Part 63 (1/2)

At about an hour after midnight Clem came to Poppy, who was sitting out a dance with a peaceful partner, and drawing her aside said:

”Dear, something awful has happened to Nick Cap.r.o.n and Mary can't be found. I fancy she must have been feeling ill and gone home without telling anyone. Anyway, Mr. de Grey and I are going to see. I've asked Bramham to take you home as soon as you would like to go.... the others will want to dance until dawn.... Billy is at the Club, too, it appears.”

”I'll come now,” said Poppy quickly, forgetful of everything in the momentary excitement.

”No; I can't wait for you, dear, as I'm ready. Better come on with Mr.

Bramham or Mr. Abinger. Suppose you and Miss Allendner wait at Sea House for me?... It's an easy drive from the Club.... I'll call for you there, and we'll all go up home together.... it will probably be painful, breaking the news to poor Mary. I'll come as soon as I can afterwards.”

She hurried away, and Poppy, excusing herself to her partner, went to the dressing-room for her wraps. On her way she met Abinger, told him swiftly what had happened, and asked him to find Miss Allendner. But when she emerged from the dressing-room Abinger and Bramham were waiting for her, minus the companion.

”She was dancing so happily for the first time to-night, that I hadn't the heart to drag her away,” said Abinger, with unheard-of benevolence.

The truth was that Miss Allendner did not at all enter into his plans for the evening, and so he had not bothered to look for her.

The three of them left the hall together and reached Bramham's carriage, which had been sent for. Afterwards they drove away in the direction of Sea House. Bramham, with permission, smoked moodily out of a window, and Abinger, without permission, under cover of the uncertain light, took Poppy's hand; but it lay like a smooth, cold stone, and gave no response to his hot hold. His hands were as bad as his eyes; by just holding a woman's hand for three seconds, he could tell her things which for her soul's sake she had avoided knowing all her life.

They were a silent party when they arrived at Sea House. In the dining-room they sat down and Bramham drummed his fingers on the table, wondering where Carson was. Luggage was lying in the verandah, and Bramham's note was open on the table; but of Carson himself no sign.

Inspiration came to Abinger to go and rout out the servants to make coffee and sandwiches, for there was a distinct chill in the air, and as none of them had partaken of any supper to speak of, they felt weary and collapsed. As it happened, the servants had not gone to bed, so the coffee soon made its appearance, and at Poppy's suggestion a further supply was ordered to be ready for Mrs. Portal and de Grey. They sat at the table, and Poppy poured out the coffee; but Bramham was restless and began to walk the room, staring out at the night, and then into Carson's room, which led from the dining-room, and the door of which stood ajar.

Once he sniffed the air, and then stopped and listened.

Abinger smiled sourly at him.

”Whose trail are _you_ on, Bram?”

”There's something odd in the air--some unusual scent,” was the answer.

”Perhaps Miss Chard can account for it,” suggested Abinger. Bramham ventured near her, sniffing still.

”I never use scent,” said she, ”but I, too, seem to smell some heavy scent.”

”Someone's been here,” said Bramham, convinced, and thereupon called in the _boys_ again and questioned them in Zulu.

”No--no one had been,” they said, ”excepting only _Intandugaza_, who had remained but a little while and gone away very angry.”

Both Abinger and the white woman in the white gown who sat by the table understood Zulu, and heard for the first time now of Carson's arrival that evening. To Abinger the fact did not mean much. But Poppy sat staring with frozen lips at her bunch of orange leaves which lay now upon the table. Also, she was listening intently. It seemed to her that the sea, rustling and whispering on the beach at the foot of the garden, had a message for her that she had often heard before, but had never understood. Dimly, for the first time, the meaning of its mysterious sighing was creeping into her weary brain.

”_Rest, rest, rest--peace--rest_,” it whispered and sang.

Bramham came to the table, took another sandwich, and ate it walking about the room.

”Well, I can smell something,” he averred, as though making a new statement. ”Can't you, Abinger?”

”Oh, have some more coffee, Bram. Your nerves have gone back on you.”

Poppy poured him out another cup.

”We are all odd to-night,” she said, with a wan smile.