Part 35 (1/2)

”Hush, Hester, don't speak so loud. n.o.body must hear. Are you quite alone? n.o.body about--all the servants gone?” whispered her husband, glancing round furtively.

”Alfred, what has--How awful you look--and that dress. What has happened?”

”Yes, I must look an awful guy! I'm sorry I've scared you! I might at least have taken off the turban before I showed myself--seeing I'm not a native, anyhow,” he added, with a bitter laugh. Then springing forward he took hold of his wife's trembling hands and wailed in a piteous tone: ”Oh, Hester, you won't desert me? Whatever happens, whatever you may hear about me. There will be many lies afloat. Hester, I'm in mortal trouble, everything has tumbled to bits----”

”Alfred, is it--is it that you've just found out--since you left this morning--that Mr. Morpeth is your father?” she asked, holding his hands and looking into his eyes.

”So you've heard that!” he gasped. ”It's true what that fiend told me----”

”But why trouble about that?” said Hester gently. ”I have just been thinking how good it would be if it were true! I know you have hated Eurasians, but--but if your father is one, surely that prejudice will snap like a gossamer thread. Think how n.o.ble he is--and Mark Cheveril too.”

As she spoke that name, a picture, like a benediction, sprang into her troubled mind--those frank, honest eyes, that chivalrous protective presence--what would she not give to have Mark Cheveril with her at this difficult juncture to aid her in her persuasions, for she had not yet fathomed the abyss of trouble which seethed about her. ”Why, Alfred, a parentage like that will be our pride,” she went on, and her tone rang with conviction.

Her husband stared at her for an instant with a strange wistful expression in his eyes, then he shook his head and pulled his hand from her grasp.

”It's a lie,” he shrieked. ”A vile lie! I wouldn't touch the man with the tongs! He's not my father. You're on the wrong track altogether, Hester, it's not that. Listen and I'll whisper,” he added, turning with terrified eyes to stare at the long shadows thrown by the moonlight from the shrubs encircling the gravel sweep. ”I'm a hunted man. They're after me already--the police, I mean! I'm a criminal, Hester! In a mad moment I yielded to a vile temptation. The long and the short of it is that I've made myself liable to conviction for forgery. I'm ruined.”

Then he narrated incoherently all that had led up to his using the Mahomedan's name.

Hester listened silently with strained eyes and a face of deadly pallor.

Indeed she seemed unable to find utterance.

”Speak, Hester,” wailed her husband, when he had told her all. ”Don't stand staring at me like a ghost. I've come to say good-bye, Hester! I couldn't resist that. Mind, I did it for you--to get money to go to the hills, and now I'll have to flee an outcast and alone!”

”But how--where?” asked Hester in bewildered tones, as if she was only beginning to have a glimmering of the dreadful import of the revelation which she had just heard.

”Well, listen--I might dodge the police if I can get off to-night. I've got some hours in front of them still. I can't for the life of me steady my thoughts to make any plan. Hester, help me!” he wailed feebly. ”I can't, I won't see the inside of an Indian jail!”

Hester's eyes dilated with horror, but she seemed unable to utter a word.

”Look here, wife, if I could only get hold of some disguise I might get off by the early train to Beypore, and go on to Karrachi and s.h.i.+p there.

I've got a pal there who will help me, and see me through this sc.r.a.pe if I could only reach Beypore without being caught. Ah, but I shouldn't have told you--I should have kept that dark! Never mind now, you're my wife and you can keep a secret. Can't you plan out any make-up that would serve my turn--male or female?”

Hester's mind was already at work. She had so far grasped the desperate situation. Pain and shame gnawed at her spirit, and the unspoken wail rang in her heart, ”Oh, how could he commit such a dreadful crime?” Even the query rose in her mind, ”Was it right to help him?” If she did not, the issue was certain according to his own showing. When morning dawned he would be dragged off to prison. That slender body, those high strung nerves would not stand that even for a day! ”O G.o.d, help me,” she murmured, looking on the cowering figure of her husband. ”The issues are with Thee, but surely it is for me, his wife, to help him at this terrible hour--all I can!”

”Oh, save me, Hester, save me!” implored her husband. ”The morning will be on us, and they'll drag me off as sure as fate.”

”Listen to me, Alfred,” began Hester, in a quiet firm voice. ”Will you wait here for a moment? I think I have a plan, but I must go up-stairs and see ayah about it. You need not fear her, she'll be quite faithful----”

”Anyhow we must risk it,” he interrupted, with a ring of hope in his voice. ”I'll wait, Hester, but be quick, there's not a moment to lose.”

Left alone Mr. Rayner threw himself on one of the lounging chairs, then, feeling faint, he remembered that he had not tasted food for many hours.

”Shan't whisper that to her, or she'd be insisting on a good square meal, and that might cost me dear.”

He made his way to the dining-room and lit one of the candles in the candelabra which stood on the table. He went to the sideboard and poured himself out a gla.s.s of brandy and drank it eagerly. The stimulant nerved him for a little, but he began to grow impatient for his wife's return.

Meanwhile Hester's brain was at work up-stairs. In a whisper she had confided to her ayah that her husband must hurry off at once because he had done something bad which had been found out.

”Something veree bad,” repeated the ayah, shaking her head. ”Poor gentleman, what a pity it is done find out!”