Part 21 (1/2)
”Parrot & Co. It's odd, but I recollect that t.i.tle. You were at Udaipur during the plague.”
Warrington brightened. ”So that's got about? I happened to be there, working on the prince's railway.”
”I will send the cable at once. You will doubtless hear from New York in the morning. But you must not see Miss Chetwood again.”
”You will let me bid her good-by? I admire and respect her more than any other woman. She does not know it, for as yet her soul is asleep; but she is one of those few women G.o.d puts on earth for the courage and comfort of man. Only to say good-by to her. Here in this office, if you wish.”
”I agree to that.”
”Thank you again.” Warrington rose.
”I am genuinely sorry for you. If they say no, what will you do?”
”Go back just the same. I have another debt to cancel.”
”Call in the morning. I'll let you know what the charges are.”
”I forgot. Here are twenty pounds. You can return the balance when I call. I am very grateful.”
”By the way, there is a man here by the name of Mallow,” began the consul-general.
”Yes,” interrupted Warrington, with a smile which was grim and cruel.
”I expect to call upon him. He owes me something like fifty pounds, and I am going to collect it.” Then he went out.
The consul-general dropped Mallow's perfecto into the waste-basket and lighted his pipe. Once more he read the cablegram. The Andes Construction Company. What a twist, what an absurd kink in the skein!
Nearly all of Elsa's wealth lay bound up in this enormous business which General Chetwood had founded thirty odd years before. And neither of them knew!
”I am not a bad man at heart,” he mused, ”but I liked the young man's expression when I mentioned that bully Mallow.”
He joined his family at five. He waved aside tea, and called for a lemon-squash.
”Elsa, I am going to give you a lecture.”
”Didn't I tell you?” cried Elsa to the wife. ”I felt in my bones that he was going to say this very thing.” She turned to her old-time friend. ”Go on; lecture me.”
”In the first place, you are too kind-hearted.”
”That will be news to my friends. They say I have a heart of ice.”
”And what you think is independence of spirit is sometimes indiscretion.”
”Oh,” said Elsa, becoming serious.
”A man came into my office to-day. He is a rich copra-grower from Penang. He spoke of you. You pa.s.sed him on going out. If I had been twenty years younger I'd have punched his ugly head. His name is Mallow, and he's not a savory chap.”
Elsa's cheeks burned. She never would forget the look in that man's eyes. The look might have been in other men's eyes, but conventionality had always veiled it; she had never seen it before.
”Go on;” but her voice was unsteady.
”Somewhere along the Irrawaddy you made the acquaintance of a young man who calls himself Warrington, familiarly known as Parrot & Co. I'll be generous. Not one woman in a thousand would have declined to accept the attentions of such a man. He is cultivated, undeniably good-looking, a strong man, mentally and physically.”