The Obstacle Race Part 64

She faced him standing at the door, striving desperately for self-control. "It may be Saltash," she said, speaking more quietly. "I saw him this morning, and he knows about the concert to-night. d.i.c.k--"

she caught her breath involuntarily--"d.i.c.k, why do you look at me like that?"

He made a curious jerky movement--as if he strove against invisible bonds. "So," he said, "you are expecting him!"

She stiffened at his words. "I have told you I am expecting no one, but that is no reason why Saltash should not come."

For a second he looked at her with something that was near akin to contempt in his eyes, then suddenly an awful flame leapt up in them consuming all beside. He took a swift step forward, and caught her between his hands.

"Juliet!" he said sternly. "Stop this trifling! What are you hiding from me? What is it you were trying to tell me just now?"

She shrank from the fire of his look. "I can't tell you now, d.i.c.k. It's impossible. d.i.c.k, you are hurting me!"

He spoke between his teeth. "I've got to know! Tell me now!"

Someone was knocking a careless tattoo upon the outer door. Juliet turned her head sharply, but she kept her eyes upon her husband's face.

"No, d.i.c.k," she said after a moment, and with the words something of her customary quiet courage came back to her. "I can't--possibly--tell you now. Do this one thing for me--wait till to-night!"

"And then?" he said.

"I promise that you shall know--everything--then," she said.

"Please--give me till then!"

There was earnest entreaty in her voice, but she had subdued her agitation. She met the scorching intensity of his look with eyes that never wavered, and in spite of himself he was swayed by her steadfastness.

"Very well," he said, and set her free. "Till to-night!"

She turned from him in silence and opened the door. He stood motionless, with hands clenched at his sides, and watched her.

She went down the pa.s.sage without haste and reached the outer door. She opened it without fumbling, and in a moment Saltash's debonair accents came to him.

"Ah, _Juliette_! You are ready? Has your good husband got back yet? Ah, there you are, sir! I have called to offer you and _madame_ a lift. I am going your way."

He came sauntering up the pa.s.sage with the royal a.s.surance characteristic of him, and held out his hand to d.i.c.k with malicious cordiality.

"I come as a friend, Romeo. Do you know you're very late? Have you only just got back?"

Juliet's eyes were upon d.i.c.k. She saw his momentary hesitation before he took the proffered hand.

Saltash saw it also and grinned appreciatively. "Well, what news? What did Yardley have to say?"

"I didn't see him," d.i.c.k said briefly.

"No? How was that?"

d.i.c.k shrugged his shoulders. "Merely because he wasn't there. I can't tell you why, for I don't know. I waited about all day--to no purpose."

"Drew a blank!" commented Saltash. "No wonder you're feeling a bit savage! What are you going to do now?"

d.i.c.k faced him, grimly uncommunicative. "Oh, talk, I suppose. What else?"

"And you're taking Juliet?" pursued Saltash.

"Have you any objection?" said d.i.c.k sharply.

"None," said Saltash smoothly. "She is your wife, not mine--perhaps fortunately for her." He threw a gay glance at Juliet. "Are you ready, _ma chere_? Come along, _mon ami_! It will amuse me to hear you--talk."

Juliet went upstairs to fetch her cloak, and d.i.c.k took his coat from the peg in the hall, and began to put it on. Saltash watched him with careless amiability.

"Are you going to be there to-night then?" d.i.c.k asked him suddenly.

"I am proposing to give myself that pleasure," he returned. "That is, of course, if you on your part have no objection."

d.i.c.k's black eyes surveyed him keenly. "I am quite capable of protecting my wife single-handed," he said. "Not that there will be any need."

Saltash executed a smiling bow. "I am delighted to hear you say so. Have you got a cigarette to spare?"

d.i.c.k took out his case and held it to him. Saltash helped himself, the smile still twitching the corners of his mouth.

"Thanks," he said lightly. "So you have no anxieties about to-night!"

"None," said d.i.c.k.

"You think the men will come to heel?"

"They haven't broken away yet," d.i.c.k reminded him curtly.

Saltash raised his eyes suddenly. "When they do--what then?" he said.

"What do you mean?" said d.i.c.k.

He laughed mischievously. "I suppose you know that you are credited with being at their head?"

d.i.c.k, in the act of striking a match, paused. He looked at the other man with raised brows. "At their head?" he questioned. "What do you mean?"

Without the smallest change of countenance Saltash enlightened him. "As strike-leader, agitator, and so on. You have achieved an enviable reputation by your philanthropy. Didn't you know?"

d.i.c.k struck the match with an absolutely steady hand, and held it to his cigarette. "I did not," he said.

Saltash puffed at the cigarette, peering at him curiously through the smoke. "Which may account for your failure to find Ivor Yardley," he suggested after a moment.

"In what way?" said d.i.c.k.

Saltash straightened himself. "I imagine he is not a great believer in--philanthropy," he said.

d.i.c.k's eyes shone with an ominous glitter. "From my point of view these insinuations are not worth considering," he said, "though no doubt it has given you a vast amount of enjoyment to fabricate them."

"I!" said Saltash.