The Hundredth Chance

His ugly face laughed into hers; the light in his eyes was half-mocking, half-tender.

"It's good to know that there may be something left that I can yet do for you," he said. "The worthy Jake may have a stout right arm, but he is not a Croesus."

He turned the conversation in his easy, well-bred fashion, and her embarrassment died down. But the carelessly uttered information dwelt persistently in her mind, even though she found herself talking of indifferent things. It was strange that all her affairs should be so completely-and it seemed so irrevocably-under the direct control of this man whom she had once so resolutely driven out of her life. Fate or chance had thrown them together again. A little secret tremor went through her. What would come of it?

She had not attempted to touch the hand he had stretched forth to her. It had fastened upon the arm of the chair in which she sat and rested there. Presently she looked down at it, her eyes attracted by the gleam of the ring upon it.

"Your own," murmured Saltash. "Violets blue as your eyes!"

He moved his hand in the firelight, and the sapphire shone in the midst of the diamonds like a deep blue flame in the heart of a leaping fire. He drew a little nearer to her.

"You sent it back to me," he said. "I have worn it-like a faithful widower-ever since."

Her heart contracted with an odd little pain. "Don't wax sentimental, Charlie!" she pleaded, with a difficult smile.

"Would you prefer me heartless?" he said; but he withdrew his hand, and the sapphire burned no more.

They began to talk again upon ordinary topics, and the conversation turned upon the Graydown Steeplechase Races of the morrow. Two horses from the Burchester Stud were running.

"Beauties they are too!" said Bunny, with enthusiasm. "Sam Vickers swears they'll win." He uttered his quick, impatient sigh. "What wouldn't I give to see 'em do it!"

"Why shouldn't you?" said Saltash. "I'll take you over."

"Will you?" cried Bunny, with shining eyes.

And in the same breath. "No, no!" said Maud quickly. "Charlie! Why do you suggest these impossible things?"

Saltash laughed. "I never suggest the impossible," he said. "Bunny-and you too-can come along in the car if you will. I can make him quite comfortable with cushions."

But Maud shook her head. "It isn't so easy as it used to be. And he gets tired so soon. Really-really, it can't be done!"

"Oh, Maud, do shut up!" broke in Bunny. "You jaw like any old woman! Of course I'll come, Charlie! When will you be round?"

Lord Saltash looked at Maud with an impish expression. "I am afraid you are in the minority, ma reine. But leave it to me! I'll undertake that no harm is done."

Maud rose suddenly from her chair. She stood upright and slender in the firelight. "I can't consent to it," she said with resolution.

He sprang instantly to his feet. "You don't want to come?" he said.

She met his challenging eyes with an effort. "Don't make things difficult," she begged in a low voice.

"But if I got your mother to come too!" he urged. "She used to love race-meetings."

She turned her eyes away. "Neither Bunny nor I can go," she said steadily.

"I say I will go!" cried Bunny hotly. "I'm old enough to do as I like, and I won't be dictated to by anyone."

Saltash turned back to him. "I'll take you one day, old chap. But the queen's word is law, you know. We can't go in direct opposition to it. Moreover," with audacious simplicity, "it wouldn't be great sport for any one if the queen herself did not deign to accompany us."

"She'll go fast enough if I do," said Bunny. "She sticks to me like a leech."

"Lucky beggar!" said Saltash.

He glanced back at Maud. She was still on her feet, turned partially from him. It was evident that she did not mean to renew the friendly intercourse that his unwelcome suggestion had interrupted.

"I must get back to my lonely castle," said Saltash.

She turned then, as he had known she would. "No, don't go-why should you? – till-till Jake comes back!"

He laughed into her eyes. "Now, don't try to persuade me that you want me any longer! I know the signs too well. I am going to walk down and meet Jake, as I must have a word with him about the animals. By the way, why don't you call him Jacob? The other is too frivolous for your august lips."

There was a sting in the smiling question of which she alone was aware. She knew that he had it in him to be malicious at times. But she would not seem to notice.

"Are you backing either of the horses running to-morrow?" she asked.

He raised his agile brows. "But, of course I am. Who ever went to a meeting without putting something on? And you don't suppose I would lay a wager against one of my own beasts, do you?"

"You always back your own before anyone else's?" she said.

"Of course," he made prompt reply. "We've pulled off a good many events since Jake took command."

