A Millionaire of Yesterday [75]
for looking after me."
Da Souza gazed at him with well-affected gravity. "One moment first," he said, "didn't I understand you that you had just come from Africa?"
Monty nodded.
"The Gold Coast?"
Monty nodded again, but with less confidence.
"By any chance - were you called Monty there?"
Monty turned ghastly pale. Surely his last sin had not found him out. He was silent, but there was no need for speech. Da Souza motioned him to sit down.
"I am very sorry," he said, "of course it's true. The police have been here."
"The police!" Monty moaned.
Da Souza nodded. Benevolence was so rare a part for him to play, that he rather enjoyed it.
"Don't be scared," he said. "Yes, your description is out, and you are wanted for stealing a few pounds from a man named Walsh. Never mind. I won't give you up. You shall lie snug here for a few days!"
Monty fell on his knees. "You won't let any one know that I am here!" he pleaded.
"Not I," Da Souza answered fervently.
Monty rose to his feet, his face full of dumb misery.
"Now," he muttered, "I shall never see her - never - never - never!"
There was a bottle half full of spirits upon the table and a tumbler as yet unused. A gleam flashed in his eyes. He filled the tumbler and raised it to his lips. Da Souza watched him curiously with the benevolent smile still upon his face.
CHAPTER XXXII
"You are very smart, Ernestine," he said, looking her admiringly.
"One must be smart at Ascot," she answered, "or stay away."
"I've just heard some news," he continued.
"Yes?"
"Who do you think is here?"
She glanced at him sideways under her lace parasol. "Every one I should think."
"Including," he said, "Mr. Scarlett Trent!" She grew a shade paler, and leaned for a moment against the rail of the paddock in which they were lounging.
"I thought," she said, "that the Mazetta Castle was not due till to-day."
"She touched at Plymouth in the night, and he had a special train up. He has some horses running, you know."
"I suppose," she remarked, "that he is more of a celebrity than ever now!"
"Much more," he answered. "If he chooses he will be the lion of the season! By the by, you had nothing of interest from Fred?"
She shook her head impatiently.
"Nothing but praises! According to Fred, he's a hero!"
"I hate him," Davenant said sulkily.
"And so," she answered softly, "do I! Do you see him coming, Cecil?"
"In good company too," the young man laughed bitterly.
A little group of men, before whom every one fell back respectfully, were strolling through the paddock towards the horses. Amongst them was Royalty, and amongst them also was Scarlett Trent. But when he saw the girl in the white foulard smile at him from the paling he forgot etiquette and everything else. He walked straight across to her with that keen, bright light in his eyes which Fred had described so well in his letter.
"I am very fortunate," he said, taking the delicately gloved hand into his fingers, "to find you so soon. I have only been in England a few hours."
She answered him slowly, subjecting him the while to a somewhat close examination. His face was more sunburnt than ever she had seen a man's, but there was a wonderful force and strength in his features, which seemed to have become refined instead of coarsened by the privations through which he had passed. His hand, as she had felt, was as hard as iron, and it was not without reluctance that she felt compelled to take note of his correct attire and easy bearing. After all he must be possessed of a wonderful measure of adaptability.
"You have become famous," she said. "Do you know that you are going to be made a lion?"
"I suppose the papers have been talking a lot of rot," he answered bluntly. "I've had a fairly rough time, and I'm glad to tell you this, Miss Wendermott - I don't believe I'd ever have succeeded but for your nephew Fred. He's the pluckiest boy I ever knew."
"I am very pleased to hear it," she answered. "He's a dear boy!"
"He's
Da Souza gazed at him with well-affected gravity. "One moment first," he said, "didn't I understand you that you had just come from Africa?"
Monty nodded.
"The Gold Coast?"
Monty nodded again, but with less confidence.
"By any chance - were you called Monty there?"
Monty turned ghastly pale. Surely his last sin had not found him out. He was silent, but there was no need for speech. Da Souza motioned him to sit down.
"I am very sorry," he said, "of course it's true. The police have been here."
"The police!" Monty moaned.
Da Souza nodded. Benevolence was so rare a part for him to play, that he rather enjoyed it.
"Don't be scared," he said. "Yes, your description is out, and you are wanted for stealing a few pounds from a man named Walsh. Never mind. I won't give you up. You shall lie snug here for a few days!"
Monty fell on his knees. "You won't let any one know that I am here!" he pleaded.
"Not I," Da Souza answered fervently.
Monty rose to his feet, his face full of dumb misery.
"Now," he muttered, "I shall never see her - never - never - never!"
There was a bottle half full of spirits upon the table and a tumbler as yet unused. A gleam flashed in his eyes. He filled the tumbler and raised it to his lips. Da Souza watched him curiously with the benevolent smile still upon his face.
CHAPTER XXXII
"You are very smart, Ernestine," he said, looking her admiringly.
"One must be smart at Ascot," she answered, "or stay away."
"I've just heard some news," he continued.
"Yes?"
"Who do you think is here?"
She glanced at him sideways under her lace parasol. "Every one I should think."
"Including," he said, "Mr. Scarlett Trent!" She grew a shade paler, and leaned for a moment against the rail of the paddock in which they were lounging.
"I thought," she said, "that the Mazetta Castle was not due till to-day."
"She touched at Plymouth in the night, and he had a special train up. He has some horses running, you know."
"I suppose," she remarked, "that he is more of a celebrity than ever now!"
"Much more," he answered. "If he chooses he will be the lion of the season! By the by, you had nothing of interest from Fred?"
She shook her head impatiently.
"Nothing but praises! According to Fred, he's a hero!"
"I hate him," Davenant said sulkily.
"And so," she answered softly, "do I! Do you see him coming, Cecil?"
"In good company too," the young man laughed bitterly.
A little group of men, before whom every one fell back respectfully, were strolling through the paddock towards the horses. Amongst them was Royalty, and amongst them also was Scarlett Trent. But when he saw the girl in the white foulard smile at him from the paling he forgot etiquette and everything else. He walked straight across to her with that keen, bright light in his eyes which Fred had described so well in his letter.
"I am very fortunate," he said, taking the delicately gloved hand into his fingers, "to find you so soon. I have only been in England a few hours."
She answered him slowly, subjecting him the while to a somewhat close examination. His face was more sunburnt than ever she had seen a man's, but there was a wonderful force and strength in his features, which seemed to have become refined instead of coarsened by the privations through which he had passed. His hand, as she had felt, was as hard as iron, and it was not without reluctance that she felt compelled to take note of his correct attire and easy bearing. After all he must be possessed of a wonderful measure of adaptability.
"You have become famous," she said. "Do you know that you are going to be made a lion?"
"I suppose the papers have been talking a lot of rot," he answered bluntly. "I've had a fairly rough time, and I'm glad to tell you this, Miss Wendermott - I don't believe I'd ever have succeeded but for your nephew Fred. He's the pluckiest boy I ever knew."
"I am very pleased to hear it," she answered. "He's a dear boy!"
"He's