CHAPTER III
THE WARNING OF FELIX
The three friends stood upon the pavement watching the little broughamuntil it disappeared round the corner in a flickering glitter of light.It would have been in accordance with precedent if after leaving therestaurant they had gone to some one of their clubs to smoke a cigar anddrink whisky and apollinaris, while Harcutt retailed the latest societygossip, and Densham descanted on art, and Wolfenden contributed genialremarks upon things in general. But to-night all three were inclined todepart from precedent. Perhaps the surprising incident which they hadjust witnessed made anything like normal routine seem unattractive;whatever the reason may have been, the young men were of a sudden notin sympathy with one another. Harcutt murmured some conventional lieabout having an engagement, supplemented it with some quite unconvincingstatement about pressure of work, and concluded with an obviouslydisingenuous protest against the tyranny of the profession ofjournalism, then he sprang with alacrity into a hansom and said goodbyewith a good deal less than his usual cordiality. Densham, too, hailed acab, and leaning over the apron delivered himself of a farewell speechwhich sounded rather malignant. "You are a lucky beast, Wolfenden," hegrowled enviously, adding, with a note of venom in his voice, "but don'tforget it takes more than the first game to win the rubber," and thenhe was whirled away, nodding his head and wearing an expression ofwisdom deeply tinged with gloom.
Wolfenden was surprised, but not exactly sorry that the first vagueexpression of hostility had been made by the others.
"Both of them must be confoundedly hard hit," he murmured to himself;"I never knew Densham turn nasty before." And to his coachman he saidaloud, "You may go home, Dawson. I am going to walk."
He turned on to the embankment, conscious of a curious sense ofexhilaration. He was no _blase_ cynic; but the uniformly easy lifetends to become just a trifle monotonous, and Lord Wolfenden's somewhatepicurean mind derived actual pleasure from the subtle luxury of a newsensation. What he had said of his friends he could have said with equaltruth of himself: he was confoundedly hard hit. For the first time inhis life he found the mere memory of a woman thrilling; his whole naturevibrated in response to the appeal she made to him, and he walked alongbuoyantly under the stars, revelling in the delight of being alive.
Suddenly he stopped abruptly. Huddled up in the corner of a seat was aman with a cloth cap pulled forward screening his face: at that momentLord Wolfenden was in a mood to be extravagantly generous to any poorapplicant for alms, lavishly sympathetic to any tale of distress. Butit was not ordinary curiosity that arrested his progress now. Heknew almost at the first glance who it was that sat in this dejectedattitude, although the opera hat was replaced by the soft cloth cap, andin other details the man's appearance was altered. It was indeed the Mr.Felix who had supped with him at the "Milan" and subsequently behaved inso astonishing a fashion.
He knew that he was recognised, and sat up, looking steadfastly atWolfenden, although his lips trembled and his eyes gleamed wildly.Across his temples a bright red mark was scored.
Lord Wolfenden broke the silence.
"You're a nice sort of fellow to ask out to supper! What in the name ofall that's wonderful were you trying to do?"
"I should have thought it was sufficiently obvious," the man repliedbitterly. "I tried to kill him, and I failed. Well, why don't you callthe police? I am quite ready. I shall not run again."
Wolfenden hesitated, and then sat down by the side of this surprisingindividual.
"The man you went for didn't seem to care, so I don't see why I should.But why do you want to kill him?"
"To keep a vow," the other answered; "how and why made I will not tellyou."
"How did you escape?" Wolfenden asked abruptly.
"Probably because I didn't care whether I escaped or not," Felixreplied, with a short, bitter laugh. "I stood behind some shrubs justinside the garden, and watched the hunt go by. Then I came out here andsat down."
"It all sounds very simple," said Wolfenden, a trifle sarcastically."May I ask what you are going to do next?"
Felix's face so clearly intimated that he might not ask anything of thekind, or that if he did his curiosity would not be satisfied, thatWolfenden felt compelled to make some apology.
"Forgive me if I seem inquisitive, but I find the situation a littleunusual. You were my guest, you see, and had it not been for my chanceinvitation you might not have met that man at all. Then again, had itnot been for my interference he would have been dead now and you wouldhave been in a fair way to be hanged."
Felix evinced no sign of gratitude for Wolfenden's intervention. Insteadhe said intensely,
"Oh, you fool! you fool!"
"Well, really," Wolfenden protested, "I don't see why----" But Felixinterrupted him.
"Yes, you are a fool," he repeated, "because you saved his life. He isan old man now. I wonder how many there have been in the course of hislong life who desired to kill him? But no one--not one solitary humanbeing--has ever befriended him or come to his rescue in time of dangerwithout living to be sorry for it. And so it will be with you. You willlive to be sorry for what you have done to-night; you will live tothink it would have been far better for him to fall by my hand than foryourself to suffer at his. And you will wish passionately that you hadlet him die. Before heaven, Wolfenden, I swear that that is true."
The man was so much in earnest, his passion was so quietly intense, thatWolfenden against his will was more than half convinced. He was silent.He suddenly felt cold, and the buoyant elation of mind in which he hadstarted homewards vanished, leaving him anxious and heavy, perhaps justa little afraid.
"I did what any man would do for any one else," he said, almostapologetically. "It was instinctive. As a matter of fact, thatparticular man is a perfect stranger to me. I have never seen himbefore and it is quite possible that I shall never see him again."
Felix turned quickly towards him.
