Part 4 (1/2)
”I, too, am John Aylmer,” he said quietly. ”Who are you?”
The sudden thrill of surprise with which she clutched the child to her tightened the reins. The gray backed a step; it was as if horse and rider were alike repelled by his question.
She stared at him with a sudden fierce aversion which was undisguised.
”You are Landon's cousin--you?” she cried.
He bowed his head.
”I have that misfortune,” he answered quietly.
At the form of his answer a tinge of relief woke in her eyes, but they still watched him with incredulity and suspicion.
”He--he has sent you?” she demanded. ”You bring other proposals, or threats?”
He smiled gravely.
”We have shared nothing, except a club, he and I,” he explained. ”I have not set eyes on him for over a year.”
She still watched him alertly, debatingly, and still with mistrust.
”How did you come here, and why?” she asked.
”I am a member of the Tent Club,” he answered. ”I am in garrison at Gibraltar. I could not get leave till yesterday afternoon and I waited in Tangier to accompany Captain Rattier, whose s.h.i.+p is in harbor. Have I sufficiently explained myself?”
She hesitated.
”You have not seen your cousin for over a year? Perhaps you are in correspondence with him?”
He showed signs of impatience.
”We have not exchanged half a dozen letters in our lives!” he said emphatically.
The lines of her face remained unsoftened. Her fierce grip on the child's shoulder did not relax.
”And this Frenchman--this Captain Rattier?” she asked. ”What of him?”
His eyebrows expressed the intensity of his amazement.
”Paul Rattier is my distant cousin,” he answered. ”No finer gentleman walks the earth.” He paused for a moment. ”Is it permitted to inquire why you suspect--strangers?”
She did not answer him. An abstraction, real or feigned, seemed to have seized her. She stared out over his head into the distance with unseeing eyes as if she weighed problems, debated evidence, sought conclusions.
It was the child who roused her into attention. He laughed, clapped his hands, and shouted.
”Browny!” he clamored in delight. ”Browny!”
Aylmer looked round.
Rattier, leading a very melancholy and still bleeding horse, had approached with Despard. Together they were bending over the major's trophy, the dead boar. Behind them Aylmer's horse was hobbling painfully to its feet. Despard looked up and shook an admonis.h.i.+ng finger at his acclaimer.