Part 17 (1/2)

”You did,” I replied.

”So Leena says,” he answered, greatly bewildered, ”but I'll swear he wasn't there when we got to the Queen's Hotel.”

”It's all right,” I said, ”you dropped him at Putney.”

”Dropped him at Putney!” he repeated. ”I've no recollection of doing so.”

”He has,” I answered. ”You ask him about it. He's full of it.”

Everybody said he never would get married; that it was absurd to suppose he ever would remember the day, the church, and the girl, all in one morning; that if he did get as far as the altar he would forget what he had come for, and would give the bride away to his own best man. Hallyard had an idea that he was already married, but that the fact had slipped his memory. I myself felt sure that if he did marry he would forget all about it the next day.

But everybody was wrong. By some miraculous means the ceremony got itself accomplished, so that if Hallyard's idea be correct (as to which there is every possibility), there will be trouble. As for my own fears, I dismissed them the moment I saw the lady. She was a charming, cheerful little woman, but did not look the type that would let him forget all about it.

I had not seen him since his marriage, which had happened in the spring.

Working my way back from Scotland by easy stages, I stopped for a few days at Scarboro'. After _table d'hote_ I put on my mackintosh, and went out for a walk. It was raining hard, but after a month in Scotland one does not notice English weather, and I wanted some air. Struggling along the dark beach with my head against the wind, I stumbled over a crouching figure, seeking to shelter itself a little from the storm under the lee of the Spa wall.

I expected it to swear at me, but it seemed too broken-spirited to mind anything.

”I beg your pardon,” I said. ”I did not see you.”

At the sound of my voice it started to its feet.

”Is that you, old man?” it cried.

”McQuae!” I exclaimed.

”By Jove!” he said, ”I was never so glad to see a man in all my life before.”

And he nearly shook my hand off.

”But what in thunder!” I said, ”are you doing here? Why, you're drenched to the skin.”

He was dressed in flannels and a tennis-coat.

”Yes,” he answered. ”I never thought it would rain. It was a lovely morning.”

I began to fear he had overworked himself into a brain fever.

”Why don't you go home?” I asked.

”I can't,” he replied. ”I don't know where I live. I've forgotten the address.”

”For heaven's sake,” he said, ”take me somewhere, and give me something to eat. I'm literally starving.”

”Haven't you any money?” I asked him, as we turned towards the hotel.

”Not a sou,” he answered. ”We got in here from York, the wife and I, about eleven. We left our things at the station, and started to hunt for apartments. As soon as we were fixed, I changed my clothes and came out for a walk, telling Maud I should be back at one to lunch. Like a fool, I never took the address, and never noticed the way I was going.