Chapter VII: Part 7

"Why, it is fooling away money to let such a chance as that go by you."

"How was I to know it was a good chance?" cried Glyddyr savagely.

"Why, didn't I send it to you?"

"Yes; and how many times have you sent me tips which have turned out frauds, and I've lost my money?"

"Well, but nobody can be sure, that's a certainty."

"No! Yours never were."

"Oh, but this is absurd. No. I see through your game. You're gammoning me. You did work it all right."

"Hark, here," cried Glyddyr; "if you wish me to kick you out of my cabin, say that again."

Gellow blew out his cheeks, and quickly sucked them in. Then he threw his right leg over his left, and then he threw his left over his right, balanced his ivory-handled crutch-stick, and ended by bringing the end down upon the cabin floor in the attempt.

"Oh, very well," he said coldly, and the man's manner completely changed. "I won't brave you to kick me out of my own cabin, Mr Glyddyr. You see I could just sign a paper or two, and then I could kick you out."

"What!"

"Without lifting my foot, sir. I've always been a gentleman to you, Mr Glyddyr, and you've always been a bully to me. I wanted to be friends, and I've helped you with money till I've pinched myself, and I've helped you to throw your wife off the scent."

"She is not my wife."

"I don't know anything about that. Out of politeness one is bound to believe a lady, and she says she is your wife, sir."

"It is false."

"Ah, well, that's nothing to me, sir. That's your own affair. Settle it between you. Why, I consider that I've put two fortunes in your way, sir. You've kicked over one; what are you going to do with the other?"

Glyddyr scowled at him.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr Glyddyr. Like my confounded impudence to ask. I'm off back to town. No message for Madame Denise, I suppose?"

"No."

"Very good, very good, sir. Good day."

"Good day," said Glyddyr shortly, and his visitor walked to the door of the tiny saloon, set his hat jauntily on one side, and then turned and came back, and rested his hands upon the back of the nearest seat.

"Oh, by the way, Mr Glyddyr, I think I did hint that I was rather short of the ready. Be good enough to write me a cheque for a thou, on account."

Glyddyr winced.

"I have no money in hand," he said abruptly.

"All nonsense, my dear sir; don't trifle with a man. You must be rolling in coin. One thou, please."

"I tell you I have no money."

"Very well, then, my dear sir, very well; be good enough to get it. I shall rely upon you, for I must have some within a week."

He turned right round and walked to the door again, and then turned and said smilingly--

"Sorry to trouble you, but may your men row me ashore?"

"Yes, of course. But stop. Look here, Gellow."

"Very sorry to have worried you, Mr Glyddyr. One thou, please, within seven days."

"But it will be inconvenient. I can't raise the money in the time. I-- look here. Why, confound the man! Here, Gellow!"

There was no reply, and angry, mortified, humbled by his impecunious position, Glyddyr hurried on to the deck, and found that his visitor was already in the boat, and several yards away from the yacht's side.

"Look here, Gellow," he cried.

"Eh? Please write. Can't stop. Be just able to catch the next train and get in by to-morrow morning. Pull away, my lads; a shilling a-piece for beer if you look sharp."

Glyddyr ground his teeth with rage as he gazed after his spider, and felt how thoroughly he had been bound up like a fly of fashion in the wretched schemer's web.

He could have yelled after him to come back, but his men were on deck and in the boat which bore his tyrant away; and in those moments the man seemed to live a life of repentance for having placed himself in the power of such a creature as this. As it was, he could only stand looking at the receding boat in a nonchalant manner, and then turn slowly round, and descend to the cabin.

"What am I to do?" he said to himself. "I must write to him apologetically, and ask for time. No; I can't do it. I'd sooner suffer anything than be humbled further by the wretched cad!"

He flung himself in an easy-chair, and began to agitate it to and fro, grinding his teeth the while with rage.

"If I could only borrow the money! If I could only get hold of enough to clear myself from this brute, I could--"

He stopped short, and sat staring before him through one of the little open round port windows over the glittering sea, at the Fort, which stood up clearly cut and grey in the vivid sunshine; and as he gazed at the great castellated building, a strange idea came to him, one which made him picture the interior of that study as it appeared to him on the occasion of his entering through the window to find Gartram lying there insensible upon the floor.

"A thousand within seven days," he muttered to himself, and once more he glanced sharply round to see whether he was overheard.

He rose and paced the little cabin, only a few strides and a turn, but no idea came.

One moment he was for following Gellow, and pleading to him for time, the next the thought seemed too degrading, and he shrank from having to plead and humble himself before the common, insolent man who had him in his power.

"If he would only leave me alone I should soon be in a position to clear myself off, for Gartram is as rich as Croesus."

As that thought came to him, he saw again the interior of the study and the open safe.

"And of course that is a mere nothing," he thought; "the eccentric old fellow would not have much of his money there. A thousand pounds. Why, it would be a trifle to him, and if I asked him he would lend it in an instant."

Glyddyr stopped short in his argument there.

"Would he lend it in an instant?"

"No," said Glyddyr to himself directly afterwards. "He is too keen and hard a man. His idea is that I am above all money troubles, and if I try him it will be like killing the goose that lays the golden eggs. No; it would be ruin to attempt that and destroy all."

With the impression upon him, though, that, he would get out of his dilemma by Gellow repenting, knowing as he did that the sharp, sordid money-maker would calculate his chances of repayment too accurately to run any risks, Glyddyr returned on deck, to find that the gig had just returned from the shore after landing his incubus.

