Book 4. The Counterchase - Night 21. The Yellow Dog

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_ BOOK IV. THE COUNTERCHASE
NIGHT THE TWENTY-FIRST. THE YELLOW DOG

About two months later--to be accurate, it was seven weeks and two days--my flat in Jermyn Street was honoured with a totally unexpected call by Constantia Denistoun. Constantia has a way of committing improprieties with all the _aplomb_ of innocence. She just walked upstairs and walked into the room where Jephson and I were packing gun-cases.

"Hallo!" said she. "You seem to be in a mess here."

"Please sit down," said I, removing a sporting rifle and bundle of cotton-waste from the best arm-chair.

"What is the matter?" she asked, arching her brows as she surveyed the general disorder.

"We're packing," said I.

"It may surprise you to hear it," said she, taking the seat, "but so I had guessed. What is it? Preparing for the pheasants, or for Quarter Day?"

"Neither," I answered. "I'm going to South America, that's all. . . . That will do for the present, Jephson. You may get Miss Denistoun a cup of tea."

"Sudden?" she asked, when Jephson had withdrawn.

"Well," I admitted, "I booked my passage only two days ago, but I've had the notion in my mind for some time."

"Alligators, is it? or climbing, this time? Or just general exploring?"

"You may call it exploring, though I may have a shy at the Andes on the way. These fits come upon me at intervals, Constantia, as you know, ever since you determined to be unkind."

"Don't be absurd, Roddy," she commanded, tracing out a pattern of the carpet with the point of her sunshade. The tracing took some time. At length she desisted, and looked up, resting her arms on her knees. "Roddy, I'm engaged to be married."

A bowl stood on the table, full of late tea-roses sent up from Warwickshire. . . . As the blow fell I turned about, and slowly selected the best bloom.

"I hope," said I, "the fortunate man, whoever he is, doesn't object to your calling around on us poor bachelors and breaking the news. However, Jimmy Collingwood is up, with his wife, and will be coming around from his hotel in a few minutes. He'll do for a chaperon. Meanwhile"--I held out the rose--"I wish you all happiness from the bottom of my heart. . . . When is it to be?--and shall I be in time with an alligator for a wedding present?"

"Now that's rather prettily offered," said Constantia, half-extending her hand to take the flower, her eyes shining with just the trace of tears. "But you and I are a pair of humbugs, Roddy. To begin with _you_--I don't believe there are any such things as alligators on that island."

"What island?" I stammered, and my fingers gave a small, involuntary jerk at the rose's stem as hers closed upon it.

"The island about which you wrote that queer short note to--to Dr. Foe--two days ago, asking if he could supply you as nearly as possible with its bearings."

"Are you telling me--?" I began.

She nodded, searching my face. "Yes, your old friend is the man; and that's where _I_ come in as a humbug. The reason of this call is that I want to know why you two, who used to be devoted, are no longer friends."

"Good Lord!" I exclaimed, not loudly, but more or less to myself. "You must forgive my lighting a cigar, Constantia. . . . My mind works slowly." While lighting it I made a miserable attempt to fob her off and gain time. "When an old friend cuts in and carries off--"

"That's nonsense," she interrupted sharply; "and you know it; and you ought to know that I know it."

"Well, then," I protested rather feebly, hating to hurt her, "you must allow that his behaviour to that man Farrell was a bit beyond the limit. Of course, if you can forgive it--well, I don't know. It's odious to me to be talking like this about the man to whom you're attached--the man I used to worship. And for me, who still would lose a hand, cheerfully, now as ever, to spare you pain! . . . My dear girl, let's talk of something else."

"No, we will not," said Constantia firmly. "I came to talk about this, and I will. . . . Of course I know it was wrong of Jack to pursue Mr. Farrell as he did. You remember my telling you I was worried, that day we talked about him after my return from the States? At that time I imagined he was allowing himself for a bribe to be friends again with this man, and it distressed me; because-- well, women have their code, you know, as well as men, and--and I may confess to you now that, even at that time, I had begun to take an interest--"

"I see," said I dully, resting my arm along the chimney-piece and staring down into the grate, where Jephson had lit a small fire: for the day, though bright, was chilly.

"You assured me, you remember, that Jack was above any such meanness; and so far you relieved me, for I saw you were telling the truth. But," she continued, "I saw also that it wasn't the whole truth: that you were hiding something. So I went away puzzled. Afterwards, I got the truth out of Jimmy Collingwood."

"Well?" I prompted her, as she paused.