"If you believe in prayer," he said, "go down on your knees where youare and pray as you have never prayed for anything before that you maynot see him again. There has never been a man or a woman yet who has notbeen the worse for knowing him. He is like the pestilence that walkethin the darkness, poisoning every one that is in the way of his horribleinfection."
Wolfenden pulled himself together. There was no doubt about hiscompanion's earnestness, but it was the earnestness of an unbalancedmind. Language so exaggerated as his was out of keeping with the timesand the place.
"Tell me some more about him," he suggested. "Who is he?"
"I won't tell you," Felix answered, obstinately.
"Well, then, who is the lady?"
"I don't know. It is quite enough for me to know that she is hiscompanion for the moment."
"You do not intend to be communicative, I can see," said Wolfenden,after a brief pause, "but I wish I could persuade you to tell me why youattempted his life to-night."
"There was the opportunity," said Felix, as if that in itself weresufficient explanation. Then he smiled enigmatically. "There are atleast three distinct and separate reasons why I should take hislife,--all of them good. Three, I mean, why I should do it. But I havenot been his only victim. There are plenty of others who have a heavyreckoning against him, and he knows what it is to carry his life in hishand. But he bears a charmed existence. Did you see his stick?"
"Yes," said Wolfenden, "I did. It had a peculiar stone in the handle; inthe electric light it looked like a huge green opal."
Felix assented moodily.
"That is it. He struck me with a stick. He would not part with it foranything. It was given him by some Indian fakir, and it is said thatwhile he carries it he is proof against attack."
"Who says so?" Wolfenden inquired.
"Never mind," said Felix. "It's enough that it is said." He relapsedinto silence, and when he next spoke his manner was different. Hisexcited vehemence had gone and there was nothing in his voice ordemeanour inconsistent with normal sanity. Yet his words we
re no lesscharged with deep intention. "I do not know much about you, LordWolfenden," he said; "but I beg you to take the advice I am offeringyou. No one ever gave you better in your life. Avoid that man as youwould avoid the plague. Go away before he looks you up to thank you forwhat you did. Go abroad, anywhere; the farther the better; and stay awayfor ever, if that is the only means of escaping his friendship or evenhis acquaintance."
Lord Wolfenden shook his head.
"I'm a very ordinary, matter of fact Englishman," he said, "leadinga very ordinary, matter of fact life, and you must forgive me if Iconsider such a sweeping condemnation a little extravagant andfantastic. I have no particular enemies on my conscience, I amimplicated in no conspiracy, and I am, in short, an individual of verylittle importance. Consequently I have nothing to fear from anybody andam afraid of nobody. This man cannot have anything to gain by injuringme. I believe you said you did not know the lady?"
"The lady?" Felix repeated. "No, I do not know her, nor anything of herbeyond the fact that she is with him for the time being. That is quitesufficient for me."
Wolfenden got up.
"Thanks," he said lazily. "I only asked you for facts. As for yoursuggestion--you will be well advised not to repeat it."
"Oh!" exclaimed Felix, scornfully, "how blind and pig-headed you Englishpeople are! I have told you something of the man's reputation. What canhers be, do you suppose, if she will sup alone with him in a publicrestaurant?"
"Good-night," said Wolfenden. "I will not listen to another word."
Felix rose to his feet and laid his hand upon Lord Wolfenden's arm.
"Lord Wolfenden," he said, "you are a very decent fellow: do try tobelieve that I am only speaking for your good. That girl----"
Wolfenden shook him off.
"If you allude to that young lady, either directly or indirectly," hesaid very calmly, "I shall throw you into the river."
Felix shrugged his shoulders.
"At least remember that I warned you," was all he ventured to say asLord Wolfenden strode away.
* * * * *
Leaving the embankment Wolfenden walked quickly to Half Moon Street,where his chambers were. His servant let him in and took his coat. Therewas an anxious expression upon his usually passive face and he appearedto be rather at a loss for words in which to communicate his news. Atlast he got it out, accompanying the question with a nervous anddeprecating cough.
"I beg your pardon, my lord, but were you expecting a young lady?"
"A what, Selby?" Wolfenden exclaimed, looking at him in amazement.
"A lady, my lord: a young lady."
"Of course not," said Wolfenden, with a frown. "What on earth do youmean?"
Selby gathered courage.
"A young lady called here about an hour ago, and asked for you. Johnsoninformed her that you might be home shortly, and she said she wouldwait. Johnson, perhaps imprudently, admitted her, and she is in thestudy, my lord."
"A young lady in my study at this time of night!" Wolfenden exclaimed,incredulously. "Who is she, and what is she, and why has she come atall? Have you gone mad, Selby?"
"Then you were not expecting her?" the man said, anxiously. "She gave noname, but she assured Johnson that you did."
"You are a couple of idiots," Wolfenden said angrily. "Of course Iwasn't expecting her. Surely both you and Johnson have been in myservice long enough to know me better than that."
"I am exceedingly sorry, my lord," the man said abjectly. "But the younglady's appearance misled us both. If you will allow me to say so, mylord, I am quite sure that she is a lady. No doubt there is somemistake; but when you see her I think you will exonerate Johnson and mefrom----"
His master cut his protestations short.
"Wait where you are until I ring," he said. "It never entered my headthat you could be such an incredible idiot."
He strode into the study, closing the door behind him, and Selbyobediently waited for the bell. But a long time passed before thesummons came.