The Tidal Wave and Other Stories Part 26

"You base defaulter!" he cried. "I'll see you march in front next time.

I was never more scandalised in my life than when I realised that you and Molly had done a slope."

Fisher shrugged the shoulder nearest to him and offered no explanation of his and Molly's defection.

Charlie kept up a running fire of chaff for some time, to which Fisher, as was his wont, showed himself to be perfectly indifferent. Lunch over, Molly disappeared. Charlie saw her go and turned instantly to Fisher.

"Come and have a single on the asphalt court!" he said. "I haven't tried it yet. I want to."

Fisher was reluctant, but yielded to persuasion.

They went off together, Charlie with an affectionate arm round his friend's shoulders.

"I am to congratulate, I suppose?" he asked, as they crossed the garden to the tennis-court.

Fisher looked at him gravely, a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

"You may, if it gives you any pleasure to do so, my boy," he said.

"Ah, that's good!" said Charlie. "You're a jolly good fellow, old chap.

You'll make her awfully happy."

"I shall do my best," Fisher said.

Charlie pa.s.sed instantly to less serious matters, but the critical look did not pa.s.s entirely from Fisher's face. He seemed to be watching for something, for some card that Charlie did not appear disposed to play.

Throughout the hard set that followed, his vigilance did not relax; but Charlie played with all his customary zest. Tennis was to him for the time being the only thing worth doing on the face of the earth. In his enthusiasm he speedily stripped off his coat and rolled his sleeves to the shoulder as if it had been the hottest summer day.

At the end of the set, which Charlie won, a couple of spectators who had come up unseen applauded their energy, and Charlie, swinging round in flushed triumph, raced up for a word with his host and Molly Erie.

"I can't stuff over a fire all the afternoon," he said. "But the light is getting bad, isn't it? Fisher and I will have to knock off. Are you two going for a walk? We'll come, too, if you are, eh, Fisher?"

He turned towards Fisher, who had come up, and held out his hand for the other's racquet.

Molly uttered a sudden startled exclamation.

"Why, Charlie," she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "what have you done to your arm? What is the matter with it?"

Charlie jumped at her startled tone and tore down his s.h.i.+rt-sleeve hastily.

"An old wound," he said, with a shame-faced laugh.

She put her gloved hand swiftly on his to stay his operations.

"No, tell me!" she said. "What is it--really? How was it done?"

"You will never get him to tell you that," laughed Bertie Richmond. "You had better ask Fisher."

"Oh, rats!" cried Charlie vehemently. "Fisher, I'll break your head with this racquet if you give my show away. Come along! I believe the moon has contracted a romantic habit of rising over the sea when the sun sets. Let's go and----"

"I'll tell you, Molly," broke in Bertie, linking a firm arm in Charlie's to keep him quiet. "He can't break his host's head, you know. It's a scald, eh, Charlie? He got it in the engine-room of the _Andover_ one night in the autumn. You were on board, you know. Help me to hold him, Fisher! He's getting restive. But I thought you knew all about it, Molly. You told me so."

"Oh, I didn't know--this!" the girl said. "How could I? I never guessed--this!"

Her three listeners were all surprised by the tragic note in her voice.

There was a momentary silence. Then Charlie made a fierce attempt to wrest himself free.

"You infernal idiots!" he exclaimed violently. "Fisher, if you interfere with me any more I--I'll punch your head! Bertie, don't be such a fool!"

He shook them off with an angry effort. Fisher laughed quietly.

"You can't always hide your light, my dear fellow," he observed. "If you will do impossible things, you will have to put up with the penalty of being occasionally found out."

"Silly a.s.s!" commented Bertie. "Anyone would think that to save a few hundred human lives was a thing to be ashamed of. It was the same thing in South Africa; always slinking off into the background when the work was done, till everyone took you for nothing but a looker-on--a chap who ought to wear the V.C., if ever there was one," he ended, thrusting an arm through Charlie's, as the latter, having put on his coat, turned once more towards them.

"Oh, you are utterly wrong," the boy said forcibly, almost angrily. "If you judge a man by what he does on impulse you might decorate the biggest blackguard in the world with the V.C."

"You're made of impulse, my dear lad," Bertie remarked, walking off with him. "You're a ma.s.s of impulse. That's why you do such idiotic things."

Charlie yielded, chafing, to the friendly hand.

"I should like to kick you, Bertie," he said.

But he went no further than that. Bertie Richmond was his very good friend, and he was Bertie's. Neither of them was likely to forget that fact.

VIII

"Oh, Charlie, here you are! I _am_ glad!"

Molly entered the smoking-room with an air of resolution. She had just returned from evening church with Fisher. They were late, and the latter had gone off to dress forthwith.

But Molly had glanced into the smoking-room, and, seeing Charlie alone there, as she had half hoped but scarcely expected, she entered.

Charlie sprang up instantly, his brown face exceedingly alert.

"Come to the fire!" he said hospitably.

Molly went, but did not sit down. She stood facing him on the hearth-rug. Her young face was very troubled.

"I want to tell you," she said steadily, "how sorry--and grieved--I am for all the hard things I have said and thought of you. I would like to retract them all. I was quite wrong. I took you for an idler--a buffoon almost. I know better now. And I--I should like you to forgive me."

Her voice suddenly faltered. Her eyes were full of tears she could neither repress nor conceal.

Charlie, however, seemed to notice nothing strained in the atmosphere.

He broke into a gay laugh and held out his hand.

"Oh, that's all right," he said briskly. "Shake hands and forget what those a.s.ses said about me! You were quite right, you know. I am a buffoon. There isn't an inch of heroism anywhere about me. You took my measure long ago, didn't you? To change the subject, I'm most awfully pleased to hear that you and old Fisher have come to an understanding.

Congratulate you most heartily. There's solid worth in that chap. He goes straight ahead and never plays the fool."