IV
Theconversation, which was becoming full of perilous possibilities, was interrupted by the stopping of the train at Newbury. From her place by the window Elfreda observed a consequential little man strutting along the platform in the direction of their compartment. He was looking for a vacant seat. She recognized at once by a portrait in theSociety Pictorialnow open on her knee, that he was no less a person than Sir Toby Philpot, the author of the play; and to judge by the quantity of luggage in charge of his servant it was not unreasonable to suppose that he was on his way to the scene of action at Clavering St. Mary’s.
He looked a harmless little donkey enough, but among Elfreda’s own friends he had the reputation of a bounder. It was this fact in the first instance which may have led her to judge “The Lady of Laxton” so harshly; at all events the piece could scarcely have been as bad as she thought it was or it would never have held together. But at least it went far to account for the depth of her resentment against her father and mother who, without giving her any option in the matter, had so high-handedly let her in for something she was going to dislike intensely.
A sense of disgust pervaded Elfreda. Really there was hardly anything about the little man to call for such an emotion, but it was his misfortune to be the central figure just now of the world she was hating.
“Pikey!” Her imperiousness was almost savage in the ear of the Werewolf opposite. “Put your head out.” Elfreda lowered the window fiercely. “Look your largest.” She might have been addressing a very favorite grizzly whom she had been clever enough to tame. “Let him see you.... Let him really see you.”
As soon as Pikey grew alive to the situation she rose and thrust forth her head in all its man-hating ruthlessness. She was only just in time. Sir Toby, having caught a glimpse already of a decidedly attractive occupant, was making a bee-line for the carriage door. But the sight of Pikey, grim as a gargoyle and breathing latent ferocity, gave pause even to a recently elected member of the Old Buck House Club. Swollen with self-importance Sir Toby undoubtedly was, but in point of inches he was a very small man indeed, and he was confronted with the jaws of a man-eating tiger and the nose of a crocodile.
Sir Toby suddenly decided to seek refuge elsewhere.
With a sigh of relief Elfreda lowered the ample pages of theSociety Pictorial, behind which she had entrenched herself. “No family should be without you, Pikey,” she said gratefully.
The train moved on. But somehow the incident caused Elfreda’s resentment to flame even higher. Shehad yet to meet the author of “The Lady of Laxton,” but she was amazingly quick in taking the measure of the world at large. In regard to her fellow creatures her opinions were few, but they were very definite. A first view of Sir Toby Philpot had convinced her that his reputation was deserved and that she was bound to dislike him intensely. It was all very unfair, no doubt, but she belonged to the sex which, with all its virtues, will never be able to run a League of Nations.
Again her eyes strayed across to the student ofThe Patrician. Poor Miss Cass ... and yet ... lucky Miss Cass! Then it was in just that fragment of time while she gazed at the slow-moving pencil of the “Lady of Laxton” that a diabolical thought began to take shape in her mind....
If only....
It would score them off properly....
Above all it would teach a certain Person a lesson....
Elfreda began to hug her wicked thoughts. Fate itself appeared to be taking some trouble to play into her hands. Surely a great opportunity was being given her if only she could rise to the height of it. But even if that was the case there was still one very vital question to ask and to answer. Could the girl opposite be screwed up to the requisite pitch of nerve and enterprise?
No sooner had Elfreda put this question to herself than she did a thing that naught can condone. Deliberately, of malice prepense, she forced Pikey and Miss Cass to finish the bottle. As far as the maid was concerned there was really no obstacle; she was more than willing to play her part. But Miss Cass needed tact and firmness; she had to be handled with masterful delicacy.
“Please—youwillhelp us—won’t you?” The voice of the siren. “Yes—really—you must!” The daughter of the marquis dealt out honest measure with her own uncompromising hand. “That’s your glass, I think—the one at the top—isn’t it, Pikey?”
Pikey’s grunt was in the affirmative, but if eyes could have slain, her mistress would have died on the spot. How dare she offer one of her father’s choicest vintages to such a middle-class person!
The Lady of Laxton had already fallen at once to the blandishments of her imperiously charming benefactress. Her instinct was to resist, but the Bottle Imp had seriously weakened her resolve. She knew it was wrong, insane, indecent, but an eye of concentrated power seemed to bore right through her soul. And, after all, such wine as that did give one a perfectly heavenly feeling.
