that a country b.u.mpkin is exactly what I am."

She turned her white shoulder away from him.

"You will find a candle on the hall table," she snapped.

John rose at once to his feet.

"It's your delightful country air, I suppose," he said. "I am sorry if I betrayed my sleepiness, however. Good night!"

Lady Hilda made no answer. John looked backward from the door. She had kicked off her slipper and was warming her foot before the fire.

"Good night!" he repeated. "I am going to wake like a giant in the morning, and pull you just as far as you like up the river!"