The Dust of Conflict

“Still, we understood that you would marry him when he came back,” she said.

Her companion sat still for almost a minute, while the flickering firelight showed the pain in her face. Ever since the shock of Nettie Harding’s disclosure had passed she had grappled with the question Hester had suggested, and striven to reconcile herself to the answer. Tony had been suddenly revealed to her as he was, and the love she had once cherished had not survived her belief in him, but there was in her a depth of almost maternal tenderness and compassion which few suspected, and the man’s feebleness appealed to it. She knew how he clung to her, and that if she cast him off he would inevitably sink. There was a trace of contempt in her compassion as she realized it, and yet she had been fond of him, and he had many lovable qualities. She had also made him a promise, and his ring was still upon her hand, while she reflected with a tinge of bitterness that it is not wise to expect too much, and that men of stainless character were doubtless singularly scarce. The joy of life had vanished, but she felt that Tony’s fate was in her hands, and the duty, at least, remained.

“Yes,” she said very slowly. “If he still wishes it when he comes back.”

Hester nodded gravely. “I think you are right,” she said. “Tony will wipe the blunder out when he has you to prompt him, but I think he would go to pieces if you sent him away. Of course, it is not everybody who would feel it – but it is – a responsibility. You can, you see, make whatever you wish of him.”

“One would esteem a man with the qualities which make that easy?” said Violet, with a little weary smile.

“They might occasionally prove convenient in one’s husband,” said Hester, with a faint twinkle in her eyes.

Her companion seemed to shiver. “I wonder what Tony is doing now,” she said. “It is, at least, hot and bright in Cuba, and if I had only known when he was coming back we would have gone away to the Riviera.” Then she straightened herself a little. “Isn’t it time your father arrived?”

Hester smiled, and wondered if Violet was already sorry that she had unbent so far.

“He should be here at any minute unless the train is late,” she said, and, feeling that her companion would prefer it, plunged into a discussion of Northrop affairs.

While she made the most of each triviality there was a rattle of wheels outside, and Mr. Earle came in. He shook hands with Violet, and stood a moment or two by the fire.

“I had expected to find your mother here,” he said.

“It was a bitter afternoon, and I persuaded her to stay at home.”

The man took a pink envelope out of his pocket, and handed it her.

“I passed the post-office lad walking his bicycle over a very soft piece of road, and pulled up to ask if he had anything for me,” he said. “When I found he had only a telegram for your mother I offered to bring it on, and he seemed quite willing to let me. The vicar hasn’t turned up yet, Hester?”

“No,” said Hester. “I am expecting him.”

Earle went out, and Hester proceeded with the account of a recent dance which she had been engaged in when he came in, while Violet turned over the telegram.

“It will be from Lily Cochrane to tell us she is coming, and I think I’ll open it,” she said.

Hester nodded. “Ada Whittingham in green – there are people who really have no sense of fitness,” she said. “The effect was positively startling.”

Violet tore open the envelope, and gasped, while the words she read grew blurred before her eyes. For a moment or two she could scarcely grasp their meaning, and sat staring at the message, and trying vainly to read it again. The branch of a trailer rose rapped upon the window as it swayed in the moaning wind, and Hester ran on.

“Lottie had out her diamonds, the whole of them – somewhat defective taste considering the character of the affair. Mrs. Pechereau was there with Muriel in a black gown I’ve seen already – one would never fancy she was that girl’s mother.”

Violet closed her fingers tight upon the telegram, for her companion’s prolixity was growing unendurable, and she wanted quietness to realize what had befallen her. The firelight had died away, and, now her senses were rallying, she could not read the message. Then a faint flicker sprang up again, and Hester, glancing round, saw the tension in her face.

“You’re not listening,” she said. “Why, what is the matter? Isn’t Lily coming?”

Violet rose up with a curious slow movement, and her face showed almost as pallid as the white marble of the mantle she leaned against. Then a little quiver ran through her, and the fingers of one hand trembled upon the stone.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Let me be quiet for a moment, Hester!”

Hester rose, and laid a hand restrainingly upon her arm. “Can’t you tell me? What has gone wrong?”

Violet let the telegram fall, and turned a cold, still face towards her.

