The Hundredth Chance

"I do object-yes," she said, her voice low and vehement. "I can't think how you can have the effrontery to speak to me until I give you leave."

"That so?" he said.

There was insolence in his tone this time. She turned and faced him. Then she saw a large cross of strapping-plaster across his temple. She looked at it a moment ere defiantly she met his eyes.

"I suppose you are going to make that your excuse," she said.

"I was," said Jake imperturbably.

She bit her lip. His utter lack of shame made her pitiless. "If I hadn't met you on the stairs last night, I might believe you," she said.

"You're real kind," he rejoined. "As a matter of fact I didn't cut my head open tumbling upstairs, but I reckon that detail won't interest you. You'll think what you want to think, whatever I say. And p'raps, as you say, there's not much point in discussing the obvious. Shall we have some breakfast?"

His eyes shone with a mocking gleam into hers. She was sure he was laughing inwardly, though his mouth was grim.

"I shall breakfast upstairs," she said coldly.

He made a slight movement that passed unexplained. "Oh, I think not," he said suavely. "It won't hurt you any to sit at table with me. I am a very ordinary sinner, I assure you."

Something in his tone made her flinch. The colour went out of her face. She turned without a word to the table.

They sat down, and he helped her to food, she knew not what. There followed a silence that she felt to be terrible, a silence through which it came to her for the first time in her experience that Jake was angry. She looked at him no longer, but she felt as if his eyes were upon her unceasingly.

"What about coffee, Mrs. Bolton?" he said suddenly.

She gave a great start. The coffee-urn was in front of her. She proceeded to pour out for him, the cup clattering in the saucer she held.

He did not move to take it; she rose, as if compelled, and carried it to him.

As she set it down, his hand suddenly descended upon hers. He looked up into her face, faintly smiling.

"Maud, my girl, don't be such a fool!" he said. "Can't you see you're making a mistake?"

She froze in his grasp. "Don't touch me, please!" she said. "You-I-see things from a different standpoint. It may seem a small matter to you, but to me-to me-" She stopped. "Let me go!" she said, with a nervous effort to free herself.

But he held her still. "Say, now, do you think you're wise to treat me like this?" he said. "You've got to put up with me, remember. Wouldn't it be to your own interest to give me the benefit of the doubt?"

"There is no doubt," she said, speaking quickly, breathlessly. "You haven't tried to deny it. As to-to-putting up with you-" the hand he held clenched convulsively-"I have a little self-respect-"

"Call it pride!" interjected Jake softly.

She looked at him with eyes of burning revolt. "Very well. Call it pride! And understand that if this shameful thing ever occurs again, neither Bunny nor I can stay with you any longer!"

Quiveringly the words rushed out. He had goaded her into uttering an ultimatum that she had never contemplated addressing to him at the commencement of the interview and the moment that she had uttered it she knew that she had done wrong. The red-brown eyes uplifted to hers suddenly kindled. He looked at her with a fiery intensity that sent the blood to her heart in a wave of wild dismay.

His hand closed like a steel spring upon her wrist. "So, you think you'll make a fool of me!" he said, and in his voice there sounded a deep note that was like the menace of an angry beast. "All right, my girl! You just try it! You'll find it an interesting experiment if a bit costly."

"Are you-coward enough-to threaten me?" she said, through panting lips.

"Reckon you've done all the threatening this journey," Jake rejoined, with a smile that made her shiver. "It wasn't exactly a wise move on your part, but p'raps you'll think better of it presently."

He let her go, with the words, and she went back to her place, outwardly calm, inwardly shaking.

Jake proceeded with his breakfast in a silence so absorbed that it was almost as if he had forgotten her presence altogether. It was never a lengthy meal with him. He ate and drank with business-like rapidity, not noticing that she did neither.

Finally he rose. "I shall come in presently to see if Bunny wants to come down," he said. "But the little chap doesn't look up to much this morning. He'll have to take it easy."

Maud did not respond. She sat rigidly gazing towards the window.

Jake stood a moment, waiting for her to turn, but she made no movement. He came quietly round to her, bent over her chair.

"Say, Maud, you aren't going to keep it up? That's not like you. I'll tell you all that happened last night if you'll listen."

She made a slight gesture of distaste. Her face was white and cold as marble. "I would rather not hear, thank you," she said, without looking at him. "I would rather you went away."

