CHAPTER VI
IN WHICH MR. SCARSDALE CHANGES HIS NAME
Mr. Scarsdale entered Mrs. Allingford's compartment with so great animpetus, when he swung himself into her carriage at Basingstoke, that hecompletely lost his balance, and shot past her on all fours, to land ina heap on the floor. A second later the guard banged the door, and thetrain was off.
"What does this mean?" exclaimed the Consul's wife, "and where is myhusband?"
"Excuse me," gasped Scarsdale, picking himself up from the floor, "but Icouldn't leave you."
"So it appears," she replied coldly. "But you have not answered myquestion, and----" as the train began to move rapidly, "it is notpossible that we are getting under way!"
"Yes," he said gloomily, "we are off to Southampton."
"Answer me instantly: where is my husband?" she demanded.
"Gone to Exeter, I suppose, with my wife."
"What do you mean?"
"That he was carried off in the first division of the train, which leftfive minutes ago."
"But I thought we stopped ten minutes."
"So _you_ did; _we_ stopped only five. When I left you just now, I sawthat the forward half of this train had disappeared, and the guard toldme it had gone to Exeter, and that this portion was just leaving forSouthampton. I thought it better to stay with you than to let you go byyourself; so as the carriage was moving, and it was impossible to getyou out, I jumped in."
"Thank you," she said simply; and for a moment there was silence betweenthem while the train rattled over the points, and, reaching theoutskirts of the town, began to increase its speed. The littleEnglishwoman did not, however, emulate her fair American partner indistress, who was at this moment indulging in hysterics in the othertrain; she had been too well trained to betray her feelings before a manwhom she knew but slightly, even over the loss of a husband; so, afterremaining quiet for a little, she controlled herself sufficiently tosay, very calmly:
"I do not see that we can either of us blame ourselves for what hashappened; we must try and make the best of it, and rejoin your wife andmy husband as soon as possible."
Plucky little woman! thought Scarsdale to himself; to Mrs. Allingford hesaid:
"I am glad you see things in so sensible a light. You must let me helpyou in every way that is in my power."
"You say our first stop is Southampton?" she asked.
"Yes, we reach there in less than an hour. They slip some carriages atWinchester, but the train doesn't stop," he replied.
"Then I think we should alight at Southampton," she said, "and returnat once to Basingstoke."
"That would certainly be our best course. When you lose a man in acrowd, it is much better to wait at the point where you lost him till hefinds you than to hunt for him yourself, as you will both miss eachother."
"Then you propose to let them find us."
"That is my idea. Of course I'll telegraph to the station-master atBasingstoke that we will return there, so that if they wire forinformation concerning us he can give it them."
"Where do you think they have gone?"
"If we either of us knew our destination it would be far easier," hesaid, laughing. "I hope this will be a lesson to my wife."
"But surely the train must stop before it reaches Exeter."
"Undoubtedly; but as I have no time-table, I can't say where. Perhapsyour husband has one in his overcoat. If you will permit me," and heproceeded to examine the garment in question.
No time-table was forthcoming, however, and they were forced to resignthemselves to waiting till they reached Southampton.
Mrs. Allingford bore up bravely, and even tried to make conversation;but it proved to be a dreary ride, and when they drew up at theirdestination they were both exceedingly thankful.
"Is there a train back to Basingstoke soon?" asked Scarsdale of thefirst railway porter he saw.
"Yes, sir, over there on the left. Express leaves in three or fourminutes," replied that individual, as he hurried away with somebodyelse's baggage.
"I'll take you over," said Scarsdale.
"No," replied his companion, "I can find it. You attend to the telegramand my luggage."
He dashed off accordingly, and when he returned they both entered thetrain on the left.
"I've sent the telegram," he said, "and I have also discovered yourdestination."
"How?" she inquired.
"By the labels on the luggage. It was marked for Bournemouth, and ajolly hard time I had to induce them to take it out of the van and sendit back with us."
"It seems to me," she said after a little, "that we've been waiting heremore than four minutes. I trust we are not in the wrong train. One hasjust gone out."
"Hi! guard!" called Scarsdale from the window. "Is this the express forBasingstoke?"
"No, sir," replied the official. "It was the train beyond you, which hasjust left. Sorry if you've made a mistake, sir."
"Confound it, yes!" cried Scarsdale. "Where does this train go?"
