CHAPTER XVI

SOME OLD ACQUAINTANCES

I had dropped most of the old crowd--rather, they dropped me, not approving of my new mode of life--but that evening, Saturday, I dined with Roupell at Sherry's. It was one of those invitations, long standing, you can't avoid without giving serious offense, and I had nothing against the jovial Falstaff. Blunt's remark that he might be connected with the Black Company was simply a haphazard one, for all my acquaintances might be open to the same suspicion, and I had thought little more about it.

"What!" he exclaimed, visibly affected, when I turned down his offer of a drink. "This is a staggering blow. Come, surely you're not going to compel me to drink alone? Only one glass, just to be sociable."

"Not one drop," I said, though every fiber of me was crying out in protest. It was my first big temptation, and I set my teeth to meet it.

"You don't mean you've gone temperance?" he asked incredulously. "I heard a tale to that effect, but couldn't believe it. Is it because of that Red Bank affair? My dear man, a miss is as good as a mile. Why do penance for something never committed?"

"No credit to me that it wasn't. I can never forget what might and, by all odds, should have happened. No, I won't take anything, thank you, and that's final."

So, still arguing and protesting, he consumed his own with such slow and evident relish that I could have cracked him over the head. "Sure you won't have a little?" he kept saying every once in a while; and then he would squint at his glass against the light and smack his lips.

"If I come through this," I thought, clenching my hands under the table, "I can come through anything."

"Awfully tragic about poor Ashton," he remarked presently, sighing windily. "Haven't the police done anything yet? Ah, these 'business' trips! But, then, boys will be boys."

"You're entirely wrong if you think he was on the loose," I said hotly. "I know that some of the papers even went so far as to hint at opium smoking, but any one who knew Tommy Ashton at all----"

"But consider the circumstances, Lawton. What else took him to Chinatown?"

"He must have had business there."

"What kind? Come now, of course it won't go any farther, but between ourselves we may as well admit--eh?"

I think it was a sudden and transient gleam in his cushioned eyes, a mere hint of watchful suspicion so startlingly different from his perennial jovial twinkle, that acted on me like a douche of ice water and stilled my too ready tongue. Perhaps it was only a trick of the light, but, anyway, I found myself regarding Howard Roupell with a new interest, while suddenly mindful of Blunt's remarks about superfluous flesh and malefactors.

For all its indulgent lines, the man's face was powerful in a sense, and I wondered if there was a reverse side to the jovial mask--if mask it were. On the other hand, he might be as innocent and harmless as I had hitherto believed, with no ulterior motive in urging me to drink, or in his talk about Ashton. The knowledge that a hidden and ubiquitous enemy was gunning for me was having its inevitable effect, and I was becoming suspicious of every one.

The entrance of Arnold Frean at this point changed the conversation.

"Hello," said Roupell, "there's that young scallawag. Since his father chucked him out he's more affluent than ever. Wonder where he gets it? Touting, I suppose. Hope he doesn't see us. You know, I'm no Puritan, Lawton, but, between you and me, that's one fellow I never could stomach. There isn't a straight hair in his head."

Being totally bald himself, Roupell never could have this criticism passed on him. I refused to sit in judgment; and Frean, catching sight of us, strolled over. It was our first meeting since that night in the Admiral and, thinking of poor Ashton, my impulse now was to give Arnold Frean a bit of all that was coming to him. If he had not actually plotted or participated in Ashton's death, he was at least an associate of those who had. But mindful of Blunt's emphatic request, and that a hasty or ill-judged action of mine might ruin far-reaching plans of which I knew nothing, I forced myself to meet Frean with composure, though I could assume no show of cordiality. Roupell's greeting was also chilly, but Frean was neither discouraged nor embarrassed. It took a lot to shake his high opinion of himself.

"Awful crush to-night," he said. "May I butt in here? Thanks!" And he sat down without waiting for an assent. I thought he wasn't looking particularly well; his face was a bit drawn. He would take nothing but mineral water.

"What!" exclaimed Roupell, as if startled out of his dignity and aloofness. "What's the world coming to! You and Lawton both--two in one night! This is an awful shock. Have the two of you fallen in love?"

A faint color tinged Frean's cheek, while I was uncomfortably aware that my own countenance wasn't as impassive as I might have wished.

"Aha, that's it!" exclaimed Roupell, giving his loud, jovial laugh. "Nothing but the ladies--that is, some of 'em--could produce this tremendous catastrophe. Sworn off, eh? Till after the honeymoon, of course. Who are the fortunate fair? Let us hope for the plural, that it isn't a case of the old unhappy triangle. I'm afraid, Frean, you wouldn't stand much of a chance against Lawton--I mean, the reformed article. Consider his beauty and purse, a sort of Apollo-Midas, going in strong for temperance and charity."

"When I think of marrying, Roupell, I'll let you know first--it would be the simplest way of sending out announcements," yawned Frean. "If I'm not drinking, it's on account of my liver, not my heart." But I saw that Roupell's words had gone home, for Frean glowered at me for a moment, and I sensed what Blunt would have called "the entrance of an outside complicating factor." He was in love, or near it, with Brenda Gelette.

