Part 13 (1/2)
Rayton shot a brief, but imploring glance at her.
”What I mean is--ah--why should David Marsh get the card? I hope--I mean I can't see--ah--I can't see any a.s.sociation between a chap like David and----”
He fell silent, became very red, and blinked at the fire.
”Please go on,” she whispered. ”_Please_ tell me what you think, for I know you are honest, fearless and sane, Mr. Rayton. You must forgive me for speaking so frankly--but that is what Jim says of you. You were saying that you cannot see any connection between David Marsh and--and what?”
Reginald took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.
”Between Marsh and those others who received the marked cards,” he said.
”First, it was the young sailor, the chap in the navy--the Spaniard's winning rival. Next it was your father--a man of character and--and breeding. Now David Marsh gets the card! That seems absurd to me. It seems like a man going out to kill a partridge with an elephant gun.
It--it does not look to me like a continuation of the--the same idea at all.”
”Why not? Please be quite frank with me. Why does it seem different?”
”But really, Miss Harley, I--I have no right to air my--my opinions.”
”I want you to. I beg you to. I am sure your opinions will help me.”
”If anything I can say will make you feel easier, then I'll--I'll go ahead. What I'm driving at is, that the navy chap was the kind of chap your grandmother might have become--ah, very fond of. Perhaps she was.
He was a serious proposition. So with your father. The others who were fond of your mother saw in him a real rival--a dangerous man. But--it is not so with Marsh. He is not big. He is not strong. The truth is, if you forgive me for saying so, there is no danger of--of your caring for a chap like David Marsh. There! So the case is not like the others, and the old idea is not carried out. Fate, or the rival, or whatever it is, has made a stupid mistake.”
He glanced at the girl as he ceased speaking. Her clear face was flushed to a tender pink, and her eyes were lowered.
”There is a good deal of truth in what you say, Mr. Rayton,” she murmured. ”It sounds like very clear reasoning to me. And you are right in--in believing that I do not care at all for David Marsh, in the way you mean. But may we not go even farther in disproving any connection between this case and the other two?”
For the fraction of a second her glance lifted and encountered his.
”Even if David happened to correspond with that young sailor of long ago, or with my dear father, the rival is missing,” she said uncertainly. ”The rivals were the most terrible features of the other cases.”
Rayton got nervously to his feet, then sank down again.
”There would be plenty of rivals--of a kind,” he said. ”That is the truth, as you must know. But like poor Marsh, none is--would be--worth considering. So, you see, fate, or whatever it is that plays this game, is playing stupidly. That is why I think it nothing but chance, in this case--the whole thing nothing but the maddest chance.”
”You have eased my mind very greatly,” she said.
The Englishman bowed and rose from his chair. ”I am glad,” he said simply. ”Now I must be starting for home. I left Banks and Goodine working over a moose head that Banks got yesterday.”
”You do not think d.i.c.k Goodine set fire to David's camp, do you? There is bad blood between them, you know,” she said anxiously.
”He was with us all yesterday and the day before,” he answered, ”so I knew he had nothing to do with it.”
At the door the young woman said, ”I am very glad you came over this morning.” And then, with an air of sudden awakening to the commonplaces of life, ”Did you come for anything in particular? To see Jim, perhaps?”
she asked.
”No. Oh, no,” he answered, hat in hand. ”I just came--that is, I just happened along.”
He was halfway home when he remembered the saucepan.