Springing in, he signed to the men to give way, and had himself rowed across to the rough pier, where he hesitated for a few minutes as to what he should do.

The sight of Chris Lisle striding along the cliff road decided him. A malicious look came into his face, and, thrusting his hands down in his pockets, he began to saunter along the pier, taking the short cut which led to Gartram's private path, cut in a zig-zag up the cliff face, a direction which would only be taken by one going up to the Fort.

It was meant for Chris to see, and he saw it, suffering just as his rival intended, for there was a painful sting in the thought that this stranger should be free to come and go, while he, who had had the run of the place from boyhood, should be forbidden to approach.

Chris was no dissembler, there was no diplomatic concealment of the feelings in his actions; he suffered, and he showed that he did as he encountered Glyddyr at the intersection of their ways, and retorted with a fierce look of anger when Glyddyr passed him with a supercilious smile full of contempt.

"How I could enjoy wringing that dog's neck!" said Chris to himself. "He is going up there to the Fort to be made welcome and caressed, and treated as if he belonged to them, and--Oh, it does make me feel savage!"

He turned up into the stiff slope running away to the cliff top, and in a short time was where he could look down on the Fort and get glimpses of the garden, where, to his infinite rage and pain, he soon after caught the glint of a white dress, then of one of the palest blue, and directly after there was a third party to form a trio, which sauntered up and down till he could bear it no longer, and walked right on.

"It's of no use," he said to himself; "I must see Claude and ask her what it all means. I can't go on like this, seeing that man go to and fro as if he were accepted. It is too hard to be borne."

He threw himself down at the top of the cliff, and lay gazing out to sea as he tried to settle his next proceedings. One thing was certain; he must see Claude, and come to a thorough understanding about their future. Then perhaps he could wait.

But how was he to obtain an interview?

Mary Dillon.

No; she had refused point blank to act against her uncle's wishes, though she sympathised with both of them.

Claude would not meet him, nor yet correspond, but had told him to wait.

"And who can wait at a time like this?" he cried. "If she only would not be quite so obedient," he continued, though all the time he knew in his heart that he loved her the more for her fulfilment of her fathers commands.

No; it was of no use to think that she would consent to meet him by appointment, and there was no one person whom he cared to trust.

"It is so degrading," he said, "to have to place yourself and her at the mercy of some common, vindictive kind of creature, who has to be paid."

He was out of sight of the garden now, and its occupants, for he shrunk from watching Claude and her companion; but he was still well within view of a portion of the Fort and its defences.

"It is all very well," he thought, as he threw himself back, with his straw hat off, and his hands behind his head; "but if a clever, resolute burglar made up his mind to get into the old man's stronghold after all was locked up, how easy it would be. Why, I could climb up the sea-face quickly enough, and over the south wall, and then there is nothing to hinder one but the moat, across which a man might wade in a pair of fishing-stockings."

A curious tingling sensation here attacked Chris Lisle, and the colour mounted into his cheek at the thoughts which came rushing through his brain.

Suppose he played the part of burglar, not to obtain any of the old man's hoarded-up coin, but that which was the sole desire of his life? Claude would never consent to a meeting, but if he took her by surprise, and once more clasped her in his arms, she could not really be so very angry, for she loved him; of that there could, after all, be no doubt, and for the sake of that sweet delight he would risk her displeasure. It would only be right, for he would be showing her how his heart was hers, and hers alone.

The cliff face? A bit dangerous, but he could do it easily, even the wall. Bah! he could climb a higher wall than that, while as to the drop of water in Gartram's moat, if he couldn't have waded it, he could have swam it, and would a thousand times so as to be once more near her.

"It's a puzzle," said Chris aloud. "Why, I ought to have done it long enough ago. How was it I didn't think of it before?"

There was no mental answer to this, and his thoughts took another direction. He was comparatively a rich man now, but somehow he did not feel disposed to go and speak out again to Gartram, whose first question would be, "And, pray, how did you get this money?"

The cash had in each case been paid over to him the settling day with quite commercial promptitude, and lay at his bankers at Toxeter; but somehow Chris felt no richer, and the exultation he had expected was not there. Forty thousand pounds all his own, but he did not feel proud of it, and had sat up a night in his own room thinking of how little difference it made to a man, and, on the whole, feeling rather disappointed than otherwise at the result of his speculation.

But when was it to be? That night? The next night?

"I'll try till I do meet her, and if the old man sees me, and flies at me--

"I wonder whether he keeps that revolver loaded?" said Chris, half aloud, as he rose and began to descend the cliff. "Bah! If he does, he couldn't hit me in the dark, and hurry of his aim."

All the same, though, his active imagination was hard at work, showing him a series of dissolving views, in one of which a gallant youth was wading a deep fosse, with an irate parent standing on the bank, firing shot after shot, till in the dim light there was a fall and a splash as the aforesaid gallant youth fell back into the moat as he was crawling out, and not found until the next day.

Would Claude weep and break her heart? Would--

"A fellow of my age, with an ordinary share of brains, to go on dreaming and mooning over such sentimental nonsense!" cried Chris, half aloud. "He'd better shoot at me. If he does, hang me if I wait. I'll coax her into coming right away.

"By Jove! I'll try to-night. I wonder whether Mary would help me if she knew?"

