Beaumaroy

“ The phrase sounded rather an odd one to Mary, but Beaumaroy accepted the assurance with a nod. "All right, I'll wait downstairs, sir. I hope you'll bring me a good account of him, Doctor." So he left Mary to make her examination; going downstairs, he shook his head once, pursed up his lips, and then smiled doubtfully, as a man may do when he has made up his mind to take a chance. ”

“ For it was over that implement that Beaumaroy had tripped up. It ought to have been hidden before she was admitted to the cottage. Somebody had been careless, somebody had blundered—whether Beaumaroy himself or his servant was immaterial. Beaumaroy had lied, readily and ingeniously, but not quite readily enough. The dart of his hand had betrayed him; that, and a look in his eyes, a tell-tale mirth which had seemed to mock both her and himself, and had made his ingenious lie even at the moment unconvincing. ”

“ The "sir" stuck—out of pure habit; it carried no real implication of respect.
"Meaning me!" laughed Beaumaroy. "How is the old man to-night?"
"Quiet enough. He's in the Tower there—been there an hour or more."
The cottage door opened on to a narrow passage, with a staircase on one side, and on the other a door leading to a small square parlour, cheerfully if cheaply furnished, and well lit by an oil lamp. A fire blazed on the hearth, and Beaumaroy sank into a "saddle-bag" arm-chair beside it, with a sigh of comfort. ”

“ Beaumaroy's eyebrows were raised in gentle protest.
"Once you're in with a job, you never know," his retainer observed darkly.
Beaumaroy laughed. "Oh, go to the devil!—and mix me another whisky." Yet a vague uneasiness showed itself on his face; he looked across the room at the evil-shaped man handling the bottles in the cupboard. He made one queer restless movement of his arms—as though to free himself. Then, in a moment, he sprang from his chair, a glad kindly smile illuminating his face; he bowed in a very courtly fashion, exclaiming, "Ah, here you are, sir? ”

“ Looking down on him, Beaumaroy allowed a smile to appear on his lips, a queer smile, which seemed to be compounded of affection, pity, and amusement.
“The difficulties there remain considerable for the present,” he remarked.
“They must be overcome.” Once again the old man’s voice became sharp and even dictatorial.
“They shall be, sir, depend on it.” Beaumaroy’s air was suddenly confident, almost braggart. Mr. Saffron nodded approvingly. ”

“ You're a lucky young woman, Mary." He rose to take his leave. "So, with our young folk happily married, and you installed, and friend Beaumaroy suited to his liking—why, upon my word, we may ring the curtain down on a happy ending—of Act I, at all events!"
She seemed to pay no heed to his words. He stood for a moment admiring her; not a beauty, but a healthy comely young woman, stout-hearted, and with humanity and a sense of fun in her. ”

“ Mary persisted.
"So that's how great fortunes are made? That's how individuals—to say nothing of nations—rise to wealth and power! And I never knew it," Beaumaroy reflected in a gentle voice. His eye caught Mary's, and she gave a little laugh. "By deciding doubtful cases against themselves! Dear me, yes!"
"I didn't say they rose to greatness and power."
"Then the people who do rise to greatness and power—and the nations—don't they go by right of conquest, Doctor Mary? Don't they decide cases in their own favour?" ”

“ Naylor's a man of honour, Doctor Mary; a man who appreciates a situation, a man you can trust." Beaumaroy seemed very gay and happy now, disembarrassed of a load, and buoyant alike in walk and in spirit. ”

“ Radbolts indeed! The whole of Christendom—Principalities and Powers—were on his track. They would shut him up—kill him perhaps! Cunningly he hid his secret—save what could not be entirely hidden, the physical deformity. But he hid it with his shawl; he never ate out of his own house; the combination knife-and-fork was kept sedulously hidden. Only to Beaumaroy did he reveal the hidden thing; and later, on Beaumaroy's persuasion, he let into the portentous secret one faithful servant—Beaumaroy's unsavoury retainer, Sergeant Hooper. ”

“ Beaumaroy murmured.
"Yours isn't. It's all personal with you. You recognize no rights in people whom you don't like, or who you think aren't deserving, or haven't earned rights. And you don't judge your own rights by what the law gives you, either. The right of conquest you called it; you hold yourself free to exercise that against everybody, except your friends, and against everybody in the interest of your friends—like poor Mr. Saffron. I believe you'd do the same for me if I asked you to."
"I'm glad you believe that, Doctor Mary." ”

