Читать книгу Blackthorn Farm - Arthur Applin - Страница 7

Table of Contents

"Rupert!" Ruby's voice scarcely rose above a whisper.

Slowly Rupert turned the revolver from his breast. Very slowly his arm dropped until it hung limply by his side. His grip relaxed and the revolver fell to the floor. Ruby crossed to his side, and, stooping down, picked it up.

Extricating the cartridges, she put the revolver away in a drawer of the writing-table and locked it up. Then she drew a chair forward and sat down, facing the man whose life she had just saved, the man she loved.

It was a long time before either of them spoke. Rupert Dale had meant to kill himself. Ruby had arrived at the critical moment. Thirty seconds more and she would have been too late. The crisis had passed now, but the shock had left the woman unnerved and weak.

Rupert merely felt vaguely surprised that he was still alive. The idea of suicide was horrible to him because normally he was a healthy, sane young man, but the news of his failure for the third time in his final examination, coming upon the victory and subsequent disqualification of Paulus, had made him see the hopelessness of his position. It was a lightning flash; illuminating the horizon of Hope. The instant's flash had shown him himself, his career ruined before it had started, and his father beggared—not merely of his home and his money, but of his dreams: of all that was left him.

Ruby watching him, holding his cold hand in hers, saw what was passing, and what had passed, in his mind. Of a sudden she felt her responsibility.

She had never considered the word before in her life. She understood it now because she loved.

Rupert was the first to speak. "It's no use, old girl; it's the only way out—the only way."

She shook her head. "A coward's way."

Rupert gave a dry laugh. "I'm not afraid to live, not afraid to face the music; not afraid to take off my coat and work in the gutters, if need be. But I've ruined and disgraced my father. The shame will fall on him. I'm his only son, and he was going to turn me into a gentleman. Well, when a gentleman has done a shameful thing, a thing that prevents him from meeting his friends, his relatives, he just goes out ... as I'm going.... They'll get on better without me, father and Marjorie."

Ruby's hands tightened their grip. She had aged in an hour; changed. The little, light actress had become merged, as it were, in the woman. Mother instinct had taken the place of the lover instinct.

She was fighting for the life of some other woman's son, and for the moment he was her son.

"You can't do it!"

"My mind is made up."

Ruby closed her eyes for a moment. He spoke quietly and calmly. She knew it had not been a sudden resolve, but that his mind had been made up.

There was a long silence between them. Outside the newsboys still shouted the sensational result.

At last Ruby rose. She crossed the room and stood with her back to Rupert for a little while. When she turned she was smiling, and she looked more like her old self—as if she had not a care in the world.

"Rupert," she whispered, and her voice, though a little unsteady, had a glad ring in it.

He picked up a letter lying on the table. The ink was scarcely dry on it. It was lying on a sheet of clean white blotting-paper. It was to his father—saying good-bye.

"The old man sent me a cheque," he mumbled. "I can't find it anywhere. Must have lost it this afternoon. I suppose some beggar will cash it. Don't much matter now, but it would have been useful to the old man: five pounds——" Again he laughed.

"Rupert!"

He turned then and looked at her. Perhaps something in her voice attracted him.

"You remember giving me five pounds to put on Paulus? Well, I didn't do it."

He shook his head to and fro. "It doesn't make any difference. I owe hundreds."

"I put it on Ambuscade."

He turned right round now staring at her, frowning. He did not understand.

"Ambuscade started at a hundred to one." Ruby was laughing now. She moved toward him unsteadily.

"Don't play the fool," he said unsteadily. "It's no use trying to—hoodwink me."

"I put the five pounds on Ambuscade at a hundred to one. I didn't dare tell you, dear—in fact, when the news of the objection came I couldn't realise it. I've—I've got the ticket in my purse."

The frown on Rupert's face deepened. "I saw you draw some money—you had it in your purse."

"I put a couple of my own sovereigns on Paulus. I backed Ambuscade with Barrett. They have an office in Piccadilly, London. If I go down to-morrow morning they'll pay me five hundred pounds."

Rupert rose and tottered towards her. His legs gave way at the knees like a drunken man.

"Five hundred pounds!"

He kept muttering to himself over and over again. "Five hundred pounds!" He poured himself out a glass of water from the sideboard and tossed it down his throat. Then he seized Ruby roughly by the shoulders.

"You're not fooling me. You swear it. If it was with Barrett they'll pay up all right. They're a big firm, they'll pay up to-morrow."

She managed to assure him she was speaking the truth.

He began to laugh, then checked himself with an effort. "Why the devil didn't you tell me before?" he cried savagely. "I might have——"

He seized his hat and put it on. "I must get out of this. I must think it over. I want air. I can't realise it.... My God, five hundred pounds! I'm saved." He opened the door. "Wait until I come back. I shan't be long. Wait there until I come back."

She listened to his footsteps descending the staircase. She heard the front door bang. She stood at the window and watched him walk down the street. He held himself erect, his face turned to the sky now.

Ruby closed the window and drew down the blind. Then she sat down at the writing-table, and taking off her gloves picked up a pen.

The cheque drawn by Reginald Crichton lay just inside one of the long white gloves. Picking it up she unfolded it and laid it on the white sheet of blotting paper.

Five hundred pounds!