The voice was glad and frank, though its habit of command was unmistakable. Every gesture bespoke authority and arrogance of body.

Even in this moment of geniality, "Obedience and no explanations" was written all over him. He was a man who believed his acceptable importance to be a verity established beyond the pale of challenge. Yet there was something lacking--a sureness of refinement, a last considerateness. With the first word he had spoken, Tabs had detected that he wasn't quite the part.

Terry had hurried forward to meet him. She was saying something in a voice so subdued that it did not carry. She had so contrived their grouping--or was it an accident?--that the General's face was hidden.

Tabs waited, then turned to Prentys, "My taxi-man's getting impatient.

Will you give my thanks to the General for his kindness and make the explanations?---- And I hope that your wrist will soon be better."

He had given the driver his address and was stepping into the taxi, when he heard Terry's voice, "Why, you're running away! You mustn't go without meeting the General. General Braithwaite, I want to introduce you to Lord Taborley, of whom I've spoken to you so often."

Tabs limped back to the pavement and found the General regarding him intently. "I'm glad to make Lord Taborley's acquaintance," he said formally. And then to Terry, "You didn't tell me that it was for Lord Taborley you were borrowing my car."

Before Terry could reply, Tabs was answering for her, "Then I have to apologize to you, sir, as well as to thank you. But we've used the same car often, haven't we? In fact, I'm certain that we've met many times."

"Never to my knowledge." The General drew himself up stiffly. "You mistake me. It's the first time I've had the pleasure."

The two tall men stood glooming at each other. Tabs had it on the tip of his tongue to say something more, but glanced at Terry and thought better of it. Instead he addressed her, "Do I drive you home?"

The General interrupted. "It'll be out of your way. I'm going right past Miss Beddow's house."

For the first time since they had been introduced Terry came between their hostility. "How did you know where Lord Taborley lived and that it would be out of his way? You said that this was the first time you had met him."

Tabs refused to make her the witness of a quarrel. "Since General Braithwaite knows where I live, perhaps he will call and explain that to me later. I can't keep my cab waiting longer--are you riding with me, Terry?"

She avoided his eyes. "With the General." And then, "You won't forget that you're dining to-night with father?"

"To-night. At seven-thirty, I suppose, as usual?"

"At seven-thirty."

He raised his hat. As he drove away he felt compelled to look back just once to a.s.sure himself. He caught the General's features in full sunlight; he had not been mistaken.

"So that's why my letters to him weren't returned, and that's why he didn't write! He's gone farther than far with a vengeance." He clenched his fists and frowned savagely at his crippled leg. "I felt so sure of her--and to have to compete with my own valet!"

CHAPTER THE SECOND

RETRIEVERS OF YOUTH

I

The taxi had scarcely drawn up before a small, prim house in Brompton Square when the door was opened by a neat maid in immaculate cap and ap.r.o.n. She was so neat and respectful as to appear almost pa.s.sionless.

She had the high complexion of a Country girl, good gray eyes, a slim, attractive figure and dark, wavy hair which escaped rebelliously from beneath her cap. One wondered how she looked in her off-duty moments, when she wasn't saying, "Yes, your Lordship" and "No, your Lordship."

Tabs mustered a smile and called to her, "Thank you, Ann. I'll be with you in a moment."

As he paid the fare, he let his eyes wander. The outside of the house had been painted white, evidently in honor of his home-coming. The work had been only recently completed, for the chalked warning on the pavement was not yet obliterated, "Wet Paint Beware." He had given no orders; it was Ann's doing--her accustomed, tactful thoughtfulness. The steps were speckless as a newly laundered shirt, the bra.s.ses polished to the brilliancy of precious metal. His window-boxes---- He glanced along the fronts of his neighbors' houses; they hadn't put theirs out yet. His were ahead of everybody's; they made a cheerful splash of red, with their soldierly upstanding tulips, above the long serried line of area-railings. Again Ann's doing! And the snow-white curtains behind each row of panes were also Ann's.