“Tony is dead,” she said, and sank back, shivering, into her chair.

“Oh,” said Hester, “I am so sorry!”

The words were sincere enough, but just then the conventionality of them appeared incongruous, and when Violet made no answer Hester picked up the telegram and held it near the fire.

“Anthony Palliser killed in action, Santa Marta, Cuba. Particulars personally. Sailing New York Saturday, Bernard Appleby,” she read.

Then for the space of minutes there was silence in the room save for the wail of the bitter wind outside, and Violet lay staring at the fire with vacant eyes. Hester found it becoming unendurable, and touched her companion gently.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” she said.

“No,” said Violet, with a visible effort as she rose. “I think I will go home. You will tell your father and the vicar, Hester. I can get my hat and wraps myself. I don’t wish you to come with me.”

She straightened herself slowly and passed out of the room, while when she entered it again dressed for the drive Mr. Earle laid his hand upon her shoulder.

“You have our sincere sympathy, but I can’t help fancying that it is not altogether hopeless yet,” he said.

The girl looked up at him with incredulity in her eyes. “You must know it is. What do you mean?” she said.

“Well,” said Earle, with a glance at the vicar, who had come in and heard the news, “it is a little difficult to make clear. Still, you see, my dear, that men who do not answer to the roll after a battle now and then turn up again. A blunder may have been made in the confusion, while we do not after all know anything very much to the credit of Mr. Appleby. I would suggest that your mother ask lawyer Craythorne to meet him. Men are apt to believe what they wish to now and then.”

“I don’t in the least understand you.”

Earle appeared disconcerted. “If this distressful news were true Appleby would be the gainer.”

Once more the girl looked up with a chilling serenity that unpleasantly affected him.

“There is no hope left,” she said. “The man who sent the message made absolutely certain or he would never have written it.”

Earle glanced at the vicar, who nodded gravely.

“I wish I had not to admit it, but I feel that Violet is right,” he said. “Would you like me to drive over with you, my dear?”

“No,” said the girl quietly. “I would much sooner be alone.”

She passed out from among them, and Earle turned to the vicar again.

“It does not sound charitable, and I fancy you and Hester know rather more about the affair than I do, but I can’t help believing that Tony could not have done Violet a greater kindness,” he said. “I am, however, a trifle astonished that you seem to participate in the curious belief she evidently has in Appleby. You can’t be well acquainted with him, and he is taking a serious risk in coming here since there is still a warrant out for him.”

The vicar smiled. “I have heard a little about him, and I scarcely think he would let the fact you mention stop him carrying out what he felt was his duty.”

The vicar’s faith was warranted, for while Violet Wayne was driven home that evening with her thoughts in a whirl, and a remorseful tenderness which overlooked the dead man’s shortcomings bringing a mist to her eyes, Appleby sat under the electric lights in a room of a great New York building. He felt the pulsations of a vast activity about him, for the thick doors and maple partitions could not shut out the whir of the elevators, tinkle of telephone bells, murmur of voices, and patter of hasty feet, though his eyes were on the agreement bond he was attaching his name to.

Harding, who sat opposite him, smiled as he laid down the pen.

“Now I guess that’s all fixed up, and I don’t think I’m going to be sorry I took you into the business,” he said. “You’ll draw ’most enough already to live out on the Hudson if it pleases you, and, so far as I can figure, we’ll roll in money once we get the sugar trade going again. You’ll go right back and straighten up when we’ve whipped the Spaniards out of Cuba.”

“I’m afraid I have scarcely deserved all you have offered me, sir,” said Appleby, whose fingers trembled a little as he took up the document. “Nobody could have anticipated this result when I came across you on board the ‘Aurania.’”

Harding rose, and opening a cupboard took out a bottle and two glasses, which he filled to the brim.

“I’ve no great use for this kind of thing in business hours as a rule, but the occasion warrants it, and I believe only Austrian princes and their ministers drink that wine,” he said. “Well, here’s my partner’s prosperity!”

They touched glasses, and a flush crept to Appleby’s forehead, while there was a little kindly gleam in Harding’s eyes.

“I’m grateful, sir,” said Appleby, and stopped abruptly.