Jake stood up. There was no longer any suggestion of anger or any other emotion about him. His eyes glittered like red quartz in the sun; but his brow was absolutely unruffled.

"Well," he said, in a very pronounced drawl, "I should have some breakfast if I were you, and see how I felt then. It's wonderful what a difference breakfast makes."

He turned away with the words; she heard him go with relief.

On the other side of the door was the red setter, Chops. He pushed his way in with a passing smile at his master, who had conferred the freedom of the house upon him since Bunny's advent, to Mrs. Lovelace's prim disgust.

Jake made no attempt to hinder his entrance. He knew that Chops possessed privileges of friendship denied to himself. He closed the door upon him and departed.

Chops, after a cursory glance round for Bunny, came to the feet of his mistress. He looked at her with soft, questioning eyes, then, as she made no response, sat gravely down before her and rested his red, silken head upon her lap.

She looked down at him then. Her hand went forth to caress. He snuggled closer, sensing trouble, and breathed wistful greetings through his nose. His eyes, clear brown and full of love, looked up to hers.

The rigidity went out of her attitude. She bent suddenly over him and kissed him, touched by the honest devotion and sympathy of those eyes. By the simple method of offering all he had, Chops had managed to convey a little comfort to her soul.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE TOKEN

"Why wouldn't you see me last night?" said Saltash.

He sat on the corner of the table, swinging a careless leg the while under quizzical brows he watched Maud arrange a great bunch of violets in a bowl. The violets were straight from the Burchester frames, and he had ridden over to present them.

Maud was plainly in a reticent mood. She had accepted the gift indeed, but with somewhat distant courtesy.

"It was late," she said. "And I was attending to Bunny."

"Bunny!" He echoed the name with half-mocking surprise. "Does he still engross the whole of your energies? I thought you would have been more occupied with Jake."

She stiffened ever so slightly at his words. "I only saw him for a few moments," she said.

"What! Didn't he come to you to tie up his broken head?" said Saltash. "I nearly killed him, you know. But it was his own fault."

"I am aware of that," Maud said coldly.

"What!" ejaculated Saltash again. "Did he have the impertinence to tell you so?"

She raised her eyes momentarily; they shone almost black. "He told me-nothing," she said, her voice deep with a concentrated bitterness that made him stare. "He was not in a condition to do so."

Saltash continued to stare. "He was talkative enough when he left me," he remarked.

Her eyes gazed full into his. "Why should you try to deceive me?" she said. "Really, you needn't take the trouble."

Comprehension dawned on his face. He laughed a little in an amused fashion as if to himself. "What! Wasn't the rascal sober when he got back?"

"You know he was not," she said.

"I know he tumbled out of the car and cracked his head," said Saltash. "I daresay he'd been celebrating the Mascot's victory. They all do, you know. But, my dear girl, what of it? Don't look so tragic! You'll get used to it."

"Don't!" Maud said suddenly in a voice that shook. "You make me-sick."

She bent her face swiftly to the violets, and there was a silence.

Saltash continued to swing his leg, his lips pursed to am inaudible whistle. Suddenly he spoke. "Please remember that this is quite unofficial! I don't want a row with Jake!"

"You needn't be afraid," she said, putting the bowl of violets steadily from her. "No more will be said on the subject by either of us."

"I'm not afraid." Saltash was looking at her hard, with a certain curiosity. "But with my best friend tied to him for life, it wouldn't-naturally-be to my interest to quarrel with him."

She flashed him a sudden glance. "I think you had better not call me that, Charlie," she said.

He laughed carelessly. "I'll call you my dearest enemy, if you like. It would be almost as near the mark."

She was silent.

He bent suddenly towards her, the laugh gone from his face. "Maud," he said, and there was a note of urgency in his voice, "you're not wanting to throw me over?"

She shook her head very slightly. "I can't be on really intimate terms with you any more," she said. "You must see it's impossible."

"No, I don't," he said. "Why is it impossible?"

She did not answer.

"Come," he said. "That's unreasonable. What have I done to forfeit your friendship?"

She leaned slowly back in her chair, and met his eyes. "I am quite willing to be friends," she said. "But-now that I am married-you mustn't try to flirt with me. I detest married women's flirtations."

