Part 26 (2/2)

That was precisely what young Lochinvar intended to do before he drove away,-speak to that woman.

He watched Fallaray join Lola at the fountain, give her his hand and wander off among the rose trees, wearing what he called the fatuous smile of the middle-aged man in love. And then, so that he might obtain a point or two for future use, he rang the bell for Elmer. The butler and he had known each other for years. He would answer a few nonchalant questions without reserve. ”Good afternoon, Elmer,” he said, when the old man came in.

”Good afternoon to you, Sir.” He might have been an actor who in palmy days had played Hamlet at Bristol.

”I'm staying to an early dinner with Mr. Fallaray. A whiskey and soda would go down rather well in the meantime.”

”Certainly, Sir.”

”Oh, and Elmer.”

”Sir?” His turn and the respectful familiar angle of his head were only possible to actors of the good old school.

”The name of the charming lady who has so kindly helped to brighten up Mr. Fallaray's week-end.”

”Madame de Breze, Sir.”

”Oh, yes, of course.” He had never heard it before. Married then, or a widow. French. 'Um. ”And she is staying with--”

”Lady Cheyne, Sir.”

”Oh, yes,-that house--”

”A stone's throw from the gate in the wall, Sir. You can see the roof from this window.”

”Thanks very much, Elmer. How's your son getting on now?”

”Very well indeed, Sir, thank you, owing to your kindness.”

”A very good fellow,-a first-rate soldier. One of our best junior officers. Not too much soda, then.”

”No, Sir.” He left the room like an elderly sun-beam.

”Good!” said George Lytham. ”Get off early, hang about by the gate, intercept this young woman on her way back to Fallaray and see what her game is. That's the idea.”

And he sat down, lit a cigarette and picked up a copy of Hood that lay open on the table. His eyes fell on some marked lines.

”Peace and rest at length have come, All the day's long toil is past, And each heart is whispering Home, Home at last.”

And he thought of Feo whom he had seen several nights running with Arrowsmith and before that, for a series of years, with d.i.c.k, Tom and Harry. Never with Fallaray.

”Poor devil,” he thought. ”He's been too long without it. It won't be easy to rescue him now.”

VIII

And at the gate in the wall Fallaray held Lola close in his arms and kissed her, again and again.

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