CHAPTER x.x.xII.

If we had followed Mr. Rayner to the High Court on the morning of the day when his wife waited for him in vain in the verandah at Clive's Road, his failure to return home might have been explained. Yet, when it is told that it was only the sudden sight of a face which had scared him and upset all his plans, and that, the familiar face of Zynool Sahib, some further explanation of the circ.u.mstances seems needful.

For this we have to go back to his last meeting with the Mahomedan at Waller's Stables, when Zynool had handed him a cheque for a further loan, having taken over the mail-phaeton as part payment of the previous transaction. In his haste, for he was anxious to catch the train for Puranapore, Zynool had given Mr. Rayner the signed cheque still attached to the cover of his cheque-book, believing it to be the last in the book, and being careless as to retaining the counter-foils. Not till Zynool had gone did Alfred Rayner observe that there was still an unused cheque in the book. Smiling at his client's carelessness, he placed the signed cheque in his pocket-book, and thrust the pink cover with the remaining one into the pocket of his jacket, meaning to hand it to Zynool with some chaffing remark when next they met.

Zynool's loan was much needed and was quickly spent. The absence of the hitherto unfailing allowance from Truelove Brothers was making itself felt. His financial outlook seemed at his darkest when, one morning, he came on something in the pocket of his coat which suggested a solution of his pressing difficulties. It was the crumpled remains of the pink cover with the blank cheque still affixed to it which he had fully meant to restore to its owner. But a good many hours had struck in Alfred Rayner's moral life since then, and each had been dragging him steadily downward. His determined repudiation of his father, his unbridled fury at the thought of having any connection with Eurasians, the lies and subterfuges which a false position entails, all had undermined a character which had never been sterling. When, therefore, as his fortunes were at their lowest, he came upon the blank cheque it presented an overmastering temptation. He quickly formed the plan of using it, saying to himself that, of course, he would replace the money presently, and encouraging himself with the knowledge that Zynool, though shrewd, had no business habits, and it might be long before he discovered the little transaction--theft, he would not call it, for he might be able to replace every pie in a few days. Having decided that he might with impunity risk the fraud, it was quite easy for him to forge his client's familiar signature, his sprawling handwriting lending itself with facility to the deception, nor would there be any difficulty in his cashing the cheque; it being well known at the bank that he was Zynool's man of business and had frequent money transactions with him.

In fact, the deed was done with such ease that a more sensitive man might have been startled at the ready complicity of fate in his crime.

He walked jauntily out of the Bank after having counted his notes and exchanged a few pleasant words with the cashier. Then he resolved that this new "loan," as he preferred to call it, should be devoted to carrying his wife from the hot plains to a hill sanatorium, and had eagerly hurried home to divulge his plans.

Nemesis, however, began to dog his steps with appalling swiftness. The very next afternoon at the High Court, when he was engaged in conducting a case on the success of which he was eagerly reckoning, it came with rapid strides. Adorned with his wig and gown, he was holding forth, unusually pungent and successful in his arguments, when who should he see standing by the door watching him with a sardonic smile but Zynool Sahib! The beady eyes flashed fire, and the amber face had the look of a beast of prey. From the moment that Alfred Rayner's eye lighted on the man whom he had wronged, he had not a shadow of doubt that the Mahomedan was aware of the fraud so lightly perpetrated on him; and he knew also that he could expect no mercy at his hands. There was a malignant triumph in Zynool's eyes which told that he had trapped his victim.

"Trapped"--the word echoed in the barrister's head as he made a violent effort to continue his speech; but he, who had been so glib in his arguments a moment before, now stammered and looked so faint that even the Judge did not fail to notice his threatening collapse, and more than one pair of eyes were fixed on him with a questioning stare. Nor did the torture of his spirit lessen when he observed that a Mussulman attendant had crept up to Zynool and whispered something which caused the Mahomedan to leave the court-room quickly.

"There's a warrant waiting for me outside," he groaned inwardly.

When the Court broke up Rayner quite expected to find his declared foe waiting at the door, surrounded by emissaries of the law, but he was nowhere to be seen. Presently, however, he was approached by a peon from the Bank, who politely handed him a letter from the manager.

"Ha, the fat's in the fire, sure enough! I'm as good as hauled off to prison," he muttered. Then an inspiration seized him. Glancing at the phlegmatic peon he told him to wait for his reply. He went in search of the Mahomedan official whom he had observed talking to Zynool before he left the Court. The man being of a lower rank, Rayner decided that Zynool would probably have made no communication to him concerning the forgery.

"Is Zynool still in town?" he asked.

"He is not," was the reply. "He intended to remain in town, for he said he had important business, but his son-in-law came with news--veree grave news from Puranapore."

There was a threatening of a riot in Puranapore, it seemed, and it was feared that Zynool's house might be attacked, so he had hastened back by the earliest train.