Volume Two, Chapter VI.

GETTING LANGUID.

If Chris Lisle had had a binocular with him when he climbed the great cliff slope, and looked down into Gartram's garden, he would not have felt those poignant, jealous pangs. His eyes were good, and he could see that female figures were in the garden, and, naturally enough, he concluded that they were Claude and Mary. Then he saw that another figure was there, a male--he could make that out--and he quite as naturally, as he had seen Glyddyr on his way to the Fort, concluded that this was he.

But, as it happened, when Glyddyr reached the house, he was shown into Gartram's room, where he was warmly received by that gentleman, who kept him talking and in torture, for there was the particular piece of the bookcase which he knew would open, and behind which lay sums of money, any fraction of which would set him free; and through the open window, echoing from the stone walls, came the sounds of voices in the garden, where he longed to be.

"Oh, yes, infinitely better, my dear boy, and I want you to come up and dine here to-night. No ceremony. Quiet dinner, and cigars and coffee afterwards. Little music in the drawing-room, and a walk afterwards round the garden and on the terrace, eh? You see I don't forget your interest, Glyddyr, now do I?"

"No, sir; indeed, I only wish that--"

"Claude would throw herself at your head. Nonsense! You like her all the better because she holds you off. Better worth the wooing, my boy. No hurry. Give me time. She's yours, Glyddyr, and as to her fortune-- there, she's my only child, and I'm very simple in my tastes and outlay, so you leave that to me."

What an opportunity for asking a loan!

"No; it would be madness," thought Glyddyr, and he refrained, but a curious sensation attacked him, and thoughts ran through his brain, some of which startled him.

"Is that Miss Gartram in the garden?" he said.

"Yes, my boy, yes. Asher is out there having a chat with them. Come up to see me about these confounded attacks of mine. Sort of change in one's system, I suppose. Better soon. The worst of it is, that when I have one of these fits it seems to leave my brain a complete blank as to what has gone before. That last one, for instance, I can't recall how I was seized, nor what upset me. Ah, here they are."

Steps were heard outside, and directly after the little party appeared in sight, passing along the terrace by the study window towards the private entrance.

"Here! Hi! All of you come in this way," shouted Gartram, and then turned to Glyddyr. "There, you see, not much the matter with me to have a doctor always hanging about. But I can't sleep, Glyddyr, I can't sleep. Well, doctor, what do you think of the garden?"

"Delightful, my dear sir. Perfect."

"No, not perfect. Sea winds cut the things up too much. Regularly blast them sometimes. Here, come on one side; I want to talk to you about something else."

He looked sharply at Claude, who was listening politely to some remarks of Glyddyr, while Mary was turning over the leaves of a book.

"Mary, my dear, I wish you would go and write to those people about the carriage; it's quite time we heard from them. Oh, and by the way, there's your aunt; write to her."

"May I write here, uncle?"

"Eh? No. I shall want to sit down and write myself directly."

Claude's lips twitched, but she made no other sign, and Mary turned towards the door.

"It's very clever of you, uncle dear," she said to herself; "but it is of no use whatever."

As the door closed, Gartram, who had risen, took the doctor's arm, and walked with him towards the window.

"Look here," he said, "I wanted to speak to you about that stuff. It isn't strong enough. It used to be right, but I suppose I've got accustomed to it. Six months ago a dose sent me into a comfortable sleep. Now, two doses seem to have no effect whatever."

Glyddyr heard his words, and a singing noise came in his ears, but Claude was beside him, and her father was evidently giving him a chance for a _tete-a-tete_.

"Will you have the bottles made stronger?" continued Gartram.

"Really--" began the doctor.

"There, now, you are going to make an excuse about my nerves being weak, or something of that sort. Nonsense, my dear sir; I'm as strong as a horse. Make it more powerful."

"No. Really, Mr Gartram--"

"Oh, very well; then I shall take three times as much, and so get over you, doctor. You see you cannot help yourself. Claude, my dear," he continued, turning sharply, "did you show Doctor Asher that new bamboo-- how it is getting on?"

"No, papa; I did not think of it," said Claude, rising hastily.

"No, no. Just like you forgetful girls. I'll show him. This way, doctor. What is it?--_Bambusa Metake_. I think that's right. Come along. Rather a rare plant for this neighbourhood.--Give the young folks a chance, doctor, eh?"

"Yes, I see," said Asher, nodding and smiling, as he followed his patient out on to the terrace. "_Bambusa Metake_, eh?"

"Bamboo--bamboozle, doctor," cried Gartram, laughing. "Now, then, about this stuff. I must have it mixed up stronger."

"But it will be very bad for you. It is my duty to warn you of that."

"Not half so bad as to lie in bed all night cursing my misery because I cannot sleep. What is the use of life to me if I am to suffer like this? The fits are bad enough, but when they are over, they're over, and if I can get to lead a little more tranquil life, I dare say they will not trouble me so much."

"That is quite right, my dear Mr Gartram; but you must see that this is a growing habit."

"Don't lecture, doctor; prescribe. I vow here, if you do not, I shall get the stuff from some London chemist, and prescribe for myself."

"My dear sir! For heaven's sake don't do that!"

"There, you see I have the whip hand of you. You're afraid of losing your patient, eh?"

"I should be so sorry to see you do anything reckless, Mr Gartram, that I will act as you wish. Unwillingly, mind, and only under a promise that you will be very careful, and take the medicine with great discretion."