"Well, it was shocking of Jack, I admit. But, after all, this Mr. Farrell had ruined his life, and--of course I don't quite understand men and their code--but isn't it a trifle uncharitable of you, Roddy, not to allow that the shock may have unhinged his mind for a time? . . . No, I'm playing the humbug in _my_ turn, and I'll own up. It was wicked, if you will: but it was great in its way, and determined . . . and women, you know, always fall slaves to that sort of thing. It was straightforward, too: Jimmy said Jack had given his man fair warning. Jimmy--but you know that boy's way--gave me the impression that he didn't condemn Jack's craze as unsportsmanlike: merely for being, as he put it, a thought bloodthirstier than any line of sport he himself felt any inclination to follow. 'But I'm no judge, Con,' he added--I remember his words--'for the simple reason that I never had a career to be ruined.' . . . Well, for the rest, Jack says he came straight to you as soon as he set foot back in England, and told you the whole story.--That's so, I guess?" Constantia, in her agitation, relapsed into her mother's idiom.

I nodded, bending my head still lower over the high chimney-shelf, still staring down into the fire.

"Then you _know_," she said; "and I _do_ call it rather dull of you, Roddy--not to say insensate--and unlike you, anyway. . . . When, at the end, he turned and behaved so finely, nursing this man through his last illness. . . ."

I tell you, it was lucky that I still kept my face turned sideways, still staring down on the fire. . . . It took me like a mental nausea, and all my thought for the moment was to hold steady under it. I felt my fingers gripping hard on the ledge and holding to it, as the waves went over my poor brain. Through the surge of them confusedly I heard her voice pleading: and yet her voice was calm, well under control. It must have been the waves in my own head that broke her speech into short sentences.

"You were his friend . . . his best friend . . . mine, too, Roddy. You took it so well, just now . . . I _do_ want--"

What in the world could I say? How lift and turn my face to her? How answer? . . . And yet within a second or two I must lift my face and make some answer. Her voice was already trailing off plaintively. I heard her catch her breath--

And then--thank God--I heard a brisk, happy footstep in the outer passage, and Jimmy burst into the room with his accustomed whoop.

"Ahoy, within! How goes it with Gulliver?" He broke off, staring, and let out another joyous whoop, upon which chimed the merry rattle of tea-things, as Jephson followed close on his heels with a tray. "Eh? No--but it is! In the words of the Bard, What ho, Constantia!" He threw his bright top-hat across the room, hooked his umbrella over his left arm, and ran forward with both hands held out. "Oh, Con! this is good! Give me a kiss, with Otty's leave--a real good nursery kiss!"

"There!" agreed Constantia. "And now sit down and be a good boy. Where's Lettice?"

"Shopping in Knightsbridge: and the nurse walking the infant up and down, more or less parallel, just inside the Park, that he may watch the wheels go round. . . . I broke away. Shouldn't be surprised if Lettice taxi'd around here presently. I hinted at tea, and she knows where to find me. . . . Oh, by George, yes! Lettice always knows where I am, somehow. Meanwhile, here's your good staid chaperon." He dropped into a chair. "Otty, you're looking serious. What were you talking about, you two?"

"Well, it's like this," said I, after a glance at her; "Constantia's going to be married--to Jack Foe."

He had started up at my first words, to congratulate her. As I dropped out the last three, with admirable presence of mind--"When in doubt, apply cake," said he hoarsely, cramming a large piece into his mouth to stifle his emotion.

"I am not in doubt," said Constantia serenely; "and I suppose that is why you help yourself as first aid, before offering me some bread and butter, while Roddy lets me pour the tea. Thank you," she added, as he whipped about with an apology. "Don't speak with your mouth full: it's rude. . . . And now listen to me. Roddy, here, is off for South America, he tells me. Two days ago he wrote to Jack, asking for the latitude and longitude, as near as might be, of a certain island. Jack showed me the letter. . . . You know about this?" she asked Jimmy, shooting out the question of a sudden.

I interrupted it. "Jimmy knows about it," said I. "No one else."

She looked at us calmly, taking stock of us. "Very well," she said; "and Jack has told me the whole story too, of course. I didn't know till this moment that Jimmy knew: but I'm so glad he does, for it makes us all four-square. Now, when first Jack got your letter, Roddy, He was for sending the information in six words on a post card, as being all that was due to an old friend that had so misjudged him. But I persuaded him, and--"

The outer door slammed upon the word, and a brisk footstep sounded in the passage. I recognised it at once. So did Constantia.

"--And here he is!" exclaimed Constantia, without rising, "--come, as it happens, to have it out with the pair of you. . . . Hallo, Jack!"

I am bound to say that my first look at Jack Foe gave me a start, as he too started at sight of Jimmy, whose presence, of course, he had not expected. He was pale in comparison with the tan of two months back: but at every other point he was wonderfully set up and improved. It was Constantia's doing, belike: but he had become again in appearance the Jack Foe of old times--a trifle more seamed in the face but with a straightness and uprightness of carriage that rejuvenated him. His clothes, too, were of the old cut, modestly distinguished.

"Collingwood too?" said he, nodding easily. "That's better than I looked for. . . . You have told them?" he asked Constantia with a frank look of understanding. Then his eyes wandered, naturally, over the disorder in the room.

"Roddy is packing," said Constantia.

"For South America," said I.

