Salthaven. William Wymark Jacobs

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СКАЧАТЬ saved the situation."

      "I don't suppose he knew it, poor boy," said Joan.

      "Anyway, he got the medal," said Robert, "and he has a row of prizes for good conduct. I never had one; not even a little one. I suppose you had a lot?"

      Miss Hartley maintained a discreet silence.

      "Nobody ever seemed to notice my good conduct," continued Mr. Vyner, still bent on making conversation. "They always seemed to notice the other kind fast enough; but the 'good' seemed to escape them."

      He sighed faintly, and glancing at the girl, who was looking out of the window again, took up his pen and signed his blotting-paper.

      "I suppose you know the view from that window pretty well?" he said, putting the paper aside with great care.

      "Ever since I was a small girl," said Joan, looking round. "I used to come here sometimes and wait for father. Not so much lately; and now, of course—"

      Mr. Vyner looked uncomfortable. "I hope you will come to this room whenever you want to see him," he said, earnestly. "He—he seemed to prefer being in the general office."

      Miss Hartley busied herself with the window again. "Seemed to prefer," she said, impatiently, under her breath. "Yes."

      There was a long silence, which Mr. Vyner, gazing in mute consternation at the vision of indignant prettiness by the window, felt quite unable to break. He felt that the time had at last arrived at which he might safely fetch Mr. Hartley without any self-upbraidings later on, and was just about to rise when the faint tap at the door by which Bassett always justified his entrance stopped him, and Bassett entered the room with some cheques for signature. Despite his habits, the youth started slightly as he saw the visitor, and then, placing the cheques before Mr. Vyner, stood patiently by the table while he signed them.

      "That will do," said the latter, as he finished. "Thank you."

      "Thank you, sir," said Bassett. He gave a slow glance at the window, and, arranging the cheques neatly, turned toward the door.

      "Will Mr. Hartley be long?" inquired Joan, turning round.

      "Mr. Hartley, miss?" said Bassett, pausing, with his hand on the knob. "Mr. Hartley left half an hour ago."

      Mr. Vyner, who felt the eyes of Miss Hartley fixed upon him, resisted by a supreme effort the impulse to look at her in return.

      "Bassett!" he said, sharply.

      "Sir?" said the other.. "Didn't you," said Mr. Vyner, with a fine and growing note of indignation in his voice—"didn't you tell Mr. Hartley that Miss Hartley was here waiting for him?"

      "No, sir," said Bassett, gazing at certain mysterious workings of the junior partner's face with undisguised amazement. "I—"

      "Do you mean to tell me," demanded Mr. Vyner, looking at him with great significance, "that you forgot?"

      "No, sir," said Bassett; "I didn't—"

      "That will do," broke in Mr. Vyner, imperiously. "That will do. You can go."

      "But," said the amazed youth, "how could I tell—"

      "That—will—do," said Mr. Vyner, very distinctly.

      "I don't want any excuses. You can go at once. And the next time you are told to deliver a message, please don't forget. Now go."

      With a fine show of indignation he thrust the gasping Bassett from the room.

      He rose from his chair and, with a fine show of indignation, thrust the gasping Bassett from the room, and then turned to face the girl.

      "I am so sorry," he began. "That stupid boy—you see how stupid he is—"

      "It doesn't matter, thank you," said Joan. "It—it wasn't very important."

      "He doesn't usually forget things," murmured Mr. Vyner. "I wish now," he added, truthfully, "that I had told Mr. Hartley myself."

      He held the door open for her, and, still expressing his regret, accompanied her down-stairs to the door. Miss Hartley, somewhat embarrassed, and a prey to suspicions which maidenly modesty forbade her to voice, listened in silence.

      "Next time you come," said Mr. Vyner, pausing just outside the door, "I hope—"

      Something dropped between them, and fell with a little tinkling crash on to the pavement. Mr. Vyner stooped, and, picking up a pair of clumsily fashioned spectacles, looked swiftly up at the office window.

      "Bassett," he said, involuntarily.

      He stood looking at the girl, and trying in vain to think of something to say. Miss Hartley, with somewhat more colour than usual, gave him a little bow and hurried off.

      CHAPTER V

      SMILING despite herself as she thought over the events of the afternoon, Joan Hartley walked thoughtfully homeward. Indignation at Mr. Vyner's presumption was mingled with regret that a young man of undeniably good looks and somewhat engaging manners should stoop to deceit. The fact that people are considered innocent until proved guilty did not concern her. With scarcely any hesitation she summed up against him, the only thing that troubled her being what sentence to inflict, and how to inflict it. She wondered what excuse he could make for such behaviour, and then blushed hotly as she thought of the one he would probably advance. Confused at her own thoughts, she quickened her pace, in happy ignorance of the fact that fifty yards behind her Captain Trimblett and her father, who had witnessed with great surprise her leave-taking of Mr. Vyner, were regulating their pace by hers.

      "She's a fine girl," said the captain, after a silence that had endured long enough to be almost embarrassing. "A fine girl, but—"

      He broke off, and completed his sentence by a shake of the head.

      "She must have come for me," said Hartley, "and he happened to be standing there and told her I had gone."

      "No doubt," said the captain, dryly. "That's why she went scurrying off as though she had got a train to catch, and he stood there all that time looking after her. And, besides, every time he sees me, in some odd fashion your name crops up."

      "My name?" said the other, in surprise.

      "Your name," repeated the captain, firmly, "Same as Joan's, ain't it? The after-part of it, anyway. That's the attraction. Talk all round you—and I talk all round you, too. Nobody'd dream you'd got a daughter to hear the two of us talk—sometimes. Other times, if I bring her name in, they'd think you'd got nothing else."

      Mr. Hartley glanced at him uneasily. "Perhaps—" he began.

      "There's no 'perhaps' about it," said the masterful captain. "If you're not very careful there'll be trouble. You know what Mr. John is—he's got big ideas, and the youngster is as obstinate as a mule."

      "It's all very well," said Hartley, "but how can I be careful? What can I do? Besides, I dare say you are making mountains of mole-heaps; she probably hurried off thinking to catch me up."

      Captain Trimblett gave a little dry cough. "Ask her," he said, impressively.

      "I'm not going to put any such ideas into her head," said his friend.

      "Sound her, then," СКАЧАТЬ