"Oh, yes, I'll promise anything; only give me rest at night."

"Very well."

"That's right. Now then, what do you think of the bamboozler?" cried Gartram, laughing, as he pointed to what looked like a fountain of verdure springing out of a moist, warm, well-sheltered part of the garden.

"Beautiful!" exclaimed the other. "Quite a tropic plant."

"Yes. Too graceful to give it only a glance. Here, light a cigar and let's take time to contemplate its beauties--and growth," he added, with a dry laugh. "There's no hurry, eh?"

"Well, I have another patient to see; but--"

"He can wait a little longer, eh? What do you say to a seat and a light? There, now, we can contemplate the beauties of nature all a-growing and all a-blowing," he added, after sending out a great puff of smoke.--"By the way, recollect you dine with us to-night," said Gartram, after about half-an-hour's conversation.

"To-night?" said the doctor, hesitating.

"Yes. No nonsense; and you can bring me a fresh bottle in your pocket. Now, I think we may as well join them indoors, eh?"

The doctor rose and walked with his host to the study window, where Gartram ground out an oath between his teeth.

"You miserable, stupid little jade!" he muttered; "couldn't you see that you were not wanted here?"

Mary's eyelids drooped.

"Oh, yes, uncle dear," she said to herself. "I understand your funny little ways, but I'm not going. Of course, I knew that I was not wanted by one, but I was by the other, and as the other was poor Claude, why, I had the letters done in five minutes, and I've been here ever since."

"Why didn't you write those letters, Mary?" said the old man fiercely.

"I did write, dear, and there they are on your table, ready for you to read over. Would you like to do it now?"

"No," said Gartram, in his harshest voice. "Going, Glyddyr?" he continued, as the latter rose.

"Yes; I'll walk back with Doctor Asher."

"Ah, well, we shall see you this evening.--Don't forget, doctor."

He walked to the drawbridge with them, leaving Mary and Claude alone.

"There, Claudie; if any one tells you that you haven't got a good little cousin, even if she is a bad shape--"

"Mary, darling!" cried Claude, clinging to her, "I can't thank you enough. I felt that I must rush away out of the room, and should have done so if you had not come."

"Was he so very dreadful, Claudie?"

"Dreadful! It was horrible. Oh, Mary, darling, pray that you may never have to listen to a man who loves you."

"When you love somebody else, you mean?"

"Oh, yes, yes, yes," cried Claude excitedly.

"Poor darling coz," said Mary affectionately; "but I need not pray, dear. There's no need. No man will ever sit down by me and take my hand and tell me he loves me. I shall be spared all that."

"And now I've wounded you with my thoughtless speech, Mary, dear. Ah, my darling, if you only would not think of your appearance; I never do."

"No, dear, you are beautiful."

"Beautiful, Mary? Ah! how gladly I'd change places with you."

"What? Young, pretty, rich, and with two lovers dying for you."

"It is not true," cried Claude, flushing up. "This man loves me for the money, and--"

She stopped short.

"Shall I finish?" said Mary maliciously; "and that man loves me for myself."

"No," said Claude sadly. "If he had loved me as he said, he would not have let himself be driven away from me so easily as he has."

"Hist! uncle," whispered Mary, as a heavy step was heard on the granite slabs without, and Gartram entered, scowling.

"Mary," he cried harshly, "I thought you had some brains in your head, but you are no better than a fool."

"I'm very sorry, uncle," said the poor girl humbly.

"There, be off, both of you; I have some letters to write. See that the dinner is good, Claude, my dear, and--yes," he added, as he referred to his watch, "send that woman with my medicine; it is just time."

As he spoke, there was a tap on the panel, and Sarah Woodham, looking dark and stern in her black widows dress, entered with a glass and phial.

"Your medicine, sir," she said in a low, impressive voice.

"Well, hang it all, woman, don't speak as if you had come to poison me," said the old man fiercely.

Sarah Woodham's lips seemed to whiten, and as she drew the squeaking cork from the bottle and poured out the mixture, the neck tapped softly against the edge of the glass.

Volume Two, Chapter VII.

FOR MONEY'S SAKE.

"Yes, fine old man," said the doctor, as he and Glyddyr walked down the well-paved path together. "Good for any number of years."

"In spite of the fits?"

"Oh, yes, my dear sir, in spite of the fits. They will not hurt him. Come on after any fresh excitement, and prostrate him a bit afterward, but there's nothing much to mind."

"But his sleeplessness? He complains a good deal of that."

"Hum! Well, yes, that is a bad symptom. But he has his cure in his hands. He will worry himself about money, always striving to make more, when I'll be bound to say he already has plenty."

"So report says, doctor."

"Oh, yes, and I daresay it's true enough but that's nothing to us. If he will only leave off worrying about the increase, he'll be able to sleep well enough. But you said you would like a word with me."

"Yes. Nothing much the matter, but I think I do want setting up a little."

"Come into my consulting-room, and we'll see," said Asher, leading the way through a dainty-looking hall, full of the tasteful collections of a man who had evidently an eye for beauty, and had turned his home into quite a little museum.

"Why, doctor," cried Glyddyr, in astonishment, "I didn't know you had this sort of taste?"

"Indeed? Oh, yes. Regular lover of bric-a-brac, as far as my income will allow. This way."