"And after that? Yes, you needn't tell," he went on with an ease which I could only admire. "It's the island, of course--I had your note and was going to answer it, but Miss Denistoun--Constantia-- insisted that I should call round and tell you. The latitude is--"

"One moment," interrupted Jimmy. "You let the door slam behind you, Professor: and your dog is protesting."

"My dog?" Foe turned about, as Jimmy stepped to the passage. "What are you talking about, Collingwood? I don't own such a thing."

"I'll be damned if there isn't one snuffling at that outer door," said Jimmy, and went quickly out into the passage. I heard the lock click back and, upon the noise, a scuffle and gallop of a four-footed beast: and, with that, a great yellow dog burst in at the doorway of the room, took a leap forward, crouched, and slowly stiffened itself up with its legs, its back hunched and bristling. There it stood, letting out its voice in a growl that sounded almost like a groan of satisfied desire.

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Jimmy, following. "If this isn't your Billy, Professor, come to life!"

And I, too, cast a quick glance over my shoulder at Foe--against whom the hound evidently stiffened, as a pointer at its game. Foe, white as a sheet, was leaning back, his shoulders propped against the edge of the mantelshelf.

"He is not my dog," he gasped out. "Take him away: he's dangerous!"

"Looks so, anyway," said Jimmy calmly. "Well, if he's not your dog, here's his owner to claim him."--And into the room, staring around on us, walked Farrell.

For the moment I stared at him as at a total stranger. It was only when, almost ignoring the rest of us, he took a step forward, pointing a finger at one man--it was only when I turned about and saw Foe's face--that the truth broke on me--and then, at first, as a wild surmise, and no more. Even when I wheeled about again and stared at the man, full belief came slowly: for this Farrell was thin, wiry, gaunt; sun-tanned, with sunken eyes and a slight stoop; wearing the clothes of a gentleman and, when at length he spoke, using the accent of a gentleman. . . . But this came later.

For some seconds he said nothing: he stood and pointed. I glanced at Constantia, preparing to spring between her and I knew not what.

Constantia, leaning forward a little in her chair, with lips slightly parted, had, after the first glance, no eyes for the intruder, whom (I feel sure) she had not yet recognised. Her eyes were fixed on Jack, at whom the finger pointed: and her hand slid along the arm of her chair and gripped it, helping her to rise and spring to his side. Jimmy's face I did not see. He had come to a halt in the doorway.

"_You hound!_"

"Roddy! Catch him--oh, help!"

It was Constantia's call ringing through the room. I sprang about just in time to give support as Jack fell into our interlacing arms, and to take the most of his weight as we lowered him flat on the hearth-rug in a dead faint.

"Call off your damned dog, sir, whoever you are!" shouted Jimmy, running forward to help us. "We'll talk to you in a moment."

I heard Farrell call "Rover! Rover!" and the dog must have come to heel instantly. For as I knelt, occupied in loosing Jack's collar, of a sudden a complete hush fell on the room. Jimmy had run for the water-bottle. "Don't ring--don't fetch Jephson!" I had commanded. "Get water from my bedroom." When I looked up to take the bottle, Farrell still stood implacable before the doorway.

Constantia also looked up. "Who is this gentleman?" she demanded.

"My name is Farrell," answered the figure by the doorway. "Miss Denistoun may remember a fellow-passenger of some years ago, on the _Emania_."

I heard the catch of her breath as she knelt by me, staring at him. I heard Jimmy's muttered "My God!" My arm was reaching to catch Constantia if she should drop backward.

But she pulled herself together with a long sob--I felt it shuddering through her, so close she knelt by me. Again silence fell on the room. Jimmy had fetched my bath-sponge along with the bottle. I poured water upon it and bathed Jack's temples, watching his eyelids. After a while they fluttered a little. I felt over his heart. "He is coming round," I announced: "but we'll let him lie here for a little, before lifting him on to the couch.

"One question first," commanded Constantia. "Answer me, you two. . . . Is this--is this thing true, Roddy? _Did he leave-this man--on the island?_"

For the moment I could put up no better delay--as neither could Jimmy--than to call "hush!" and pretend to listen to Jack's faintly recovering heart-beat. But Farrell heard, and answered,--

"It's true, Miss Denistoun. . . . I had no notion to find him here; still less to find you and distress you. I came to Sir Roderick. But the dog here was wiser. _He_ knew the scent on the stairs, and raced in ahead. . . . I am sorry to say it, Miss Denistoun: but that blackguard yonder took ship and left me solitary,--to die, for aught he knew. Let him come-to, and then we'll talk."

Constantia rose. Slowly she picked up her gloves and sunshade. "No, we will not talk," she said, after a pause. "That talk is for you four men. I--I have no wish to see him recover."

As she said it, she very slowly detached from her breast-knot the rose which had carried my felicitation, and laid it on the table: and, with that, she walked out, Farrell drawing aside to make way for her. _

Read next: Book 4. The Counterchase: Night 22. The Second Man Escapes

Read previous: Book 3. The Retrieve: Night 20. One Man Escapes

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