Part 18 (1/2)

Genevieve colored slightly. ”You should know Lord Avondale better. If he is at all interested--”

”He is, most decidedly. He dined with us last evening. Laffie Ashton called; so I succeeded in getting the earl away from Dolores. We had a most satisfying little _tete-a-tete_. I led him into explaining everything.”

”Everything?” queried Genevieve.

”Yes, everything, my dear. His aloofness since you reached Aden has been due merely to his high sense of honor,--to an absurd but chivalrous agreement with that fellow to not press his suit until after your arrival home. At Aden he had given the man his word--”

”At Aden?” interrupted Genevieve. ”How could that be, when Tom left the s.h.i.+p at Port Mozambique?”

”He didn't. It seems that the fellow was aboard all the time, hiding in the steerage or stoke-hole, or somewhere--no doubt to spy on you and Lord Avondale.”

Genevieve averted her head and murmured in a half whisper: ”He was aboard all that time, and never came up for a breath of air all those smothering days! I remember Lord James speaking of how hot and vile it was down in the forecastle. This explains why he went forward so much!”

”It explains why he did not book pa.s.sage with you from Aden--why he did not hasten to you at Lady Chetwynd's--all because of his chivalrous but mistaken sense of loyalty to that low fellow.”

”If you please, Aunt Amice,” said Genevieve, in a tone as incisive as it was quiet, ”you will remember that I esteem Mr. Blake.”

Mrs. Gantry stared over her half-raised lorgnette. She had never before known her niece to be other than the very pattern of docility.

”Well!” she remarked, and, after a little pause; ”Fortunately, that absurd agreement is now at an end. The earl intimated that he would call on you this afternoon. I am sure, my dear--”

Of what the lady was sure was left to conjecture. The footman appeared in the hall entrance and announced: ”Mr. Brice-Ashton.”

Ashton came in, effusive and eager. ”My dear Miss Genevieve! I--ah, Mrs. Gantry! Didn't expect to meet you here, such a day as this. Most unexpected--ah--pleasure! _N'est-ce pas?_--No, no! my dear Miss Leslie; keep your seat!”

Genevieve had seemed about to rise, but he quite deftly drew a chair around and sat down close before her. ”I simply couldn't wait any longer. I felt I must call to congratulate you over that marvellous escape. It must have been terrible--terrible!”

Genevieve replied with perceptible coldness: ”Thank you, Mr. Ashton. I had not expected a call from you.”

”'Mr.' Ashton!” he echoed. ”Has it come to that?--when we used to make mudpies together! Dolores said that you--”

”Not so fast, Laffie!” called the girl, as she came dancing into the room in her most animated manner. ”Don't forget I'm Miss Gantry now.”

Ashton continued to address Genevieve, without turning: ”I came all the way down from Michamac just to congratulate you--left my bridge!”

”You're too sudden with your congratulations, Laffie,” mocked Dolores.

”Genevieve hasn't yet decided whether it's to be the hero or the earl.”

”Dolores,” admonished her mother. ”I told you to leave the room.”

”Yes, and forgot to tell me to stay out. It's no use now, is it? Unless you wish me to drag out Laffie for a little _tete-a-tete_ in the conservatory.”

”Sit down, dear,” said Genevieve.

Mrs. Gantry turned to Ashton with a sudden unbending from hauteur. ”My dear Lafayette, I observed your manner yesterday towards that--towards Mr. Blake. Am I right in surmising that you know something with regard to his past?”

”About Blake?” replied Ashton, his usually wide and ardent eyes s.h.i.+fting their glance uneasily from his questioner to Genevieve and towards the outer door.

”About my friend Mr. Blake,” said Genevieve.