Chapter XI: What the Field-Glasses Revealed

Captain Barton sat on the top of a ridge near the descending ravine, scanning the huge stretch of scenery before him with his excellent field-glasses. He had been smoking, but the cigarette had gone out though it was still between his lips. He had arrived at the foot of the mountains at dawn as arranged, and had at once commenced the steep climb, leaving breakfast baskets halfway up the track, for he expected Rees to turn up with Iris shortly, and, as it was not so steep at that part and there was plenty of wood, it would be a more comfortable place to light a fire and have a meal. In spite of his hatred of Rees he felt an unaccountable trust in the man, which made him expect that the driver would prove equal even to this dire emergency. Ralph was not aware of this trust, but it existed all the same and revealed itself in his decision to leave the substantial refreshment baskets on the lower slopes.

He had been on the top of the mountains for some time, looking expectantly around him, when suddenly through his binoculars he discovered two figures approaching the place of descent. They had evidently not the slightest idea that they were being observed, for the man had his arm round the girl, and after walking a short distance they stood still, and came so close together that the exasperated watcher dropped his glasses with an oath.

The chauffeur, sitting a little distance away, looked up in amazement, for of course he had not seen the offending figures.

So this was how matters stood between them, thought the infuriated Ralph; this was how they had spent the long dark hours his stupidity had given them! He swore again and with such vehemence that his companion looked aghast. “My word,” he commented to himself, “thought I was a decent hand at the language myself, but this English toff beats me hollow!”

However, his perturbed master did not give him any more time for reflection, but ordered him to go down, light the fire immediately and get breakfast ready. The man started at once, while Captain Barton went to meet the others.

* * * * *

Breakfast might have been a rather distressing meal, but for the fact that Iris and Justin were so saturated with the deep joy the hours together had brought them, that nothing, not even Ralph’s sullen gloom, could mar their stupendous happiness. He had not seemed overjoyed at seeing Iris again, and he had certainly not expressed any enthusiastic gratitude to her rescuer.

When they arrived at the foot of the mountain Captain Barton ignored Rees entirely and did not even offer him a seat in the car.

“Are you sure the horse is all right, so that you can ride him?” asked Iris. “You had better make certain before we go, and come with us if there is anything wrong.” She glanced at her lover with that new softness in her eyes that their time together had brought there.

He assured her the horse was all right; then, as the car began to move, their glances met in a lingering good-bye.

Ralph sat glum and cold all the way home; he spoke only at rare intervals, and then in the iciest tones. But Iris was glad to be able to lean back in the luxurious car, close her eyes and rest in her newly found bliss.

* * * * *

It was half-past eleven when they reached the township. Both Mrs. Henderson and Miss Smith were watching anxiously for the car, and Iris was more carried than led into the house, and bombarded with questions.

The girl had to give a lengthy account of her experiences, in which of course she carefully left out embarrassing details. But she dwelt with pride and undisguised exultation on the splendid way Rees had rescued her. She pictured to them the darkness, the vastness, the awful solitude amongst the lofty peaks and terrible chasms, and how good it was to be found at last.

“I am so thankful Mr. Rees discovered you fairly early last night,” said Mrs. Henderson, when she had Iris to herself in the girl’s room; “he really is a treasure! I nearly went mad thinking of you all alone up there in the cold and dark, and it was only the thought that somehow he would be sure to find you which kept me sane! He really is marvellous, he never fails one--I felt sure he would find you. But, Iris,” she continued, her kind brown eyes brimming with fond banter, “you really are an awful fraud. I was tossing and turning all night--couldn’t get a wink of sleep, worrying over you and expecting you home to-day tired, exhausted and faint; but, instead of returning a complete wreck, you come back like a radiant young Diana--all my pity and sympathy have really been wasted! By the way, did you get any sleep at all? How did you pass all those dreadful hours?”

“Well, to begin with, we had an excellent supper, and then we talked and talked, and finally we both had a good sleep.”

“But you must have been dreadfully cold?”

