CHAPTER XXIII
METHODS FROM FRANCE
Meanwhile Stella Ballantyne waited below. She heard Mr. Hazlewood in thehall greeting the Pettifers with the false joviality which sat so illupon him; she imagined the shy nods and glances which told them that thetrap was properly set. Mr. Hazlewood led them into the room.
"Is tea ready, Stella? We won't wait for Dick," he said, and Stella tookher place at the table. She had her back to the door by which Threskwould enter. She had not a doubt that thus her chair had beendeliberately placed. He would be in the room and near to the table beforehe saw her. He would not have a moment to prepare himself against thesurprise of her presence. Stella listened for the sound of his footstepsin the hall; she could not think of a single topic to talk about exceptthe presence of that extra sixth cup; and that she must not mention ifthe tables were really to be turned upon her antagonists. Surprise mustbe visible upon her side when Thresk did come in. But she was not alonein finding conversation difficult. Embarrassment and expectancy weigheddown the whole party, so that they began suddenly to speak at once andsimultaneously to stop. Robert Pettifer however asked if Dick was playingcricket, and so gave Harold Hazlewood an opportunity.
"No, the match was over early," said the old man, and he settledhimself in his arm-chair. "I have given some study to the subject ofcricket," he said.
"You?" asked Stella with a smile of surprise. Was he merely playing fortime, she wondered? But he had the air of contentment with which heusually embarked upon his disquisitions.
"Yes. I do not consider our national pastime beneath a philosopher'sattention. I have formed two theories about the game."
"I am sure you have," Robert Pettifer interposed.
"And I have invented two improvements, though I admit at once that theywill have to wait until a more enlightened age than ours adopts them. Inthe first place"--and Mr. Hazlewood flourished a forefinger in theair--"the game ought to be played with a soft ball. There is at present asuggestion of violence about it which the use of a soft ball wouldentirely remove."
"Entirely," Mr. Pettifer agreed and his wife exclaimed impatiently:
"Rubbish, Harold, rubbish!"
Stella broke nervously into the conversation.
"Violence? Why even women play cricket, Mr. Hazlewood."
"I cannot, Stella," he returned, "accept the view that whatever women domust necessarily be right. There are instances to the contrary."
"Yes. I come across a few of them in my office," Robert Pettifer saidgrimly; and once more embarrassment threatened to descend upon the party.But Mr. Hazlewood was off upon a favourite theme. His eyes glistened andthe object of the gathering vanished for the moment from his thoughts.
"And in the second place," he resumed, "the losers should be accounted tohave won the game."
"Yes, that must be right," said Pettifer. "Upon my word you are in form,Hazlewood."
"But why?" asked Mrs. Pettifer.
Harold Hazlewood smiled upon her as upon a child and explained:
"Because by adopting that system you would do something to eradicate thespirit of rivalry, the desire to win, the ambition to beat somebody elsewhich is at the bottom of half our national troubles."
"And all our national success," said Pettifer.
Hazlewood patted his brother-in-law upon the shoulder. He looked at himindulgently. "You are a Tory, Robert," he said, and implied that argumentwith such an one was mere futility.
He had still his hand upon Pettifer's shoulder when the door opened.Stella saw by the change in his face that it was Thresk who was entering.But she did not move.
"Ah," said Mr. Hazlewood. "Come over here and take a cup of tea."
Thresk came forward to the table. He seemed altogether unconscious thatthe eyes of the two men were upon him.
"Thank you. I should like one," he said, and at the sound of his voiceStella Ballantyne turned around in her chair.
"You!" she cried and the cry was pitched in a tone of pleasure andwelcome.
"Of course you know Mrs. Ballantyne," said Hazlewood. He saw Stella risefrom her chair and hold out her hand to Thresk with the colour aflame inher cheeks.
"You are surprised to see me again," she said.
Thresk took her hand cordially. "I am delighted to see you again,"he replied.
"And I to see you," said Stella, "for I have never yet had a chance ofthanking you"; and she spoke with so much frankness that even Pettiferwas shaken in his suspicions. She turned upon Mr. Hazlewood with amimicry of indignation. "Do you know, Mr. Hazlewood, that you have done avery cruel thing?"
Mr. Hazlewood was utterly discomfited by the failure of his plot, andwhen Stella attacked him so directly he had not a doubt but that she haddivined his treachery.
"I?" he gasped. "Cruel? How?"
"In not telling me beforehand that I was to meet so good a friend ofmine." Her face relaxed to a smile as she added: "I would have put on mybest frock in his honour."
Undoubtedly Stella carried off the honour of that encounter. She had atonce driven the battle with spirit onto Hazlewood's own ground and lefthim worsted and confused. But the end was not yet. Mr. Hazlewood waitedfor his son Richard, and when Richard appeared he exclaimed:
"Ah, here's my son. Let me present him to you, Mr. Thresk. And there'sthe family."
