Beaumaroy Home from the Wars Read online

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE CHIEF MOURNERS

  The attendance was small at Mr. Saffron's funeral. Besides meek anddepressed Mrs. Wiles, and Beaumaroy himself, Doctor Mary found herself,rather to her surprise, in company with old Mr. Naylor. On comparingnotes she discovered that, like herself, he had come on Beaumaroy'surgent invitation and, moreover, that he was engaged also to come onafterwards to Tower Cottage, where Beaumaroy was to entertain the chiefmourners at a midday repast. "Glad enough to show my respect to aneighbour," said old Naylor. "And I always liked the old man's looks.But really I don't see why I should go to lunch! However,Beaumaroy----!"

  Mary did not see why he should go to lunch--nor, for that matter, whyshe should either, but curiosity about the chief mourners made her gladthat she was going. The chief mourners did not look, at first sight,attractive. Mr. Radbolt was a short plump man, with a weaselly face andcunning eyes; his wife's eyes, of a greeny colour, stared stolidly outfrom her broad red face; she was taller than her mate, and her figurecontrived to be at once stout and angular. All through the service,Beaumaroy's gaze was set on the pair as they sat or stood in front ofhim, wandering from the one to the other in an apparently fascinatedstudy.

  At the cottage he entertained his party in the parlour with a generoushospitality, and treated the Radbolts with most courteous deference. Theman responded with the best manners that he had--who can do more? Thewoman was much less cordial; she was curt, and treated Beaumaroy ratheras the servant than the friend of her dead cousin; there was a clearsuggestion of suspicion in her bearing towards him. After a broad stareof astonishment on her introduction to "Dr. Arkroyd," she took verylittle notice of Mary; only to Mr. Naylor was she clumsily civil andeven rather cringing; it was clear that in him she acknowledged thegentleman. He sat by her, and she tried to insinuate herself into aprivate conversation with him, apart from the others, probing him as tohis knowledge of the dead man and his mode of living. Her questionshovered persistently round the point of Mr. Saffron's expenditure.

  "Mr. Saffron was not a friend of mine," Naylor found it necessary toexplain. "I had few opportunities of observing his way of life, even ifI had felt any wish to do so."

  "I suppose Beaumaroy knew all about his affairs," she suggested.

  "As to that, I think you must ask Mr. Beaumaroy himself."

  "From what the lawyers say, the old man seems to have been getting ridof his money, somehow or to somebody," she grumbled in a positivewhisper.

  To Mr. Naylor's intense relief, Beaumaroy interrupted this conversation."Well, how do you like this little place, Mrs. Radbolt?" he askedcheerfully. "Not a bad little crib, is it? Don't you think so too, Dr.Arkroyd?" Throughout this gathering Beaumaroy was very punctilious withhis "Dr. Arkroyd." One would have thought that Mary and he were almoststrangers.

  "Yes, I like it," said Mary. "The Tower makes it rather unusual andpicturesque." This was not really her sincere opinion; she was playingup to Beaumaroy, convinced that he had opened some conversationalmanoeuvre.

  "Don't like it at all," answered Mrs. Radbolt. "We'll get rid of it assoon as we can, won't we, Radbolt?" She always addressed her husband as"Radbolt."

  "Don't be in a hurry, don't throw it away," Beaumaroy advised. "It'snot everybody's choice, of course, but there are quarters--yes, morethan one quarter--in which you might get a very good offer for thisplace." His eye caught Mary's for a moment. "Indeed I wish I was in aposition to make you one myself. I should like to take it as itstands--lock, stock, and barrel. But I've sunk all I had in anotherventure--hope it'll turn out a satisfactory one! So I'm not in aposition to do it. If Mrs. Radbolt wants to sell, what would you thinkof it, Dr. Arkroyd--as a speculation?"

  Mary shook her head, smiling, glad to be able to smile with plausiblereason. "I'm not as fond of rash speculations as you are, Mr.Beaumaroy."

