Читать книгу Death Makes a Prophet - Ernest Elmore - Страница 18
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ОглавлениеBut of course Terence didn’t behave; and of course Denise didn’t really want him to. They were young, fast falling in love, and Nature as usual had the last word. They walked home from the Welworth Odeon with their arms round each other’s waists, speaking only by means of small physical pressures and long searching glances. They had worked it to reach “Tranquilla” before the meeting at the temple broke up, little realising that Eustace that very evening had, in theatrical parlance, staged the first night of a brand new ritual which he had been working on for some months past; a very much foreshortened version of the usual mid-weekly service. This was unfortunate. Doubly unfortunate was Mrs. Hagge-Smith’s decision to walk home with Eustace in the interests of her figure rather than use the car. Opposite the house, overcome by an extra-passionate interest in each other, Denise and Terence suddenly halted, twined themselves into a somewhat inexpert embrace and kissed each other furiously. And at that precise moment, emerging from the gloom beyond the lamp-post came Eustace and Alicia in a deep discussion concerning the significance of the Pestchet Neteru, a subject over which they had not always, alas! Seen eye to eye.
Over this other subject they displayed no divergencies. Mrs. Hagge-Smith let out a wail of agonised astonishment. Eustace tut-tutted. Denise uttered a small embarrassed cry. Terence made no sound whatsoever. Still tut-tutting Eustace ushered the little party into the hall, where Denise with a murmured “Good night” pattered quickly up the stairs to her bedroom. He turned to Mrs. Hagge-Smith with an apologetic air.
“A regrettable contretemps,” he murmured. “I’m sure you’ll excuse me if—”
He waved a dismal hand at his son and nodded towards the door of his study. Taking the hint, Alicia bumped away up the stairs, leaving Terence to follow his father into the room.
“I’ve no need to tell you what a shock this has been to me,” piped Eustace without preliminary. “Miss Blake is a guest under our roof and, therefore, under my protection. When I witnessed that disgraceful exhibition under the lamp-post just now I felt ashamed of you, Terence—profoundly ashamed.” Terence wilted. He could have kicked himself for a fool. Lashings of darkness all around and he just had to embrace Denise under that confounded lamp-post!
“And it’s not only that,” went on Eustace sorrowfully. “It’s the deception. You told me that you had a cold in the head, when in fact there was nothing the matter with you. I understood Mrs. Hagge-Smith to say that Miss Blake wouldn’t be attending the meeting because—”
“I put her up to that,” grunted Terence. “The whole blooming mess-up is my fault. You mustn’t blame Denise. I’ve got a terrific influence over her. It’s a sort of hypnotic power, I think. I make her do all manner of things that she doesn’t really want to by just willing her to do them.”
“I can hold no brief for anybody with mesmeric powers who abuses them. If you’ve been granted this wonderful gift, Terence, you should exercise it only for good and noble ends—not in the interests of your selfish desires. This must go no further. It’s not only embarrassing for Miss Blake but a deliberate insult to dear Mrs. Hagge-Smith who naturally feels responsible for the girl’s welfare. I can’t ask Miss Blake to leave this house since she’s employed by Mrs. Hagge-Smith. So you’ll pack your things to-night and leave for your Uncle Edward’s by the first train. Understand, Terence?”
“But, father—”
“When Mrs. Hagge-Smith returns to Old Cowdene I shall allow you to come home. In the meantime you’ll make no attempt to see Miss Blake or correspond with her.”
“But, father—”
“To think that a boy of your upbringing and education...”
“But, father—”
“Well, well—what is it?”
“I’m in love with Denise.”
“In love? At your age? Don’t be absurd, Terence. This is no time for levity.”
“But I know I’m in love with her! I’ve just realised it!”
“Nonsense! Good night.”
“Good night, father.”
