Salthaven

Mr. Vyner winced. He began to realize the state of affairs and sat trembling in impotent. Then he rose and paced up and down. He thought of his veiled threats to Hartley, the idea that his son should know of them added his anger.

"You are of full age," he said bitterly, "and have your own income—now."

Robert flushed and then turned pale.

"I will give that up if you wish, provided you'll retain Hartley," he said, quietly.

Mr. Vyner continued his perambulation smoked furiously and muttered something "forcing conditions upon him."

"I can't leave Hartley in the lurch," said he quietly. "It's not his fault. I can look to myself."

Mr. Vyner stopped and regarded him. "Don't be a fool," he said, shortly. "If it wasn't for mother—"

His son repressed a smile by an effort and feel more at ease. One of Mrs. Vyner's privileges was to serve as an excuse for any display of weakness of which her husband might be guilty.

"This pretended marriage will be a further scandal," said Mr. Vyner, frowning. "What are you going to tell people?"

"Nothing," said Robert.

"Do you think it is conducive to discipline to marry the daughter of my chief clerk?" continued his father.

Robert shook his head.

"No," he said, decidedly. "I have been thinking of that. It would be better to give him a small interest in the firm—equal to his salary, say."

Well aware of the uses of physical exercise at moments of mental stress, Mr. Vyner started on his walk again. He began to wonder whether, after all, he ought to consider his wife's feelings in the matter.

"She is a very nice girl," said Robert, after watching him for some time. "I wish you knew her."

Mr. Vyner waved the remark away with a large impatient hand.

"She declines to marry me against your wishes," continued his son, "but now that you have given your consent—"

The room suddenly became too small for Mr. Vyner. He passed out into the hall and a few seconds later his son heard the library door close with an eloquent bang. He shrugged his shoulders and lighting a cigarette sat down to wait. He was half-way through his third cigarette when the door opened and his father came into the room again.

"I have been talking to your mother," said Mr. Vyner, in a stately fashion. "She is very much upset, of course. Very. She is not strong, and I—ha—we came to the conclusion that you must do as you please."

He stepped to the table and with a trembling hand helped himself to a whiskey and soda. Robert took up a glass with a little claret in it.

"Success to the young couple," he said cheerfully.

Mr. Vyner paused with the glass at his lips and eyed him indignantly. Then with a wooden expression of face—intended possibly to suggest that he had not heard—took a refreshing drink. He placed the glass on the table and turned to see his son's outstretched hand.

CHAPTER XXVI

CAPTAIN TRIMBLETT was back again in his old quarters, and already so much improved in health that he was able to repel with considerable vigor the many inquirers who were anxious to be put in possession of the real facts concerning his pretended marriage. It was a subject on which the captain was dumb, but in some mysterious fashion it came to be understood that it was a device on the part of a self-sacrificing and chivalrous ship-master to save Miss Hartley from the attentions of a determined admirer she had met in London. It was the version sanctioned—if not invented—by Mr. Robert Vyner.

It was a source of some little protestation of spirit to Miss Jelks that the captain had been brought home by his faithful boatswain. Conduct based on an idea of two years' absence had to be suddenly and entirely altered. She had had a glimpse of them both on the day of their arrival, but the fact that Mr. Walters was with his superior officer, and that she was with Mr. Filer, prevented her from greeting him.

In the wrath of his dismissal Mr. Filer met him more than half-way.

"Somebody 'ad to look arter 'im," said Mr. Walters, referring to the captain, as he sat in Rosa's kitchen the following evening, "and he always 'ad a liking for me. Besides which I wanted to get 'ome and see you."

"You have got it bad," said Rosa with a gratified titter.

"Look arter you, I ought to ha' said," retorted Mr. Walters, glowering at her, "and from wot I hear from Bassett, it's about time I did."

"Ho!" said Miss Jelks, taking a deep breath. "Ho, really!"

"I had it out of 'im this morning," continued Mr. Walters, eying her sternly; "I waited for 'im as he come out of his 'ouse. He didn't want to tell me at first, but when he found as 'ow he'd been late for the office if he didn't, he thought better of it."

Miss Jelks leaned back in her chair with a ladylike sneer upon her expressive features.

"I'll Bassett him," she said slowly.

"And I'll Filer him," said Mr. Walters, not to be outdone in the coining of verbs.

"It's a pity he don't say them things to my face," said Rosa, "I'd soon let him know."

"He's going to," said the boatswain readily. "I said we'd meet him on Sunday arternoon by Kegg's boat-house. Then we'll see wot you've got to say for yourself. Shut that door D'ye want to freeze me!"

"I'll shut it when you're gone," said Rosa calmly. "Make haste, else I shall catch cold. I'll go with you on Sunday afternoon—just so as you can beg my pardon—and after that I don't want anything more to do with you. You'd try the temper of a saint, you would."

Mr. Walters looked round the warm and comfortable kitchen, and his face fell. "I ain't going to judge you till I've heard both sides," he said slowly, and then seeing no signs of relenting in Rosa's face, passed out into the black night.

He walked down to the rendezvous on Sunday afternoon with a well-dressed circle. Miss Jelks only spoke to him once, and that was when he trod on her dress. A nipping wind stirred the surface of the river, and the place was deserted except for the small figure of Bassett sheltering under the lee of the boat-house. He came to meet them and raising a new bowler hat stood regarding Miss Jelks with an expression in which compassion and judicial severity were pretty evenly combined.

"Tell me, afore her, wot you told me the other day," said Mr. Walters, plunging at once into business.

"I would rather not," said Bassett, adjusting his spectacles and looking from one to the other, "but in pursuance of my promise, I have no alternative."

"Fire away," commanded the boatswain.

Bassett coughed, and then in a thin but firm voice complied. The list of Miss Jelks's misdeeds was a long one, and the day was cold, but he did not miss a single item. Miss Jelks, eying him with some concern as he proceeded, began to think he must have eyes at the back of his head. The boatswain, whose colour was deepening as he listened, regarded her with a lurid eye.

"And you believe it all," said Rosa, turning to him with a pitying smile as Bassett concluded his tale. "Why don't he go on; he ain't finished yet."

"Wot!" said Mr. Walters with energy.

"He ain't told you about making love to me yet," said Rosa.

"I didn't," said the youth. "I shouldn't think of doing such a thing. It was all a mistake of yours."

Miss Jelks uttered a cruel laugh. "Ask him whether he followed me like a pet dog," she said turning to the astonished boatswain. "Ask him if he didn't say he loved the ground my feet trod on. Ask him if he wanted to take me to Marsham Fair and cried because I wouldn't go."

"Eh?" gasped the boatswain, staring at the bewildered Bassett

"Ask him if he didn't go down on his knees to me in Pringle's Lane one day—a muddy day—and ask me to be his," continued the unscrupulous Rosa. "Ask him if he didn't say I was throwing myself away on a wooden-headed boatswain with bandy legs."