He leaned back, with a smile in his eyes, watching Henry Thresk. RobertPettifer watched too.
"The family?" Thresk asked. "Is Mrs. Ballantyne a relation then?"
"She is going to be," said Dick.
"Yes," Mr. Hazlewood explained, still beaming and still watchful."Richard and Stella are going to be married."
A pause followed which was just perceptible before Thresk spoke again.But he had his face under control. He took the stroke without flinching.He turned to Dick with a smile.
"Some men have all the luck," he said, and Dick, who had been looking athim in bewilderment, cried:
"Mr. Thresk? Not the Mr. Thresk to whom I owe so much?"
"The very man," said Thresk, and Dick held out his hand to him gravely.
"Thank you," he said. "When I think of the horrible net of doubt andassumption in which Stella was coiled, I tell you I feel cold down myspine even now. If you hadn't come forward with your facts--"
"Yes," Thresk interposed. "If I hadn't come forward with my facts. But Icouldn't well keep them to myself, could I?" A few more words were saidand then Dick rose from his chair.
"Time's up, Stella," and he explained to Henry Thresk: "We have to lookover a house this afternoon."
"A house? Yes, I see," said Thresk, but he spoke slowly and there wasjust audible a little inflection of doubt in his voice. Stella waslistening for it; she heard it when her two antagonists noticed nothing.
"But, Dick," she said quickly, "we can put the inspection off."
"Not on my account," Thresk returned. "There's no need for that." He wasnot looking at Stella whilst he spoke and she longed to see his face. Shemust know exactly how she stood with him, what he thought of her. Sheturned impulsively to Mr. Hazlewood.
"I haven't been asked, but may I come to dinner? You see I owe a gooddeal to Mr. Thresk."
Mr. Hazlewood was for the moment at a loss. He had not lost hope thatbetween now and dinner-time explanations would be given which wouldbanish Stella Ballantyne altogether from Little Beeding. But he had noexcuse ready and he stammered out:
"Of course, my dear. Didn't I ask you? I must have forgotten. I certainlyexpect you to dine with us to-night. Margaret will no doubt be here."
Margaret Pettifer had taken little part in the conversation about thetea-table. She sat in frigid hostility, speaking only when politenesscommanded. She accepted her brother's invitation with a monosyllable.
"Thank you," said Stella, and she faced Henry Thresk, looking himstraight in the eyes but not daring to lay any special stress upon thewords: "Then I shall see you to-night."
Thresk read in her face a prayer that he should hold his hand until shehad a chance
to speak with him. She turned away and went from the roomwith Dick Hazlewood.
The old man rose as soon as the door was closed.
"Now we might have a look at the miniatures, Mr. Thresk. You will excuseus, Margaret, won't you?"
"Of course," she answered upon a nod from her husband. The two men passedthrough the doors into the great library whilst Thresk took a moreceremonious leave of Mrs. Pettifer; and as Hazlewood opened the drawersof his cabinets Robert Pettifer said in a whisper:
"That was a pretty good failure, I must say. And it was my idea too."
"Yes," replied Hazlewood in a voice as low. "What do you think?"
"That they share no secret."
"You are satisfied then?"
"I didn't say that"; and Thresk himself appeared in the doorway and wentacross to the writing-table upon which Hazlewood had just laid a drawerin which miniatures were ranged.
"I haven't met you," said Pettifer, "since you led for us in the greatBirmingham will-suit."
"No," answered Thresk as he took his seat at the table. "It wasn't quitesuch a tough fight as I expected. You see there wasn't one reallyreliable witness for the defence."
"No," said Pettifer grimly. "If there had been we should have beenbeaten."
Mr. Hazlewood began to point out this and that miniature of hiscollection, bending over Thresk as he did so. It seemed that the twocollectors were quite lost in their common hobby until Robert Pettifergave the signal.
Then Mr. Hazlewood began:
"I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Thresk, for reasons quite outside theseminiatures of mine."
He spoke with a noticeable awkwardness, yet Henry Thresk disregarded italtogether.
"Oh?" he said carelessly.
"Yes. Being Richard's father I am naturally concerned in everythingwhich affects him nearly--the trial of Stella Ballantyne for instance."
Thresk bent his head down over the tray.
"Quite so," he said. He pointed to a miniature. "I saw that at Christie'sand coveted it myself."
"Did you?" Mr. Hazlewood asked and he almost offered it as a bribe. "Nowyou gave evidence, Mr. Thresk."
Thresk never lifted his head.
"You have no doubt read the evidence I gave," he said, peering from thisdelicate jewel of the painter's art to that.
"To be sure."
"And since your son is engaged to Mrs. Ballantyne, I suppose that youwere satisfied with it"--and he paused to give a trifle of significanceto his next words--"as the jury was."
"Yes, of course," Mr. Hazlewood stammered, "but a witness, I think, onlyanswers the questions put to him."
