the ruby and the fortune go together. Listen, the decision shall be in your hands. Shall I try to fulfil the old man's preposterous and malignant condition? or shall I throw the whole thing up at once, let the money go to Horace Burton, return to Africa, and keep on pounding away in the hope of making enough to win you in the end? Now, which is it to be? You shall say.'
'It's not fair to place the entire responsibility upon my shoulders.'
'Since this is a matter in which you are primarily interested, my one desire is that your views should be treated with the utmost possible deference.'
'Then get the ruby.'
'But how?'
'Tear it from her if you like; knock her down and steal it; I don't care. Only don't make love to her under the pretence of doing me a service. Guy, if you're even civil to her-'
She left the sentence unfinished; the air with which she spoke was eloquent enough.
'My dear Letty, as if I should! Then do you suggest that I should go and see her?'
'Of course. To-night.'
'To-night?'
'At once. And get the ruby from her somehow; I don't care how, but get it. And meet me here in the morning with it in your hand.'
'But, dearest, Miss Bewicke goes to the theatre.'
'I don't care where she goes.'
'Exactly, but I can hardly interview her in the theatre; and, in any case, she would scarcely have the ruby with her there.'
'Then see her after.'
'After the theatre?'
'Oh, Guy, don't keep asking me questions! If you only knew how I hate the notion of your seeing her at all, especially to solicit a favour at her hands. But since I suppose you must, you must get it over. Only I know what took place between you before; papa knows and everybody knows-heaps of people have told me.' A curious something came into her voice, a sort of choking sound. It frightened Mr Holland. 'Guy, you must see her to-night-to-night-and never again. Get the ruby from her if you have to fight her for it, and meet me here to-morrow morning with it in your hand.'
Without a word of warning she scurried from him down the path. He called after her.
'Letty!'
'Don't try to stop me. I don't want to speak to you when you're going to see that woman.'
There was that in her voice which caused him to deem it advisable to take her at her word. He let her go. He remained behind to objurgate fickle fortune and other things. He told himself, not for the first time, -
'It really was not worth while to see ghosts in Africa for this. If spectral visitations all tend this way I bar them. The next ghost I see I'll decline to notice it. It shall lead somebody else into a mess, not me.' He began to stroll towards the gate, kicking every now and then at the pebbles on the path. 'Never thought Letty was such a little spitfire. Bless her heart! I love her for it all the more. Who can have told her about the mess I made of things with May? I'll swear I didn't. These things will out.' He groaned. 'It's past seven. I'll go and get something to eat. Then if food screws my courage to the sticking point I'll go and interview Miss Bewicke a little later. But as for taking that ruby from her vi et armis-oh, lord! If ever there was a forlorn hope, I'm down for one to-night.'
Miss Bewicke had a flat in Victoria Street. A little after half-past eleven Mr Holland addressed himself to the hall porter with an inquiry if she was in. There was that in his bearing which suggested that the food which he had consumed had not exhilarated him to any appreciable extent. In fact, so melancholy was his air that one would not have been surprised to learn that it had injuriously affected his digestion. The porter regarded him askance.
'Do you know Miss Bewicke?'
'I have that honour.'
'Sure?'
'Tolerably sure.'
'You'll excuse my asking you, but such a lot of people, perfect strangers, come hanging about and annoying her that my orders are not to let anybody go up if I can help it who isn't a friend of hers. I understand you to say that you are a friend.'
'A friend of some years' standing.'
Mr Holland sighed. The porter observed him with dubious glances, being possibly doubtful as to the meaning of the sigh.
'I suppose it's all right if you're a friend of hers; you ought to know best if you are. I can only say that you'll do no good if you're trying it on. I don't know if Miss Bewicke is in; I don't think she's returned from the theatre. But you can go up and see. I'll take you up in the lift if you like.'
The porter took him up in the lift. On the way Mr Holland asked a question.
'Do Miss Bewicke's unknown admirers allow their admiration to carry them as far as her private residence?'
'I don't know about admiration. Idiots I call them; and sometimes worse. People hang about here all day, and sometimes half the night, trying to introduce themselves to her, and I don't know what rubbish. Why, I've known half-a-dozen cabs follow her from the theatre to the very door.'
'Empty cabs?'
'Not much; a fool, and sometimes two fools, in each.'
'Ah!' Mr Holland reflected. 'If Miss Bewicke had been destined to be my wife I wonder how I should have enjoyed her being the object of such ardent admiration. Under such circumstances a husband's feelings must be worth dissection.'
In reply to Mr Holland's modest knock, the door of Miss Bewicke's apartments was opened by a young gentleman well over six feet high, who appeared to be in rather a curious frame of mind.
'What the deuce do you want?' was his courteous salutation.
'I want Miss Bewicke.'
'Oh, you do, do you? then just you come inside.'
He took Mr Holland by the shoulder, and that individual, although a little surprised at the young gentleman's notion of the sort of reception which it was advisable to accord a friendly visitor, suffered him to lead him to an apartment which was beyond. This was apparently a sitting-room, prettily furnished, particularly with photographs, as is the manner of ladies who are connected with the theatre, and contained a table which was laid for two. The young gentleman still did not release Mr Holland's shoulder. He glared at him instead, and put to him this flattering question, -
'Are you the blackguard who has been making himself a nuisance about the place this last week and more?'
Mr Holland's reply was mild in the extreme.
'I hope not.'
'You hope not? What do you mean by that? Don't you know you are?'
'I do not. I think the mistake, sir, is yours. May I ask who you are? You have your own ideas of how to greet the coming guest. Does Miss Bewicke keep you on the premises in order that you may mete out this kind of treatment to all her friends? You should be popular.'
'You're no friend of Miss Bewicke's. Don't try to bounce me, sir. I'll tell you in two words who I am. My name's Dumville-Bryan Dumville. Miss Bewicke is shortly to be my wife. As her affianced husband I consider myself entitled to protect her from the impertinent attentions