The next minute he had his new patient seated in a consulting-room that was the very opposite of the mausoleum-like abode of gloom into which a London physician has his patients shown.

"Take that seat, my dear sir. Don't be alarmed; it is not an operating chair. A man who has to exist in this out-of-the-way part of the world need have some tastes. Hum, ha! pulse, tongue, heart, lungs. Look here, my dear Mr Glyddyr, I am very glad you have called upon me, or rather called in my services."

"What?" said Glyddyr anxiously. "You find something wrong?"

"Nothing at all, my dear sir. Just the sort of patient I like. Sound as a roach; wants a dose now and then, and can afford to pay me my fees."

"Come, you are frank," said Glyddyr.

"Most commendable quality in a doctor, sir. You have not been living quite so regularly lately as you should. You have some anxiety on your mind, and it has upset your digestion. Then, feeling a bit low, I should say you had been drinking some bad champagne instead of an honest drop of good Scotch whisky. That's all."

"I say, doctor, are you a necromancer or a magician?"

"Bit of both, my dear sir. Here, I'll begin and give you a dose at once."

"No, hang it all, doctor, not quite so soon," said Glyddyr, glancing at the shelves with their large array of bottles.

"Stitch in time saves nine, sir," said the doctor, taking out his keys, opening a closet of quaint old carved oak, and bringing forth tumblers, a seltzogene, and a large, curiously-cut decanter. "There, take one third of that to two-thirds of the carbonic water, and one of these," he continued, handing a cigar box.

"Oh, come!" said Glyddyr, laughing. "Doctor Asher, if you'll come to town I'll guarantee you a fortune."

"Thank you," said the doctor, helping himself mechanically to that which he had prescribed; and as soon as he had lit his cigar, throwing himself back in another chair. "But no, my lot seems cast here, and I don't think I shall change. Drop of good whisky, that?"

"Delicious; but is this all the medicine I'm to have?"

"No, I'll send you a box of pills. Take a couple now and then, and leave the champagne alone."

"I beg pardon, sir, you are wanted at the hotel," said the servant, after a tap at the door, from behind which she spoke without attempting to enter.

"Yes: directly."

Glyddyr took a good sip of his whisky and water, and was in the act of rising when the doctor promptly clapped his hands on his shoulders, and pressed him back.

"No, no, my dear sir, sit still. I don't suppose I shall be many minutes. I have a patient there who thinks he is very bad. I want to finish my cigar with you."

He hurried out, leaving Glyddyr leaning back smoking; but, as soon as he was alone, he sat up and his eyes began to search the three rows of bottles before him, and to read the Latin inscriptions upon the drawers beneath, one of which was pulled half out.

He sat forward listening intently to the retreating step of the doctor, after which all was still as death, save the regular beat of a timepiece on the mantelpiece.

Then he threw himself back frowning, and took out his handkerchief to wipe the perspiration from his forehead, though the room was perfectly cool, and the window open.

"It's madness," he muttered; "impossible!"

He stretched out his hand, seized his glass, and gulped its contents down quickly, then, taking the decanter, poured out some more and drank that.

"Dutch courage," he muttered, setting down the glass. "No spirit. But it's impossible," he said again, and he laid down his cigar, listening intently.

And yet it seemed so easy, for there before him, in the upper row, with its black letters on a gold ground, was the bottle that would do the work.

"No, no," he said, in a husky whisper; but he rose all the same, and stood listening in the midst of a silence that seemed death-like.

"I should hear his step a minute before he could get here," he thought; and with the mocking face of Gellow before him, and his threat, he strode across the room, looked sharply about him, and saw that in the half-opened drawer there were a number of clean phials, each with a cork fitted loosely in.

Taking one of these quickly, he drew the cork with his teeth. Then, raising his hand, he was in the act of taking down the bottle upon which he had fixed his eye, when--

_Paugh_!

A hoarse, braying, trumpet-like sound of stentorian power, and he started away as if he had received a blow.

"Only a confounded steam tug," he muttered, with his face glistening with perspiration; and taking down the bottle he removed the stopper, half filled the phial, replaced the stopper and bottle, safely corked the phial, and, trembling violently now, placed the stolen liquid in his breast, just as he heard a step outside.

Quick as his trembling hands would allow him to act, he struck a light, re-lit his cigar, and sank back in his chair with a sigh of relief as the steps came nearer and nearer; still he suffered an agony of apprehension lest the doctor on his entrance should notice his agitation.

"So easy to plan and act," thought Glyddyr, as he listened, "but so hard to retain one's nerve."

Another five minutes would have enabled him to recover himself, but the steps were already at the door; and as he drew in a long breath and lay back, closing his eyes, his cigar between his fingers hanging over the arm of his chair, and his head on one side in a very bad imitation of one asleep, the steps passed on.

A false alarm.

Glyddyr breathed more freely. He had time to glance round and see that he had done nothing to betray himself; the bottle was replaced, he had spilled nothing, and the phial was safe in his pocket.

He sank back again with a sigh, the cold perspiration ceased to ooze from his temples, and his pulse throbbed with less violence, as he smoked slowly, beginning now to look ahead as he felt the little phial.

He had his plan about ready as the step for which he listened was now heard approaching, and directly after the doctor entered the room.

