"But you couldn't blame him very greatly for losing his head--he had no warning, scarcely a moment to think. It was so sudden."

"The result's the same," retorted Nasmyth. "Lisle has to pay. But to please you I'll send Clarence word that Irvine's not anxious about him."

CHAPTER XVIII

A PRUDENT DECISION

It had been dark some time and the night was raw, but Jim Crestwick strolled up and down the drive to Marple's house, thinking unusually hard. In the first place, part at least of the folly of his conduct during the last year or two had been plainly brought home to him, and the realization was bitter. It was galling to discover that while he had regarded himself as a man of the world he had been systematically victimized by the men who had encouraged him in the delusion. He felt very sore as he remembered how much he owed Batley, but this troubled him less than the downright abhorrence of Gladwyne which had suddenly possessed him. He had looked up to the latter as a model and had tried to copy his manners; and it was chiefly because Batley was a friend of Gladwyne's that he had paid toll to him. For he had felt that whatever the man he admired was willing to countenance must be the correct thing.

Now he saw Gladwyne as he really was--a betrayer of those who trusted him, a counterfeit of an honorable type, one who had by the merest chance escaped from crime.

In the second place, he was concerned about Bella. She had obviously been attracted by Gladwyne, and it was his duty to warn her. Whether the warning was altogether necessary he could not tell--he had watched her face that morning--and Bella sometimes resented advice. When she did so, she had an exasperating trick of putting him in the wrong; but he meant to speak to her as plainly as appeared desirable. He had another duty--to Lisle; but he was inclined to think that on the whole he had better not saddle himself with it. His self-confidence had been rudely shaken and he recognized the possibility of his making things worse. Moreover, he had cultivated the pride of caste, and having with some difficulty obtained an entry to the circle in which Gladwyne moved, he felt it inc.u.mbent on him to guard the honor of all who belonged to it.

Presently Bella came out, as he had antic.i.p.ated, and joined him.

"You have been very quiet since this morning," she began. "I saw that you meant to slip away as soon as you could."

"Yes," he admitted; "I've had something to think about--I've been a fool, Bella; the commonest, most easily gulled kind of imbecile!"

He had expected her to remind him that she had more than once tried to convince him of this, but she failed to do so. Instead, she answered with a touch of the candor that sometimes characterized her.

"You're not the only one."

This was satisfactory, for it suggested that she had been undeceived about Gladwyne; but she had not finished.

"What did you see this morning?" she asked, and he felt that she was speaking with keen anxiety.

"I'll tell you, but it must never go any farther. I hate to think of it!

But first of all, what makes you ask?"

She had already mentioned that she had been near when Gladwyne made his attempt to come up with Lisle, but she had not explained that she had seen hatred stamped in hideous plainness on his face.

"Never mind," she answered sharply. "Go on!"

"Well," said Jim, "I was standing right against the hedge, the only person on that side, and I don't think Gladwyne saw me. Lisle's bay fouled the top bar of the hurdle, but it held long enough to bring him down in a heap. Gladwyne was then a length or two behind. He rode straight at the broken hurdle, hands still--I can't get his look out of my mind!"

"But perhaps he couldn't pull up," Bella defended him desperately, as if she would not believe the truth she dreaded.

"There were other ways open. He could have gone at the hedge a yard or two on one side; he could have spoiled the chestnut's take-off and made him jump short. It might have brought him down--the hurdle was firm in the ground--but that would have been better than riding over a fallen man!"

"Are you sure he did nothing?"

"I wish I were not! The thing's horrible! Gladwyne must have seen that he'd come down on Lisle or the struggling bay--he could have prevented it--he didn't try."

Bella shivered. Her brother was right: it was almost beyond contemplation.

But that was only half of the matter.

"He must have had a reason," she argued harshly.

"Yes; one doesn't ride over a man in cold-blood for nothing. I think he had some cause for being afraid of Lisle; several things I remember now point to it. His chance came suddenly--n.o.body could have arranged it--he only remembered that Lisle with his brains crushed out could do him no harm."

The girl recognized that Jim had guessed correctly. When she had gone to Lisle for help, he had allowed her to understand that he could compel Gladwyne's compliance with his request, which was significant. Still, convinced as she was, she would not openly acquiesce in her brother's theory.