"Stopping train for Winchester."
"Can we go on to Basingstoke?"
"Not by this train, sir."
"But from Winchester?"
"There is sure to be a train this evening, sir."
"It has been a chapter of accidents," he said, explaining it to Mrs.Allingford, "but we had better go to Winchester, I think; it is on theway anyhow."
"Yes," she assented, "and then get on to Basingstoke as fast as we can,and not be discouraged."
"Quite right," he replied, and entered into a description of Southamptondocks and the varied cargoes that were received there, in the hope ofdistracting her mind.
"Oh, look!" she cried, as, once more started on their travels, they camein sight of the shipping, "see what they are loading on that truck! I dobelieve it is an elephant!"
After what seemed an interminable journey, they at length arrived atWinchester, and as soon as Scarsdale had seen Mrs. Allingfordestablished in the ladies' waiting-room, he hastened to ascertain theirchances of getting to Basingstoke that night. On his return he wore avery long face, which his companion was not slow to interpret.
"Are there no trains?" she exclaimed, in evident dismay.
"There is one," he replied, "but we should not reach our destinationtill very late, almost midnight in fact, and we cannot tell that weshould find your husband even then. I think our best course would be toremain here."
"Oh, but that is impossible."
"No, there is a very fair hotel."
"I didn't mean that. But can't you see the position in which I amplaced?"
He did see, and he knew that what he proposed seemed to her almost animpossibility; but as they were now situated he considered thatcircumstances altered cases.
"I am sure, Mrs. Allingford," he said, "that your good sense, which hascarried you through so much this afternoon, will show you the necessityof acting as I have suggested. You must not forget that you are now amarried woman, and can do things which before were not permissible."
"Still," she contended, "to go to a public hotel with a gentleman who isa comparative stranger, and pass the night there, seems to me not thething at all; and if we were recognised by anybody----" She paused,hardly knowing how to complete her sentence.
"Then go alone. There are other hotels; I will put up somewhere else,"he replied.
"No, no, I couldn't be left alone; I've never been alone before in mylife. That would be worse than all else. You see, if you were onlyrelated to me it would be so different."
"I am quite willing to pass myself off as any relation you please, forthe sake of appearances."
"But that would be deceitful."
"I think the exigencies of the case will excuse that; besides, it is myown affair, not yours. Will you have me as a brother for one nightonly?" he asked, laughing.
"But I have no brother," she replied.
"Then as your husband's brother," he suggested; "that would be betterstill, as he is an American and not known here."
"Do you really think it best?"
"To save you annoyance, I think it is a pardonable deception. What ishis name?"
"Richard. But I don't know much about him."
"Then we will consider that that is settled," he said cheerfully, and,without giving her time to argue the matter, summoned a fly, whichpresently deposited them bag and baggage at the hotel door. To makeassurance doubly sure, he hastened to sign their names in the visitors'book:
"Mrs. Robert Allingford, Christchurch, England.
"Mr. Richard Allingford, U.S.A."
"Can you give my sister and me good rooms for to-night?" he asked thelandlady.
"Yes, sir, two nice rooms just opposite each other."
He said that that would do very well, and they were soon installed.
Once in her apartment, Mrs. Allingford indulged in a good cry, whileScarsdale strolled out before dinner to have a smoke and think it over.He did not see much further use in telegraphing just at that moment.Later it would, perhaps, be well to send a message to Basingstoke,saying that they were detained at Winchester and would come on nextmorning; for he had quickly learned that Mrs. Scarsdale and Mr.Allingford would be able to leave the train at Salisbury, and justlysurmised that they had done so.
Presently, having finished his cigar, he returned to the hotel to findMrs. Allingford ready for dinner, and much refreshed by her tears andsubsequent ablutions. They neither of them ate much, and after the fishthey gave up any attempt to make conversation as worse than useless, andfinished the repast in silence.
"I'm afraid," she said, as she folded her napkin, "that you've found mevery poor company."
"I'm nothing to boast of myself," he replied.
"I hope they are not as miserable as we are," she added, as they rose toleave the table. "I haven't been able to eat a thing."
Scarsdale did not reply; he had a gloomy suspicion that his wife wasmaking a very good meal somewhere. Not that he doubted her love; but hedid not believe her devotion included loss of appetite.
"Don't you think they are miserable?" she queried, uneasy at hissilence.
