Cray

“ Cray had been taking notice of her square-toed, masculine shoes and her thick worsted stockings, “I am free to admit that the time has come when I am a little weary. I propose to settle down in London, make friends and lead a domestic life. For the first time in many years I find myself free and disposed to seek companionship.” ”

“ Mr. Cray was speechless. Blanche Esholt, conscious of her red eyes, stole away, a proceeding which Mrs. Green watched with satisfaction.
“A forward child, that,” she said. “Mr. Cray, I am sure you will be glad to know that I have decided to join your game of poker.”
“To do what?” Mr. Cray faltered.
“We will promenade for a moment,” she continued, propelling him along. “I feel that you do not altogether understand me, Mr. Cray. I am an independent woman—my life and training have made me so—but I am not averse to harmless recreations. ”

“ Cray are sure to be in it."
"Caroline and Mr. Cray are what?" cried out Miss Bettina.
"I fear they are in the train. There has been an accident between here and Hildon. An engine has just gone down with assistance."
"I don't want to know about engines," returned Miss Davenal, who had not understood one word in ten. "I ask what you do here alone? Caroline and Mr. Cray can come home, I suppose, without your waiting for them in this public manner. What would your papa say if he saw you?"
"Papa has seen me," replied Sara. "Papa has just come up to the station and is gone down with the engine." ”

“ Cray listened in rebellious silence.
“Your great country, Mr. Cray,” she wound up, “has shown the world what it thinks of liquor.”
“Because they cheated,” he answered gravely.
“In her way she has,” Mr. Cray acknowledged. “In my small way, I shall continue to show the world what I think of it. Steward, hurry up with that wine.”
Mrs. Green shook her head but her smile was indulgent.
“Obstinate!” she murmured. “We will have a little talk after dinner, Mr. Cray. I will make you a little coffee up on deck.”
“I never drink coffee,” her victim lied. “I always take brandy after my meals.” ”

“ Mark Cray, as he walked home with his wife afterwards, remarked that it was "slow." But nobody dreamt of anything like fear for the doctor, save his daughter and the Reverend Mr. Stephenson.
"I can never be sufficiently grateful to you, sir," murmured the clergyman, as he was leaving. "Neither can my brother. You have done for us what I believe no other man living would have done. May Heaven reward you, and restore you to health and strength!" ”

“ But to make Miss Bettina understand--or rather hear--was a work not speedily accomplished. She even was aware of it herself.
"I am not myself today, sir," she said to Oswald Cray. "I have not been myself since yesterday morning. When the tidings were brought to me that--that it was all over with that good Prince--I felt as I had never felt in my life before. It is not a common death, Mr. Oswald Cray, or a common loss, even had we been prepared for it. ”

“ Unless—”
“Unless what?”
“Unless the man’s ready for them. Then, it’s a pat on the back and a clean bill of health for you; and, ‘Thanks, my noble radio man; your message was music to our honest ears,’ for me.” Cray stopped.
“And so—”
Cray leaned closer.
“Get this. There’s two men we ain’t searched yet—Drake and Quayle. Either one, mebbe—”
The old captain rose.
“We’ll start with Quayle, eh?” He made for the door, but he stopped, turned. “You put that into my head, damn ye!”
“What if I did?” Cray cried. “What if I did? Since you have no detective aboard, what price Cray, hey?” ”

“ Mark Cray stepped into his handsome hall and was received by a couple of footmen. Flinging his hat to one, his gloves to another, he bounded upstairs to his dressing-room, conscious that he was keeping the dinner and his guests waiting.
Did Mark Cray ever cast a sigh of regret to the simple life at Hallingham, when he and his wife used to sit down to mutton cutlets and a pudding, and think the fare good enough? Did she regret it at any odd moment? Not yet. Dress and dinners, with expense of other sorts, bring a fascination with them all too enthralling to the senses. ”

“ But Dr. Davenal did not satisfy him: not that he had any particular motive for observing reticence on the point. "It is of no consequence. I must have been mistaken," was all he said.
"You will not forbid her to me, sir?" pleaded Mr. Cray.
A spasm of pain passed across the face of Dr. Davenal; the words had called up bitter recollections.
"So long as I live I shall never forbid a marriage to any over whom I hold control," he said, in a tone of subdued anguish; and Mark Cray knew where the sting had pointed, and wished in his good-nature he had not put the question. ”