Harding laughed. “Now, don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve no use for speeches, and am going to get my money out of you. This is a business deal, and there’s something else to go into. You have quite fixed to sail in the ‘Cunarder’ on Saturday?”

“Yes. Still, I should not be much more than three weeks away.”

“Well,” said Harding a trifle dryly, “I don’t quite know. I think Nettie told me there was a warrant out for you, and I believe it’s quite difficult to get round the police in your country.”

“I must take my chances. There is a woman in England that Tony Palliser was to have married. He expected me to go.”

Harding looked at him curiously. “Oh, yes,” he said.

“Nettie told me about her. Well, I guess if you feel that way I have got to let you go, and I don’t quite know I’m sorry you have these notions. They’re a kind of warranty, and it wasn’t altogether because you’ve got in you the snap and grit that makes a man who can handle big affairs I made you my partner. Still, time’s getting on, and Nettie is expecting us at Glenwood.”

He summoned two clerks, who attested the agreement, and in another ten minutes they were waiting for the elevator, while late that night Appleby contrived to find Nettie Harding, who had been very gracious to him, alone. She was standing by the marble hearth in the great drawing-room where snapping logs of scented wood diffused a warmth and brightness which would, however, scarcely have kept the frost out but for the big furnace in the basement.

“What happened to-day has your approbation?” he said.

Nettie smiled. “Now, I think that is quite unnecessary when you know it has,” she said.

“Perhaps it is. I can’t help fancying you were not greatly astonished at your father’s decision.”

“Still,” said the girl quietly, “I don’t think I could coax Cyrus P. Harding into making a bad bargain. Besides, if I had a finger in it, is it more than any one would have expected?”

“I don’t quite understand.”

“No?” and Nettie smiled incredulously. “Well, you picked me up one night when I might have gone out over the rail on the ‘Aurania.’”

“I don’t think you could have managed it had you tried.”

Nettie stood silent a moment, and then a little flush crept into her face, as she glanced down at the diamonds on her white wrists, and her long trailing dress. It was, Appleby fancied, of as costly fabric as the looms in Europe could produce.

“Well,” she said with a curious little sparkle in her eyes, “there was another night I met you when I wasn’t got up like this, and you were dressed in rags. Still, I knew that I could trust you. Do you believe that I should have been here, with everything that a woman could wish for, now, if I had not had that confidence?”

Appleby turned his eyes away, for certain fancies which had once or twice troubled him became certainties, and he recognized that the regard the girl had for him alone warranted the almost daring speech.

“I really don’t remember very much about the night in question,” he said. “Nobody in my place could. I was wounded slightly and almost dazed, you see.”

Nettie smiled curiously. “That is, of course, just what one would have expected from you.”

Appleby showed a faint trace of embarrassment. “I have been waiting most of the night to ask you a question,” he said. “What did you say to Tony Palliser and Miss Wayne about me in England?”

“You will never find out – unless she tells you.”

“That is most unlikely.”

Nettie smiled in a curious fashion, and then looked him in the eyes.

“Well,” she said reflectively, “I don’t quite know. You have already got more than you ever expected, Mr. Appleby. Anyway, it is getting late, and you will excuse me now.”

She moved away, and then, turning, stood smiling at him a moment by the door.

“Can’t you tell me what you mean?” said Appleby, moving towards her with a little flush of color in his cheeks.

“You are going to England on Saturday,” said Nettie, and slipped out of the door.

XXXIV – THE RIGHT MAN

IT was on the Saturday morning the “Cunarder’s” passengers disembarked at Liverpool, and within an hour of the time the answer to the telegrams he despatched came to hand Appleby had started for Darsley. It was, however, late in the afternoon when he arrived there, and proceeded straight to Craythorne’s office. The clerk’s manner made it evident that he was expected, but he was a trifle astonished to find two other men beside the lawyer waiting him when he was shown into a lighted room.

Craythorne closed a little sliding window before he shook hands with him, and then turned to the others.

“This is Colonel Melton, appointed joint trustee with me by the will Anthony Palliser made the night he left for Cuba,” he said. “I think you have met Mr. Earle. He came here with the sanction of Colonel Melton, and Esmond Palliser, on behalf of Miss Wayne, in case anything you have to tell us concerns her. He will, of course, withdraw if you wish it, though both he and Colonel Melton have long been confidential friends of the Palliser family.”

