Prince Charlie Part 38

As to d.i.c.k, the gloom which had fallen on him during dinner seemed too thick for penetration. Merry d.i.c.k belied his nickname; had no more merriment in him than has a mute at a funeral.

In the drawing-room Masters was as miserable as he had been in the dining and smokerooms. Turned over photographs; sought in vain for something to make him look less of a fool than he felt. At last came to the end of his endurance tether; under a plea of some work he had to post to a publisher by the early morning's mail, hastily excused himself.

"It's a glorious night, old chap." d.i.c.k, speaking hoa.r.s.ely, and getting into his great-coat. "I'll walk home with you. We will smoke a cigar together."

Masters said good-night; shook hands. Noticed the burning heat of Mrs.

Seton-Carr's, as for a moment her hand rested in his--but did not accord the true reason for it. She was even laughing with Chantrelle at the very moment she said good-night; was a natural actress: a woman.

"How quiet Mr. Masters is." The cat purring: Amy speaking, as the door closed. "But I suppose, socially, authors are as dull as ditch water.

Keep all their clever thoughts for their books. It is selfish of them in the extreme."

Amy laughed gaily; continued in that strain. Laughter is the allotment of those who win; the Chantrelles felt justified in the belief that they were in no way losing.

Mrs. Seton-Carr professed accord in the opinion of Masters' dulness; the sea voyage had not improved him. Society was not the thing he shone in; in fact, she had found him rather depressing; was glad he left so early.

Lies! Lies--each and every one of the opinions she expressed.

The two men who had left the bungalow walked along the Parade for a time without speaking. Each was full of emotion. d.i.c.k's found vent first; he blurted out:

"I'm--I'm awfully sorry, old man!"

There was a faint tinge of nervousness in Masters' responding laugh; he was not a man to a.s.similate pity very well, even his best friends'.

Throwing away the cigar, which had gone out, he lighted his pipe; the match betrayed a shaking hand.

"Thanks.... Cloudless night; looks like being a fine day to-morrow, doesn't it?"

The effort to change the subject proved futile; d.i.c.k spoke impulsively:

"Hang the weather!... You don't think I knew anything of this, dear old chap----"

"No! No!"

"--or you know I should have----"

"Yes, yes. I know."

"Mab has always professed to positively loathe Percy; tolerated him because she liked his sister. He is a bit of a bounder, you know."

"Your sister does not seem to share in that opinion of yours."

He could not quite keep the bitterness out of the way in which he said that.

"No!"

The brother admitted it; spoke just as bitterly. When they reached his lodgings Masters said:

"Come round, will you?"

"You--you won't come on to the cottage to----"

"Oh, no! No!"

"No. I didn't expect you would. I had counted on things being so different! Counted on a merry Christmas."

d.i.c.k laughed as he said, thought of, a merry Christmas: the unpleasant, ironic laugh of a disappointed man. Just then he was as full of disappointment as he could well hold.

"I had gone in for a certain amount of accountancy too."

Masters made the response with a little catch in his voice, which the a.s.sumed laugh could not disguise. He had stopped and was standing with his hand on d.i.c.k's shoulder.

"Do you remember that last time I held you like this, dear boy? I was so full of joy then, so blinded by it, to what I was doing, that you accused me of squeezing you to hurting point." A sigh punctuated his speech. "I don't feel like hurting you now."

"Squeeze the life out of me, if it will be any relief to your feelings."

d.i.c.k spoke gruffly. "It's your life. I shouldn't be living at all if it were not for you."

He was a good boy was d.i.c.k, with a heart in him; a heart in the right place. It grieved him to see even the suspicion of a tear in the eye of the friend he loved so well.

His own brown eyes looked into the author's with silent, dog-like fidelity and sympathy. Masters was not insensible to it. It was an eloquent silence; expressed far more to him than words could have done.

"I made a mistake, d.i.c.k; that's all. I suppose all of us do; the world seems so full of them.... And let this be the last of it, dear old man, will you? Don't recur to it ever again; please. The sore is fresh, and--and--I don't mind owning to you, it hurts. Please don't let us talk about it--ever again--please."

d.i.c.k grasped the hand extended to him; held it in a long, tight grip.

Put his other hand on his companion's shoulder, and was about to speak.

Then felt that speech would be a failure; simply said gruffly:

"I'll see you in the morning, old man; I'll walk round. Good-night."

Not another word pa.s.sed between them; a tight hand-grip and they parted.

Masters to his rooms, d.i.c.k homeward bound--a journey he made with the blood coursing through his veins at boiling point. He had more than a little of his sister's temper.

d.i.c.k was simply furious at the manner in which Mabel had treated Masters. He dared not trust himself to more talk that night. Just looked into the drawing-room at the bungalow, professed weariness, said a hurried good-night and retired to his room.

In the morning, Gracie offered strong evidence that she had a tongue in her head; was full of the return of Prince Charlie. She had heard of his arrival with delight; was running over with anxiety to see him.

Instinctively she felt that Uncle d.i.c.k was the ways and means. When she heard that he was going to call on Masters that morning, she emulated the limpet; he could not have shaken her off had he tried.

"Get your things on, Puss," said d.i.c.k, as the breakfast things were being cleared away, "and I'll take you round to see him."

Miss Chantrelle professed the most acute astonishment. Not so much by what she said, but the way she acted. Wasn't Mr. Masters coming in to lunch?... Nor to dinner? Not at all that day?... Those carefully combed eyebrows of hers almost disappeared under her fringe--she was so surprised!

Gracie had scampered off and returned in full war-paint: best hat, best shoes, best coat and, crowning glory, new m.u.f.f! She did hope Prince Charlie would notice it and ask her all about it. But if he did not, she could tell him. That is one of the advantages of being very young.

When Gracie and d.i.c.k had gone out, Miss Chantrelle improved the opportunity with her hostess. Nearly drove that lady to the brink of madness by her anxiety to know if they had quarrelled; what it meant; why he wasn't coming, etc.

Mabel did not know; really, the matter was of little interest to her.

His presence made very little difference; she wondered Amy could bother about him.

That was what she was able to bring herself to say. But the effort was a big one; she was not a conspicuous success in lies of the top-notch kind.

Matters continued in this way. Things are not always what they seem; it was by no means a pleasant little party at Ivy Cottage. When at home--which was a very rare thing, for he spent most of his time at Masters' lodgings--d.i.c.k was sulky to the extreme of sullenness.