“ A LITTLE movement by Mr. Cray's side brought him back to the present. He glanced up. A tall man of early middle age was taking his seat. The two men exchanged greetings.
“Mr. Schreed?” Mr. Cray observed.
The man winced a little but acknowledged his identity.
“And your name?” he asked.
“Mr. Joesph P. Cray,” Mr. Cray replied. “We seem to be neighbors, Mr. Schreed. Will you join me in a bottle of wine?”
“That's a great idea,” was the hearty response.
So Mr. Cray did what those few months ago he would have deemed impossible; he fraternized with Mr. Otto Schreed, exporter of canned beef. ”

“ Cray assented weakly. “I guess I get on pretty well, though.”
“I suppose you think you do,” Mrs. Green rejoined reprovingly. “You men never know when you're well off and you never know when you're badly off. You're a poor sort of creatures, anyhow, to go wandering about the world by yourselves.”
“I'm not always alone,” Mr. Cray protested. ”

“ AT dinner-time that evening Mr. Cray received a further shock. In the chair exactly opposite his own, which had been vacant since Toulon, he discovered Mrs. Richard Green.
“I have changed my place,” she announced. “I thought I should like to come to your table.”
The Captain, seated a few places away, smiled. The young invalid officer exchanged a glance of amusement with his sister. The manufacturer of reapers, who was at a table some distance away, telegraphed his congratulations across the room. Mr. Cray, without knowing exactly why, felt his savoir faire deserting him. ”

“ Davenal, scarcely understanding in his surprise. "Oswald Cray true! Yes, Lady Oswald. Never man lived yet more honestly true than Oswald Cray."
He looked towards Oswald Cray as he spoke, pacing the broad middle walk with his son and Sara; at the calm good face with its earnest expression, every line, every feature speaking truth and honour; and the doctor's judgment re-echoed his words.
"Yes, Lady Oswald, he is a true man, whatever else he may be." ”

“ You may be what you seem. I don't know. You handle the cards too slickly for my liking, and if you want to know my opinion of you, you can have it.”
“My dear Mrs. Green!” Mr. Cray faltered.
“Don't 'my dear' me!” that lady thundered, striking the table with her fist “I've formed my opinion of you, Mr. Cray. I believe you to be a professional gambler, and not one penny of my money do I part with.”
A sudden wave of emotion seemed to pass over the little company. Blanche Esholt's face was hidden in her handkerchief, Thomson's was buried in his arms. Mr. Cray himself was pained and humiliated. ”

“ Oswald Cray came up, having distinguished the doctor in the moonlight.
"I wish you'd come and look at a poor fellow, Dr. Davenal, who wants a word of cheering. A word of such from you, you know sends the spirits up. You should have seen the man's face lighten when I said you were here."
"Who is it?" asked the doctor, turning off with alacrity.
"Poor Bigg the fireman. You know him, I daresay. He is badly scalded and bruised."
"Oh, his hurts are nothing," slightingly spoke Mark Cray. "He seems one of those groaners who cry out at a touch of pain." ”

“ There's your money. I can only say that we are sorry. We are entirely at your mercy.”
Mr. Cray stood by his chair. The steward had gone into the inner bar. It chanced that there was no one else in the room.
“Will you give me your word of honor, all of you,” he said, “never to attempt this sort of thing again?”
The reply was unanimous and convincing. Mr. Cray resumed his seat.
“Boys,” he proposed, “I guess we'd better call these chips in and start the game again. Mrs. Richard Green is coming to join us. Don't look so astonished, all of you. Give me the chips. ”

“ The English Monsieur had no money. It was a double letter: sixteen sous."
"Ah, no change," said Monsieur Le Bleu, with a delicacy that many might have envied, as he turned his eyes from Mark Cray's downcast face. "It's a general complaint. I never knew the small change so scarce as it is: one can get nothing but gold. Hold, I'll take the letter from you, facteur, and monsieur can repay me when he gets change."
The surgeon handed the sixteen sous to the postman, and gave the letter to Mark. Mark spoke some obscure words about repaying him on the morrow, and broke the seal. ”