"Jim," she protested, "if he'd ridden at the hedge or made the chestnut jump short, he might have broken his own neck. He must have realized it--it would make him hesitate."

The lad laughed scornfully.

"It's quite possible, but is that any excuse? Would Nasmyth or Lisle or Batley have shirked a risk that would mean the saving of the other fellow? Supposing your idea's right--though it isn't--it only shows the man as a disgusting coward."

There was no gainsaying this; and Bella was crushed and humiliated. She had already seen Gladwyne's weakness, and after the choice she had been compelled to make between him and her brother, she had tried to drive all thought of him out of her mind. It had been difficult; he was fascinating in many ways and she had set her heart upon his capture. Now she had done with him; after the morning's revelation she shrank from him with positive horror. Jim seemed to guess this.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he said gently. "But the fellow's impossible."

She laid her hand upon his arm.

"Jim," she replied, "we have both been mad, and I suppose we must pay for it. I'll help you to get clear of Batley when the time comes, but you must never have a deal of any kind with him again."

"That's promised; I've had my lesson. I think I'll ask Lisle to take me with him when he goes back to Canada. He and Nasmyth are the only men worth speaking of I've met for a long while. When Lisle first came here I tried to patronize him."

Bella laughed, rather feebly, but she wanted to relieve the tension.

"It was like you. But we'll go in. This is our secret, Jim. n.o.body would believe you if you let fall a hint as to what really happened, and there are many reasons why you shouldn't. I think you said n.o.body else could have suspected?"

"Nasmyth hadn't come up when the chestnut reached the hurdles; he was the nearest. Lisle was down with the horse upon him. He couldn't have seen anything."

"Well," she decided, "perhaps that's fortunate. It isn't likely that Gladwyne will get such an opportunity again, and at the worst he acted on the spur of the moment."

The lad nodded. He had felt that silence would entail some responsibility, but Bella accepted it without uneasiness. She seldom showed any hesitation when she had decided on a course.

In the meanwhile, Gladwyne had spent a miserable day, alternating between horror of himself and doubts about the future. Jim Crestwick's description of the incident was correct--Gladwyne had ridden straight at the broken hurdle, knowing what the consequences might be and disregarding them. The next moment, however, the reaction had begun and he was thankful that he had not committed a hideous crime. Indeed, the knowledge that he had come so near to killing his opponent had left him badly shaken. He wondered at his insensate action until he recollected how he had once stood beside an opened cache in Canada, and then, ignoring his manifest duty, had hurried on through the frozen wilderness.

On that occasion he had been accountable for his cousin's death, and now Lisle had very narrowly escaped.

Yet he could with justice acquit himself of any premeditated intention in either case; fate had thrust him into a situation he was not strong enough to grapple with. Dreading Lisle, as he did, his chief thought had been for his own safety when he saw the bay blunder at the leap. To save the Canadian he must take a serious personal risk, which was foreign to his nature, and though a recognition of the fact that the death of the fallen man would be a great relief to him had been clearly in his mind, it was impossible to say how far it had actuated him.

He had grown more collected when he sat in his library as dusk was closing in, considering other aspects of the affair. He had not seen Crestwick, and Lisle, he thought, would remember nothing except his fall.

After trying to recall the positions of the others, he felt comforted; n.o.body could charge him with anything worse than reckless riding or a failure of nerve at a critical moment. He would confess to the latter--it was to some extent the truth--and show concern about Lisle's injury.

Awkward as it was, the incident could be smothered over; it was consoling to remember that the people he lived among were addicted to treating anything of an unpleasant nature as lightly as possible. There was a good deal to be said for the sensible English custom of ignoring what it would be disconcerting to realize.

After a while his mother came in and gently touched him.

"My dear," she urged, "you mustn't brood over it. Lisle's condition's satisfactory. As it's some hours since we got Nasmyth's message, I sent a man over and he has just come back."

"I'm glad you sent," Gladwyne responded. "It was thoughtful. I forgot; but I've been badly troubled."

She sat down near him, with her hand laid caressingly on his arm.