"Five hundred apologies, Mr Glyddyr. You see what a slave a doctor is--everybody's slave. No matter where he is or how he feels, if somebody has an ache or a pain, the doctor must go--yes, even," he added bitterly, "if it is to face death in the form of some deadly fever; and generally, in addition to his pay, he hears that he is not clever because he could not perform impossibilities."

"Not an enviable life, doctor."

"Disgusting, sir, at times. Bah! what am I talking about? Don't smoke that cigar; take another. No? Going?"

"Yes; I'll get on board the yacht," said Glyddyr. "I feel all the better for your prescription."

"That's right. Well, I shall see you again this evening."

"And I am not to touch any of the old man's champagne, eh?"

"We-ell," said the doctor, with a quaint, smile, "Gartram's wine is sure to be good, and a glass or two will not do you much harm. An exceptional case, my dear sir. A glass or two will brighten you, and put you in good key for conversation with the ladies."

He smiled, and shook hands warmly with his new patient.

"Don't throw me over by-and-by, Mr Glyddyr," he said. "I have been the family doctor for some time now. There, forgive me. Very indiscreet remark of mine."

"Nothing to forgive, my dear sir. Till this evening, then."

"Till this evening," said the doctor; and Glyddyr went down towards the harbour, with the doctor standing at the window watching him.

"Lucky fellow," he said; "the old man favours it, and the girl--well, girls have to give way."

Volume Two, Chapter VIII.

AFTER DINNER.

"What! you again, Woodham?"

"Yes, sir," said the woman, in her quiet, grave way. "The time soon passes. Every three hours."

"Humph! six o'clock," said Gartram, looking at her uneasily, as she shook up the bottle and poured out the accustomed dose.

"Bah! Filthy! Sugar."

There was a lump laid on the little tray, and the big strong man took it as hurriedly as a schoolboy.

"Shall I bring the medicine here at nine, sir?"

"No; those gentlemen will be here smoking, perhaps. Put the next dose in the glass, and leave it on the chimney-piece. I'll take it when I come in."

"I beg your pardon, sir; but will you remember it?"

"Of course; if I don't, you can remind me. I don't want to have to be taking stuff before visitors, do I?"

Sarah Woodham shook up the medicine, poured out another glassful, placed it on the mantelpiece as directed, and left the room.

Half-an-hour later, the doctor and Glyddyr arrived together, and were received by Claude, Gartram not being quite dressed.

Five minutes later he came down and hurried into the study, taking out his key as he crossed the room.

"Hallo, little lady," he said sharply, as he found Mary standing by the fireplace with a wine glass in her hand; "what are you doing here?"

"I was only looking round, uncle," she said quickly, "to see that everything was left straight. You'll have the coffee brought in here, I suppose, after dinner?"

"Yes, of course," he said rashly; "but you ought to be in the drawing-room. What are you doing with that glass?"

"It is a dirty one, uncle," said the girl, in a hurried manner; "I was going to take it away."

"You please to put it back, and don't meddle with things in my room."

"I'm very sorry, uncle dear," she said; and replacing the glass quickly, she hurried out of the room.

"I mustn't forget that," said Gartram, as he opened the cabinet in which he kept his cigars, and then joined his guests in the drawing-room.

Five minutes after, dinner was announced, and Glyddyr took in Claude, who trembled as she felt what a quiet, respectful manner he had adopted, and how it seemed to indicate a feeling of satisfied assurance that, sooner or later, she would be his.

It was impossible to be quite calm under the circumstances; but she strove hard to keep away all such thoughts, and, in her quality of mistress of the house, did the honours of the table admirably, till it was time to rise and leave the gentlemen to their wine.

"We sha'n't sit very long, Claude," said Gartram; "and after a cigar, we shall want some music."

"Yes, papa," said Claude gravely; and she moved toward the door, which Glyddyr had hurried to open, fixing his eyes upon her in a dreamy, pleading way as she went out, and making her catch Mary's arm nervously as soon as they were alone.

"Mary, dear," she said excitedly, "if it were not for papa's health, I should run away to aunt's, and stay there. This man seems so persistent, and his quiet way thoroughly frightens me."

"Sapping and mining, instead of bold assault," said Mary.

"Shall I ever be such a coward as to consent?"

"Bah! How do we know what may not happen long before it is time to be obliged to say yes."

"Nothing seems likely to happen to set aside my father's wishes," sighed Claude.

"Ah, you don't know. It is the unexpected which they say always happens. So we are to sing to-night?"

"Yes. Is anything the matter with you, Mary, dear?"

"With me?" was the reply, with a forced laugh. "How absurd, dear. No, of course not; nothing. Why, Claude, you are making your great eyes look goggles. You don't think I have done anything, do you?"

"I don't think you can be well, Mary, dear," said Claude, taking her hand and kissing her brow; "why, your hands are cold and your forehead quite hot."

"Of course they are. Haven't we just had dinner?"

Claude looked at her wearily, but her cousin laughed in a quick, excited way, and crossed to the canterbury to begin turning over the music.

"They'll soon be here now," she said.

But there did not seem to be much prospect of the gentlemen coming, for in a very few minutes after they were left alone, Gartram passed on the claret jug.

"Wine, gentlemen," he said. "Asher, you would prefer a glass of old port?"

"Indeed, no, my dear sir; nothing more for me. I have to ask you to excuse me soon."

"What!" cried Gartram.

"For about half-an-hour. A patient."

"What a nuisance!" said Gartram. "Must you go?"

"Without fail."