Once more, and almost in spite of herself, Miss Cass brought her lips warily to the edge of the tumbler. It was folly, nay, it was piggishness, but at that moment she was hardly more than a helpless midge caughtin the toils of an inexorable will. The wonderful blue eyes of the girl opposite had the quality of steel. “Please!... don’t let us waste it ... it is supposed to be rather good of its kind!”
History, alas, is hardly likely to be very gentle with the Lady Elfreda!
The bottle was finished at last. And Pikey, who, after all, had had the lion’s share of it, sat back on her cushions in a state of most agreeable somnolence. As for Miss Cass, her pencil began to fly across the paper.
“Mr. John Galsworthy in common with Mr. Arnold Bells and Mr. H. G. Wennett has a singular power of visualizing——”
Has the power of visualizing!
“What Mr. James Henry so beautifully calls the Human Scene.” The fair phrase came clear and pat, but before the page could receive it Miss Cass was again in the toils of the incarnate demon opposite.
“Suppose you take my part in the ‘Lady of Laxton’?” There was a suggestion for one simply athirst for life, for knowledge, for first-hand experience! Such amazing words could hardly be meant seriously; nevertheless there was a concentration in the manner of the marquis’ daughter that almost took away the breath of Miss Cass.
Emboldened by an unmistakable snore from the gently but firmly sleeping Pikey, said the wicked Elfreda,“I don’t think you would find it at all difficult and it might amuse you.”
Miss Cass could hardly believe her ears. For the tone, beyond the shadow of a doubt, was quite serious. “I don’t know any one at Clavering Park and I don’t suppose any one knows you.”
“But——” pleaded Miss Cass.
Elfreda was not in a mood for “buts.” The wicked Genie now had her firmly in its grip. So simple, yet so radiant was the idea that already it was glowing with the colors of destiny. There were obstacles, of course, but a dynamic will could remove them.
“In size we are much of a muchness, aren’t we? So you can take my things and I’ll take yours.”
“Oh, but——” faltered Miss Cass.
“You might have quite an amusing fortnight”—Pikey, who had been traveling all through the long night was sleeping very comfortably now—“One hears the place will be full of new people. With a bit of luck ... if you really play up ... you might even....” ... Get one of them to marry you!—was the thought in the mind of the abandoned Elfreda. But the Bottle Imp had not quite bereft her of a sense of shame, therefore she did not complete her sentence by mere words. She had recourse to wireless telegraphy, which, however, was just as effective.
Miss Cass felt herself to be growing dizzy.
“That’s what happens in the play, you know. The son of the house falls in love with the governess——”
“Oh—but,” gasped Miss Cass. And yet if the truth must be told the wicked Genie was now beginning to stir in her, also. A voice was heard in the subliminal self of Miss Cass.There is a tide in the affairs of men which taken at the flood leads on to fortune.
“It needs a little pluck, of course.” The light in the blue eyes was almost sinister. “But it might be rather amusing, don’t you think?”
Miss Cass was bewildered. But it seemed to come upon her all at once that she was now in the toils of a female Napoleon. Moreover, she was faced by a proposition which exceeded her wildest dreams. Of course, it would not bear any sort of analysis, but when one is possessed by a perfectly heavenly feeling all things seem possible. Such a sense of “uplift” was quite new in Miss Cass’s experience and she felt unable just now to adjust her mind to a phase which although delicious was yet without a parallel.
The train sped on through a country which grew steadily richer and more pastoral. Lady Elfreda looked again at the watch on her wrist. It was after three. Already the light of the brief November day had begun to wane. Pikey was snoring now with slow, deep, reassuring regularity. Somehow all things, even the motions of the train itself, seemed to be conspiring to fix and determine the mad project which had been born in that wicked and rebellious mind.
Every mile that brought them nearer to their journey’s end was carefully registered in the acute brainof Elfreda. The train stopped at Yeovil and there was a further examination of the tickets, not by a truculent male inspector on this occasion, but by a rustic maid in spectacles, who willingly accepted the assurance that the ticket of Miss Cass was quite in order. After that the train passed over the borders of Wessex into the famed county of Devon; and then with but a few embers of daylight remaining the Evil Genius suddenly insisted that the time had come for action.