Part 25 (1/2)

A faint sense of shame came over Walter Hine. He dimly imagined what Sylvia would have thought and said, and what contempt her looks would have betrayed, had she heard him thus boast of her goodwill.

”You are asking too much, Mr. Jarvice,” he said.

Mr. Jarvice waved the objection aside.

”Of course I ask it as between gentlemen,” he said, with an ironical politeness.

”Well, then, as between gentlemen,” returned Walter Hine, seriously. ”She is the daughter of a great friend of mine, Mr. Garratt Skinner. What's the matter?” he cried; and there was reason for his cry.

It had been an afternoon of surprises for Mr. Jarvice, but this simple mention of the name of Garratt Skinner was more than a surprise. Mr.

Jarvice was positively startled. He leaned back in his chair with his mouth open and his eyes staring at Walter Hine. The high color paled in his face and his cheeks grew mottled. It seemed that fear as well as surprise came to him in the knowledge that Garratt Skinner was a friend of Walter Hine.

”What is the matter?” repeated Hine.

”It's nothing,” replied Mr. Jarvice, hastily. ”The heat, that is all.”

He crossed the room, and throwing up the window leaned for a few moments upon the sill. Yet even when he spoke again, there was still a certain unsteadiness in his voice. ”How did you come across Mr. Garratt Skinner?” he asked.

”Barstow introduced me. I made Barstow's acquaintance at the Criterion Bar, and he took me to Garratt Skinner's house in Hobart Place.”

”I see,” said Mr. Jarvice. ”It was in Garratt Skinner's house that you lost your money, I suppose.”

”Yes, but he had no hand in it,” exclaimed Walter Hine. ”He does not know how much I lost. He would be angry if he did.”

A faint smile flickered across Jarvice's face.

”Quite so,” he agreed, and under his deft cross-examination the whole story was unfolded. The little dinner at which Sylvia made her appearance and at which Walter Hine was carefully primed with drink; the little round game of cards which Garratt Skinner was so reluctant to allow in his house on a Sunday evening, and from which, being an early riser, he retired to bed, leaving Hine in the hands of Captain Barstow and Archie Parminter; the quiet secluded house in the country; the new gardener who appeared for one day and shot with so surprising an accuracy, when Barstow backed him against Walter Hine, that Hine lost a thousand pounds; the incidents were related to Mr. Jarvice in their proper succession, and he interpreted them by his own experience.

Captain Barstow, who was always to the fore, counted for nothing in the story as Jarvice understood it. He was the mere creature, the servant.

Garratt Skinner, who was always in the background, prepared the swindle and pocketed the profits.

”You are staying at the quiet house in Dorsets.h.i.+re now, I suppose. Just you and Garratt Skinner and the pretty daughter, with occasional visits from Barstow?”

”Yes,” answered Hine. ”Garratt Skinner does not care to see much company.”

Once more the smile of amus.e.m.e.nt played upon Mr. Jarvice's face.

”No, I suppose not,” he said, quietly. There were certain definite reasons of which he was aware, to account for Garratt Skinner's reluctance to appear in a general company. He turned back from the window and returned to his table. He had taken his part. There was no longer either unsteadiness or anger in his voice.

”I quite understand your reluctance to leave your new friends,” he said, with the utmost friendliness. ”I recognize that the tour abroad on which I had rather set my heart must be abandoned. But I have no regrets. For I think it possible that the very object which I had in mind when proposing that tour may be quite as easily effected in the charming country house of Garratt Skinner.”

He spoke in a quiet matter-of-fact voice, looking benevolently at his visitor. If the words were capable of another and a more sinister meaning than they appeared to convey, Walter Hine did not suspect it. He took them in their obvious sense.

”Yes, I shall gain as much culture in Garratt Skinner's house as I should by seeing picture-galleries abroad,” he said eagerly, and then Mr.

Jarvice smiled.

”I think that very likely,” he said. ”Meanwhile, as to Barstow and his thousand pounds. I must think the matter over. Barstow will not press you for a day or two. Just leave me your address--the address in Dorsets.h.i.+re.”

He dipped a pen in the ink and handed it to Hine. Hine took it and drew a sheet of paper toward him. But he did not set the pen to the paper. He looked suddenly up at Jarvice, who stood over against him at the other side of the table.