"Just as I supposed," said Rayner to himself, having recognised the youth who brought the news, and thought it must be some urgent message.

"So the fat's in the fire there too! Well, it's an ill wind that blows no one good," he muttered, going into the writing-room where he set himself to write to the manager of the Bank, acknowledging his letter and explaining that he was detained by important legal business till after the closing hour of the Bank, but that he would call early next morning, and added:

"... If your note refers to the misunderstanding about my friend Zynool Sahib's cheque, I have just seen him and it is completely cleared up. I need hardly say it was his own blunder."

Handing his letter to the waiting peon with an easy air, he turned away with a very different expression on his face. After standing hesitating for a moment what his next move should be, he hurried out at a side-door which opened on a back street. He saw a little country carriage, like a box on wheels, which the natives call a _jatka_, standing near. Hailing it, he jumped in with alacrity, telling the driver to go out the Mount Road. He found no difficulty in concealing himself in the windowless little box, though he cowered in a corner with a throbbing heart as the pony ambled along. He was indifferent as to where he went, but on he must go till darkness should throw its concealing mantle over him. At length he reached the Thousand Lights Bazaar, and calling on the jatka-wallah to stop, he alighted and paid his fare. After wandering about among the stalls he explained to a bazaar-vendor in Tamil, which he spoke with ease, that he wished to purchase a turban. Buying the number of yards of muslin which the merchant a.s.sured him were indispensable, he asked that it should be twisted into shape. The request seemed to astonish the dealer not a little, that process being generally accomplished by the customer himself on his head. However, with a good-natured laugh he deftly adjusted the folds and handed it to him. After paying for his purchase and the additional sum demanded for the making up of the headpiece, Rayner hurried away, walking rapidly on till he came to a patch of jungle which skirted the road. Plunging into it, he caught sight of a small tank in its centre which reflected the yellow moon. He dropped his sun-topee into the water, watching the ripples that appeared on the smooth surface as it sank, for he had attached a stone to it.

"Probably a needless precaution," he muttered, "but one can't be too careful."

He adjusted the turban on his head, and divesting himself of his coat, he turned it inside out, its lining being of a pale-coloured silk.

"In the dark I'll pa.s.s for some nondescript, at least. n.o.body will recognise the smart 'La'yer Rayner' in this guise," he said with a grim smile, as he caught his reflection in the moon-silvered water. "Bother this bright moonlight, but for it I might have no fear of recognition!"

Prudence seemed to dictate that he should remain for a time concealed in the jungle plot. At length, after consulting his watch under the clear light of the moon, he decided that it was safe to emerge and make his way townwards. Consecutive thought was in abeyance, but his one idea was somehow to reach his wife and throw himself on her mercy in his desperate plight; for he was well aware he had only r.e.t.a.r.ded his possible capture by some hours. An unpleasant surprise in the shape of a waiting police-official might even be in store for him when he reached Clive's Road, but he thought he could reckon himself safe till next morning, only he would take careful observation before he trusted himself within the precincts of his own compound, and would not venture near till the night was well advanced.

Steadily he trod townwards, his footfalls echoing on the empty road.

There was no need to divest himself of his boots and walk in his silk socks as he had thought of doing, there being not a single soul to take note of him.

When he reached the streets he congratulated himself there would only be loafers and waifs about, who would take no account of such a hybrid as he looked in his motley dress.

He did not follow a direct route to Clive's Road, but thinking he had made sure that his direction was towards it, he was surprised to find that he had, all unwittingly, stumbled into Vepery. Never had he set foot in that quarter since his return to Madras. He glanced at the silent rows of shabby houses, with feeble lights still flickering from some of their windows in spite of the lateness of the hour. As he pa.s.sed a corner house which was in darkness, he saw a figure leaning against one of the chunam posts where a gate should have swung. It had so lately received a fresh coat of white that the female figure stood out in relief. Rayner glanced towards the woman involuntarily and started. The girl also gave a start. In spite of his disguise, Leila Baltus had no difficulty in recognising him. A quick hope seized her, "Alfred's repented! He's come here in that comic make-up to make it up with his old love! Alf, I'm here--waiting for you," she said in a loud whisper.

"Here's a pretty mess--of all people to stumble on _her_!" he muttered to himself, quickening his steps.

But Leila Baltus would not allow him to escape. Running after him, she laid her hand on his arm.

"Don't be shy, Alf! You know you've come to kiss and be friends! La, but whatt a guy you do look!" she exclaimed with a giggle, getting in front of him. "I say, did _she_ turn you out like thatt after hearin' the news from Aunt Tilly and me this veree afternoon thatt your pa was a half-caste? I swore I'd be even with her and I've got my wish. Ha, ha!"

And she danced in front of him, obstructing his efforts to pa.s.s her.

"You fiend! What are you saying?" cried Rayner in a desperate voice.

"You didn't dare to do that! Get out of my way, I'm in no mind for your jokes!"

