Part 51 (1/2)

Lord Barthampton paced the floor, chewing his lips, his heavy brows knitted. ”I see,” he said, at length. ”And you think that it will help me if I hold this piece of information over her head.”

Mr. Bindane's blank expression indicated that nothing of the kind had entered his head-in fact, that nothing of any kind had ever entered it.

”You could have heard it from the natives,” he said. ”They all know she was at El Hamran while we went north. If I hadn't let it slip out like this, no doubt you would have heard it from somebody else in time.”

”No doubt,” the other answered, and he drained his gla.s.s once more.

Benifett Bindane also rose from his chair. He was alarmed, and the qualms of conscience were upon him. ”Of course it was just an escapade,”

he murmured. ”I don't suppose there was anything wrong in it.”

”Well, I won't use the information, unless I've got to,” said Lord Barthampton.

As they issued from the library, they heard the sound of an automobile driving up to the door. ”That's probably her,” Mr. Bindane remarked.

”You'd better go and wait in the drawing-room, and I'll make myself scarce.”

He patted the young man on the shoulders and hurried up the stairs to his room, while Charles Barthampton, nervously tidying himself, went into the drawing-room, where a footman was arranging the tea-table.

He had not long to wait. In a few minutes Muriel entered, and, seeing him, held out her hand.

”Hullo!” she said. ”You here again?”

”I don't seem to be able to keep away from you for long,” he sighed.

”Can I see you alone?”

Muriel glanced at him quickly. There was an expression of ludicrous agony upon his face, and she knew full well what he had come to say to her. ”Let's have tea, first,” she answered. ”It will fortify us.”

He stared anxiously at her, but all further preliminary remarks were checked by the entrance of Kate Bindane; and soon two or three callers were ushered in.

It was a long time before he managed successfully to outstay the other visitors; but at length he found himself alone with Muriel. The removal of the tea-tray caused another interruption; and he refrained with difficulty from cursing aloud when the footman again entered to switch on the lights.

At last, however, the moment for his declaration arrived, and Muriel settled herself down upon the cus.h.i.+ons of the sofa to hear him, as though she were preparing to listen to a recital upon the grand piano.

”Now tell me,” she said, ”what it is that you want to say to me.”

He was standing in front of her, the fingers of his hand scratching his ear. He cleared his throat. ”Well, it's like this,” he began. ”Ever since I've known you I've felt that there was something lacking in my life....”

”I was wondering how you'd begin,” she said, interrupting him.

He flushed, and hastened on with his prepared speech. ”Even soldiers, you know, long for the comforts of home. I suppose every Englishman likes to think of his own fireside....”

”Not in this weather, surely,” she put in, again interrupting him.

He hurried on. ”... With the woman he loves, seated before him, after the day's toil is over.”

”Are you proposing to me?” she asked, wis.h.i.+ng mercifully to cut him short.

”Well, yes, I am,” he answered, with a deep sigh. ”Ah, don't be cruel to me. You know that I love you. I'm quite well off: I can give you a fairly comfortable time of it.”

”Yes, but they say you have led a very wild life,” she told him. ”You said yourself that you drank.”