  "It may be worth more than it looks," he pursued. "Good neighbourhood,healthy air, fruitful soil--very rich soil hereabouts."

  "My dear Beaumaroy, the land about here is abominable," Naylorexpostulated.

  "Perhaps generally, but some rich pockets--what one may call pockets,"corrected Beaumaroy.

  "I'm not an agriculturist," remarked weaselly Mr. Radbolt in his oilytones.

  "And then there's a picturesque old yarn told about it. Oh, whether it'strue or not, of course I don't know. It's about a certain CaptainDuggle--not the army--the Mercantile Marine, Mrs. Radbolt. You know thestory, Dr. Arkroyd? And you too, Mr. Naylor? You're the oldestinhabitant of Inkston present, sir. Suppose you tell it to Mr. and Mrs.Radbolt? I'm sure it will make them attach a new value to this reallyvery attractive cottage--with, as Dr. Arkroyd says, the additionalfeature of the Tower."

  "I know the story only as a friend of mine--Mr. Penrose--who takes greatinterest in local records and traditions, told it to me. If our hostdesires, I shall be happy to tell it to Mrs. Radbolt." Mr. Nayloraccompanied his words with a courtly little bow to that lady, andlaunched upon the legend of Captain Duggle.

  Mr. Radbolt was a religious man. At the end of the story he observedgravely, "The belief in diabolical personalities is not to be lightlydismissed, Mr. Beaumaroy."

  "I'm entirely of your opinion, Mr. Radbolt." This time Mary felt thather smile was not so plausible.

  "There seems to have been nothing in the grave," mused Mrs. Radbolt.

  "Apparently not when Captain Duggle left it--if he was ever in it--atall events not when he left the house, in whatever way and by whateveragency."

  "As to the latter point, I myself incline to Penrose's theory," saidMr. Naylor. "_Delirium tremens_, you know!"

  Beaumaroy puffed at his cigar. "Still, I've often thought that, thoughit was empty then, it would have made--supposing it really exists--anexcellent hiding-place for anybody who wanted such a thing. Say for amiser, or a man who had his reasons for concealing what he was worth! Ionce suggested the idea to Mr. Saffron, and he was a good deal amused.He patted me on the shoulder and laughed heartily. He wasn't often somuch amused as that."

  A new look came into Mrs. Radbolt's green eyes. Up to now, distrust ofBeaumaroy had predominated. His frank bearing, his obvious candour andsimplicity, had weakened her suspicions. But his words suggestedsomething else; he might be a fool, not a knave; Mr. Saffron had beenamused, had laughed beyond his wont. That might have seemed the best wayof putting Beaumaroy off the scent. The green eyes were now alert,eager, immensely acquisitive.

  "The grave's in the Tower, if it's anywhere. Would you like to see theTower, Mrs. Radbolt?"

  "Yes, I should," she answered tartly. "Being part of our property as itis."

  Mary exchanged a glance with Mr. Naylor, as they followed the othersinto the Tower. "What an abominable woman!" her glance said. Naylorsmiled a despairing acquiescence.

  The strangers--chief mourners, heirs-at-law, owners now of the placewherein they stood--looked round the bare brick walls of the littlerotunda. Naylor examined it with interest too--the old story was aquaint one. Mary stood at the back of the group, smiling triumphantly.How had he disposed of--everything? She had not been wrong in herunlimited confidence in his ingenuity. She did not falter in her faithin his word pledged to her.

  "Safe from burglars, that grave of the Captain's, if you kept itproperly concealed!" Beaumaroy pursued in a sort of humorous meditation."And in these days some people like to have their money in their ownhands. Confiscatory legislation possible, isn't it, Mr. Naylor? You knowabout those things better than I do. And then the taxes--shocking, Mr.Radbolt! By Jove, I knew a chap the other day who came in for whatsounded like a pretty little inheritance. But by the time he'd paid allthe duties and so on, most of the gilt was off the gingerbread! It'sthere--in front of the hearth--that the story says the grave is. Doesn'tit, Mr. Naylor?" A sudden thought seemed to strike him. "I say, Mrs.Radbolt, would you like us to have a look whether we can find anyindications of it?" His eyes travelled beyond the lady whom headdressed, they met Mary's. She knew their message; he was taking herinto his confidence abo
ut his experiment with the chief mourners.