He made a wry grimace. "My precious prude, you don't even know the meaning of the word. Did you ever flirt with anyone in all your pure, sweet life? The bare idea is ludicrous."

Maud's eyes held his with severity. "No, I never flirted with you, Charlie," she said. "But I gave you privileges which I can never give again, which you must never again expect of me. Is that quite clear?"

He stooped towards her, his hands upon her shoulders; his dark face deeply glowing. "O Maud, the sincere!" he said, in a voice that vibrated with an odd intensity, half-fierce, half-feigned. "Dare you look me in the face and tell me that in marrying you have not done violence to your soul?"

She looked him in the face with absolute steadiness. "I have nothing whatever to tell you," she said.

He released as suddenly as he had taken her. "There is no need," he said. "I can read you like a book. I know that if I had been at hand when your mother brought you down here-as heaven knows I would have been if I had known-if I had guessed-you would have been ready enough to marry even me." He stopped, and over his ugly, comic face there came a strangely tragic look. "You could have dictated your own terms too," he said. "I'm not hard to please."

"Charlie, hush!" Sharply she broke in upon him. "That is a forbidden subject. I told you definitely long ago that I could never marry you. You know as well as I do that it wouldn't have answered. You would have tired very quickly of my prim ways-just as you did tire in the old days when you fancied you cared for me. I couldn't have satisfied you. I am not the kind of woman you crave for."

"No?" He laughed whimsically. "Yet, you know, you are unjust to me-always were. I don't know that you can help it, being what you are. But-if it had been my good luck to marry you-I would have been faithful to you. It's in my bones to be faithful to one woman. However, since she is denied me-" he snapped his fingers with an airy gesture-"je m'amuse autrement. By the way, are you coming up to lunch at the Castle on Sunday?"

"I?" She raised her brows momentarily. "No, I don't think so," she said.

"What! You won't? Jake's coming."

She lowered her eyes. "No, Charlie," she said firmly. "Bunny has had one of his bad attacks. He won't be well enough for any excitement, and of course I couldn't dream of leaving him."

"How you do worship that boy!" said Saltash, with a touch of impatience.

Maud was silent.

"Look here!" he said abruptly. "Why don't you have a proper opinion for Bunny? I'll lend you the wherewithal. I'm quite well off just now."

She looked up then with eyes of frank gratitude. "Charlie, that's more than kind of you! But as a matter of fact-Jake has the matter in hand. He knows an American surgeon-a very clever man-a Dr. Capper, who is coming to England soon. And he is going to get him to come and examine Bunny. He-it is really very good of Jake."

She spoke haltingly, with flushed cheeks. Saltash was watching her with critical eyes.

"Oh, so the worthy Jake has the matter in hand, has he?" he said, as she paused. "Wise man! I suppose it is no part of his plans to be hampered with a helpless brother-in-law all his days."

She broke in upon him swiftly. "Charlie! That is ungenerous!"

He laughed. "My dear girl, it is the obvious. Were I in Jake's position, my first thought would be to relieve you of the all-engrossing care of Bunny. You don't suppose he married you just to make a home for Bunny, do you?"

She rose quickly and turned from him. "Why do you try to make things harder for me?" she said in a voice of passionate protest.

Saltash remained seated, still swinging an idle leg. "On the contrary, I am anxious to make everything as pleasant as possible," he said.

But there was a slightly malicious twist to his smile and his voice was suavely mocking, notwithstanding.

Maud moved from him to the window and stood before it very still, with a queenly pose of bearing wholly unconscious, unapproachably aloof.

He watched her for a space, an odd, dancing gleam in his strange eyes. At length, as she made no movement, he spoke again, not wholly lightly.

"See here, Maud! As a proof of my goodness of heart where you are concerned, I am going to make you an offer. This doctor man will probably want to perform an operation on Bunny, and it couldn't possibly take place here. So if it comes to that, will you let it be done at the Castle? There's room for an army of nurses there. The whole place is at your disposal-and Bunny's. And I'll undertake not to get in the way. Come, be friends with me! You know I am as harmless as a dove in your sweet company."

He stood up with the words, came impulsively to her, took her hand and, bending with a careless grace, kissed it.

She started at his touch, seemed as it were to emerge from an evil dream. She met his laughing eyes, and smiled as though in spite of herself.