"That is so," said Thresk, "if he is a wise witness." He took one of theminiatures out of the drawer and held it to the light. But Mr. Hazlewoodwas not to be deterred.
"And subsequent reflection," he continued obstinately, "might suggestthat all the questions which could throw light upon the trial had notbeen put."
Thresk replaced the miniature in the drawer in front of him and leanedback in his chair. He looked now straight at Mr. Hazlewood.
"It was not, I take it, in order to put those questions to me that youwere kind enough, Mr. Hazlewood, to ask me to give my opinion on yourminiatures. For that would have been setting a trap for me, wouldn't it?"
Hazlewood stared at Thresk with the bland innocence of a child. "Oh no,no," he declared, and then an insinuating smile beamed upon his longthin face. "Only since you _are_ here and since so much is at stake forme--my son's happiness--I hoped that you might perhaps give us an answeror two which would disperse the doubts of some suspicious people."
"Who are they?" asked Thresk.
"Neighbours of ours," replied Hazlewood, and thereupon Robert Pettiferstepped forward. He had remained aloof and silent until this moment. Nowhe spoke shortly, but he spoke to the point:
"I for one."
Thresk turned with a smile upon Pettifer.
"I thought so. I recognised Mr. Pettifer's hand in all this. But he oughtto know that the sudden confrontation of a suspected person withunexpected witnesses takes place, in those countries where the method ispractised, before the trial; not, as you so ingeniously arranged it thisafternoon, two years after the verdict has been given."
Robert Pettifer turned red. Then he looked whimsically across the tableat his brother-in-law.
"We had better make a clean breast of it, Hazlewood."
"I think so," said Thresk gently.
Pettifer came a step nearer. "We are in the wrong," he said bluntly. "Butwe have an excuse. Our trouble is very great. Here's my brother-in-law tobegin with, whose whole creed of life has been to deride the authority ofconventional man--to tilt against established opinion. Mrs. Ballantynecomes back from her trial in Bombay to make her home again at LittleBeeding. Hazlewood champions her--not for her sake, but for the sake ofhis theories. It pleases his vanity. Now he can prove that he is not asothers are."
Mr. Hazlewood did not relish this merciless analysis of his character. Hetwisted in his chair, he uttered a murmur of protest. But Robert Pettiferwaved him down and continued:
"So he brings her to his house. He canvasses for her. He throws his sonin her way. She has beauty--she has something more than beauty--shestands apart as a woman who has walked through fire. She has sufferedvery much. Look at it how one will, she has suffered beyond her deserts.She has pretty deferential ways which make their inevitable appeal towomen as to men. In a word, Hazlewood sets the ball rolling and it getsbeyond his reach."
Thresk nodded.
"Yes, I understand that."
"Finally, Hazlewood's son falls in love with her--not a boy mind, but aman claiming a man's right to marry where he loves. And at once inHazlewood conventional man awakes."
"Dear me, no," interposed Harold Hazlewood.
"But I say yes," Pettifer continued imperturbably. "Conventional manawakes in him and cries loudly against the marriage. Then there's myself.I am fond of Dick. I have no child. He will be my heir and I am not poor.He is doing well in his profession. To be an Instructor of the StaffCorps at his age means hard work, keenness, ability. I look forward to agreat career. I am very fond of him. And--understand me, Mr. Thresk"--hechecked his speech and weighed his words very carefully--"I wouldn't saythat he shouldn't marry Stella Ballantyne just because Stella Ballantynehas lain under a grave charge of which she has been acquitted. No, I maybe as formal as my brother-in-law thinks, but I hold a wider faith thanthat. But I am not satisfied. That is the truth, Mr. Thresk. I am notsure of what happened in that tent in far-away Chitipur after you hadridden away to catch the night mail to Bombay."
Robert Pettifer had made his confession simply and with some dignity.Thresk looked at him for a few moments. Was he wondering whether hecould answer the questions? Was he hesitating through anger at thetrick which had been played upon him? Pettifer could not tell. He waitedin suspense. Thresk pushed his chair back suddenly and came forward frombehind the table.
"Ask your questions," he said.
"You consent to answer them?" Mr. Hazlewood cried joyously, and Threskreplied with coldness:
"I must. For if I don't consent your suspicions at once are double whatthey were. But I am not pleased."
"Oh, we practised a little diplomacy," said Hazlewood, making light ofhis offence.
"Diplomacy!" For the first time a gleam of anger shone in Thresk's eyes."You have got me to your house by a trick. You have abused your positionas my host. And but that I should injure a woman whom life has donenothing but injure I should go out of your door this instant."
He turned his back upon Harold Hazlewood and sat down in a chair oppositeto Robert Pettifer. A little round table separated them. Pettifer, seatedupon a couch, took from his pocket the envelope with the press-cuttingsand spread them on the table in front of him. Thresk lolled back in hischair. It was plain that he was in no terror of Pettifer's examination.
"I am at your service," he said.