Part 38 (1/2)
”I am glad,” was Millicent's answer. ”I shall feel easier when I am once upon the way, for all day I have been nervously afraid that Harry might arrive or something unexpected might happen to detain me. There will be only time to catch the Allan boat, you say, and once the train leaves this station n.o.body could overtake me?”
”Of course not!” answered Geoffrey, rea.s.suringly. ”It is perhaps natural that you should be apprehensive, but there is no reason for it.
Whether you are doing right or wrong I dare not presume to judge, and, under the circ.u.mstances, I wish there had been somebody else to counsel you; but if your husband has treated you cruelly and you are in fear of him, I cannot venture to dissuade you. You will write to me when you have settled your plans?”
”Yes,” she promised. After a moment's pause, she went on: ”I have hardly been able to consider the position yet, but I will never go back to Harry. My trustees must either help me to fight him or bribe him not to molest me. It is a hateful position, but though I have suffered a great deal there are things I cannot countenance.”
The hoot of a whistle came ringing up the valley, the light of another head lamp, growing brighter, flickered among the firs, and Millicent looked up at her companion as she said:
”I may never see you again, Geoffrey, but I cannot go without asking you to forgive me. You do not know, and I dare not tell you, in how many ways I have injured you. I would like to think that you do not cherish any ill-will against me.”
”You may be quite sure of it,” was the answer, and Geoffrey smiled upon her. ”What I shall remember most clearly is how much you risked to warn me, and that the safe completion of the work I have set my heart on is due to you. We will forget all the unpleasant things that have happened in the past and meet as good friends next time, Millicent.”
The woman's voice trembled a little as she replied: ”I hope when one by one you hear of the unpleasant things you will be charitable. But a last favor--you will not tell Harry where I have gone until I am safely on my way to England?”
”No,” promised Geoffrey. ”You can depend upon that. I have not forgiven your husband, but the train is coming in and it will only stop a few seconds.”
With couplings clas.h.i.+ng the long cars lurched in. Geoffrey hurried Millicent into one of them. He felt his hand grasped fervently, and fancied he saw a tear glisten in Millicent's eyes by the light of the flas.h.i.+ng lamps. Then the great engine snorted, and he sprang down from the vestibule footboard as the train rolled out. Turning back towards the station to join Thomas Savine, he found himself confronted by two men who had just alighted.
Their surprise was mutual, but Thomas Savine, who stood beside a box just hurled out of the baggage car, had his wits about him. ”Here's one case, Geoffrey. The conductor thinks that some fool must have labelled the others wrong, and they'll come on by first freight,” he said.
This was an accurate statement, and for Millicent's sake Geoffrey was grateful that his comrade should make it so opportunely. It accounted for his presence at the station.
”It can't be helped,” he said, and then turned stiffly towards Shackleby and Henry Leslie, who waited between him and the roadway.
”We want a few words with you, but didn't expect to find you here,”
abruptly remarked Shackleby. ”Is there any place fit to sit in at the saloon yonder?”
”I really don't know,” Geoffrey replied. ”Having no time to waste in conversation, neither do I care. If you have anything to say to me you can say it--very briefly--here.”
Shackleby pinched the cigar he was smoking. Laying his hand on Leslie's shoulder warningly, he whispered, ”Keep still, you fool.”
”I don't know that I can condense what I have to say,” he answered airily, addressing Thurston. ”Fact is, in the first place, and before Mr. Leslie asks a question, I want to know whether we--that is I--can still come to terms with you. It's tolerably well-known that my colleagues are, so to speak, men of straw, and individually I figure it might be better for both of us if we patched up a compromise. I can't sketch out the rest of my programme in the open air, but, as a general idea, what do you think, Mr. Savine?”
”That your suggestion comes rather late in the day,” was the answer.
Shackleby was silent for a moment, though, for it was quite dark now that the train had gone. Savine could not be quite certain whether he moved against Leslie by accident or deliberately hustled him a few paces away. Geoffrey, however, felt certain that neither had seen Millicent, nor, thanks to Savine, suspected that she was on board the departing cars. Just then a deep-toned whistle vibrated across the pines, somebody waved a lantern between the rails, and the panting of the freight locomotive's pump became silent. The track led down grade past the station towards the coast.
”Better late than never,” said Shackleby. ”My hand's a good one still.
I'm not sure I won't call you.”
”To save time I'll show you mine a little sooner than I meant to do, and you'll see the game's up,” replied Geoffrey, grimly. ”It may prevent you from worrying me during the next week or two, and you can't well profit by it. I've got Black, who is quite ready to go into court at any time, where you can't get at him. I've got the nearest magistrate's warrant executed on the person of your other rascal, and Black will testify as to his record, which implies the throwing of a sidelight upon your own. No doubt, to save himself, the other man will turn against you. In addition, if it's necessary, which I hardly think possible, I have even more damaging testimony. I have sworn a statement before the said magistrate for the Crown-lands authorities, and purpose sending a copy to each of your directors individually.
That ought to be sufficient, and I have no more time to waste with you.”
”But you have me to settle with, or I'll blast your name throughout the province if I drag my own in the mud. Where's my wife?” snarled Leslie, wrenching himself free from his confederate's restraining grasp.
”If you're bent on making a fool of yourself, and I guess you can't help it, go on your own way,” interposed Shackleby, with ironical contempt.
”I have no intention of telling you where Mrs. Leslie is,” a.s.serted Geoffrey. ”You will hear from her when she considers it advisable to write.”