The Man with the Double Heart Part 49

"I met you at my sister-in-law's--Won't you sit down?" He found himself on the chintz-covered sofa facing his hostess.

Clear eyes, grey like Jill's, met his gaze, beneath a fringe, plainly false, of a brownish hue, safely secured by a band of black velvet.

Beyond this line her natural hair, pepper and salt, seemed to proclaim, with emphasis, the honesty of the subterfuge and her intentions.

Her nose was sharp, her lips tight, her figure angular and spare, but he noticed she had beautiful hands on which gleamed some fine old rings.

"I was staying there when you lunched one day and took the children for a drive." She seemed to guess that he was nervous and set him at ease with well-bred tact.

"It's really about your niece I've called--I hope you will forgive the intrusion." He hesitated, finding it harder even than he had guessed it would be.

"Mrs. Uniacke's frightfully ill--but, of course, you know all about it?"

Her smile faded instantly; she drew herself up, very erect. "I haven't the slightest pity for her." Her voice was cold and definite. "Her conduct is inexcusable!"

McTaggart saw how the land lay and decided to be diplomatic.

"I rather agree with you," he said, "my sympathy is all for Jill."

"Disgraceful," the little lady continued, "my brother's name dragged in the dust. I think Mary must be mad!--And I hope this illness will be a lesson."

"You haven't seen her, I suppose?"

"And I don't intend to!" Her mouth snapped. "It's quite bad enough to think of Edward's wife in a common prison."

"I understand how you feel," McTaggart nodded his head gravely--"but the worst of it is it's killing Jill."

The little old maid started at this.

"Jill? What's that child got to do with it?"

"Everything"--McTaggart frowned--"nurse her mother, help with the cooking, and sit up, besides, night after night. She can't go on--she's bound to break down--and n.o.body seems to care in the least."

He saw a shade of anxiety settle on the thin face. ("It's all right"--he said to himself--"she's fond of her niece.") His courage rose. "That's why I've come to you, I feel so awfully sorry for Jill--and Mrs. Uniacke's no good--I really thought you ought to know."

"You did quite right. I'd no idea." Her grey eyes flashed as she spoke. "Mary's not fit to have children!"

The scorn of the unmarried sounded.

"I'm so relieved." McTaggart smiled. "I felt it was no business of mine and wondered how you would receive me. But now--since you're so kind--I want to make a certain suggestion. It seems they won't hear of a nurse----" the young man went a trifle red--"Of course--they must have a lot of expenses--education and all that, and I want to be allowed to help.

"As it happens I've been left ... rather a large fortune lately and I don't know what to do with the money--it's a fact, I a.s.sure you..." he hurried on--"and if you agree to it, I thought I'd see about a good trained nurse--for night work--to relieve Jill. We're such old friends----" his voice pleaded--"only you see she's awfully proud, so I thought if I might use your name Jill need never know about it. I suppose you'll think it awful cheek," boyishly he added the clause--"for a stranger to come and suggest this--but I've known Jill all my life."

There followed an embarra.s.sing pause. He could feel the keen grey eyes upon him and looked away, his gaze fixed on a goblet of Bohemian gla.s.s with "Gruss!" inscribed in gilt upon it.

Over Miss Uniacke's wrinkled face a grim smile began to steal.

"Hm ... I see. You want to indulge in philanthropy--at the expense of my conscience?"

McTaggart, glancing up, caught a twinkle in her eyes.

"Exactly--we can both afford it!--I knew, somehow, you'd be kind."

"Did you?" She chuckled, inwardly pleased. "You seem to take a lot for granted. May I ask the reason why?"

"Well--if you want to know..." he smiled. "No--I'd better not." He checked himself mischievously, studying her face.

"Jill, I suppose, or, perhaps, Roddy?--I sent that young rascal a hamper lately--I expect he's been deceiving you! I only do it because, as it happens, Mrs. Belsey likes cooking. And I don't eat cakes myself--so it pleases her--and I hate waste!"

"No. Roddy's been most discreet!" He paused, then risked it, laughing.

"I guessed it from your beautiful hands! There's such a lot of character to be learnt from hands----" he went on calmly, enjoying her indignant surprise. "I always judge people by them, and I'm never very far wrong!"

"You're a very impertinent young man!"

The smile she could no longer repress robbed the words of their sting--"Now before I answer your ... rigmarole--I want to think."

McTaggart nodded. He was well pleased with his mission and he felt a personal interest in this singular new acquaintance, with her sharp tongue and kind eyes.

Absently, from a black silk bag, Miss Uniacke drew a bundle of wool and began to knit rapidly, thinking aloud, between the st.i.tches.

"Three, four, five, purl--the woman's an utter fool--always told Edward so!--seven, eight, drop one. But there's the girl to consider--twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen--dirty house, no management--nineteen, twenty, knit one, turn..."

Silence fell in the darkening room.

Then from behind the sofa came the startling sound of a noisy kiss.

McTaggart wheeled round in wonder.

"Pret-ty Polly--give-us-a-kiss!" followed by a grave "A-men." The grey parrot, upside down, clinging to his narrow perch, let out a mocking laugh. Miss Uniacke knitted on.

"Seven, eight--strong soup--nine, purl--some good old port--ridiculous!

a child of that age--ten, eleven, wants air--drop one--and nine hours sleep. Pity they let her out of prison--fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, turn--If I had my way I'd shave their heads. Soon cure this Suffrage nonsense--Three, four----"

McTaggart felt a wild desire to laugh aloud, as from the window the parrot indulged in a hoa.r.s.e and fervent "d.a.m.n!"

"Oh!" Miss Uniacke rose to her feet. "You _bad_ bird. You shall go to bed----" She seized a green baize cloth and threw it nimbly over the cage. "I can't _think_ where he learns these words."

At the shocked note in her voice McTaggart straightened his face.

"I expect he lived with a Suffragette before he came to you," he suggested--"and once they get the fever, you know, it's all up with their morals. He'll be out breaking windows next!"

Miss Uniacke chuckled grimly.

"Well----" she laid her knitting down and folded her slim white hands.

"I've made up my mind, Mr. McTaggart. I can't allow Jill to suffer.

I'm much obliged for your kind offer but there's a better way by far.

I shall go and look after Mary myself."

She said it with an air of triumph.