  The stout angular woman had leapt to her conclusion. Much less moneythan had been expected--no signs of money having been spent--and here,not the cunning knave whom she had expected, but a garrulous open fool,giving away what was--perhaps--a golden secret! Mammon--the greed ofacquisitiveness, the voracious appetite for getting more--gleamed in hergreen eyes.

  "There? Do you say it's--it's supposed to be there?" she asked eagerly,with a shake in her voice.

  Her husband interposed in a suave and sanctimonious voice: "My dear, ifMr. Beaumaroy and the other gentleman won't mind my saying so, I've beenfeeling that these are rather light and frivolous topics for the day,and the occasion which brings us here. The whole thing is probably anunfounded story, although there is a sound moral to it. Later on--justas a matter of curiosity--if you like, my dear. But to-day--CousinAloysius's day of burial--is it quite seemly?"

  The big woman looked at her smaller mate for just a moment--ascrutinizing look. Then she said with most unexpected meekness, "I waswrong. You always have the proper feelings, Radbolt."

  "The fault was mine, entirely mine," Beaumaroy hastily interposed. "Idragged in the old yarn, I led Mr. Naylor into telling it, I told youabout what I said to Mr. Saffron and how he took it. All my fault! Iacknowledge the justice of your rebuke. I apologize, Mr. Radbolt! And Ithink that we've exhausted the interest of the Tower." He looked at hiswatch; "Er--how do you stand for time? Shall Mrs. Wiles make us a cup oftea, or have you a train to catch?"

  "That's the woman in charge of the house, isn't it?" asked Mrs. Radbolt.

  "Comes in for the day. She doesn't sleep here." He smiled pleasantly onMrs. Radbolt. "To tell you the truth, I don't think that she wouldconsent to sleep here by herself. Silly! But--the old story, you know!

  "Don't you sleep here?" the woman persisted, though her husband waslooking at her rather uneasily.

  "Up to now I have," said Beaumaroy. "But there's nothing to keep me herenow, and Mr. Naylor has kindly offered to put me up as long as I stay atInkston."

  "Going to leave the place with nobody in it?"

  Beaumaroy's manner indicated surprise. "Oh, yes! There's nothing totempt thieves, is there? Just lock the door and put the key in mypocket!"

  The woman looked very surly, but flummoxed. Her husband, with his suaveoiliness, came to her rescue. "My wife is always nervous, perhapsfoolishly nervous, about fire, Mr. Beaumaroy. Well, with an old houselike this, there is always the risk."

  "Upon my soul, I hadn't thought of it! And I've packed up all my things,and your car's come and fetched them, Mr. Naylor. Still, of course Icould----"

  "Oh, we've no right, no claim, to trouble you, Mr. Beaumaroy. Only mywife is----"

  "Fire's an obsession with me, I'm afraid," said the stout woman, with arumbling giggle. The sound of her mirth was intolerably disagreeable toMary.

  "I really think, my dear, that you'll feel easier if I stay myself,won't you? You can send me what I want to-morrow, and rejoin me when wearrange--because we shall have to settle what's to be done with theplace."

  "As you please, Mr. Radbolt." Beaumaroy's tone was, for the first time,a little curt. It hinted some slight offence--as though he felt himselfcharged with carelessness, and considered Mrs. Radbolt's obsession merefussiness. "No doubt, if you stay, Mrs. Wiles will agree to stay too,and do her best to make you comfortable."

  "I shall feel easier that way, Radbolt," Mrs. Radbolt admitted, withanother rumble of apologetic mirth.