"You are going to be friends with me," said Saltash, with pleased conviction.

She left her hand in his. "If you don't suggest-impossible things," she said.

He laughed carelessly, satisfied that he had scored a point. "Nonsense! Why should I? Is life so hard?"

"I think it is," she said sadly.

"It's only your point of view," he said. "Don't take things too seriously! And above all, stick to your friends!"

She looked at him very earnestly. "Will you be a true friend to me, Charlie?"

He bent, pressing her hand to his heart. "None so true as I!" he said.

She caught back a sigh. "I want a friend-terribly," she said.

"Behold me!" said Saltash.

She drew her hand slowly from him. "But don't make love to me!" she urged pleadingly. "Not even in jest! Let me trust you! Let me lean on you! Don't-don't trifle with me! I can't bear it!"

Her voice trembled suddenly. Her eyes filled with tears.

Saltash made a quick gesture as if something had hurt him. "I am not always trifling when I jest," he said. "That is the mistake you always made."

Maud was silent, struggling for self-command. Yet after a moment she gave him her hand again in mute response to his protest.

He took it, held it a moment or two, then let it go.

"And you will consider my suggestion with regard to Bunny," he said.

She replied with an effort, "Yes, I will consider it."

"Good!" he said. "Talk it over with Jake! If he doesn't view it reasonably, send him to me! But I think he will, you know. I think he will."

He turned as if to go; but paused and after a moment turned back. With an air half-imperious, half-whimsical, he held out upon the palm of his hand the sapphire and diamond ring which till that moment he had worn.

"As a token of the friendship between us," he said, "will you take this back? No, don't shake your head! It means nothing. But I wish you to have it, and-if ever the need should arise-the need of a friend, remember! – send it to me!"

She looked at him with serious eyes. "Charlie, I would rather not."

"It isn't sentiment," he said, with a quick lift of the brows. "It is a token-just a token whereby you may test my friendship." Then, as she still stood dubious: "Here, take it! He is coming."

He almost thrust it upon her, and wheeled round. She did not want to take it, but the thing was in her hand. Her fingers closed upon it almost mechanically as Jake opened the door, and as they did so she was conscious of a great flood of colour that rose and covered face and neck. She turned her back to the light as one ashamed.

Jake came in slowly, as if weary.

Saltash greeted him with airy nonchalance. "Hullo, Bolton! I came round to enquire for you. How's the broken crown?"

Jake's eyes regarded him, bright, unswervingly direct. "I reckon that was real kind of your lordship," he said. "I had it stitched this morning. I am sorry I omitted to send help along last night."

Saltash laughed. "Oh, that's all right. I hardly expected it of you. As a matter of fact the car didn't turn over as you supposed. I soon righted her. You were a bit damaged, eh?"

Jake's eyes were still upon him. There was something formidable in their straight survey. "So the car didn't turn over," he said, after a moment.

"No. If you'd hung on a bit tighter, you wouldn't have been pitched out. Old Harris brought you safe home, did he? No further mishaps by the way?"

"None," said Jake. He advanced into the room, and stopped by the table. His riding-whip was in his hand. "I came home too dazed to give an intelligible account of myself," he said, speaking very deliberately, wholly without emotion. "My wife imagined that I was not sober. Will your lordship be good enough to convince her that she was mistaken?"

"I?" said Saltash.

"You, my lord." Jake stood at the table, square and determined. "I was in your company. You can testify-if you will-that up to the time of the accident I was in a perfectly normal condition. Will you tell her so?"

Saltash was facing him across the table. There was a queer look on his swarthy face, a grimace half-comic, half-dismayed.

As Jake ended his curt appeal he shrugged and spoke. "You are putting me in a very embarrassing position."

"I am sorry," said Jake steadily. "But you are the only witness that I can call."

"And why should she accept my testimony?" said Saltash. "Evidence given, so to speak, at the sword's point, my good Bolton, is seldom worth having. Moreover, if she had seen my crazy driving last night she might have been disposed to doubt whether my own condition were above suspicion."

"I see," said Jake slowly. He still looked hard into Saltash's face, and there was that in the look that quelled derision. "In that case, there is nothing more to be said."