"Yes," she said slowly. "He is a genius with horses."

"Oh, quite useful," said Saltash carelessly. "Well, good night to you both! Many thanks for your kind hospitality! Don't forget the piano at the Castle! Come and go exactly as you like! I will give orders to that effect."

"You are very kind," she said.

But the pleasant intimacy between them was broken. She knew that her refusal to go with him on the morrow had hurt him. He was in a mood to sting at a touch.

She gave him her hand with genuine regret. "Good-bye, Charlie!" she said gently.

He took it with a gesture that made her remember that his mother had been a Frenchwoman. "Good night, ma chère!" he said lightly. "When thou art dreaming, think of me!"

Her faint laugh had a note of bitterness. "But I never dream," she said.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE NARROWING CIRCLE

When Jake returned at length, he entered an atmosphere so unmistakably stormy that he looked instinctively to Maud for an explanation.

The room was lighted and the curtains drawn. She was sitting in the low chair by the fire doing some intricate crochet-work with knitted brows. There was tension in her attitude, tension in the firm compression of her lips.

Bunny lay on his sofa, hot-cheeked, fiery-eyed, beating an impatient tattoo with one hand on the table by his side. On the table lay the presents that he had received that day, a box of paints and sketching block from his mother, a book from Maud, a small telescope from Jake himself. But he was looking at none of them. His brows too were closely drawn. His teeth bit viciously into his lower lip.

Maud did not raise her eyes at Jake's entrance. She seemed intent upon her work. He came and stood beside her.

"I should have been back sooner," he remarked, "but Lord Saltash met me, and I had to take him back to the Castle in the dog-cart."

Her fingers moved very rapidly. "I thought perhaps you would dine with him," she said, in a voice that sounded very cold and aloof.

"Not I," said Jake. "Give me my own fireside, and my clay pipe that doesn't go into aristocratic society!"

She raised her eyes momentarily. "Are you a Socialist?" she asked.

His eyes were unblinkingly upon her. "I guess not," he said, speaking with something of a drawl. "I've seen life-lots of it-that's all. As to my politics, well, I reckon they're mine and no one else's. I think just what I like of everything and everybody." He turned those intent eyes suddenly upon Bunny. "What's wrong with the head of the family?" he asked.

At once Bunny burst into speech. "Jake, it's-it's infernal that I can't go to the races in Charlie's motor-to-morrow. He's offered to take me. Why shouldn't I go? Hang it all, I will go!" He banged his clenched fist upon the table with the last passionate words.

Maud kept her eyes upon her work. Her hands though they moved so rapidly, were not wholly steady. "He is not fit to go," she said.

"That's not the reason you refused!" flung back Bunny, who was rapidly working himself up to fever pitch. "You said No just because you thought Jake would be jealous if you said you'd go. You're afraid of him, that's what's the matter with you, – afraid of his finding out that you're still in love with Charlie."

He broke into his cracked, painful laugh, stopping abruptly as Jake left the hearth and stepped quietly to his side.

"Don't touch me!" he said, shrinking sharply back.

Jake stooped. His face was grim. "My son, I'm going to touch you," he said. "I'm going to carry you straight up to bed. You've had more than enough excitement for to-day."

"I'm not going to bed!" cried Bunny, his voice high and defiant. "I'm not going for hours yet. Jake-Jake-leave me alone, do you hear? You're hurting me!"

"Afraid you've got to be hurt," said Jake.

He was slipping steady hands under the boy's writhing body. Maud had risen. She came swiftly forward. She touched Jake's shoulder, her face pale and agitated.

"Don't, please, Jake!" she entreated. "It does more harm than good."

He did not look at her or pay the smallest attention. Bunny was already in his arms, – Bunny, purple with rage, waving his arms in blind impotence.

"P'raps you'd open the door for me!" said Jake, in his slow gentle voice.

She went to the door. Somehow it was the only thing left to do. Jake followed her with his burden.

As he did so, Bunny ceased to struggle, realizing the mastery of the steady arms that bore him, and spoke; in a voice of tense hostility.

"You beastly groom!" he said.

Jake said nothing whatever. He carried him firmly, unfalteringly, from the room.

Maud closed the door softly behind him, and went back to her chair.

