Читать книгу A Front of Brass - Fred M. White - Страница 4

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"But surely you must the mistaken," the visitor was saying. "Mr. Spencer expects me. I am perfectly certain that he would not have disappointed me. I have come a long way, and—"

"I'm very sorry, miss," Jenner interrupted respectfully. "But my master has been called away to Fairford on unexpected business. It is just possible that he may not get back to-night. If it is any thing to do with business, I am quite sure that my master's partner, Mr.—"

"Oh, it is quite a private affair," the girl said. "I suppose I must call again to-morrow. I am sorry to have given you all this trouble."

The pretty girl with the slim graceful figure turned away with a suggestion of disappointment. As she disappeared round a bend in the drive, Grant followed. He was no longer in doubt now, he knew his ground exactly. He stretched out his hands and laid it on the girl's shoulder.

"May," he said quietly. "May, what are you doing here?"

The girl turned with something like a cry of fear on her lips. The pretty face was deadly pale; the dark gray eyes were full of tears. They were tears of disappointment, as Grant could see. But all the fear and anger were lost now in the pink confusion of the girl's cheeks. From chin to brow the blushes glowed on her face.

"I might ask you the same question," she stammered. "What are you doing here?"

"You forget that Mr. Spencer is my partner. I came down here this week-end on business that concerns you as much as it does me. I had forgotten for the moment that your father's place was so close at hand. And Mr. Spencer never told me that you were in the habit—"

"Oh, I'm not. I'm not," May Leverton protested. "I have never been here before. At the present moment I am supposed to be shopping in Fairford. I came over on my machine. You must not say a word about this to anybody. Hubert."

"But if Mr. Spencer and your father are friends!"

"They are not. My father dislikes Mr. Spencer exceedingly. He does not trust him. Mr. Spencer has never been over to Grant Lea. All the same. I had to come."

"But why, dear? Surely you can confide in me." May Leverton shook her head sorrowfully. There was a pleading look in her eyes.

"Indeed I can't, Hubert," she murmured. "If I had guessed that you were here I should not have come near the place. It is hateful to me to have a secret from you, but it cannot be helped. I have given my promise now, and I cannot go back on it. I have to see Mr. Spencer on the most urgent matter unless it is possible that—"

May's voice trailed away in a whisper, her eyes were far away. Grant could see that her little hands were clenched in a sudden determination. He began to realise that there was a determination here that he had not dreamt of.

"You look as if you were contemplating something desperate," he said. The girl laughed unsteadily. Then the tears crept into her eyes again.

"Oh, I am," she said, desperately. "What am I talking about? But I suppose I must wait now with what patience I am capable of. Don't think badly of me, dear, there is nothing to be ashamed of so far as I am concerned. And—and how glad I am to see you again."

May forced the tears back from her eyes; a charming smile broke out on her face. It was all quiet and secluded there, so that Grant took her in his arms and kissed her passionately. All the jealous uneasy doubts had faded away—it was impossible to look down into the clear depths of the gray eyes turned so lovingly upon him and harbour unearthly suspicions any longer.

"It is a most, delightful surprise," he said. "I'll take my good fortune as I find it, and not waste time in asking questions, May. Are you in a great hurry?"

May hesitated. The day was fair and smiling, and the main she loved was by her side.

"I ought to go back at once," she said. "I really ought, dear boy. But it is such a lovely day, and it is so very long since I saw you last. Well, half an hour."

"I'll try and show you the beauties of the place in that time," Grant smiled. "You have no idea what a most delightful house it is, May. I fell in love with it from the start, and I have been coveting it ever since. How would you like to live here altogether, child?"

May smiled softly as she pressed her lover's arm. There was absolutely nothing wanting here to make the place perfect. She stood presently in the summer house looking out over the hazy blue of the sea. A little sigh of mingled pleasure and anxiety escaped her.

"It is a little paradise." she said. "It is wasted on a man like Mr. Spencer."