"You got off mighty lucky from that Red Bank mess," he sneered presently. "Nothing like being rich. How much did it cost you?"

"More, perhaps, than you would care to pay--simply the truth."

"You call me a liar?" he cried.

"Here! Remember where you are," exclaimed Roupell. "This is no place to settle differences."

"I haven't called you anything," I said to Frean, "but you're at liberty to draw your own inference. If you think I paid any hush money or tried to square the case, you're mistaken. My innocence was established on the facts."

"Oh, of course," he sneered. "You can establish anything if you're rich enough; and that tale about your car being stolen was awfully thin."

"Well, don't worry about it," I said, pushing back my chair and determined to keep my temper. "Sorry, Roupell, but I have to cut along."

"Hold on," said Frean. "You've given me the lie, Lawton, and I demand satisfaction. I'll fight you with anything you please, and I know where we can go. You can bring along Roupell here to see fair play."

"I say, that's hardly in my line, you know," protested Roupell, in some distress. "Still, Lawton, I'll be happy to oblige. I think a lesson in manners wouldn't do some one any harm."

"Thanks, but I'm not in the business," I replied. "Don't be an ass, Frean, but go home and cool your head. If you're not drunk, you ought to be."

"You're a rank coward!"

"Perhaps I am," I agreed. "Anyway, I refuse to quarrel about it." And I left the room, marveling somewhat at my new-found self-control.

In the cloakroom Roupell said: "That fellow needs a good scragging, and you ought to give it to him, Lawton. The Lord knows I'm a man of peace, but you can't lie down under that insult. Take him up and finish it to-night. I'll second you. If you don't, he'll brand you all over town." Falstaff had grown very warlike, perhaps, like his prototype, because some one else would be doing the actual fighting, and when I signified utter indifference about the branding process and refused absolutely to do any "scragging," he was visibly affected and seemed quite put out.

As I walked the few blocks to the Belvedere, closely trailed by Nast, I decided that on the following Monday, when I next saw Blunt, I would direct his attention to Howard Roupell.

The next afternoon, while strolling aimlessly down the Avenue, one of the Sunday four o'clock throng, I met Brenda Gelette. Indeed, we actually collided as I turned the corner of the Waldorf. I had no idea she was in town, and it was not until I had doffed my straw bonnet and was voicing the conventional apology that I recognized her. We stared at each other for a moment, and I saw the angry color mounting to her cheek.

"Oh, how do--er--you do, Miss Gelette?" I finished lamely.

"I--er--do very well, thank you, Mr. Lawton," she mimicked acidly, and marched past me toward my old friend, the maroon de luxe, standing at the curb. Joyce was at the wheel.

Cheered greatly by not receiving the cut direct, I turned and overtook her in a stride. "May I have a word with you, please?"

"No, you may not," she said, looking accurately through the brim of my hat. "I don't talk with strangers."

"That's why I want the privilege of introducing myself."

"I don't desire your acquaintance, thank you."

"I'm not offering it. I merely wish the opportunity of apologizing and explaining some past events."

"They are beyond explaining."

"Even the worst criminal is permitted to be heard in his own defense."

Already some curious passing glances had been turned on us, and she flushed and bit her lip. "You're taking an unfair advantage of me," she protested. "Must I call for help?"

"Really I don't need any."

"I shall call a policeman if you don't stop annoying me."

"It will take the whole force to get rid of me. In the words of Ruth--I think it was Ruth--'Whither thou goest----' I insist on being heard. You cannot be less generous than--well, lots of people."

"At least I didn't think you could be a coward and bully----Oh, very well; anything to save a street scene." And she marched toward the car, head erect and cheeks crimson.

"Where to?" I asked, bowing her in.

She sank back in a corner and smiled wickedly. "Oh, that's entirely for you to say. I have absolutely nothing to do with it."

"Claremont," I said to Joyce, "and go as slow as you like."

The car moved off, and I had a fleeting glimpse of the faithful Nast, supporting a lamp-post in his Sunday best, looking unutterable reproaches. I had slipped him for once.

Miss Gelette had lost her momentary calm, and was once again indignant. "How dare you!" she exclaimed. "If you think I'm going to dine with you at the Claremont----"

"It's not compulsory. There is music and a beautiful view."

"I'm not going there at all!"

"But you are; you said it was for me to decide."

"I am not!"

The car continued up the Avenue. Miss Gelette drummed her heels. "I am not!" she repeated. "Besides, I can't leave my uncle for so long. Stop the car at once!"

I did not stop it.

"Oh, very well," she said. "You will answer for this--this outrage. You refuse to stop, you prevent me by main force from communicating with Joyce----"

"I haven't."

"Well, you will; I know you will."

"Certainly. I am absolutely reckless. It wouldn't do you any good to try the speaking tube, anyway. Joyce's morality has been undermined; he has been heavily bribed."