But she did not take up her work again. She sat gazing into the fire with wide, troubled eyes. She was beginning to realize that old associations, old friends, could be nothing but a disturbing element in her life, beginning to wish with yearning sadness that Charlie had not come back into it. She was tired-so tired, so sick at heart.

As for Bunny, he had grown out of hand and would never be the same to her again. She was sure of it, she was sure of it. Nothing ever could be the same again in this new world that she had entered. It was a world of harsh realities, wherein dwelt no softening magic. The fate she had dreaded was surely closing in upon her. Whichever way she turned, she found a narrowing circle.

A long time passed. She began to grow anxious. What was happening upstairs? Was it possible that Jake might after all lose his temper and visit his wrath upon Bunny's rebellious head? Would he by any chance make use of that frightful language which she had heard him employ only a few days before to a negligent stable-boy? Bunny's bitter epithet dwelt in her memory. Surely Jake would be something more than human if he did not resent it!

And then suddenly she heard his square footfall on the uncarpeted stairs, and a great wave of agitation went through her. All her being quivered at the thought of him, his unyielding mastery, his utter confidence. Two eyes, one black, one grey, seemed to flash a mocking question out of the depths of the fire into which she gazed. Her heart gave a little quiver of misgiving that yet was oddly mingled with satisfaction. No, she was not wholly sorry that Lord Saltash had come back into her life. He was so subtly refreshing. He sounded deeps in her of which none other guessed. His gaiety of soul called back her vanished youth.

Jake entered, and she turned her head, masking her embarrassment with a resolute effort. "Oh, Jake, come and sit down! I am so sorry this has happened."

He pulled forward a chair and dropped into it. "The little chap is overtired," he said. "He'll be better left to himself for a bit."

He spoke in a quiet, temperate voice. She realized with relief that he had not taken Bunny's bitter outburst seriously. She took up her work again.

"He is always difficult to manage when he gets caught by one of these moods," she said. "And he is apt to say wild things."

Jake began to fill his pipe, making no comment.

Maud worked on for several seconds, still struggling against an uneasy feeling of shyness.

After a little, in a low voice she spoke again. "Jake, I think-with you-that if Dr. Capper will examine Bunny and-and perhaps operate on him, it had better be done-as soon as possible."

"That so?" said Jake.

She knew that he turned his head to look at her, and a hot sense of discomfiture surged through her. She worked with fevered speed, as if much depended upon it.

"Of course-of course I want him to have-every chance. I am not so selfish as that. But-but-the anxiety will be very hard to bear. I dread it more than I can possibly say."

Her lips quivered suddenly. She became silent, still desperately making stitches that she could hardly see. She had not meant to make any appeal for sympathy. It had, as it were, escaped her from sheer embarrassment. She had never felt more utterly ill at ease in Jake's presence than she felt that night.

He did not immediately respond though she knew that he continued to watch her with those lynx-like, brilliant eyes. But after a very decided pause, his hand, square and steady, came forth and stopped her fevered working.

"Sit still for a bit, my girl!" he said. "Give yourself a rest!"

She started sharply at his touch, but gave in at once, suffering him to draw the work from her hands.

"Say, now," he said, "when you married me, I made myself a vow that you shouldn't be burdened any more beyond your strength. This anxiety you speak of, will it be harder to bear than to see Bunny suffering and not be able to help?"

She shook her head. Her eyes were full of tears.

"Guess you're overwrought," he said gently. "Why don't you lie down on the sofa? P'raps you'd get a sleep."

She mastered herself with an effort. "No, thank you. I am quite all right. Of course Bunny's welfare comes before everything and always will with me. Do you know, I think I will run up to him and see that he has all he wants."

"No, my girl, no! You stay where you are!" said Jake. "I've got him in hand. Don't you go making more trouble!"

She glanced at him with quick uneasiness. "But is he happy? Is he comfortable? I never leave him for long when he is like this. Once he dragged himself right out of bed and on to the floor. He was worse for weeks after."

"He won't do that to-night," said Jake.

But she was not reassured. "He may. How can you tell? He can be quite violent sometimes."

"He won't be to-night," said Jake with unmistakable conviction.

"What have you been doing to him?" she said, with quick suspicion.

He put a restraining hand upon her for she seemed on the verge of rising. "Now, don't you meddle!" he said. "The boy will be all right; only leave him alone! He won't come to any mischief because he can't. I've tied him down. No, he ain't uncomfortable," as she uttered a sharp cry of protest. "I saw to that before I put out the light and left him to come to his senses. He won't hurt, I tell you. You leave him alone!"