"Not so miserable as we are," he said. "They are both Americans, yousee, and Americans don't take things seriously as a rule."
"What do you suppose they are doing?" was her next question.
"Seated swinging their feet over the edge of Salisbury platform,finishing my five-pound box of American candy," he said.
She tried to be amused, and even forced a little laugh; but it was adismal failure, and, realising it, she at once excused herself andretired to her room for the night, leaving Scarsdale to pass the eveningas best he could. He approved of her circumspection, but it was beastlydull, and, as he sat smoking in the winter garden which the hotelboasted, he felt that he should soon become insufferably bored.
He presently, therefore, overcame his natural reserve sufficiently torespond to the advances of the only person in the room who seemedinclined to be sociable. The stranger was a florid, shaggy-bearded manof a distinctively American type, a person Scarsdale would naturallyhave avoided under ordinary circumstances; but to-night he felt the needof human society, no matter whose, and in a few moments they had driftedinto conversation. At first the subjects under discussion were harmlessenough, relating mainly to Winchester and neighbouring points ofinterest, concerning which Scarsdale was forced to confess himselfignorant, as it was his first visit to the place. Before long, however,they began to touch on more dangerous ground, and he saw that, even witha casual acquaintance of this sort, he must be guarded if he was toremain consistent in his role of brother to the deserted bride.
"Were you ever in America?" was the first question which startled him.
He replied in the affirmative, as he could honestly do, having beentaken by his father to Canada when but a lad. But the stranger was notsatisfied, and began, after the manner of his nation, a series ofleading questions, which kept Scarsdale busy in trying to assimilatewith some regard to truth the character he had chosen. It was at thismoment that a waiter came to him and asked in a perfectly audible voiceif he was Mr. Richard Allingford. Scarsdale was forced to admit thefact, and to reply to a message sent, as the waiter took unnecessarypains to explain, "By your sister, sir."
"Excuse me," interjected his companion, "but may I ask if your sister'sname is Mrs. Robert Allingford?"
The Englishman would have given worlds to deny the fact, but in thepresence of the waiter, who still lingered, and in the face of theevidence in the visitors' book, only one course was open to him, and hereplied reluctantly in the affirmative.
"Wife of the United States Consul at Christchurch?"
"Yes," said Scarsdale.
Now he could once more tell the truth, he felt happier; but he had apremonition that all was not well, and heartily wished he had neverencouraged this American, who might know more than was convenient.
"Why, Dick!" said that personage, leaning across the little table thatseparated them, and grasping both his hands--"Why, Dick! Don't you knowme?"
If a thunderbolt had shattered the floor at the Englishman's feet hecould not have been more dumfounded. The one seemingly impossible thinghad come to pass. In all this great world, with every chance against it,fate had ordained that the little provincial city in which he hadplanned to play, for one night only, another man's part, should alsocontain one of that man's friends, and they two had met. He was sostaggered, as the possibilities contingent on this mischance crowdedthrough his brain, that he could only stammer out:
"You have the advantage of me."
"Well, I don't much wonder," continued his new-found friend. "If I havechanged as much in fifteen years as you have, it isn't strange youdidn't recognise me. Lord! I'd never have known you if you hadn't toldme who you were."
"You must do me as great a favour," said Scarsdale, regaining a littleof his self-composure. If so long a time had elapsed since their lastmeeting, he felt that things were not so bad after all, and that hecould reasonably hope to bluff it out.
"Well," said the other, "the boys used to call me Faro Charlie; now youremember."
The Englishman tried to look as if he did, and the American proceeded tofurther elucidate matters by saying:
"Why, surely you ain't forgotten me as was your pal out to Red Dog, thetime you was prospecting for copper and struck gold?"
"No, no," said Scarsdale. "Of course I remember you now." He couldn't besupposed to have forgotten such an event, he felt; but the whole affairwas most unfortunate.
"I guess you've settled down and become pious, from the looks of you,"continued Faro Charlie; "but you'll have a drink for old times' sakejust the same."
"No, thanks, you must excuse me," he replied, feeling that he must dropthis unwelcome friend as soon as possible. But the friend had nointention of being dropped, and contented himself by saying:
"Rats!" and ordering two whiskies.
