Only One Love, or Who Was the Heir Part 41

Leonard looked after him, and then went on with his work. He saw no more of him until late in the evening, when Jack came in and threw himself into a chair, looking weary if not exhausted.

"What have you been doing, Jack?" asked Leonard.

"Looking for a needle in a bundle of hay," replied Jack, grimly.

Leonard nodded.

"I've been walking about ever since I left you, with scarcely a rest.

I've walked through every thoroughfare in London. I've looked into windows and into shops. I've been warned off and told to move on by the police, who thought I was a burglar on the search for a job; and here I am and there is she as far off as ever. And yet I feel--Heavens knows why--that she is here in London. Len, if you smile I shall knock you down."

"I was never farther from smiling than I am at this moment," said Leonard quietly.

"Do you know what I would do if--if the squire had left me any money?"

went on Jack, fiercely; "I would spend every penny of it in searching for her. I'd have a hundred--a thousand detectives at work. I'd never give them rest night or day till they found her."

"And then?" said Leonard.

Jack groaned and lit his pipe. Leonard looked at him.

"I thought you had gone to call on Lady Earlsley," he said.

Jack looked very much as if he really meant to knock him down, and marched off to bed.

When he came in to breakfast the next morning Leonard noticed that he was dressed in proper walking attire, instead of the loose, free and easy, well-worn suit of cheviot, but he said nothing. Jack looked up.

"You are staring at my get-up, Len. Well, I'll do it; but mind it is only to please you. What should I care what she thinks? though I ought to do it, I know. I'll call and thank her, and then let there be an end of it. I can't bear any chaff of that sort even from you, old fellow."

Leonard nodded without a word, for he saw that the once frank face had lost its careless _sang froid_ expression, and looked hara.s.sed and even haggard.

Jack smoked a pipe in silence, watching Leonard's rapidly moving pen; then, without a word, went out.

Two hours later he came in, and with an air of relief and even a smile, said:

"Well, I've done it, and it's over."

"Well?" said Leonard, curiously.

"Well, nothing; she wasn't at home," said Jack, triumphantly.

"Not at home. What sort of a place was it?"

"The best place in Park Lane," said Jack. "No end of flunkeys about, and the rest of it. Looks as if she rolled in gold, as she must do to have the place at all."

"And you didn't see her?" asked Leonard.

Jack colored and frowned.

"What a curious beggar you are! Yes, I did see her; her carriage drove up just as I was going away."

"And you spoke to her?"

"No, I just raised my hat and walked away," said Jack, gravely.

Leonard shrugged his shoulders.

"She will think you a boor."

"So I am," said Jack. "What does it matter? Tell me something about yourself. I am sick of myself. What have you been doing?"

Leonard's pale face flushed.

"I've been to Cheltenham Terrace," he said.

"Well, did you see her?"

"No," said Leonard, sadly. "I saw that the blinds in the upper windows were down, and I went to the next door, and asked if anyone was ill."

"Well?"

"Yes, her grandfather, old Mr. Treherne, was ill, they said, and I came away."

"Well," said Jack, "at any rate you know where to find her--while I----"

"I saw her shadow on the blind," said Leonard, simply. "I could swear to it among a hundred. I watched her beautiful profile for an hour in that railway carriage."

"Treherne, Laura Treherne," said Jack. "It is a pretty name. What took her to Hurst Leigh that night, I wonder? The night the squire died. Len, it is a romance, but I envy you. If I knew where Una lived I'd hang about the house night and day until I saw her. Len, do you know what it is to be hungry, to be parched and dried up with thirst so that you would give all you possessed--ten years of your life for a draught of water? That is just how I feel when I think of that beautiful face, with its soft brown eyes and innocent smile! And when do I not think of her?"

"And you didn't speak to Lady Bell?" said Leonard.

Jack made a hasty explanation and made for the door, nearly running against the housekeeper.

"A letter for you, sir," she said.

Jack tore it open, read it and threw it to Leonard.

The envelope was a dainty gray color, and stamped with an elaborate coat of arms, with the initials I. E. in cipher underneath, and inside was a card of invitation to a ball, filled in by a lady's delicate hand, with a line in addition.

"With Lady Earlsley's compliments and regret that she was from home when Mr. Newcombe called."

"Jack, what condescension. You must go!"

Jack stammered, and argued, and protested. He was too honest to plead that he was in mourning; but he simply swore that he would not go.

The day came round and the evening fell, and Jack came into the sitting-room in evening dress, his tall form seeming to fill the room.

Leonard used to say that it was a treat to see Jack in evening dress; that he was one of the few men who looked to advantage in it, and he turned from his eternal pen and ink to look at him with an approving smile.

"Yes," said Jack, fiercely, "I am going; I am a fool, but how can a man stand against such a perpetual old nuisance as you are? But mind, I am just going in and out again, and after this there is an end of it. I shall enlist!" and out he went.