  Beaumaroy motioned his guests back to the parlour. His manner retainedits shade of distance and offence. "Then it really only remains for meto wish you good-bye--and all happiness in your new property. Anyinformation in my possession as to Mr. Saffron's affairs I shall, ofcourse, be happy to give you. Is the car coming for you, Mr. Naylor?"

  "I thought it would be pleasant to walk back; and I hope Doctor Marywill come with us and have some tea. I'll send you home afterwards,Doctor Mary."

  Farewells were exchanged, but now without even a show of cordiality.Naylor and Doctor Mary felt too much distaste for the chief mourners toattain more than a cold civility. Beaumaroy did not relax into hisearlier friendliness. His apparent dislike to her husband's plan ofstaying at the cottage roused Mrs. Radbolt's suspicions again; was he arogue after all, but a very plausible, a very deep one? Only Mr.Radbolt's unctuousness--surely it would have smoothed the stormiestwaves?--saved the social situation.

  "Intelligent people, I thought," Beaumaroy observed, as the threefriends pursued their way across the heath towards Old Place. "Didn'tyou, Mr. Naylor?"

  Old Naylor grunted. With a twinkle in his eyes, Beaumaroy tried DoctorMary. "What was your impression of them?"

  "Oh!" moaned Mary, with a deep and expressive note. "But how did youknow they'd be like that?"

  "Letters--and the old man's description; he had a considerable commandof language, and very violent likes and dislikes. I made a picture ofthem--and it's turned out pretty accurate."

  "And those were the nearest kith and kin your poor old man had?" Naylorshook his head sadly. "The woman obviously cared not a straw aboutanything but handling his money--and couldn't even hide it! A gross andhorrible female, Beaumaroy!"

  "Were you really hurt about their insisting on staying?" asked Mary.

  "Oh, come, you're sharper than that, Doctor Mary! Still, I think I didit pretty well. I set the old girl thinking again, didn't I?" He brokeinto laughter, and Mary joined in heartily. Old Naylor glanced from oneto the other with an air of curiosity.

  "You two people look to me--somehow--as if you'd got a secret betweenyou."

  "Perhaps we have! Mr. Naylor's a man of honour, Doctor Mary; a man whoappreciates a situation, a man you can trust." Beaumaroy seemed very gayand happy now, disembarrassed of a load, and buoyant alike in walk andin spirit. "What do you say to letting Mr. Naylor--just him--nobodyelse--into our secret?"

  Mary put her arm through old Mr. Naylor's. "I don't mind, if you don't.But nobody else!"

  "Then you shall tell him--the entire story--at your leisure. MeanwhileI'll begin at the wrong end. I told you I'd made a picture of the hatedcousins, of the heirs-at-law, these sorrowing chief mourners. Well,having made a picture of them that's proved true, I'll make a prophecyabout them, and I'll bet you it proves just as true."

  "Go on," said Mary. "Listen, Mr. Naylor," she added, with a squeeze ofthe old man's arm.

  "You're like a couple of naughty children!" he said, with anaffectionate look and laugh.

  "Well, my prophecy is that they'll swear the poor dear old man's estateat under five thousand."

  "Well, why shouldn't----?" old Naylor began; but he stopped as he sawMary's eyes meet Beaumaroy's in a rapture of quick and delightedunderstanding.

  "And then perhaps you'll own to being sorry, Doctor Mary!"

  "So that's what you were up to, was it?" said Mary.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE GOLD AND THE TREASURE

  Old Mr. Naylor called on Mary two or three days later--at an hour when,as he well knew, Cynthia was at his own house--in order to hear thestory. There were parts of it which she could not describe fully forlack of knowledge--the enterprise of Mike and Big Neddy, for example;but all that she knew she told frankly, and did not scruple to invokeher imagination to paint Beaumaroy's position, with its difficulties,demands, obligations--and temptations. He heard her with closeattention, evidently amused, and watching her animated face with a keenand watchful pleasure.

