Part 5 (1/2)

”He sprang from his seat, ran to me, and stopped in front of me. That was all.”

”Quite all?”

Cynthia nodded.

”He just stood and stared at me until Pedro drove up.”

”Did he say nothing?”

”Not a word.”

In spite of her resolve to treat the adventure lightly, Cynthia's voice grew troubled as she answered the questions. For she answered them with her eyes upon Joan Daventry's face, and she saw the perplexity there deepen into disquietude and misgiving. She turned toward Robert Daventry. Upon his face uneasiness was still more evident. He was plainly agitated. He sat listening in suspense. His indignation had gone.

Cynthia's fear revived under the stimulation of their anxiety. She continued slowly:

”But although he did me no harm, although he threatened none, there was something strange. He saw me at once. He ran so very quickly to me the moment I was within reach. He seemed almost to be looking out for me.”

Joan sank back into her chair with a gesture of helplessness, which was all the more alarming because it was so singularly out of keeping with her character. Her eyes sought her husband's and sought them in dismay. Cynthia noticed both the gesture and the look. They kindled a vague terror in the girl. The wide brown plain was as a picture before her. She saw the great wheat-field glistening in the heat, a wind-wheel in a corner above a well, and this man with the evil eyes and the face of malice looking her over from head to foot.

”Yes,” she said. ”He seemed to be expecting me, and there was something else. He seemed to hate me;” and Robert Daventry with a cry sprang sharply to his feet.

Joan raised a quick warning hand. But the cry had been uttered; and with a sob Cynthia buried her face in her hands.

”I am frightened now,” she said. ”You frighten me.”

Robert Daventry stood over her, clumsily remorseful, and laid his great hand on her shoulder.

”There's nothing to fear, Cynthia,” he began. ”Joan and I--” he broke off abruptly at a second warning from his wife. ”We will pack that man off about his business to-morrow.”

”Yes,” said Mrs. Daventry. She had mastered her agitation, and now affected carelessness. ”We can't really have Cynthia's birthday spoilt in this way.”

”No, of course not,” cried Robert Daventry, seizing upon this explanation of his distress. But he could not leave it in its simplicity. ”It's abominable that Cynthia should have her birthday spoilt. She has only one a year, poor girl. That's what's troubling us, Cynthia. Nothing else. But it's enough to upset us, isn't it? To think that you should actually have your birthday spoilt--by one of my men, too.”

So he went on, like a commentator on an ancient text, expanding the explanation, underlining it, and forcing upon Cynthia's intelligence its complete improbability. Even in the midst of her fears she could not but look with amus.e.m.e.nt toward Joan; and the two women exchanged the smile of their s.e.x at the perennial clumsiness of man.

”He shall go first thing to-morrow morning,” cried Mr. Daventry; and Richard Walton quietly rejoined:

”He has gone already. I paid him off this morning.”

Mr. Daventry ceased abruptly from his vociferations.

”Thank you, Walton,” he said. ”Then that's ended,” and he sat down.

But he had hardly taken his seat when the door opened and the parlor-maid brought to him upon a salver a folded slip of dirty paper.

”A man came with this to the door, sir. He is waiting for an answer.”

Robert Daventry unfolded the slip and read the message written within it. He did not lift his eyes when he had read. He sat staring at the paper like a statue. And he sat amidst a deep silence. The cloud which had but now been lifted, had gathered once more above the heads of that small company. Though Robert Daventry did not speak, his long silence spoke for him; and though he schooled his face to composure, it was plain that he schooled it. A vague disquiet held the others at the table. Not one of them but had a conviction that this dirty, insignificant, sc.r.a.p of writing announced a catastrophe.

Joan was the first to move. She walked round the table and stood behind her husband. He did not hear the rustle of her gown; and he was not aware that she leaned over him to read the message until the pressure of her hand upon his shoulder reminded him that she was his ally.