"Then come in the study and have a cup of coffee and a cigar first."

"To be sure. I am with you there."

Gartram threw open the door; they crossed the hall and entered the study, where a shaded lamp was burning, the window, wide open, and the soft subdued light of the moon, as it rose slowly over the glistening sea, flooded the room.

"What a glorious night!" said the doctor, as he went to the table, filled a cup with coffee, and then took a cigar and cut off the end before looking round, and then walking to the chimney-piece, while Glyddyr threw himself in a chair and began to help himself.

"Give me a cup too, my dear boy," said Gartram, as he took a cigar. "Doctor does not cut down my smoking yet. No matches?"

"All right; here they are on the chimney-piece," said the doctor, and as he spoke the flame of the little wax match gave his face a peculiar aspect in the dim room. "But, hallo! What have we here? Secret drinking. What is this?" and, as he spoke, he took up a glass standing on the chimney-piece.

"Secret drinking, indeed!" grunted Gartram. "It's your confounded tonic, put there ready for me to take by-and-by."

"A thousand pardons," said the doctor, coming forward and taking up his coffee, while Glyddyr lay back in an easy-chair, gazing at the dimly-seen glass upon the mantelpiece, and smoking thoughtfully.

"You've no light, Glyddyr," said Gartram, rising and going to the chimney-piece, where, with his back to his guests, he took up the wine glass, but uttered an impatient ejaculation, set it down again, and took up the match stand, which he placed beside Glyddyr, and then tossed off his coffee. "What do you say to finishing our smoking out on the terrace?"

"To be sure; yes," said the doctor. "A most glorious night."

He moved with his host toward the open French window, where the two men stood for a few moments darkening the room, and looking like two huge silhouettes to Glyddyr, as he lay back in his chair with his cigar half out.

Then suddenly Gartram turned and looked at him with a peculiar smile.

"You won't join us, I suppose?" he said.

"I--thanks--if you will excuse me," said Glyddyr, in a faltering voice.

"Excuse you, my dear boy? of course. Come along, Asher, the sea looks lovely from the upper seat."

Glyddyr's whole manner changed, and grew cat-like in its quick, soft movements as the pair walked away from the window along the granite terrace, Gartram's boots creaking loudly as they walked.

There was a death-like silence then in the room, which made Glyddyr's long-drawn, catching breath sound strangely loud as he rose from his seat and walked silently over the thick carpet to stand listening by the window, his figure in turn looking perfectly black against the moonlight; and as he stood there, from outside there came the low murmur of the men's voices, and from the house, all muffled, the music of the piano in the drawing-room.

With a quick, gliding movement Glyddyr walked to the chimney-piece, thrusting his hand into his breast-pocket. Then, taking up the glass, he crossed to the window, and with a quick movement threw its contents sharply away, the liquid breaking up into a tiny sparkling shower in the soft yellow moonlight, and then it was gone.

Quickly and silently Glyddyr stole back to the chimney-piece, and replaced the glass. There was a faint, squeaking noise, as of a cork being removed from a phial, then the tap of glass upon glass, a faint gurgling, and another tapping of glass upon glass, as if his hand trembled.

A low, catching sigh followed, then a repetition of the faint squeak of the cork, and Glyddyr once more moved towards the window, satisfied himself that the others were nowhere near, and then he drew back a little, extended his arm behind him, and hurled the little phial away with all his might.

There was the quick rustle and jerk of clothes, then silence; then a faint sound, and Glyddyr drew a long breath, as if of satisfaction as he felt that all had gone as he wished, and the bottle had shivered to atoms on the rocks far below, while the next tide would cover the fragments, and wash them into crevices among the granite boulders as it destroyed all trace of the contents.

Glyddyr stood thinking for a few moments, and then he gulped down his coffee, and went out into the hall, which he crossed, hesitated again for a few minutes, and then entered the drawing-room, where, as the door closed, a low fresh murmuring arose, and was succeeded a minute later by the sound of the piano and Claude's voice, which came sweet and pure to the hall, as a _portiere_ was drawn aside, and the dark figure of Sarah Woodham came forward into the light.

She stood listening by the drawing-room door for a few minutes, and then her dress rustled softly as she went across to the study, listened, tapped lightly, turned the handle and entered, closing the door after her.

The murmur of voices came from the terrace, and the woman replaced the coffee cups on the silver tray, and was in the act of lifting it, gazing out through the open window the while, but she set the tray down again, walked to the window, listened, and then went quickly to the chimney-piece. Then there was an ejaculation that was almost a moan as she raised the glass, and then, after listening intently, she held it up to the light, uttered a piteous sigh, and crossing quickly to the tray, emptied the contents into one of the fresh-used coffee cups, and replaced the glass on the chimney-piece. Then once more there was the faint squeaking of a cork in a bottle neck, the low gurgling of fluid being poured out, the replacing of the cork; and as the woman glided to the table, where the coffee tray remained, the light of the moon shone upon her dark dress and white apron, and showed her hurried movements as she thrust a bottle into the pocket among the folds of her dress.

A low sigh once more escaped her lips, and she muttered softly as she took up the tray and left the room.

"Not more than half an hour," said a voice, which echoed from the terrace wall, and there were approaching steps.

"Make all the haste you can. I'll have my nap while you are gone. I say, doctor."

"Yes," said Asher, pausing in the moonlight by the open window.

"Don't disturb them in the drawing-room."