“No, I wasn’t cold; we were in a cosy little cave, you know; and Mr. Rees insisted on sharing his bluey with me. But now, dear,” she said, rising and once more kissing her cousin, “I really must go and have a bath and dress; it will soon be lunch-time and I am starving.”

Mrs. Henderson sat for some time looking fixedly at the door through which the girl had disappeared.

“Iris doesn’t look like that for nothing,” she said to herself. “The first part of the experience was dreadful, no doubt, but the other--she looks happier than I have ever seen her. I believe that bluey is responsible for a good deal! Dear me! If I did not _know_ Iris I should be scandalised. It’s obviously a really pure, genuine case--that’s what it is! I’m sure he is an honourable man, of good breeding; and I’d wager a winning horse to a pair of gloves that his blood is as blue as hers.”

When she and Iris came down to the dining-room they found a stranger standing by their table with Ralph.

Captain Barton introduced the new-comer, and asked if he might join them at luncheon.

Mr. Stanwell was a middle-aged, well-preserved man, who had known Ralph three years ago in India, and had now unexpectedly come across him on the verandah while he was waiting for the gong to sound.

“Mr. Stanwell lives in one of the neighbouring townships and is a bank-manager there,” explained Ralph, as they took their seats at the small table.

Captain Barton was a little more talkative now, and the visitor proved a pleasant and interesting companion.

Ralph had already told him of Miss Dearn’s unfortunate experience on the mountains, but he had not thought it necessary to add that it was Rees who found her, and Mr. Stanwell had somehow received the impression that Ralph himself had been the brave rescuer.

When the exciting episode had been thoroughly discussed, and other general topics had been touched on, the bank-manager said after a short pause--

“I have come down to-day on business, and while I am here I am going to have a talk to Miss Smith on a matter I am afraid will rather pain her.” He glanced carefully round the room as if afraid some one might overhear his remarks, but the proprietress had just gone to the kitchen with some orders and there were no other guests present, so he went on: “I want to speak to her about her driver--always thought him such a fine fellow, but the other night he was at our township and I saw him myself, absolutely incapable through liquor--even to kissing the barmaid, and----”

When he first began to mention her lover Iris had been looking out of the window in gentle abstraction and she had not realised that he was speaking of Justin till he had uttered that last awful sentence. Then the radiance suddenly faded from her face and an awful pallor crept over it, robbing even her lips of their scarlet beauty.

The effect on Ralph was equally striking, though it was of an entirely different nature. A vivid animation had come to his face, his eyes glistened and his hands moved in excited eagerness as he waited for the bank-manager to finish his remarks, and perhaps make even more gratifying revelations. Fate had at last been kind to him and with one stroke for ever spoilt his opponent’s chances. So the driver _was_ a posing humbug, pretending to be a hero before the people there and going away to indulge in low debauches and vulgar intrigues. Ralph had kissed girls himself, even since he had fallen in love with Iris’s picture, but then he was not drunk when he did it, and the environment had been entirely different. Of course now both Iris and her cousin would drop the driver immediately, and not have anything more to do with him.

Mrs. Henderson had at first been too utterly astonished to think of anything but the ghastly news she had just heard; now she looked round at her companions and noticed the change in them.

Mr. Stanwell had been looking at his plate while speaking, and was utterly unconscious of the effect his words had produced. He was going to finish his sentence when Miss Dearn suddenly interrupted him.

“Mr. Stanwell,” she began, looking at him with fine dignity, “before you go any farther I think it is only fair to tell you that Mr. Rees is a friend of ours--a _great_ friend. We have been here quite a long time, and got to know him well, and he is the finest man I have ever met. I owe him a huge debt of gratitude, for it was he who saved my life last night. As for that unfortunate--accident at your township, he told me all about it directly he came back. He is deeply ashamed of it, and I am sure such a thing will never happen again! So I don’t think it necessary to mention the incident to Miss Smith or any one else.”

She was still white to the lips, but her clear eyes gazed with grand, dauntless courage at the man opposite to her, now leaning back in his chair very much disconcerted and ill at ease.

