Part 46 (1/2)

”I'll never play another,” said Jones. ”Tell them to bring me some breakfast, and look here, Church, I've told my sister to leave the house at once. I want no more of her here. See that her luggage is taken down at once.”

”Yes, my Lord.”

”And see here, Church, let no one in. Lord Langwathby, or anyone else. I want a little peace. By the way, have a taxi sent for, and tell me when my sister's luggage is down.”

In the middle of breakfast, Church came in to say that Miss Birdbrook was departing and Jones came into the hall to verify the fact.

Venetia had brought a crocodile skin travelling bag and a trunk.

These were being conveyed to a taxi.

Not one word did she say to relieve her outraged feelings. The fear of a ”scene before the servants” kept her quiet.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

HE FINDS HIMSELF

That evening at nine o'clock, Jones sat in the smoking-room, writing. He had trusted Church with an important mission on the upshot of which his whole future depended.

If you will review his story, as he himself was reviewing it now, you will see that, despite a strong will and a mind quick to act, the freedom of his will had always been hampered by circ.u.mstance.

Circ.u.mstance from the first had determined that he should be a Lord.

I leave it to philosophers to determine what Circ.u.mstance is. I can only say that from a fair knowledge of life, Circ.u.mstance seems to me more than a fortuitous happening of things. Who does not know the man of integrity and ability, the man destined for the Presidency or the College chair, who remains in an office all his life? Luck is somehow against him. Or the man who, starting in life with everything against him, arrives, not by creeping, but by leaps and bounds.

I do not wish to cast a shade on individual effort; I only say this: If you ever find Circ.u.mstance, whose other name is Fortune, feeling for you in order to make you a lord, don't kick, for when Fortune takes an interest in a man, she is cunning as a woman. She is a woman in fact.

At half past nine, a knock came to the door. It was opened by Church, who ushered in Teresa, Countess of Rochester.

Jones rose from his chair, Church shut the door, and they found themselves alone and face to face.

The girl did not sit down. She stood holding the back of a chair, and looking at the man before her. She looked scared, dazed, like a person suddenly awakened from sleep, in a strange place.

Jones knew at once.

”You have guessed the truth,” said he, ”that I am not your husband.”

”I knew it,” she replied, ”when you told us in the drawing-room-- The others thought you mad. I knew you were speaking the truth.”

”That was why you ran from the room.”

”Yes; what more have you to say?”

”I have a very great deal more to say; will you not sit down?”

She sat down on the edge of a chair, folded her hands and continued looking at him with that scared, hunted expression.

”I want to say just this,” said Jones. ”Right through this business from the very start I have tried to play a straight game. I can guess from your face that you fear me as if I were something horrible. I don't blame you. I ask you to listen to me.