Appleby greeted the two men, and then sat down with a little gleam in his eyes when Craythorne pointed to a chair.

“I should like to tell you that I left my business in New York and came here against my partner’s wishes because I felt it was a duty I owed Miss Wayne and my late comrade’s relatives,” he said. “That was my only motive, and it seems to me desirable that you should realize it.”

“You apparently do not know that you are a legatee under Anthony Palliser’s will,” said Craythorne.

“I was not even aware that he had made one, though he told me that he had made over Dane Cop to me.”

Colonel Melton looked at Earle, and Craythorne, who took a document from a drawer, passed it to Appleby.

“Then you will be astonished to hear that the personal estate scheduled here was bequeathed to you?”

“I certainly am. I am also not sure that Tony had exactly the right to leave this property to me. Traditionally, and, I think, ethically, it belongs to the estate, and should revert to Esmond Palliser.”

Colonel Melton appeared a trifle astonished, but Craythorne smiled dryly. “That is also Esmond Palliser’s opinion, and he informed me that he intends to act upon it.”

“He is, of course, at liberty”; and Appleby showed a trace of impatience. “His intentions do not, however, in the least concern me. Now, gentlemen, I have come here to tell you of my comrade’s death, and I have another appointment to keep this evening.”

Melton glanced at Craythorne, who nodded. “We will ask you to be as explicit as you can,” he said.

Appleby spoke for rather more than ten minutes, and when he came to the assault upon Santa Marta it was evident that Colonel Melton was listening with eager interest. He turned to Appleby abruptly with a trace of embarrassment.

“I knew your father, Mr. Appleby,” he said. “In fact, I once offended Godfrey Palliser by expressing my opinion of the fashion in which he treated him, and now I can only hope you will excuse the attitude I thought necessary when you came in. You did a thing not many drilled troops would have accomplished. A frontal attack in daylight, with a coverless strip to cross! They would have swept you out of existence with shrapnel.”

“They hadn’t any”; and Appleby laughed.

“Still, they had two quick-firers, and your attack was directed at one narrow entrance,” said Melton. “Now – ”

Craythorne raised his hand. “I fancy it would be advisable to discuss these points later on,” he said. “What we are immediately concerned with is the proof of Anthony Palliser’s death.”

“Precisely!” said Earle.

Melton flashed an angry glance at the lawyer, and Appleby’s face became a trifle grim.

“I have here the depositions of two men who saw him buried attested by a Spanish notary, and am willing to make another now before a commissioner for oaths,” he said. “My partner in New York will also testify to Tony’s connection with the Sin Verguenza.”

“And Miss Wayne, that he told her he was leaving for Cuba to find Mr. Appleby, if Craythorne is unwilling,” said Melton.

Craythorne smiled and opened the little window. “Ask Mr. Gordon, the notary, to come here at once,” he said.

“May we ask your partner’s name?” said Earle.

“Cyrus P. Harding, New York,” said Appleby.

Earle appeared astonished, and almost disconcerted. “I think that fact is sufficiently convincing,” he said. “I am sure you will understand that it was necessary for us to proceed circumspectly, Mr. Appleby.”

Again Craythorne smiled curiously. “I think Mr. Appleby understands the obligation placed on a trustee. In that respect alone our attitude was necessary.”

Appleby flushed a trifle. “Still,” he said, “I am glad you sent for a notary.”

“Well,” said Craythorne. “Dane Cop was not bequeathed to you in the event of his death by Anthony Palliser, but made over to you before he left for Cuba. It is yours absolutely, but in regard to the legacy it will be necessary to prove the will, and Esmond Palliser requested me to inform you that he purposed to contest your claim. I should suggest that you instruct a lawyer to confer with me.”

“It will not be necessary, since I waive any right I may have. I do not intend to live in England, but to go back to New York almost immediately.”

There was a murmur of astonishment, and Melton said, “I think that is unreasonably generous.”

“No,” said Appleby. “I scarcely fancy it is. Dane Cop is mine, and I shall hold on to it, but it would be difficult to get anything worth while out of the other property, which is after all of no great value, without personal supervision, and you may remember that there is still a warrant out for my apprehension.”