“I am awfully sorry, Miss Dearn; most awfully sorry,” he began apologetically; “hadn’t the least idea he was a friend of yours--wouldn’t have mentioned it for the world had I known! As you say, Mr. Rees is a splendid fellow, a man respected and liked by all; in fact, the people in the district simply worship him!”

During this conversation Ralph had turned livid, then red with rage; so, after all, this intervening stroke of fate would prove useless to advance his interests. Iris had known all the time, and yet--his face grew a darker red as he thought of the figures the field-glasses had revealed to him that morning.

“I don’t agree with Miss Dearn that it is unnecessary to warn Miss Smith,” he said, with a wrathful gleam in his blue eyes. “She certainly ought to know the kind of man she is employing.”

“I think she is quite aware what a treasure she has in him--we all know and trust him accordingly,” said Iris, with freezing hauteur.

Miss Smith had just returned to the dining-room, and the little party lapsed into silence. Miss Dearn was the first to break the awkward pause, entirely changing the subject by asking the bank-manager what places he had visited in India, so keeping the conversation on impersonal topics till the end of the meal.

Iris stood at the sitting-room window and watched Mr. Stanwell drive away early in the afternoon. When he had said good-bye he apologised once more, and assured her he would never repeat the incident about the driver to any one again. Now she heard Ralph’s quick step along the corridor; he had turned the handle of the door, and the next moment he was in the room. She nerved herself for the inevitable interview.

“Iris,” he said, standing a little distance away from her and regarding her from under sullen half-closed lids, “what are you going to do about it?”

“What do you expect me to do?” she asked, without turning to him, her cool fingers playing carelessly with the cream tassel of the blind.

“It is your plain duty to give him up, of course; it is a disgrace to be friendly with a man like that; you owe it to your mother and your friends to drop him immediately.”

“And what do I owe him?” she replied, turning inquiring, steady eyes upon him.

“Owe him indeed! What could you owe such a fellow?” exclaimed Ralph indignantly.

“I owe him more than I owe any one else in the world; I owe him--my life.”

“That is all nonsense----”

“Now look here, Ralph; I know what you are going to say and I want to spare you the trouble of saying it, because--it will be useless.”

“You mean you won’t give him up?”

“I most certainly do.” She met his angry gaze unflinchingly.

“Iris, you are on the brink of ruin and disgrace.”

“I will gladly face what you call ruin and disgrace for the man I--love,” she replied, with a sweep of her regal head.

“But, Iris, you surely could not _love_ such a creature, who drinks and spoons with----”

She winced a little, then said with great decision: “I shall never love any one else.”

“But, Iris, you don’t mean to say that you are so infatuated that you will go to the length of--marrying him?” he asked incredulously, taking a step towards her.

“I will go to any length--any extreme that honour and love can carry me.”

“Iris!” There was exasperation in the word. She did not speak, so he continued: “But, Iris, I will not allow you to marry him; I will prevent it. You shall not ruin your beautiful young life over a contemptible drunkard!” He made an excited gesture with his hands.

“Ralph, be careful what you say. I will not allow you or any one else to insult Mr. Rees in my presence.”

Her companion was completely losing his temper. “He is only a shameless blackguard playing the hero before you and going away to booze and make love to the lowest----”

“Ralph, I will not listen to you,” she said, with steely, flashing eyes.

“That is because you know I am speaking the truth,” he sneered.

“It is because the friend you are trying to blacken is the best, the noblest, man I have ever met,” she replied, with fine pride.

Captain Barton laughed an ugly laugh. “The best, the noblest, man you have ever met--good heavens, Iris! Do you call a fooling drunkard, kissing barmaids----”

The blue fire in her eyes silenced his unfinished gibe.

“Let us part friends, Ralph,” she said, making an effort to speak calmly. “I will try to believe you meant well, but we must part now.”

“Do you mean to say that you--want me to--leave?” he asked, turning livid again.

“After insulting my best friend you surely cannot do less. But I am willing to forgive you before you go.”

“Forgive me!” he mocked, turning to her fiercely. “Do you think I want your forgiveness? I’ll clear out at once, but mark my words: you shall never be allowed to marry that infernal drunkard--I will see to that! I will----”

She measured him with a cold, haughty glance. “Ralph,” she began evenly, “you had better not try to injure him, because if it comes to that I believe _you_ would suffer most.”

