Barnaby Part 22

"Hus.h.!.+" said Rackham vehemently, and then, more slowly--"Julia, are you sure of that?"

She tried to imitate him, to whisper, but she was too excited.

"Sure!" she said, laughing hysterically. "I know his voice so well.

There was a green plant between us----"

"Wait," said Rackham. "There's somebody coming. We'll go down. d.a.m.n!

there are people everywhere--! Get a shawl, and we'll go out into the street."

Julia resisted him.

"Why are you dragging me away?" she rebelled. "You can't keep me quiet. Think how I've been treated! I could scream it to all the world!"

A woman could not have silenced her, but her emotional nature yielded finally to the rough coaxing of a man. He almost swung her downstairs into the draughty pa.s.sage and, raiding the ladies' cloakroom, s.n.a.t.c.hed up the first wrap that lay to his hand.

A chill wind blew up the steps, but there was still a persistent crew of gazers loitering in the street below. Rackham led her past, and they strolled a little way into the darkness, lighted at intervals by a twinkling lamp. There was no danger there of her making scenes.

"Now," he said. "Now, Julia--!"

"They shall all hear the truth!" she cried. She hung on his arm, gesticulating.

"You wouldn't betray him?" said Rackham, sounding her.

"Him?" she said. "Poor Barnaby! He and I are the victims. Don't you understand yet? When she thought he was dead his mother--just to crush me, just to humble me in the dust!--hired this creature. Don't you remember how she sprung her on us? Who had heard of a marriage? Oh, it was a judgment on her when he came home!"

"She'd hardly look at the case in that light," he said. But Julia was impervious to irony.

"He should have considered me first," she said. "Why do men always sacrifice the one they love best? It's a kind of cruel unselfishness.

I was his dearest, a part of himself, and so--and so I'm to bear this trial--! But he might have trusted _me_!"

She was either laughing or sobbing, he was not sure which; the cloak that m.u.f.fled her hid her face; but her voice raged on, half furious, half triumphant.

"Of course, she's blackmailing him," she said. "That wretch has got him in the hollow of her hand! If he disowned her it would all come out, and it would disgrace his mother. He was always quixotic. And so he is temporizing till he can bribe her to disappear. But Lady Henrietta has no claim on my forbearance!"

She had to pause for breath, and he managed to get in his word.

"I am going to advise you," he said, "to keep quiet over this."

They had come to the end of the street, and were walking back. A dazzle of lights in the distance marked the Corn Exchange. A motor whirred past, its lamps sending a brief glare that was like a searchlight. Already a few were leaving.

"Why?" she said, staring at him.

"You'll be a fool if you talk," he said. "If Barnaby is holding his tongue for his mother's sake, is it likely he'll give way? And you have no proofs. Whatever you say, he'll deny it. He mightn't forgive you, either. Be sensible.... Wait a bit, and I'll make inquiries."

It struck her then as odd that he had accepted her words himself, without argument, with no incredulous opposition, such as she was beginning to realize must fall to her lot if she published her tale abroad.

"Did you know from the first?" she cried.

"No," said Rackham, "I didn't know. But I guessed."

They had nearly reached the steps, and he slackened, regarding her narrowly; but already she was subdued. It was characteristic of her that she had never seen his admiration for the impostor. Vast as her imagination was, it was blinded by centring on herself.

"And you'll help me? You are on my side?" she said.

He knew then that he had prevailed.

"As long as you are wise," he said. They went up the steps together.

"I had better find my party," she said hurriedly. "I want to go home.

Poor Barnaby!--I can't bear to meet him. I am too agitated."

Rackham took back the borrowed cloak and strolled along the pa.s.sage, in no hurry to return to the ballroom. People were pa.s.sing in and out; some of them were saying good-night, and one pair were wrangling on their way to the door.

"Who was the man you were flirting with in the street?" said the lover in an angry stutter. The lady scoffed.

"What a story!"

"My brother saw you go out. He came up and chaffed me."

"Your brother is a donkey. It must have been someone else."

"I tell you he recognized you by that chiffon fal-lal you wear!"

Rackham stood on one side. Let them fight it out.... Then his mouth hardened. What was he going to do? He had managed to prevent Julia from spoiling it all, and as long as he could keep her quiet the cards were in his hands.

CHAPTER VIII

"I won't let you go home," said the d.u.c.h.ess. "Barnaby can do as he likes, but you're too tired to mind sleeping in a cupboard."

She held Susan firmly by the arm as she spoke; she had motives.

Barnaby deserved to be punished; his conduct with Julia had really been scandalous. But a worn-out girl, a wisp of white satin, was no match for a naughty husband. She would burst into tears and forgive him.

Let Barnaby go home by himself, feeling guilty, and brood upon his unkindness. _She_ would tell Susan what to do to him in the morning.

With rough kindness she hustled the girl away with her, and having collected her party, ordered them to bed.

"Because," she said, "until some of you are disposed of I can't tell what to do with the others, and I want to know if there are beds enough to go round."

Susan was the first to be bundled into her attic, and lay wearily listening to a far-off commotion. When at last the household had settled down there was a fresh disturbance, and the elder of the two foreign maids mounted, carrying an armful of pillows.

The d.u.c.h.ess herself followed, to excuse the indicated invasion. She was already in her dressing-gown. The maid set up a chair bed that had stood, doubled up, in the corner, and was sent out of the room for a minute.

"I've come to apologize," said the d.u.c.h.ess, "for pitchforking a stranger into your room like this; but I'm sorry for the woman. You are the only one of them I can depend on not to be horrid to her."

She looked round, measuring the s.p.a.ce that was to be shared. "I hope,"

she said, "you won't b.u.mp into each other. The truth is, I have a shocking custom of sticking my head out of the window when something is going on outside; and just as I was getting into bed I heard a tremendous buzzing. Everybody must have started. If this was somebody's motor gone wrong, I supposed I ought to offer my hospitality. And it was. The chauffeur was grovelling; a man I knew was storming at him; and a woman wringing her hands on the pavement. I knew her too, perfectly, and she had no business in that man's car."