chances,Of moving accidents by flood and field."
Mrs. Cassilis affected a diversion by introducing her husband to Mr. Beck.
"Mr. Cassilis, sir," he said, "I have a letter for you from one of our most prominent bankers. And I called in the City this afternoon to give it you. But I was unfortunate. Sir, I hope that we shall become better acquainted. And I am proud, sir, I am proud of making the acquaintance of a man who has the privilege of life partnership with Mrs. Cassilis. That is a great privilege, sir, and I hope you value it."
"Hum – yes; thank you, Mr. Beck," replied Mr. Cassilis, in a tone which conveyed to the sharp-eared Phillis the idea that he thought considerable value ought to be attached to the fact of having a life partnership with him. "And how do you like our country?"
The worst of going to America, if you are an Englishman, or of crossing to England, if you are an American is that you can never escape that most searching and comprehensive question.
Said Mr. Gilead Beck:
"Well, sir, a dollar goes a long way in this country – especially in cigars and drinks."
"In drinks!" Phillis listened. The other ladies shot glances at each other.
"Phillis, my dear" – Mrs. Cassilis crossed the room and interrupted her rapt attention – "let me introduce Mr. Ronald Dunquerque. Do you think you could play something?"
She bowed to the young hero with sparkling eyes and rose to comply with the invitation. He followed her to the piano. She played in that sweet spontaneous manner which the women who have only been taught hear with despair; she touched the keys as if she loved them and as if they understood her; she played one or two of the "Songs without Words;" and then, starting a simple melody, she began to sing, without being asked, a simple old ballad. Her tone was low at first, because she did not know the room, not because she was afraid; but it gradually rose as she felt her power, till the room filled with the volumes of her rich contralto voice. Jack Dunquerque stood beside her. She looked up in his face with eyes that smiled a welcome while she went on singing.
"You told us you could not read," said the young man when she finished.
"It is quite true, Mr. Dunquerque. I cannot."
"How, then, can you play and sing?"
"Oh, I play by ear and by memory. That is nothing wonderful."
"Won't you go on playing?"
She obeyed, talking in low, measured tones, in time with the air.
"I think you know my guardian, Mr. Lawrence Colquhoun. Will you tell me all about him? I have never seen him yet."
This unprincipled young man saw his chance, and promptly seized the opportunity.
"I should like to very much, but one cannot talk here before all these people. If you will allow me to call to-morrow, I will gladly tell you all I know about him."
"You had better come at luncheon-time," she replied, "and then I shall be very glad to see you."
Mr. Abraham Dyson usually told his friends to come at luncheon-time, so she could not be wrong. Also, she knew by this time that the Twins were always asleep at two o'clock, so that she would be alone; and it was pleasant to think of a talk, sola cum solo, with this interesting specimen of newly-discovered humanity – a young man who had actually saved another man's life.
"Is she an outrageous flirt?" thought Jack, "or is she deliciously and wonderfully simple?"
On the way home he discussed the problem with Ladds.
"I don't care which it is," he concluded, "I must see her again. Ladds, old man, I believe I could fall in love with that girl. 'Ask me no more, for at a touch I yield.' Did you notice her, Tommy? Did you see her sweet eyes – I must say she has the sweetest eyes in all the world – looking with a pretty wonder at our quaint Yankee friend? Did you see her trying to take an interest in the twaddle of old Cassilis? Did you – "
"Have we eyes?" Ladds growled. "Is the heart at five and thirty a log?"
"And her figure, tall and slender, lissom and gracieuse. And her face, 'the silent war of lilies and of roses.' How I love the brunette faces! They are never insipid."
"Do you remember the half-caste Spanish girl in Manilla?"
"Ladds, don't dare to mention that girl beside this adorable angel of purity. I have found out her Christian name – it is Phillis – rhymes to lilies; and am going to call at her house to-morrow – Carnarvon Square."
"And I am going to have half an hour in the smoking-room," said Ladds, as they arrived at the portals of the club.
"So am I," said Jack. "You know what Othello says of Desdemona:
"'O thou weed,
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet
That the sense aches at thee!'
"I mean Phillis Fleming, of course, not your confounded tobacco."
CHAPTER VIII
"They say if money goes before, all ways do lie open."
"I call this kind, boys," said Mr. Gilead P. Beck, welcoming his visitors, Captain Ladds and Jack Dunquerque; "I call this friendly. I asked myself last night, 'Will those boys come to see me, or will they let the ragged Yankee slide?' And here you are."
"Change," said Ladds the monosyllabic, looking round. "Gold looking up?"
There is a certain suite of rooms in the Langham Hotel – there may be a hundred such suites known to the travellers who have explored that mighty hostelry – originally designed for foreign princes, ambassadors, or those wandering kings whom our hospitality sends to an inn. The suite occupied by Mr. Beck consisted of a large reception-room, a smaller apartment occupied by himself, and a bedroom. The rooms were furnished in supposed accordance with the tastes of their princely occupants, that is to say, with solid magnificence. Mr. Beck had been in England no more than a week, and as he had not yet begun to buy anything, the rooms were without those splendid decorations of pictures, plate, and objects of art generally, with which he subsequently adorned them. They looked heavy and rather cheerless. A fire was burning on the hearth, and Mr. Beck was standing before it with an unlighted cigar in his lips. Apparently he had already presented some letters of introduction, for there were a few cards of invitation on the mantelshelf. He was dressed in a black frock-coat, as a gentleman should be, and he wore it buttoned up, so that his tall stature and thin figure were shown off to full advantage. He wore a plain black ribbon by way of necktie, and was modest in the way of studs. Jack Dunquerque noticed that he wore no jewelry of any kind, which he thought unusual in a man of unlimited credit, a new man whose fortune was not two years old. He was an unmistakable American. His chin was now close shaven, and without the traditional tuft; but he had the bright restless eye, the long spare form, the obstinately straight hair, the thin flexible mouth with mobile lips, the delicately shaped chin, and the long neck which seem points characteristic with our Transatlantic brethren. His grave face lit up with a smile of pleasure when he saw Jack Dunquerque. It was a thoughtful face; it had lines in it, such as might have been caused by the buffets of Fate; but his eyes were kindly. As for his speech, it preserved the nasal drawl of his New England birthplace; he spoke slowly, as if feeling for the right words, and his pronunciation was that of a man sprung from the ranks. Let us say at once that we do not attempt to reproduce by an affected spelling,