"Why, I've known the day," he continued, "when Slippery Dick--we used tocall you Slippery Dick, you remember, 'cause you could cheat worse atpoker than any man in the camp." Scarsdale writhed. "Well, as I wassaying, you'd have shot a man then who refused to drink with you."
The Englishman sat aghast. Little had he thought he was impersonating acard-sharper and a wholesale murderer. The whisky came and he drank it,feeling that he needed a bracer.
"Now," said Faro Charlie, "I want to hear all about what you've beendoing, first and last. Tending copper-mines, I heered, out to Michigan."
This, the Englishman felt, was going too far. It was bad enough to haveto impersonate such a fellow as "Slippery Dick," but to endow him with afictitious history that was at all comparable with Faro Charlie'saccount of his earlier years required too great an effort ofimagination. And the fact that a quiet little man, who was sitting nearby, edged up his chair and seemed deeply interested in the conversation,did not tend to put him more at his ease. No wonder, he thought, theConsul did not talk much about his brother. He therefore hastened tochange the subject.
"Ha
ve you seen much of the Indians lately?" he ventured; it seemed sucha safe topic.
"Thinking of that little squaw you was so chummy with down to InjunReservation?" queried his friend, punching him jovially in the ribs."You knew, didn't you, that they'd had her up for horse-stealing toFort Smith? Reckon as they'd a hung her if she hadn't been a woman. Shewas a limb! Guess you had your hands full when you tackled her."
Scarsdale decided his choice of a subject had not been fortunate, andbegged Faro Charlie to have some more whisky.
"Sure," replied that individual. "Drink with you all night."
"I'm afraid you can't do that," replied Scarsdale, hastening to ridhimself of his unwelcome friend. "I have some important business toattend to this evening."
"I wish you weren't in such a rush. Come back and we'll paint the town,eh?"
Scarsdale thought it extremely unlikely, and shaking hands fled to thestreet with a sigh of relief; for he had had a very bad quarter of anhour. What cursed luck that he should have run across this Americanhorror! He must avoid him at all costs to-morrow morning.
In his hurry he had not noticed that the quiet little man had left thewinter garden with him. His one thought was to get away. He determinedto send that telegram to Basingstoke at once, and go to bed before anyone else recognised him: one of Slippery Dick's friends was enough.
But unkind fate had not yet done with him, and a new and more terriblesurprise was in store for the unfortunate bridegroom. He had scarcelygone a dozen yards from the hotel entrance, when a voice said justbeside him:
"Excuse me, Mr. Richard Allingford, but may I have a few words withyou?"
Scarsdale turned, and finding himself face to face with the quiet littleman, who had seemed so interested in his conversation of a few momentsago, said:
"I seem to be in great demand to-night. Why do you wish to see me? Idon't know you."
"No," said the man who stood beside him. "No, you do not know me, Mr.Richard Allingford; but you will."
He was a quiet, unpretending little man; but there was something abouthis dress and bearing, and the snap with which he shut his jaw at theend of a sentence, an air of decision, in short, which caused theEnglishman to feel that he would do well to conciliate this stranger,whoever he might be, so he said shortly:
"What do you want with me? Speak quickly; I'm in a hurry."
"I couldn't help overhearing some of your conversation just now at thehotel, and so I took the liberty of following you to ask you aquestion."
"Yes?" said Scarsdale interrogatively.
"If I mistake not you are the brother of the United States Consul atChristchurch, and came over to his wedding."
"Yes," he admitted; for he did not see how he could well deny to one manwhat he had just confessed to another.
"You have been in England about ten days, I think?"
"As long as that, certainly."
"May I ask what ship you came on?"
"By what right do you ask me these questions?"
"You will see presently."
"But suppose I refuse to answer them?"
The unknown shrugged his shoulders, and said quietly:
"Now wasn't it the _Paris_?"
"Yes," said Scarsdale, who remembered with joy having seen that factchronicled in a London paper.
"I suppose you have never been in Winchester before?"
"Never in my life."
"Not last week?"
"Look here!" said Scarsdale angrily, "what the devil are you drivingat?"
"It is a pity you should have such a good memory for past and not forrecent events," said the quiet little man, "a great pity."
"I tell you I have never been here!"
"Didn't dine at the Lion's Head last Wednesday, for instance?"
"No, I did not, and I've had enough of this insolence!"
"So have I," said the little man, blowing a little whistle. "So have I,and therefore I arrest you, Richard Allingford, in the Queen's name."