"Ho, ho, thatt's how it is--your fine wife's done with you, and yet you won't be in with me! Come, Alf," she said in a persuasive tone. "I'll get you a nice prawn curry for the sake of old times, late though it is.

What a good thing I was taking a gasp of air past midnight!"

"Out of my way, girl! Do you wish to drive me mad?" cried Rayner, as he forcibly detached the girl's hand from his arm and pushed her against the wall, while he took to his heels and ran till at length, hearing no footsteps behind him, he concluded that he had got rid of his tormentor, and slackened his pace.

"I wonder if the spiteful minx did really go and pour out her venom on Hester? Well, I feared it might come, and now that everything is tumbling about my ears it doesn't much matter. There's no future for us in Madras, that's clear, but I've sharp wits, I'll make a living at home--and the Bellairs have influence. Hester will never forsake me," he murmured with an encouraged air. "We'll set sail at once for England."

He was now pa.s.sing a riotous haunt, which even at this hour echoed with boisterous voices and laughter, and flaring lights streamed from the verandah where loungers drank and smoked, but he turned away his eyes in disgust and sped on his way. As he walked along one of the more secluded roads of Vepery, his eye lighted on a white gate on which was written, in letters that he could trace in the clear moonlight--Freyville.

"Why, that's the name of _his_ house," he muttered, staring with fascinated eyes on the abode of his father. "Strange that I should have stumbled on it to-night of all nights!"

It had a placid, winning air; two of the wide windows which gave on the verandah stood open and a light burned within. He could see a grey head bending over a big book which lay on a table.

For a brief moment a sudden impulse came to the fugitive in his desperate plight. Should he walk in and present himself to the old man?

A swift intuition whispered that even after all that had come and gone a hand would be held out at the eleventh hour to save him. The threatening hoofs of the Australians, the insulting words spoken in his verandah, and the repudiation at the beach--all would be blotted out by that one word "father"; ay, and more, the means to extricate him from the pit which he had digged for himself and into which he had fallen, would most surely be forthcoming. Even now it was not too late to compromise with Zynool and the Bank. The man seated there could doubtless do it for him.

Would he say that needful word, he asked himself, as he laid his hand on the latch of the white gate. Just at that moment, the silent reader in the silent room raised his head. The searching eyes looked out as if stirred by some consciousness that something untoward was afoot.

"No, I shan't play the returned prodigal--not in my line," muttered Rayner, suddenly dropping the latch. "I'll rather cut the whole concern--work my way to Karrachi, arrange to meet Hester when safer, hurry home to England, and turn over a new leaf there."

Striding rapidly on his way, he never halted till he reached the precincts of Clive's Road, where he began to tread more cautiously. He removed his boots, pulled his turban down over his eyes, and kept close to the hedge which skirted the compound, starting even at his own shadow, and listening intently to every sound that broke the silence of the Indian night.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

Hester was still sitting in the verandah waiting her husband's return.

Her own preparations for the projected journey to the hills were well advanced, but there was still a good deal to settle before their departure, and she had expected Alfred to hurry home earlier than usual to complete all arrangements. Not realising how late it was, she reckoned that he must have been detained by some important interview with a client. As she sat with folded hands wearily waiting, her thoughts suddenly reverted to the disagreeable visitors of the afternoon and their extraordinary communication. It seemed to take shape in her mind for the first time and she sighed softly.

"I only wish Mr. Morpeth had been Alfred's father! How differently he would have brought him up from that silly aunt whose memory he despises!"

But the story was so evidently the outcome of malice that it was hardly worthy of consideration. Perhaps this Leila Baltus had been a former acquaintance of Alfred's. The thought had occurred to her before, and now she felt certain of it, and yet it seemed strange in the light of his bitter prejudice against the Eurasian community. But evidently the girl did owe him a grudge, and it was not pleasant to think of; so Hester tried to dismiss the incident from her mind.

She rose from her lounging chair and began to pace up and down the verandah, looking out on the moon-silvered lawn and drinking in the peace of the midnight landscape. A slight movement of one of the side blinds of the verandah which had not, like the others, been raised at sunset, now arrested her attention. She drew some steps nearer. Through one of the c.h.i.n.ks of the rattan, which was being gently pushed up, she caught sight of a pair of eyes. For a moment she stood riveted to the spot with terror, then she turned with the intention of rousing the "maty," whom she knew to be stretched in deep slumber in the verandah at the back of the house, but a voice whispered through the c.h.i.n.ks--"Hester."

The tone that fell on her ear was not familiar. Was it a ghostly presence that had crept near her? Those eyes had looked so terrible.

They were withdrawn now, and she heard a light footfall on the steps which froze her blood within her. Suddenly her husband stood before her in his strange garb and with so wild and distraught a bearing that her terror was hardly lessened.

"Alfred," she gasped. "What is the matter? Why have you come like this?"