But Maud was already on her feet. "How could you?" she panted. "How dare you?"

He rose with her, still holding her. "Now be reasonable!" he said, in a voice of soft persuasion. "I'm real fond of the little chap, and I'm trying to make a man of him. He knows that all right. It's discipline he wants and discipline he's going to have. Don't you get interfering! You'll do more harm than good."

"Let me go!" breathed Maud.

She was white to the lips as she said it, white and desperate. Her eyes burned like two stars. But Jake held her still.

"Say, now!" he drawled. "Aren't you a bit unreasonable? I've taken a lot of trouble to bring him into line. And, as I tell you, I haven't hurt any part of him, except his pride, and that'll soon mend. Maud, my girl, now don't act the fool! Don't, I say, don't!"

She had made a sharp effort to wrest her arm free; but he frustrated it, taking her two wrists very gently but very decidedly into his square hold.

"Let me go!" she cried again, her pale lips trembling. "How-how dare you hold me against my will? Jake, you-forget yourself!"

He was looking at her with a hint of humour in his red-brown eyes. They were shining too, shining with a hot intensity, as though the leaping flames of the fire were reflected there. But at her words, he let her go very abruptly and turned from her. He took up his pipe again, standing so that she saw only his broad back and gleaming hair, while she waited behind him in palpitating silence.

Some seconds passed before he spoke. And then: "All right, my girl," he said. "Have it your own way! I reckon he's your brother more than mine, and I know you have his welfare at heart. If you think it to his interest to go and undo him-he ain't uncomfortable, mind you! I saw to that-I shan't interfere either way. Do whatever seems good to you!"

So he delivered himself, and having spoken sat squarely down and pulled out his match-box as though the matter were at an end.

She stood irresolute, facing him.

"Well? Aren't you going?" he said, after a moment.

And still she stood, feeling the strain to be past yet not daring to relax her guard.

Jake struck a match and held it to his pipe, looking at her whimsically between great puffs of smoke.

"There! Sit down!" he said, after a meanest. "Leave the child alone for a bit! I'll go up to him myself before long."

Casual as was his voice, the force of his personality reached and dominated her. It was certainly not of her own volition that she obeyed.

She sat down again in the low chair before the hearth. "I know he will have a bad night," she said uneasily.

"It won't be any the worse for this," said Jake, with confidence. "And, now, look here, my girl, I want to ask you something-just in a friendly way."

Maud's hands clasped each other hard. There was no repose in her attitude. "What is it?" she asked, in that aloof voice of hers that emanated from intense shyness rather than pride.

Jake was smoking steadily. The heavy odour of his tobacco filled the room. "I don't want to give any offence," he said. "But it seems to me that Lord Saltash is on a footing of intimacy with you and Bunny that rather points to your not knowing the sort of person he really is."

Maud's eyes grew suddenly darker. She looked him full in the face. "I know him too well to discuss him with any-outsider," she said.

"That so?" said Jake, slightly drawling. "Well, that certainly makes matters rather more complicated. I know him, too-awfully well, – so well that I shall have to request you to keep the young man at a respectful distance; for he certainly won't stay there if you don't."

Maud sat tensely still. Several moments of utter silence passed away. Then, almost under her breath, she spoke. "Are you absurd enough to be jealous?"

Jake's eyes watched her unwaveringly through the smoke. "Would it be very absurd of me?" he asked gravely.

"Utterly." She spoke the one word with a free disdain.

He bent his head slightly. "Since you say so-it goes. At the same time, it might be well for you to remember that Lord Saltash invariably hunts for himself. He is not a man that any woman can safely trust. He has his points, maybe, but-he is not sound."

Very steadily he delivered his verdict, and Maud received it in unbroken silence. More or less she knew it to be true, and yet very bitterly did she resent its utterance. It was as if he had exposed to her the worthlessness of a possession which for old sake's sake she treasured though conscious that in itself it was without value. For she had never idealized Charlie Burchester. Even in the old days of close intimacy she had always seen the feet of clay, though in her fond woman's way she had sought to overlook them. It was intolerable to have them pointed out to her by one whom she still curiously regarded as a comparative stranger.