Melton looked at his companions, and it was evident that they concurred with Craythorne when he said, “In the event of a trial you could clear yourself.”

“Yes,” said Appleby quietly, “I believe I could, but I have reasons for deciding not to run any risk of being compelled to do so. My partner, who is acquainted with them, does not consider it necessary, and it is more than probable that the police have no longer any expectations of tracing me.”

“You understand what you are purposing to do?” said Craythorne.

“It is, of course, quite clear to me. Still, I intend to remain in America.”

There was a curious silence, and then Melton, moving forward, shook hands with Appleby.

“I have seldom heard of a finer thing than your decision, though after what I had seen of your father’s life I should have expected it from you,” he said. “With all respect to the Pallisers, none of them ever made so good a match as the one who married the ranker. While you remain at Northrop you will stay with me.”

Earle smiled a little. “I must tell you, Mr. Appleby, that we understand your reasons – and appreciate them. Colonel Melton has, however, anticipated my intentions of offering you hospitality.”

“You have evidently heard more than I hoped you would have done,” said Appleby quietly.

“No,” said Melton. “I, at least, know nothing, but I surmise a good deal. If I had not been your father’s friend I should, however, never have grasped your motive.”

Then the notary was shown in, and Earle rose. “We will wait in the other room,” he said. “Mr. Appleby will no doubt have affairs to talk over with Craythorne.”

It was half an hour later when Appleby came out, and found them waiting still. “I understand you are going on to see Miss Wayne, and I should be glad to drive you over,” said Melton. “Then as you can’t get back here to-night you will have to decide which of us shall have the pleasure of entertaining you. I don’t wish to be unfair to Earle, but I think I am entitled to a preference.”

Appleby felt curiously grateful to the gray-haired officer, but he smiled a little.

“I wonder if you realize what you are taking upon yourself, sir?” he said.

“If everybody at Northrop heard you were staying with me I should be especially pleased,” said Melton gravely.

“Still, in case you did not consider that convenient we will contrive to arrange it differently.”

Appleby went with him, and an hour or two later was shown into Mrs. Wayne’s drawing-room. He waited a little, with unpleasant misgivings, and his heart beating a trifle more rapidly than usual, and then felt a slight relief when Violet and her mother came in. The girl was dressed in a long robe of black that emphasized her pallor, but Appleby was reassured when he noticed her quiet composure.

“I felt that you would wish to see me, though I am afraid I can only cause you distress,” he said.

Mrs. Wayne pointed to a chair. “You have come a long way,” she said. “We appreciate the consideration for us that brought you.”

“I had business with Mr. Craythorne,” said Appleby, with a trace of embarrassment.

Then there was a silence he felt horribly unpleasant until Violet Wayne turned her eyes upon him.

“Will you tell us – everything – from the time you met Tony in Cuba? There is so much we wish to know,” she said quietly.

Appleby, who wished that the obligation had not been laid on him, commenced abruptly in disjointed sentences, but the memories crowded upon him as he proceeded, and he became oblivious of everything but the necessity of making the most of Tony’s part in them. The scenes he pictured became almost more real to him than when they were happening. He was once more in Cuba, and made his listeners see the sun-scorched hacienda, the long column crawling in the moonlight down the dim white road, the waves of dusky cane, and the glaring streets of Santa Marta. He felt they realized with him the tension of the silence until the rifles flashed, the flitting shadow that brushed through the cane, the tramp of weary feet, and the exultant shouts of the Sin Verguenza.

In the meanwhile the color appeared and faded in the girl’s face, while now and then her lips would tremble and again set tight. Then as he came to the last struggle on the veranda he saw a glow in her eyes, and felt her intent gaze draw the picture out of him. At last she sank back in her chair with a little gasp, and Appleby, who knew he had never spoken in that fashion before, felt suddenly nerveless and embarrassed. For almost a minute he sat staring vacantly in front of him, and then straightened himself with a little abrupt movement.

“I am afraid I have distressed you – but it seemed due to Tony that I should tell you this,” he said.

Violet slowly raised her head, and looked at him with hazy eyes. “I think we shall always be grateful – and you must have felt it – you were his friend,” she said. “I can’t ask the questions I wish to know – you will come back again?”