  "Surprising!" he said at the end, rubbing his hands together. "That's tosay, not in itself particularly surprising. Just a queer littlehappening; one would think nothing of it if one read it in thenewspaper! Things are always so much more surprising when they happendown one's own street, or within a few minutes' walk of one's gardenwall--and when one actually knows the people involved in them. Still Iwas always inclined to agree with Dr. Irechester that there wassomething out of the common about old Saffron and our friend Beaumaroy."

  "Dr. Irec
hester never found out what it was, though!" exclaimed Marytriumphantly.

  "No, he didn't--for reasons pretty clearly indicated in your narrative."He sat back in his chair, his elbows on the arms and his hands claspedbefore him. "If I may say so, the really curious thing is to find you inthe thick of it, Doctor Mary."

  "That wasn't my fault. I couldn't refuse to attend Mr. Saffron. Dr.Irechester himself said so."

  He paid no heed to her protest. "In the thick of it--and enjoying it sotremendously!"

  Mary looked thoughtful. "I didn't at first. I was angry, indignant,suspicious. I thought I was being made a fool of."

  "So you were--a fool and a tool, my dear!"

  "But that night--because it all really happened in just one night--thechief mourners, as Mr. Beaumaroy always calls them, were no morethan----"

  "Just a rather amusing epilogue--yes, that's all."

  "That night, it did get hold of me." She laughed a little nervously, alittle uneasily.

  "And now you tell it to me--and I must say that your telling made ittwice the story that it really is--now you tell it as if it were thegreatest thing that ever happened to you!"

  For a moment Mary fenced. "Well, nothing interesting ever has happenedin my humdrum life before." But old Naylor pursed up his lips incontempt of her fencing. "It did seem to me a great--a great experience.Not the burglars and all that--though some of the things, like thewater-butt, did amuse me very much--but our being apart from all theworld, there by ourselves--against the whole world in a way, Mr.Naylor."

  "The law on one side, the robbers on the other--and you two alonetogether!"

  "Yes, you understand. That was the way I felt it. But we weren'ttogether, not in every way. I mean--we were fighting between ourselvestoo--right up to the very end." She gave another low laugh. "I supposewe're fighting still; he means to face me with some Radbolt villainy,and make me sorry for what he calls my legalism--with an epithet!"

  "That's his idea, and my own too, I confess. Those chief mourners willfind the money--and some other things that'll make 'em stare. Butthey'll lie low; they'll sit on the cash till the time comes when it'ssafe to dispose of it; and they'll bilk the Inland Revenue out of theduties. The remarkable thing is that Beaumaroy seems to want them to doit."

  "That's to make me sorry; that's to prove me wrong, Mr. Naylor."

  "It may make you sorry--it makes me sorry, for that matter; but itdoesn't prove you wrong. You were right. My boy Alec would have takenthe same line as you did. Now you needn't laugh at me, Mary. I own up atonce--that's my highest praise."

  "I know it is; and it implies a contrast?"

  Old Naylor unclasped his hands and spread them in a deprecatory gesture."It must do that," he acknowledged.

  Mary gave a rebellious little toss of her head. "I don't care if itdoes, Mr. Naylor! Mr. Beaumaroy is--my friend now."

  "And mine. Moreover I have such confidence in his honour and fidelitythat I have offered him a rather important and confidential position inmy business--to represent us at one of the foreign ports where we haveconsiderable interests." He smiled. "It's the sort of place where hewill perhaps find himself less trammelled by--er--legalism, and withmore opportunities for his undoubted gift of initiative."

  "Will he accept your offer? Will he go?" she asked rather excitedly.

  "Without doubt, I think. It's really quite a good offer. And whatprospects has he now--or here?"

  Mary stretched her hands towards the fire and gazed into it in silence.

  "I think you'll have an offer soon too, and a good one, Doctor Mary.Irechester was over at our place yesterday. He's still of opinion thatthere was something queer at Tower Cottage. Indeed he thinks that Mr.Saffron was queer himself--in his head--and that a clever doctor wouldhave found it out."

