Part 13 (1/2)

I was fortunate enough to find a disengaged omnibus, and filled it with our rugs and smaller belongings. Then we made our way slowly back to the little s.p.a.ce prepared for the reception of the heavier baggage, and around which a barrier had already been erected. There was a slight nervousness in my companion's manner which made conversation difficult. I, too, could not help feeling that the situation was a difficult one for her.

”I am afraid,” I remarked, ”that you are worried about your uncle. Is his health really bad, or is this just a temporary attack? I thought he looked well enough in the train on the other side.”

”He suffers sometimes,” she answered, ”but I do not think it is anything really serious.”

”He will be all right by the time we get to the hotel,” I declared.

”Very likely,” she answered. ”For myself, I think that I always feel a little nervous when I arrive at a strange place. I have never been here before, you know, and I could not help wondering, for a moment, what would become of me if my uncle were really taken ill. Everyone says that London is so big and cold and heartless.”

”You would have nothing to fear,” I a.s.sured her. ”You forget, too, that your uncle has friends here.”

We leaned over the barrier and watched the luggage being handed out of the vans and thrown on to the low wooden platforms. By my side a dark young man, with sallow features and _pince nez_, was apparently pa.s.sing his time in the same manner. My companion, who was restless all the time, glanced at him frequently, or I should scarcely have noticed his existence. In dress and appearance he resembled very much the ordinary valet in private service, except for his eye-gla.s.ses, and that his face lacked the smooth pastiness of the cla.s.s. For some reason or other my companion seemed to take a dislike to him.

”Come,” she said to me, ”we will move over to the other side. I think we shall get in quicker.”

I followed her lead, and I saw her glance back over her shoulder at the young man, who seemed unaware, even, of her departure.

”I do hate being listened to,” she said, ”even when one is talking about nothing in particular!”

”Who was listening to us?” I asked.

”The young man next to you,” she answered. ”I could see him look up in that horrid stealthy way from under his eyelids.”

I laughed.

”You are a very observant person,” I remarked.

She drew a little closer to me. Somehow or other I found the sense of her near presence a delightful thing. All her garment seemed imbued with a faint perfume, as though of violets.

”I think that I have only become so quite lately,” she said. ”Perhaps it is because I have lived such a quiet life, and now things are so different. My uncle has been so mysterious, especially during the last few days, and I suppose it has made me suspicious. Wherever we go, I always seem to fancy that some one is watching us. Besides, I am sure that that young man was a South American, and I hate South Americans!”

”I fancy,” I said, ”that the attention he bestowed upon us was due to a more obvious cause.”

”Please do not talk like that,” she begged. ”I do not wish for compliments from you. I have been told always that Englishmen are so truthful. One has compliments from Frenchmen, from Spaniards, and from South Americans. They fall like froth from their lips, and one knows all the time that it means nothing, and less than nothing. It is such a pity!”

”Why a pity?” I asked, more for the sake of keeping her talking than anything. ”Certainly it is a picturesque habit of speech.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

”I do not like it,” she said quietly. ”By degrees, one comes to believe nothing that any man says, even when he is in earnest.

Remember, Capitaine Rotherby, I hope that I shall never hear a compliment from you.”

”I will be careful,” I promised her, ”but you must remember that there is sometimes a very fine distinction. I may be driven to say something which sounds quite nice, because it is the truth.”

She laughed at me with her eyes, a habit of hers which from the first I had admired. For the moment she seemed to have forgotten her anxieties.

”You are worse than these others,” she murmured. ”I believe--no, I am quite sure, that you are more dangerous! Come, they are ready for us.”

The barriers were thrown open, and a little stream of people entered the enclosed s.p.a.ce. My companion's trunks were all together, and easily found. The officer bent over, chalk in hand, and asked a few courteous questions. At that moment I became aware that the young man in eye-gla.s.ses was standing once more by my side. Her trunks were promptly marked, and I directed the porter to take them to our omnibus. Then we moved on a little to where my things were. The young man sauntered behind us, and stopped to light a cigarette. My companion's fingers fell upon my arm.