"No, no, I understand," said the doctor; and he stepped softly into the room, smiling as he went to the table, helped himself to a cigar, bit off and spat out the end, then took up the match stand, struck a light, and walked slowly across the room as he lit his cigar, stopping for a few moments puffing heavily to get it well alight before he set down the matches in their old place.

Five minutes after, Gartram's creaking boots were heard as he came along the terrace, entered the room, went straight to the chimney-piece, tossed off the contents of the glass, and then threw himself in an easy-chair.

"There, Master Glyddyr," he said; "you have the field to yourself, and you will not mind my having a nap."

Claude played well, and after a little entreaty she sang an old ballad, in a sweet low voice that would have thrilled some men, but to which Glyddyr listened in an abstracted way, as if his attention was more taken up by what was going on without.

After a time the urn was brought in, and Claude was about to rise from the piano, but Glyddyr seemed to become all at once deeply interested, and begged so very earnestly that she stayed, a duet was produced, and Mary Dillon, directly after the prelude, took the first part in a voice so clear and piercing, so birdlike in its purity and strength, that for a few moments the visitor sat gazing at her in admiration.

But he soon became abstracted again, and as the final notes of the combined voices rang out, he rose with a sigh, and walked to the window, while Claude proceeded to make the tea.

"And never said `thank you,'" whispered Mary. "Poor young man. He is terribly in love."

At that moment steps were heard passing down the stone pathway toward the gate.

"Doctor Asher gone to give some poor creature physic," said Mary merrily; and Glyddyr came slowly back toward the table.

"You will take some tea, Mr Glyddyr?" said Claude.

"I? No, thanks; I rarely take it," he replied. "I'm afraid I am rather a burden upon you two ladies, and if you will excuse me I will go and have a chat with Mr Gartram, as he is alone."

"I am afraid you will not find papa very conversational," said Claude gravely. "He will be having his after-dinner nap."

"Ah, well, I shall not disturb him. I will go and have a cigar."

He left the room in a hurried way, and as soon as the door was closed, Mary burst into a merry fit of laughter.

"Mary!"

"Well, I can't help it, Claude," she said. "Oh, how grateful you ought to be to me. I have saved you from no end of love-making. Did you see how wistfully he kept on looking at us?"

"No," said Claude, with a sigh of relief.

"But he did, dear. Talk about the language of the eye; you could read his without a dictionary. It was, `do go, my dear Miss Mary. I do want a _tete-a-tete_ with Claude so very, very badly.'"

"Pray be silent, Mary."

"Yes, dear, directly. Mute as a fish; but it was such fun to watch his pleading looks and refuse silently all his prayers--for your sake, darling. Remember that."

"You are always good to me, Mary."

"You don't half know, my dear. Then, after a time, a change came over the man, and he grew cross. I could see him growling mentally, and calling me names for a little crook-backed female Richard the Third, and once I thought he was going to kick me out of the door, or throw me out of the window, for being such an idiot as to stay."

"Mary, what nonsense you do talk."

"It is not nonsense, dear. Uncle kept the doctor out in the garden, so that Mr Glyddyr could come and have a sweet little chat with you; and I ought to have left the room, of course, but, to oblige you, I sat here like an ice, and kept the enemy at a distance. Oh, how he must hate me!"

"Mary, dear, pray be serious."

"Oh, yes, I'll be serious enough, dear. There, I am solidity itself; I could not be better, I'm sure, when the enemy approaches," she whispered, as steps were once more heard crossing the hall.

"Shall I go, dear? Perhaps I had better now."

She rose from her seat and set down her cup, but Claude laid her hand upon the thin little arm, and motioned towards a chair.

The door opened, and Glyddyr re-entered.

"I beg your pardon," he said; and the matter-of-fact man of the world seemed to have quite lost his ordinary _aplomb_, and came on in a quiet, hesitating way.

"I'm afraid I was very rude leaving you like that," he said; "and I did not thank you for the duet."

"We needed no thanks, Mr Glyddyr," said Claude gravely.

"No, no, of course not," he said. "I meant to thank you. Mr Gartram is asleep, and if you will not think me rude, I will go and sit in the study and smoke a cigar."

"Pray do, Mr Glyddyr," said Claude; and he once more left the room.

"Well, I couldn't have believed it, Claudie. The lion completely tamed by love. Why, my poor darling, you've turned him from a sarcastic, sharp-tongued, clever London society man to a weak, hesitating lover."

"For goodness' sake, don't talk like that, Mary," cried Claude; for the picture her cousin painted seemed to her terrible. She literally shuddered at the idea of this man really loving her, and sat looking aghast before her, while Glyddyr went slowly back, so excited that the perspiration oozed from his brow, and made him unconsciously take out his pocket handkerchief to wipe the palms of his hands.

Upon the first occasion he had strung himself up and walked quickly to the study determined to carry out his plans.

"It will only be a loan," he told himself; "only borrowing what is to be my own some day, and he would never miss it."

Closing the door behind him, and merely glancing at the easy-chair in which Gartram lay back, with his face in the shade, and his white shirt-front standing out of the gloom like some peculiar creature, Glyddyr walked to the mantelpiece, looked at the glass; then crossed to the table, and began picking and choosing from the cigars in the box, as in a furtive way he listened to his host's slow, heavy breathing, and wondered whether he was sufficiently sound for him to attempt to get his keys.