CHAPTER XX
Ernestine walked from Lincoln's Inn to the office of the Hour, where shestayed until nearly four. Then, having finished her day's work, shemade her way homewards. Davenant was waiting for her in her rooms. Shegreeted him with some surprise.
"You told me that I might come to tea," he reminded her. "If you'reexpecting any one else, or I'm in the way at all, don't mind saying so,please!"
She shook her head.
"I'm certainly not expecting any one," she said. "To tell you the truthmy visiting-list is a very small one; scarcely any one knows where Ilive. Sit down, and I will ring for tea."
He looked at her curiously. "What a colour you have, Ernestine!" heremarked. "Have you been walking fast?"
She laughed softly, and took off her hat, straightening the wavy brownhair, which had escaped bounds a little, in front of the mirror. Shelooked at herself long and thoughtfully at the delicately cut but strongfeatures, the clear, grey eyes and finely arched eyebrows, the curving,humorous mouth and dainty chin. Davenant regarded her in amazement.
"Why, Ernestine," he exclaimed, "are you taking stock of your goodlooks?"
"Precisely what I am doing," she answered laughing. "At that moment Iwas wondering whether I possessed any."
"If you will allow me," he said, "to take the place of the mirror, Ithink that I could give you any assurances you required."
She shook her head.
"You might be more flattering," she said, "but you would be lessfaithful."
He remained standing upon the hearthrug. Ernestine returned to themirror.
"May I know," he asked, "for whose sake is this sudden anxiety aboutyour appearance?"
She turned away and sat in a low chair, her hands clasped behind herhead, her eyes fixed upon vacancy.
"I have been wondering," she said, "whether if I set myself to it asto a task I could make a man for a moment forget himself--did I sayforget?--I mean betray!"
"If I were that man," he remarked smiling, "I will answer for it thatyou could."
"You! But then you are only a boy, you have nothing to conceal, and youare partial to me, aren't you? No, the man whom I want to influence is avery different sort of person. It is Scarlett Trent."
He frowned heavily. "A boor," he said. "What have you to do with him?The less the better I should say."
"And from my point of view, the more the better," she answered. "I havecome to believe that but for him my father would be alive to-day."
"I do not understand! If you believe that, surely you do not wish to seethe man--to have him come near you!"
"I want him punished!"
He shook his head. "There is no proof. There never could be any proof!"
"There are many ways," she said softly, "in which a man can be made tosuffer."
"And you would set yourself to do this?"
"Why not? Is not anything better than letting him go scot-free? Wouldyou have me sit still and watch him blossom into a millionaire peer,a man of society, drinking deep draughts of all the joys of life, withnever a thought for the man he left to rot in an African jungle? Oh, anyway of punishing him is better than that. I have declared war againstScarlett Trent."
"How long," he asked, "will it last?"
"Until he is in my power," she answered slowly. "Until he has fallenback again to the ruck. Until he has tasted a little of the misery fromwhich at least he might have saved my father!"
"I think," he said, "that you are taking a great deal too much forgranted. I do not know Scarlett Trent, and I frankly admit that I amprejudiced against him and all his class. Yet I think that he deserveshis chance, like any man. Go to him and ask him, face to face, how yourfather died, declare yourself, press for all particulars, seek even forcorroboration of his word. Treat him if you will as an enemy, but as anhonourable one!"
She shook her head.
"The man," she said, "has all the plausibility of his class. He haslearned it in the money school, where these things become an art.He believes himself secure--he is even now seeking for me. He is allprepared with his story. No, my way is best."
"I do not like your way," he said. "It is not like you, Ernestine."
"For the sake of those whom one loves," she said, "one will do much thatone hates. When I think that but for this man my father might still havebeen alive, might have lived to know how much I loathed those who senthim into exile--well, I feel then that there is nothing in the world Iwould not do to crush him!"
He rose to his feet--his fresh, rather boyish, face was wrinkled withcare.
"I shall live to be sorry, Ernestine," he said, "that I ever told youthe truth about your father."
"If I had discovered it for myself," she said, "and, sooner or later, Ishould have discovered it, and had learned that you too had been in theconspiracy, I should never have spoken to you again as long as I lived."
"Then I must not regret it," he said, "only I hate the part you aregoing to play. I hate to think that I must stand by and watch, and saynothing."
"There is no reason," she said, "why you should watch it; why do you notgo away for a time?"
"I cannot," he answered sadly, "and you know why."
She was impatient, but she looked at him for a moment with a gleam ofsadness in her eyes.
"It would be much better for you," she said, "if you would make up yourmind to put that folly behind you."
"It may be folly, but it is not the sort of folly one forgets."
"You had better try then, Cecil," she said, "for it is quite hopeless.You know that. Be a man and leave off dwelling upon the impossible. I donot wish to marry, and I do not expect to, but if ever I did, it wouldnot be you!"
He was silent for a few moments--looking gloomily across at the girl,loathing the thought that she, his ideal of all those things whichmost become a woman, graceful, handsome, perfectly bred, should ever bebrought into contact at all with such a man as this one whose confidenceshe was planning to gain. No, he could not go away and leave her! Hemust be at hand, must remain her friend.
"I wonder," he said, "couldn't we have one of our old evenings again?Listen--"
"I would rather not," she interrupted softly. "If you will persist intalking of a forbidden subject you must go away. Be reasonable, Cecil."
He was silent for a moment. When he spoke again his tone was changed.
"Very well," he said. "I will try to let things be as you wish--for thepresent. Now do you want to hear some news?"
She nodded.
"Of course."
"It's about Dick--seems rather a coincidence too. He was at the Cape,you know, with a firm of surveyors, and he's been offered a post on theGold Coast."
"The Gold Coast! How odd! Anywhere near--?"
"The offer came from the Bekwando Company!"
"Is he going?"
"Yes."
She was full of eager interest. "How extraordinary! He might be able tomake some inquiries for me."
He nodded.
"What there is to be discovered about Mr. Scarlett Trent, he can findout! But, Ernestine, I want you to understand this! I have nothingagainst the man, and although I dislike him heartily, I think it ismadness to associate him in any way with your father's death."
"You do not know him. I do!"
"I have only told you my opinion," he answered, "it is of noconsequence. I will see with your eyes. He is your enemy and he shall bemy enemy. If there is anything shady in his past out there, depend uponit Dick will hear of it."
She pushed the wavy hair back from her forehead--her eyes were bright,and there was a deep flush of colour in her cheeks. But the man was notto be deceived. He knew that these things were not for him. It was theaccomplice she welcomed and not the man.
"It is a splendid stroke of fortune," she said. "You will write to Fredto-day, won't you? Don't prejudice him either way. Write as though yourinterest were merely curiosity. It is the truth I want to get at, thatis all. If the man is innocent I wish him no harm--only I believe himguilty."
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"There was a knock at the door--both turned round. Ernestine's trimlittle maidservant was announcing a visitor who followed close behind.
"Mr. Scarlett Trent."