He laughed scornfully. “You need not be afraid. I shall not do anything like that, gentlemen do not lay hands on--grooms.”

With this parting shot he strode to the door, and as he touched the handle he turned round and looked at her with a spiteful gleam in his infuriated eyes as he said: “I may as well tell you before I go that I saw you this morning through my field-glasses, and you were--in his arms----”

He banged the door and was gone.

Ralph walked downstairs rapidly and told his chauffeur to get his things together and be ready to start for Launceston in an hour’s time. Then he went to the post office and sent a wire to Betty, after which he returned to his room and rammed his clothes into the neat leather suit-cases with savage haste.

When he left her, Iris went to her own rooms. She suddenly felt tired, and sank limply down on the bed. It had been a strenuous day, holding some very unpleasant hours. A shiver passed through her as she thought of what had taken place at lunch. If only she had not given way to that alluring abstraction she would have been able to prevent a full disclosure of poor Justin’s unfortunate experience; she would have given a great deal to have stopped the bank-manager blurting out the bald facts in that merciless way, before her cousin and Ralph. However, she had prevented him from telling Miss Smith and any one else. She was glad Justin was so long in reaching the township and that Ralph was leaving immediately; he would not be pleasant to encounter just then, and, if he should come across her lover in his present mood, he would certainly make use of the information he had obtained and be odious and insulting. If only Ralph would start before Justin came back, so that he would be saved the horrible humiliation of his rival’s taunts! Ralph had been blustering and objectionable to her and had threatened to prevent her marriage with Rees. But how could he do this? She was not easily frightened. The worst he could do was to go home and give her mother an exaggerated account of what had taken place. She could imagine the highly coloured story he would concoct. Her mother would be horrified and send her frantic cables, perhaps come out and by force try to separate her from her lover. But she would be true to Justin at all costs; nothing should prevent that.

Her reflections were interrupted as Amy entered the room.

Iris suddenly decided to take her cousin into her full confidence. Mrs. Henderson had heard about Justin’s failing, and the revelation had been an awful shock to her. Now Iris decided to explain the extenuating circumstances; so, drawing her cousin down beside her, with her head resting on the firm, massive shoulders, she told her what Justin had confessed to her the night in the garden. She brought out how bravely he had resisted temptation for years, and that it was the misery of seeing her daily with Ralph which had driven him away from his place of shelter, and that in his excited and despairing condition he was an easy prey to his old craving.

When the girl had finished, her cousin’s eyes were moist and her voice trembled a little as she said: “Poor, dear fellow, what a cross for him to bear--no wonder he has looked so sad at times! And he has struggled so bravely all these years; it was just cruel for Ralph to come and drive him into danger and temptation!” She wiped her eyes quickly.

“And Ralph actually asked me to give him up----”

“What did you say, dear?”

“I told him the honest truth, of course--that I loved Justin and would be true to him whatever happened.”

“And do you really mean to marry him?”

Mrs. Henderson felt a deep sigh pass through Iris’s slender form as she said in very low tones: “He will not marry me.”

Her cousin turned to her in horror. “Good gracious, Iris, you don’t mean to say that you’ve asked him?”

“Yes,” replied the girl, with grave candour, “I am afraid I have.”

Amy shook her head as she said in a troubled voice: “I always knew you would get it badly when you fell in love.”

“Do you think I have behaved _very_ shockingly?”

“Your mother would think so; what a lovely story Ralph will tell her!”

But Iris was gazing in abstracted seriousness into space, as the buzz of the departing car floated up to them from the road.

* * * * *

It was five o’clock that afternoon when Justin turned the corner which brought the township into view, and he saw the dark red car with luggage strapped on the back whirl away in a cloud of dust toward the junction. He was not altogether surprised. Captain Barton had shown a smouldering anger that morning which he felt sure would soon burst into flames. Rees was sorry there had evidently been an open rupture; all the same, he breathed a sigh of intense relief.