  "That he himself would, if he'd gone on attending----?"

  "Precisely. But he's not surprised that you didn't; you lacked theexperience. Still he thinks none the worse of you for that, and he toldme that he has made up his mind to offer you partnership. Irechester's abit stiff, but a very straight fellow. You could rely on being fairlytreated, and it's a good practice. Besides he's well off, and quitelikely to retire as soon as he sees you fairly in the saddle."

  "It's a great compliment." Here Mary's voice sounded quitestraightforward and sincere. An odd little note of contempt crept intoit as she added, "And it sounds--ideal!"

  "Yes, it does," old Naylor agreed, with a private smile all to himself,whilst Mary still gazed into the fire. "Quite ideal. You're a luckyyoung woman, Mary." He rose to take his leave. "So, with our young folkhappily married, and you installed, and friend Beaumaroy suited to hisliking--why, upon my word, we may ring the curtain down on a happyending--of Act I, at all events!"

  She seemed to pay no heed to his words. He stood for a moment admiringher; not a beauty, but a healthy comely young woman, stout-hearted, andwith humanity and a sense of fun in her. And, as he looked, his truefeeling about the situation suddenly burst through all restraint andleapt from his lips. "Though, for my part, under the circumstances, if Iwere you, I'd see old Irechester damned before I accepted thepartnership!"

  She turned to him--startled, yet suddenly smiling. He took her hand andraised it to his lips.

  "Hush! Not another word! Good-bye, my dear Mary!"

  The next day, as Mary, her morning round finished, sat at lunch withCynthia, listening--or not listening--to her friend's excusably eagerchatter about her approaching wedding, a note was delivered into herhands:

  "The C.M.'s are in a hurry! She's back! The window is boarded up again! Come and see! About 4 o'clock this afternoon. B."

  Mary kept the appointment. She found Beaumaroy strolling up and down onthe road in front of the cottage. The Tower window was boarded up again,but with new strong planks, in a much more solid and workman-likefashion. If he were to try again, Mike would not find it so easy tonegotiate, without making a dangerous noise over the job.

  "Such impatience--such undisguised rapacity--is indecent and revolting,"Beaumaroy remarked. He seemed to be in the highest spirits. "I wonder ifthey've opened it yet!"

  "They'll see you prowling about outside, won't they?"

  "I hope so. Indeed I've no doubt of it. Mrs. Greeneyes is probablypeering through the parlour window at this minute and cursing me. I likeit! To those people I represent law and order. If they can rise to theconception of such a thing at all, I probably embody conscience. Whenyou come to think of it, it's a pleasant turn of events that I shouldcome to represent law and order and conscience to anybody--even to theRadbolts."

  "It is rather a change," she agreed. "But let's walk on. I don't reallymuch want to think of them."

  "That's because you feel that you're losing the bet. I can't stop themgetting the money in the end--that's your doing! I can't stop themcheating the Revenue--which is what they certainly mean to do--withoutexposing myself to more inconvenience than I am disposed to undergo inthe cause of the Revenue. Whereas if I had left the bag in thewater-butt----! All your doing! Aren't you a little sorry?"

  "Of course there is an aspect of the case----" she admitted, smiling.

  "That's enough for me! You've lost the bet. Let's see--what were thestakes, Mary?"

  "Come, let's walk on." She put her arm through his. "What about thisberth that Mr. Naylor's offering you? At Bogota, isn't it?"

  He looked puzzled for a moment; then his mind worked quickly back toCynthia's almost forgotten tragedy. He laughed in enjoyment of herthrust. "My place isn't Bogota--though I fancy that it's rather in thesame moral latitude. You're confusing me with Captain Cranster!"

  "So I was--for a moment," said Doctor Mary demurely. "But what aboutthe appointment, anyhow?"

  "What about your partnership with Dr. Irechester, if you come to that?"