“ It was neither his fault nor mine; it--it was the fault of circumstances."
"Ah!" said the doctor, "a foolish quarrel. But I had thought both of you superior to it. Should the cloud ever pass away, and he wish to make you his wife, remember that you have my full and free approbation--that my blessing would go with it. In spite of his pride and his caprice, I like Oswald Cray."
"It never will pass away," she interrupted, almost with vehemence. "It is a thing impossible. We have bidden adieu to all that for ever." ”

“ Cray,” she sighed, “you are one of those men who find out everything. I really don't see that it is of any use trying to keep it secret from you. Guy and I are in a very strange position. You can't imagine what has happened, I suppose?”
“I cannot,” Mr. Cray acknowledged. “You've got me fairly guessing.”
She looked around as though to be sure that no one was within hearing. Then she leaned toward her companion.
“Mr. Cray,” she whispered, “that man—that horrible man Carding—is no friend of ours. He is an American detective taking us back to New York. We are under arrest.” ”

“ Miss Bettina stared hopelessly. "Oswald Cray got you out of the mine! What are you talking of?"
"Out of the carriage, aunt; not out of the mine. That's in Wales."
"Do you suppose I thought it was in London?" retorted offended Miss Bettina. "You'll be obligingly informing me where London is next. Where is Mark Cray?"
"No one seems to know. His wife does not; except that he said to her he might have to go down to Wales this evening, and she was not to mention it. She is in great uncertainty and distress."
"What's she in?"
"Uncertainty, distress," repeated Sara. "She is as frightened as a child. ”

“ Cray burst out excitedly, with the air of one who had just arrived unaided at the most astounding conclusion.
“Precisely,” agreed the masquerader. “That being so, I think you had better cover the New Pelham end of it. Go and see the man’s wife, tell her you are from the office, and find out all she knows. She may give you a clew right away, without knowing it—something that may mean nothing to her, but much to you.”
“Get you,” Cray said eagerly. ”

“ Mrs. Cray, gay in attire, wearied in countenance, was quite alone. She wore a low evening dress of blue silk, with lace and fringes and trimmings; and blue ribbons in her hair. Rather more dress than is necessary for a quiet evening at home; but she was young and pretty and a bride, and--very fond of finery in any shape. Her weary face lighted up with smiles as she saw Oswald and rose to greet him: very, very pretty did she look then.
"I am so glad to see you! I had grown tired, waiting for Mark. ”

“ No, child. But the blindness was my own, I believe. When we ourselves place one view deliberately before us, it tends to shut out others. I had got it into my head, Carine, that it was to your score we were indebted for the frequent visits of Mr. Oswald Cray."
Caroline lifted her face, and Dr. Davenal observed how genuine was the surprise depicted on it. "Uncle Richard!"
"I see. I see now, child, that the idea was void of foundation. But, Caroline," he gravely added, "I would rather it had been Oswald than Mark. All the world must respect Oswald Cray." ”

“ Nathaniel Long followed his friend's earnest gaze with some interest.
“Joseph,” he asked, “do you know the man in the dinner-coat—not the Englishman? You seem to be staring at him hard enough.”
“He was on the steamer with me,” Mr. Cray acknowledged.
“That fellow's seen the inside of Sing-Sing more than once,” Mr. Long declared. “Some crook, he is, I can tell you. I don't know what name he goes by now, but they used to call him Jimmy the Eel. He seems to have got in with a swell crowd.”
“He's never been a detective, by any chance, I suppose?” Mr. Cray asked his partner. ”

“ Cray in a grievous state of perplexity and of distress: for they had spoken of "ruin" as connected with the mine. She was one of those who cannot bear suspense: she had no patience; no endurance, not even for an hour. In a tumult of hurry and emotion, she had her carriage brought round, called for Sara Davenal, to whom, however, she did not tell what had taken place, and drove on to the City almost as fast as those cabs had driven, to get an explanation of Mark. ”

“ Mark Cray began to ask himself the question whether the expected visit could be stopped now. He had an intense dislike to meet Sara Davenal; we all shrink from meeting those whom we have injured directly or indirectly. But the question was set at rest by Sara's entrance, and Mark, after a short greeting, disappeared.
All Caroline did for the first quarter of an hour was to sob hysterically. Sara, in slighter mourning now, unfastened the white crape strings of her straw bonnet, and sat over her in dismay, her sweet face full of compassion for the change she saw. ”