Saltash made him a slight bow that was not without a touch of hauteur. "I quite agree with you. It is an unprofitable subject. With Mrs. Bolton's permission I will take my leave."

He turned to her, took and pressed her hand, sent a sudden droll smile into her grave face, and walked to the door.

Jake held it open for him, but very abruptly Saltash clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Come along, man! I'm going round the Stables. I'm sorry you've got a sore head, but I'm off to town this afternoon, so it's now or never. By the way, we shall have to postpone the luncheon-party til a more convenient season. I've no doubt it's all the same to you."

He had his way. Jake went with him, and Maud drew a breath of deep relief. She felt that another private interview with her husband just then would have been unendurable.

She sat down and leaned upon the table, feeling weak and unnerved. Not till several minutes had passed did she awake to the fact that she was holding Saltash's ring-that old dear gift of his-tightly clasped within her quivering hands.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE VISITOR

"I do hope as I don't intrude," said Mrs. Wright, passing her handkerchief over her shining forehead. "I didn't mean to take the liberty of calling, Mrs. Bolton, but your husband met my Tom the other day, and something he let fall made me think p'raps you'd be finding it a bit lonely; so I thought I'd come up on the chance."

"It was very kind of you," Maud said.

She sat with her visitor in the little dark front room in which Jake kept his business books, his whips, and all the paraphernalia of his calling. It was a bare, office-like apartment, and reeked horribly of Jake's tobacco; but Bunny was lying in the parlour and he had strenuously set his face against admitting the worthy Mrs. Wright there.

It was extremely cold, and Maud felt pinched and inhospitable. The grate was full of shavings, the whole place was cheerless and forlorn. It was a room that she scarcely ever entered, regarding it in fact more as Jake's office than an alternative sitting-room.

Mrs. Wright, however, stout, red, comfortable, did not feel the cold. She sat with her umbrella propped against her chair and regarded her stiff young hostess with much geniality on her homely face.

"You do look like a princess in a cottage, my dear, if you'll allow me to say so," she said. "And how are you getting on? I hope Jake's a good husband to you. I feel sure he would be. He's such an honest fellow. I often says to Tom, 'Give me a plain honest man like Jake Bolton,' I says; 'he's a man in a thousand.' I'm sure you think so yourself, Mrs. Bolton."

Maud, not knowing quite what to say, replied with reserve that she had no doubt he was. She was wondering if she could possibly offer Mrs. Wright tea in that dreadful little room of Jake's and if she would ever get rid of her if she didn't.

Mrs. Wright, serenely unconscious of the troublous question vexing her soul, went comfortably on. "I've often thought that if it had pleased the Almighty to send me a daughter, Jake's just the man I would have chosen for her. I like them eyes of his. They're so straight. But mind you, I think he has a temper of his own. Mayhap you've never met with it yet?"

She looked at Maud slyly out of merry little slits of eyes, and chuckled at the flush that rose in the girl's face.

"He certainly never loses it in my presence," Maud said stiffly.

Mrs. Wright's chuckle became a laugh. "Lor', my dear, you needn't be shy with me. He worships you; now, don't he? I saw that the first time I laid eyes on you. That was when you was waiting for him to come and take you in to supper, and my Tom came first. I said to myself then, 'Ah, Jake, young man, it's plain to see where your fancy lies.' And I laughed to myself," said Mrs. Wright, still chuckling. "For I couldn't help thinking he was ambitious to lift his eyes to a real lady. Not that in my opinion a man who is a man isn't good enough for any woman, and I'm sure you think the same. And then, you know, he's that fond of children, is Jake. The wonder to my mind is not that he's married now, but that he stayed single so long."

"He is very fond of my young brother," Maud observed.

"Ah! Is he now? The poor little lad is a cripple, isn't he? Many's the time I've watched you go by my shop-window. It's the wool shop at the corner of East Street with one window that looks over the sea. I used to wish you'd drop in to buy something, my dear; but you never did. P'raps now you'll manage to find your way round there some day."

"Thank you," Maud said. "But I so seldom go anywhere. My brother takes up all my time."

Mrs. Wright's rubicund face took a look of disappointment, but she still smiled; it was a face that lent itself to smiles. "It isn't to be expected that he'd want to come," she said. "But I'd be very pleased to see you both any time. What a good sister you are to him, my dear! I hope as he appreciates you."