"How exciting!" she murmured. "Abducted by an ex-chauffeur, and what a lovely afternoon it is." She leaned back and eyed the gay, moving panorama of the sunlit Avenue through the open windows. Her mood had changed; she was resigned. I could have asked no better confessional than the town car; Joyce was completely shut off, and we were alone.

"Well," she said at length, "you may begin and have it over with. Or haven't you rehearsed sufficiently?"

"I was wondering where to start----"

"I'm not surprised you find some difficulty."

"I suppose I'd better begin by saying how much I appreciate what your uncle did for me! If he hadn't corroborated my statement--and I'm sure he was entitled----"

"He could do nothing less, not through any veneration for you, but because he is not in the habit of perjuring himself. He was asked for the truth and he told it--quite unlike some people."

"Indeed, yes. It is remarkable how some people simply cannot tell the truth."

"It is," she said, looking at me.

"Of course there are occasions when one must prevaricate; one is forced into deception. There is an excuse----"

"There was absolutely no excuse for your deception, and you needn't try to make one up!" she interrupted violently. "Oh, yes, it was one of your well-known jokes! Something to laugh over later with your dissolute friends. Yes, you even admitted to Joyce it was the result of a drunken wager! Oh, the shame of it! I wonder how you can sit there and laugh----"

"But I'm not laughing."

"You are!"

"Then my face isn't telling the truth."

"I'm not surprised."

"Really, I'm not laughing. Far from it. I tell you I never felt more solemn or full of weighty reproaches in my life. In the first place I ask you to consider my inheritance. Understand that I'm not trying to shelter myself behind that; but I overheard you say one day something to Mr. Varney regarding it which showed you could understand and, perhaps, sympathize a little. I ask for that understanding now."

"I think you have always had it." Her eyes softened, but she added uncompromisingly: "Well, does that explain and excuse everything?"

"No, I didn't mean that it should. I'm merely leading up to what lay behind that wager with Mr. Hewitt. On his part it was not unworthy. It was an effort at my reformation, and, when I was in a position to realize it, I determined to profit by it. I assure you it meant a great deal more than the winning of a wager; it meant the winning back of my manhood and self-respect. It meant the battle of my life, and, if I lost it, Peter Lawton would remain 'dead' for all time. My surroundings helped me greatly; I was working once more for my living, spending only what I earned, and I was cut off from friends I could well afford to do without. Nor can I estimate your unconscious influence and that of Mr. Varney. The promise I gave you that day was not given in jest, something to laugh over later with my friends. It meant the turning point in my life, the life of the previous six months. I have kept that promise faithfully, and shall do so to the end, God helping me. To sum up, consider a man fighting for his soul, and therefore throwing everything into the scale."

She turned away suddenly and looked out of the window. "I--I think you might have told me," she said over her shoulder.

As I had promised Blunt to say nothing to any one about the Black Company, I had to leave all reference to it out of my present argument. "How could I tell you?" I replied. "You know it could only have meant my instant dismissal. I knew your uncle hated my people, but I didn't know the reason. I assure you, also, I was ignorant of the Red Bank matter. That had absolutely nothing to do with my maintaining the rôle of Joyce."

"To do my uncle and me justice, we never thought it had," she said. "We knew, though Mr. Frean didn't, that you couldn't have been in Red Bank at that hour, considering the hour we met you at the crossroads. And if there had been any trouble proving your innocence, we would have offered our evidence unasked. Resentment or animosity never obscured my uncle's sense of justice. And I will say I never actually believed you were aware of the family history which caused that resentment and animosity. I myself knew nothing about it till my uncle told me the other day. Do you know now?"

I replied that Mr. Hannay had informed me. "As I have enough sins of my own to answer for," I added, "I ask not to be blamed too much for what my parents may have done. To put it baldly, they jilted Mr. Varney and your mother, and none too delicately either. I quite understand why Mr. Varney and you, too, for that matter, should have a particular aversion for me."

The car had turned into Seventy-second Street from Broadway, and we were speeding up the Drive.

"Then you credit me with a very narrow mind. There is excuse for my uncle; he was affected immediately and has brooded over it. If I were in his place I would have probably taken it the same way--if I didn't kill your father, which would be more to my notion. On the other hand, if I loved like your parents and was in the same situation, I should very likely follow their example. We don't know how we may act under certain circumstances, so what's the good of trying to judge others? No, that ancient family history had no part in my 'particular aversion' for you, nor could it. I only thought you treated me personally pretty shabbily--and I'm not at all sure yet that you didn't.

"Of course," she went on, before I could reply, "it is very flattering to think I was of any assistance at all in the terrible struggle you were having. And I quite realize now the nature of that struggle, all you suffered----"

We had reached the Claremont, and she arose to enter a final protest. But a few minutes later we were seated at a table in a quiet corner.

"Well, certainly this is the last thing I expected!" she exclaimed. "You are a singularly overbearing person, Mr. Lawton."