The driver clicked his "For Hire" sign into the upright position and chugged away to join the flow of traffic which thumped orchestrally past the end of the Square. Tabs climbed the three low steps separately; he had been used to take them at a bound. He tried to climb them slowly as though from choice, and not from necessity. He was very conscious that Ann was watching. As she closed the door behind him he said, "So you knew I was coming? You received my telegram?"

"Yes, your Lordship."

"I was sorry I couldn't tell you the exact hour. I didn't know it myself. I hope you didn't trouble to prepare lunch."

"It was no trouble, your Lordship."

"Then you've managed to get some one in the kitchen? They tell me that all the cooks have become bus-conductresses or lady-secretaries."

"I did, your Lordship. My sister--the one who lost her husband at Mons.

I thought you wouldn't object----"

He cut her short. "Ann, you know I never object; you never need to go into details. Whatever you've done is right. From what I've seen already you've done splendidly."

Under his praise she flushed and became a little less the servant. "I was afraid you might think I'd taken too much upon myself, what with the flower-boxes and having the house repainted. I wanted to have things nice for your Lordship after----" She hesitated for a word, and then burst out, "After all the dirt and beastliness! Your Lordship ought never to have gone in the ranks, begging your pardon; you weren't fitted for it. You ought to have gone as a General. Then you wouldn't have come home with that poor leg and----" She saw him wince and changed the subject. "But about doing things without orders, I knew that if Braithwaite--if Braithwaite----" Her voice sagged and her eyes misted over. At last Tabs saw how she looked in her off-duty moments, when she wasn't occupied with being respectful. The sudden memory came back of intuitions he had had that she and his valet might one day marry. From time to time he had twitted them on their fondness, taking an idle pleasure in forwarding the match. And Braithwaite had kissed her before he marched away. Ridiculous to remember it now! It signified nothing.

People in their station kissed when they felt kindly, and on that occasion they had had an epoch-making pretext.

Her eyes were searching his with a hungry wistfulness. "What I was meaning, your Lordship, was that if he had been spared, he'd have done things on his own and gone ahead, the same as he always did. So I, seeing as how he wasn't----"

Tabs touched her shoulder gently. "It's all right, Ann. I appreciate your motives. I'm glad you went ahead. But you haven't shaken hands yet."

He glanced in at the dining-room before he went upstairs. The table was spread for dinner. Cut flowers were standing about in vases. The very silver had a festive shine.

"Again I have to be sorry," he told her. "I'm dining with Sir Tobias Beddow."

"And Miss Terry," she inquired, "is she well?"

When he went to climb the narrow stairs she refused to permit him to carry his bag. He guessed the reason--that he might be freer to support himself by the rail of the banisters. On the first small landing, which looked out at the back on to the Oratory and the graveyard of the Parish Church, there were still more flowers. When he reached his bedroom, three flights up, he found that his evening clothes had been all laid out and just as carefully as if Braithwaite--the old Braithwaite whom he had loved--had been there before him.

As she unpacked his bag, opening and closing drawers, "I shall have to look round for another valet," he said.

"Please don't." Her tone was sharp with earnestness.

Tabs felt sorry for her. She, too, like all the world was wanting the thing that she could never have. He wondered whether it wouldn't be kinder to tell her and let her know the worst. "But sha'n't I, Ann?"

With simple pathos, which was the more touching because it was so unconscious, she clasped her hands, "He might come back. He was never reported. My letters were returned unopened. I've not given over hoping. I shouldn't like him to find that your Lordship---- If he found another man in his place, he might feel like he hadn't been wanted. Me and sister can manage----"

"But----"

He got no further, for her eyes were meeting his with an appeal that was desperate. "A strange man--his ways would be different. He'd make one know that everything--everything was ended."

She glanced hurriedly round for a last time to make sure that there was nothing she had omitted--collar, tie, silk socks, dress-shoes, shaving-water, razor. "I'll be listening for the bell in case there's anything that I've forgotten, sir."

With that she closed the door between himself and her emotion. As she rustled discreetly down the stairs, he thought he heard a sound of sobbing.

II