She had nothing to say on her friend's behalf. Reason warned her that it would be useless to attempt to take up the cudgels in his defence. And so she sat in silence, inwardly burning, outwardly calm.

Jake smoked on for several minutes, then quietly rose. "I'll go up and settle the youngster now," he said. "And you have made up your mind on the other subject? I am to write to Capper?"

She did not answer for a moment; her eyes were fixed upon the fire.

He paused beside her, and again there came to her that sense of warmth, of bodily force, that seemed to reach her from the very centre of the man's being, rushing out to her, enveloping her.

She made a slight, involuntary movement of withdrawal. "I have said so," she said.

He paused no longer. "Then so be it!" he said, and walked away to the door.

CHAPTER XXIV

BROTHERS

"Is that you, Jake?"

Outraged pride and sullen submission combined in the utterance of the question. The room was in complete darkness.

"Yes, it's me," said Jake.

He went forward into the darkness, feeling out before him.

"Why don't you strike a match?" said Bunny.

Jake found the bed and stood beside it. "Going to behave yourself, my son?" he asked.

There was silence from the bed, a dogged, uncompromising silence.

Jake stooped. Feeling over the boy's body, he began to undo his bonds.

"Say, Bunny, I reckoned you were a bigger man than this," he said.

Bunny remained silent, stiff and unyielding.

Jake completed his task and stood up. "If you're wanting to tell me to go to blazes, you may as well say it as not," he said.

"I'm not," growled Bunny. "But you've no right to treat me like a dog. I'm not used to it."

"A damn' good hiding is what you're most in need of," said Jake, in his soft, imperturbable voice. "You'd learn a lot that way. There's too much pride in your family, my son, and it ain't always the proper sort of pride either. It's likely to lead you into difficulties." He paused a moment; then bent again, his hand moving lightly upwards over the bedclothes. "Say, Bunny, climb down a bit; climb down!" he said. "I can't get within a mile of you on that high horse of yours."

There was a hint of coaxing in the words and action to which Bunny taken by surprise made instant almost involuntary response. With a swift, passionate movement, he caught the persuasive hand.

"Old chap-" he said, and stopped, breaking off short.

There followed a few, pulsing seconds, during which Jake's hand was pressed hard against a burning face. Then, very suddenly Bunny cast his pride wholly from him and burst into choking tears.

"Little feller! Little feller!" said Jake, and gathered him into arms that were full of motherly comfort.

He sat down on the bed, so holding him, rocking him a little, soothing him in the darkness that seemed to banish all barriers and link them in a brotherhood more close than either had anticipated before that moment.

Bunny's surrender was complete and unconditional. He clung fast to Jake with whispered words of penitence. "I'm always like that when I feel bad. I've had that filthy neuralgia in my back ever since tea. It makes me want to bite and kick. I didn't mean to be a beast to you, Jake. I take back all I said. You'll forget it-say you'll forget it!"

"I have forgotten it," Jake assured him. "Don't you fret now!"

Bunny burrowed into his shoulder. "You're so beastly good to a fellow. But you're right-quite right-about the hiding. I only wish you could give me one. It's just that I want."

"No-no!" Jake said tenderly. "I wouldn't lay a finger on you."

"You would if I were sound," protested Bunny, strangling a sob.

But Jake shook his head. "No, sonny, no! I was wrong. It ain't the treatment for a soft-hearted little chap like you. I've been used to dealing with roughs, and I'm rough myself. I try not to be; but there it is. You've sensed it, and so has Maud. But-I say it now, and I'll stick to it-I'll never use violence to you as long as I live."

"Jake, old boy, that's rot! – I-I like you to smack my head sometimes," blurted forth Bunny, still in accents of distress.

Jake laughed a little. "Well, maybe, I'll do that now and then, seeing we're brothers." He was rubbing the head with a caressing hand as he spoke. "You know, I've got a sort of liking for you, little pard; and I want you to grow up a man."

"How can I?" said Bunny very bitterly.

"It ain't the body that makes the man," said Jake gently. "Physical conditions don't matter two cents. Reckon if you were to be a cripple all your days, you could still be a great man. But, please God, you won't be a cripple always. My friend Capper-you've heard me talk of him-he's coming over from the States, and maybe he'll be able to put you right. We'll give him the chance, eh, Bunny? We'll get him anyway to come along and look at you."