  Mary pressed his arm gently, and they walked on in silence for a littlewhile. They were clear of the neighbourhood of Tower Cottage now, butstill a considerable distance from Old Place; very much alone togethero
n the heath, as they had seemed to be that night--that night ofnights--at the cottage.

  "I haven't so much as received the offer yet; only Mr. Naylor hasmentioned it to me."

  "Still you'd like to be ready with your answer when the offer is made,wouldn't you?" He drew suddenly away from her, and stood still on theroad, opposite to her. His face lost its playfulness; as it set intogravity, the lines upon it deepened, and his eyes looked rather sad."This is wrong of me, perhaps, but I can't help it. I'm not going totalk to you about myself. Confessions and apologies and excuses, and soon, aren't in my line. I should probably tell lies if I attemptedanything of the sort. You must take me or leave me on your own judgment,on your own feeling about me, as you've seen and known me--not long, butpretty intimately, Mary." He suddenly reached his hand into his pocketand pulled out the combination knife-and-fork. "That's all I've broughtaway of his from Tower Cottage. And I brought it away as much for yoursake as for his. It was during our encounter over this instrument that Ifirst thought of you as a woman, Mary. And, by Jove, I believe you knewit!"

  "Yes, I believe I did," she answered, her eyes set very steadily on his.

  He slipped the thing back into his pocket. "And now I love you, and Iwant you, Mary."

  She fell into a sudden agitation. "Oh, but this doesn't seem for me! I'dput all that behind me!--I----" She could scarcely find words. "I--I'mjust Doctor Mary!"

  "Lots of people to practise on--bodies and souls too--in the morallatitude I'm going to!"

  Her body seemed to shiver a little, as though before a plunge into deepwater. "I'm very safe here," she whispered.

  "Yes, you're safe here," he acknowledged gravely, and stood silent,waiting for her choice.

  "What a decision to have to make!" she cried suddenly. "It's all my lifein a moment! Because I don't want you to go away from me!" She drew nearto him, and put her hands on his shoulders. "I'm not a child, likeCynthia. I can't dream dreams and make idols any more. I think I see youas you are, and I don't know whether your love is a good thing." Shepaused, searching his eyes with hers very earnestly. Then she went on,"But if it isn't, I think there's no good thing left for me at all."

  "Mary, isn't that your answer to me?"

  "Yes." Her arms fell from his shoulders, and she stood opposite to him,in silence again for a moment. Then her troubled face cleared to a calmserenity. "And now I set doubts and fears behind me. I come to you infaith, and loyalty, and love. I'm not a missionary to you, or areformer. God forbid! I'm just the woman who loves you, Hector."

  "I should have mocked at the missionary, and tricked the reformer." Hebared his head before her. "But by the woman who loves me and whom Ilove, I will deal faithfully." He bent and kissed her forehead.

  "And now, let's walk on. No, not to Old Place--back home, past TowerCottage."

  She put her arm through his again, and they set out through the softdusk that had begun to hover about them. So they came to the cottage,and here, for a while, instinctively stayed their steps. A light shonein the parlour window; the Tower was dark and still. Mary turned herface to Beaumaroy's with a sudden smile of scornful gladness.

  "Aye, aye, you're right!" His smile answered hers. "Poor devils! I'msorry for them, upon my soul I am!"

  "That really is just like you!" she exclaimed in mirthful exasperation."Sorry for the Radbolts now, are you?"

  "Well, after all, they've only got the gold. We've got the treasure,Mary!"

  * * * * *

  BY THE SAME AUTHOR

  A CHANGE OF AIR

  A MAN OF MARK

  THE CHRONICLES OF COUNT ANTONIO

  PHROSO

  SIMON DALE

  THE KING'S MIRROR

  QUISANTE

  THE DOLLY DIALOGUES

  A SERVANT OF THE PUBLIC

  TALES OF TWO PEOPLE

  THE GREAT MISS DRIVER

  MRS. MAXON PROTESTS

  A YOUNG MAN'S YEAR