“ Beaumaroy, you’re all right!”
Again Beaumaroy’s glance—that glance of innocent appeal—ranged over the company (except the General, out of its reach) . He seemed troubled and embarrassed.
“A most accomplished man, evidently, and a friend of yours, of course. But, well, there it is, a mere fancy, of course, but unhappily my old friend doesn’t take to him. He, he thinks that he’s rather inquisitorial. A doctor’s duty, I suppose——”
“Irechester’s a sound man, a very sound man,” said Mr. Naylor. “And, after all one can ask almost any question if one does it tactfully, can’t one, Miss Wall?” ”

“ Beaumaroy was equally obstinate.
Mary rose. "Then that's settled—and we needn't keep Captain Alec waiting any longer."
"How do you know that I shan't cheat you?" he asked.
"I don't know how I know that," Mary admitted. "But I do know it. And I want to tell you——"
She suddenly felt embarrassed under his gaze; her cheeks flushed, but she went on resolutely:
"To tell you how glad, how happy, I am that it all ends like this; that the poor old man is free of his fancies and his fears, beyond both our pity and our laughter." ”

“ Naylor glanced at him, smiling. "You fellows are always starting hares," he said.
"Game and set!" cried Captain Alec, and—to his partner—"Thank you very much for carrying a cripple."
But Irechester's attention remained fixed on Beaumaroy—and consequently on Doctor Mary; for the partners did not separate at the end of their game, but, after putting on their coats, began to walk up and down together on the other side of the court, in animated conversation, though Beaumaroy did most of the talking, Mary listening in her usual grave and composed manner. ”

“ I shall communicate with the Radbolts—fully; they'll take charge of the funeral, I suppose. Well, he won't know anything about that now, thank God!" There was the slightest tremor in his voice as he spoke.
Mary did not take the candle. "I've said some hard things to you, Mr. Beaumaroy. I dare say I've sounded very self-righteous." He raised his hand in protest, but she went on: "So I should like to say one different thing to you—since we're to part after to-night. You've shown yourself a good friend—good and true as a man could have."
"I loved my old man," said Beaumaroy. ”

“ They aren't looking our way now. We can get across the heath to where the car is."
They moved on very softly, keeping the Tower between them and the group on the path. They gained the back of the house, and so the open heath, and made off to their destination. They moved so softly that they escaped unheard—unless Beaumaroy were right in the notion that his ear caught a little rustle of the bracken. He took no heed of it, unless a passing smile might be reckoned as such.
Doctor Mary joined him and the Captain on the path. Beaumaroy's smile gave way to a look of expectant interest. ”

“ Who really cares for right or wrong, anyhow?"
A pause ensued—rather an uncomfortable pause. There was a raw sincerity in Beaumaroy's utterance that made it a challenge.
"I honestly think we did care about the rights and wrongs—we in England," said Naylor.
"That was certainly so at the beginning," Irechester agreed.
Beaumaroy took him up smartly. "Aye, at the beginning. But what about when our blood got up? What then? Would we, in our hearts, rather have been right and got a licking, or wrong and given one?"
"A searching question!" mused old Naylor. "What say you, Tom Punnit?" ”

“ Her husband, with his suave oiliness, came to her rescue. "My wife is always nervous, perhaps foolishly nervous, about fire, Mr. Beaumaroy. Well, with an old house like this, there is always the risk."
"Upon my soul, I hadn't thought of it! And I've packed up all my things, and your car's come and fetched them, Mr. Naylor. Still, of course I could——"
"Oh, we've no right, no claim, to trouble you, Mr. Beaumaroy. Only my wife is——"
"Fire's an obsession with me, I'm afraid," said the stout woman, with a rumbling giggle. The sound of her mirth was intolerably disagreeable to Mary. ”