"Do you think so, May? Spencer is very artistic. No man without great taste and feeling could have designed so perfect a spot as this."

May shuddered as if she suddenly found the day cold and bleak. "The Borgias were people of taste," she said. "And yet what a set of cold-blooded wretches they were! Hubert, you may not know it, but Mr. Spencer is a bad man. He is your partner, and you may think lightly of him as a good business hand, but he is a bad man. Some day you will find it out. Oh! I cannot tell you how this knowledge came my way, but it is true. For the present my lips are sealed because the secret is not altogether mine. Please don't press me."

Grant kissed the anxious look away. "I am not going to, darling," he said. "And please do not let us waste our precious time in a discussion on the merits of Mr. Spencer. If I could buy this place, how would you like to live here?"

"I could be happy with you anywhere," the girl said, simply. "It would be lovely, dear. But that is far too good to be true. And there is my father to bring round first."

Grant set his jaw firmly. "I shall know how to deal with him when the time comes," he said. "After all is said and done, it is not fair of him to punish me for the faults of other people. Now, if I could induce my partner to sell me this dear little place, do you suppose that Sir Bruce—?"

But May was not hopeful. All the grave anxiety was in her eyes as she turned her face in the direction of Grant Lea a little later on. There was likely to be many a day of black and bitter trouble before she called herself Mrs. Hubert Grant.

And Grant had plenty of food for reflection when once he was alone. It came to him with significant force that he had never really liked his partner. But hitherto he had regarded him as a model of honour and fairness. Now he began to have his doubts. May Leverton had not hesitated to say that Spencer was a bad man, and apparently she was in a position to prove her statement.

Grant thought all this over as he sat in the garden till the light began to fail and it was time to dress for dinner. There was no sign of Spencer's return, and Hubert decided to go on without his host. He sat there in the big house-place with the shaded lights, the dinner-table and the masses of yellow spring flowers in the old blue vases. All around him was the dull gleam of ancient oak, the atmosphere of refinement and artistic feeling that he liked so well. And how perfect it would have all been had only May been seated at the other end of the table! But that would come one of these early days, Hubert told himself.

He took his coffee and cigar presently on the balcony with the shaded lights behind him. On the table there he had thrown down the telegram which had so greatly distressed Paul Spencer. He took it up again idly now, and began to turn it about in his fingers. He wondered as to what manner of man the message had come from.

"There is no reason why you should wait up any longer, Jenner," he said to the butler who had come to see if any thing more was needed. "I have all that I require, thank you. If your master is not back by half-past 10 I will see that the house is locked up."

Jenner retired respectfully. It was an early household as a rule, and the servants were generally in bed by half-past 10. Grant sat there with the telegram in his hand. Then something in the postmark attracted his attention, and he regarded the paper more carefully.

"Very odd," he said to himself. "I quite thought that this was the 6th May. I should lave been prepared to swear to that. And this telegram is post-marked the 5th. I suppose I'm wrong. Still—"

Just for a moment Hubert was inclined to let the matter pass. Then he rose from his chair and went into the dining-room. By the side of the old-fashioned fireplace a calendar hung. He bent down and looked at it long and carefully.

"I'm right, after all." he said. "This is Saturday the 6th May. And the postmark on a telegram that is obviously sent out from London this morning is post-marked a day wrong. Now, fancy a post office official making a mistake like that! I have never heard of such a thing before. I'll put this in my pocket and—well, Jenner?"

Jenner stood there quiet and respectful as usual. He had discarded most of his clothing, and appeared now in his pyjamas.

"I beg your pardon for disturbing you, sir," he said, "but there is a burglar in the library. Shall I and tell the police, or shall you and me, sir, tackle the person? It is not much in my line, being by nature a timid man, sir; but if you like—?"

Grant jumped hurriedly from his seat, his face hard and set.

"Come along." he whispered. "We shall be able to manage him between us."

"Beg pardon, sir," Jenner murmured. "It isn't a he at all, sir—it's a woman!"