Part 37 (1/2)

A week had pa.s.sed.

Before a large fire in the private parlour of the s.h.i.+p Hotel, at Bude, Percy Willoughby sat with legs stretched out and feet upon the fender.

The ancient hostelry, which, although styled a hotel, was merely an inn, stood in a somewhat sheltered position under the rocks, and faced the sea. Fishermen were its chief customers, but on this particular night the smacks were out, and the place was comparatively quiet, with the exception of two loungers, who were holding a noisy argument in the bar.

The room was low, with heavy oak beams across a ceiling blackened by the smoke of years, a sanded floor, a wide old-fas.h.i.+oned hearth, and straight-backed wooden chairs that had evidently done duty for a century. A tall, antiquated clock ticked solemnly in a corner, and the efforts at ornamentation were mostly in the form of sh.e.l.l-boxes and faded wool-flowers.

The wind moaned dismally in the chimney, and aroused the captain from his reverie.

”I suppose she'll come,” he murmured aloud, as he rose, and, going to the window, drew back the curtain. The night was dark and cloudy.

Nothing could be seen except the distant flas.h.i.+ng light at sea, which glimmered for a moment like a star and disappeared. ”The weather is certainly not very propitious, and I'm afraid if I went out alone in this confoundedly dark hole I should lose myself. But of course she'll come,” he added rea.s.suringly. ”She dare not disappoint me.” And he dashed the curtains together again and returned to his chair.

A few minutes afterwards Valerie entered. She wore a long fur-lined cloak, and a thick dark veil concealed her features.

”At last I'm here,” she said glancing round, as if half fearful lest she should be recognised, and walking over to the fire, she warmed her benumbed hands. ”It was by the merest chance that I was able to come.

We've been dining with some people about a mile away, and I at last managed to slip out.”

As she loosened her cloak he noticed that underneath she wore a charming toilet of pale blue silk.

”Well,” he said, after they had greeted one another and seated themselves before the fire. ”The affair we planned at Spa has proved successful, Valerie, and we're man and wife no longer.”

”And an excellent thing, too,” she remarked, ridiculing his sentimental tone.

”I entirely agree with you; we are much better apart. Nevertheless, although we are divorced, there surely is no reason why we should not remain friends, is there?” he asked, speaking in French.

”Oh, there's no harm in that, I suppose,” she replied in the same language, laughing lightly. ”I saw from the papers that you obtained the decree, and Nanette gave me a most graphic description of the hearing of the case. It must have been highly entertaining. I should so much liked to have been there.”

”It certainly was a trifle diverting,” the captain admitted; ”but let's get to business. Have you brought the money?”

”No.”

”What?--you haven't?” he cried in dismay. ”Then why have you brought me down to this infernal hole?”

”For the benefit of your health,” she replied with tantalising coquetry.

”I want the money,” he declared angrily.

”If you'll be patient, and allow me to speak, I'll explain.”

”I want none of your excuses; nothing but the money. In dealing with me, Mrs. Trethowen, you'll have to play fair, or, by heaven! it will be the worse for you. Bear that in mind.”

”Neither my intention nor desire is to deceive you,” she replied haughtily; ”but since you cannot talk without abuse, perhaps a week longer without your money will cause you to be more polite.” And she rose and made a movement towards the door.

”Where do you think you're going?” he exclaimed roughly, rus.h.i.+ng to the door and standing with his back against it. ”I've come down here to be paid for the service I've rendered you at the risk of being prosecuted myself, and therefore you don't leave this room until I have the money.”

His face was blanched with anger, and he spoke with determination. She had seen his countenance wear a similar look on more than one occasion, and knew that when in such a mood he was not to be trifled with.

”But you won't let me explain, Percy,” she complained in a softened tone. ”Do be reasonable.”

”I am. I want the thousand pounds you promised.”

”Hush,” she said, holding up a finger. ”We might be overheard!”