Part 71 (1/2)

When he had finished his figuring he fished out a check-book, detached a tiny gold fountain-pen from the bunch of seals and knick-knacks on his watch-chain, and, filling in the checks, pa.s.sed them over without comment.

Fane rose, stretching his long neck, gazed about through his spectacles, like a benevolent saurian, and finally fixed his mild, protruding eyes upon Orchil.

”There'll be a small game at the Fountain Club,” he said, with a grin which creased his cheeks until his retreating chin almost disappeared under the thick lower lip.

Orchil twiddled his long, crinkly, pointed moustache and glanced interrogatively at Harmon; then he yawned, stretched his arms, and rose, pocketing the check, which Ruthven pa.s.sed to him, with a careless nod of thanks.

As they filed out of the card-room into the dim pa.s.sageway, Orchil leading, a tall, shadowy figure in evening dress stepped back from the door of the card-room against the wall to give them right of way, and Orchil, peering at him without recognition in the dull light, bowed suavely as he pa.s.sed, as did Fane, craning his curved neck, and Harmon also, who followed in his wake.

But when Ruthven came abreast of the figure in the pa.s.sage and bowed his way past, a low voice from the courteous unknown, p.r.o.nouncing his name, halted him short.

”I want a word with you, Mr. Ruthven,” added Selwyn; ”that card-room will suit me, if you please.”

But Ruthven, recovering from the shock of Selwyn's voice, started to pa.s.s him without a word.

”I said that I wanted to speak to you!” repeated Selwyn.

Ruthven, deigning no reply, attempted to shove by him; and Selwyn, placing one hand flat against the other's shoulder, pushed him violently back into the card-room he had just left, and, stepping in behind him, closed and locked the door.

”W-what the devil do you mean!” gasped Ruthven, his hard, minutely shaven face turning a deep red.

”What I say,” replied Selwyn; ”that I want a word or two with you.”

He stood still for a moment, in the centre of the little room, tall, gaunt of feature, and very pale. The close, smoky atmosphere of the place evidently annoyed him; he glanced about at the scattered cards, the empty oval bottles in their silver stands, the half-burned remains of cigars on the green-topped table. Then he stepped over and opened the only window.

”Sit down,” he said, turning on Ruthven; and he seated himself and crossed one leg over the other. Ruthven remained standing.

”This--this thing,” began Ruthven in a voice made husky and indistinct through fury, ”this ruffianly behaviour amounts to a.s.sault.”

”As you choose,” nodded Selwyn, almost listlessly, ”but be quiet; I've something to think of besides your convenience.”

For a few moments he sat silent, thoughtful, narrowing eyes considering the patterns on the rug at his feet; and Ruthven, weak with rage and apprehension, was forced to stand there awaiting the pleasure of a man of whom he had suddenly become horribly afraid.

And at last Selwyn, emerging from his pallid reverie, straightened out, shaking his broad shoulders as though to free him of that black spectre perching there.

”Ruthven,” he said, ”a few years ago you persuaded my wife to leave me; and I have never punished you. There were two reasons why I did not: the first was because I did not wish to punish her, and any blow at you would have reached her heavily. The second reason, subordinate to the first, is obvious: decent men, in these days, have tacitly agreed to suspend a violent appeal to the unwritten law as a concession to civilisation. This second reason, however, depends entirely upon the first, as you see.”

He leaned back in his chair thoughtfully, and recrossed his legs.

”I did not ask you into this room,” he said, with a slight smile, ”to complain of the wrong you have committed against me, or to retail to you the consequences of your act as they may or may not have affected me and my career; I have--ah--invited you here to explain to you the present condition of your own domestic affairs”--he looked at Ruthven full in the face--”to explain them to you, and to lay down for you the course of conduct which you are to follow.”

”By G.o.d!--” began Ruthven, stepping back, one hand reaching for the door-k.n.o.b; but Selwyn's voice rang out clean and sharp:

”Sit down!”

And, as Ruthven glared at him out of his little eyes:

”You'd better sit down, I think,” said Selwyn softly.

Ruthven turned, took two unsteady steps forward, and laid his heavily ringed hand on the back of a chair. Selwyn smiled, and Ruthven sat down.