“ Cars always alarm him. He thinks that they come to take him away. Every car that passes vexes him; he looks to see if it will stop. And when yours does——" He ended with a shrug.
For the first time Mary's feelings took on a keen edge of pity. Poor old gentleman! Fancy his living like that! And cars—military cars too—had been so common on the road across the heath.
"I understand. Let us go at once. You walked yourself, I suppose?"
"Ran," said Beaumaroy, and, with the first sign of a smile, wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
"I'm ready, Mr. Beaumaroy," said Doctor Mary. ”

“ CHAPTER IX DOCTOR MARY'S ULTIMATUM
Even Captain Alec was not superior to the foibles which beset humanity. If it had been his conception of duty which impelled him to take a high line with Beaumaroy, there was now in his feelings, although he did not realize the fact, an alloy of less precious metal. He had demanded an ordeal, a test—that he should see Mr. Saffron and judge for himself. ”

“ Mr. Saffron had been amused, had laughed beyond his wont. That might have seemed the best way of putting Beaumaroy off the scent. The green eyes were now alert, eager, immensely acquisitive.
"The grave's in the Tower, if it's anywhere. Would you like to see the Tower, Mrs. Radbolt?"
"Yes, I should," she answered tartly. "Being part of our property as it is."
Mary exchanged a glance with Mr. Naylor, as they followed the others into the Tower. "What an abominable woman!" her glance said. Naylor smiled a despairing acquiescence. ”

“ Then Mary herself collapsed; she sank down on the dais and broke into weeping. It had all been so pitiful, and somehow so terrible. Her quick tumultuous sobbing sounded through the place which the vibrations of the old man’s voice had lately filled.
She felt Beaumaroy’s hand on her shoulder. “You must make sure,” he said, in a low voice. “You must make your examination.”
With trembling hands she did it—she forced herself to it, Beaumaroy aiding her. There was no doubt. Life had left the body which reason had left long before. ”

“ Beaumaroy most cordially accepted the idea and the invitation. “Any afternoon I shall be delighted, except Wednesdays. Wednesdays are sacred, aren’t they, Miss Wall? London on Wednesdays for Mr. Saffron and me, and the old brown bag!” He laughed in a quiet merriment. “That old bag’s been in a lot of places with me and has carried some queer cargoes. Now it just goes to and fro, between here and town, with Mudie books. Must have books, living so much alone as we do!” He had risen as he spoke, and approached Mrs. Naylor to take leave. ”

“ Lord, what a lot of people'll say, 'I told you so—bad egg, that Beaumaroy!' No, I don't care. My old man's safe; I've won my big game after all, Doctor Mary!"
"I don't believe you cared about the money really!" she cried. "That really was a game to you, I think—a trick you liked to play on us respectables!"
He smiled at her confidentially. "I do like beating the respectables," he admitted. Then he looked at his watch. "I must do what has to be done for the old man. But it's late—hard on one o'clock. You must be tired—and it's a sad job." ”

“ Beaumaroy admitted, "he did. That's the only thing you find wrong with him, Doctor?"
Beaumaroy was standing on the far side of the table, his finger-tips resting lightly on it. He looked across at Mary with eyes candidly inquiring.
"I've found nothing else so far. I suppose he's got nothing to worry him?"
"Not really, I think. He fusses a bit about his affairs." He smiled. "We go to London every week to fuss about his affairs; he's always changing his investments, taking his money out of one thing and putting it in another, you know. Old people get like that sometimes, don't they? ”

“ But at all events she was entirely free from Miss Delia Wall's proclivity.
Mr. Saffron rose. "I'll go and wash my hands. We'll dine just as we are, Hector." Beaumaroy opened the door for him; he acknowledged the attention with a little nod, and passed out to the staircase in the narrow passage. Beaumaroy appeared to consider himself absolved from any preparations, for he returned to the big chair and, sinking into it, lit another cigarette. Meanwhile Mrs. Wiles laid the table, and presently Sergeant Hooper appeared with a bottle of golden-tinted wine. ”

“ He bared his head before her. "But by the woman who loves me and whom I love, I will deal faithfully." He bent and kissed her forehead.
"And now, let's walk on. No, not to Old Place—back home, past Tower Cottage."
She put her arm through his again, and they set out through the soft dusk that had begun to hover about them. So they came to the cottage, and here, for a while, instinctively stayed their steps. A light shone in the parlour window; the Tower was dark and still. Mary turned her face to Beaumaroy's with a sudden smile of scornful gladness. ”