Part 34 (1/2)

III

He had been shown into the turret room and supplied with the daily papers, while the same grave image who had admitted him the night before, had departed in search of her Ladys.h.i.+p. More to calm himself than to satisfy his curiosity, he commenced to glance through the news.

It was a disjointed world that the pages reflected--not at all the kingdom round the corner for which the war had been fought. Honor, patriotism, heroism seemed forgotten words. The old ruthless scramble of commercialism had restarted. The honesty of everybody, whether individuals, governments or nations, was being doubted. Cla.s.s and race hatreds had broken loose. Strikes were pending. The Allies were allied only in name; they gnashed their teeth at one another across the council-table in Paris. The lying game of diplomacy had been revived.

Poison-notes were being exchanged. The tabby-cat statesmen who had been too old to fight, were busy sowing the seeds of future wars. The politicians who had nailed mankind to the cross, were casting lots for the raiment which had survived the sacrifice. No one asked, ”Is this righteousness?” The only question was, ”How much of it belongs to me?”

Meanwhile, the children of honester men who had died, starved by their hundreds of thousands. Mothers pressed sick babies to their milkless b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The mutilated, stoical with neglect, shuffled along the pavements. Fanatics of despair turned hopeful eyes to Russia where a devilment was brewing which, should it overboil, would pour destruction across five continents. No one cared.

He glanced through the window at the quiet landscape, lying green and sun-dappled against the wet, gray streak of summer sky. Was his own experience so universal? Were kingdoms perpetually round the corner, always and always out of sight?

As he again took up the paper, his eye was caught by a head-line: STEELY JACK RUNS FOR PARLIAMENT. Immediately he forgot his pessimism and became absorbed. Braithwaite had come out with the true story of his life. He was calling on the seven million men who had seen service to fight on in peace for the ideals for which they had fought in war. He insisted that if they cast their votes together as one man, they could control any election. If they combined with the patriot ex-soldiers of other nations, they could control the world. He was out to smash politics and the disastrous iniquity of political compromise. His aim was to restore the comrades.h.i.+p and sharing which had enabled the old front-line to stand fast. He was establis.h.i.+ng a paper. He was speechifying. He was to hold an immense ma.s.s meeting in the Albert Hall----

Tabs laughed in sheer excitement. Here was one man at any rate who wasn't content to miss his kingdom. He might have known it. He could see Braithwaite's bleak look as clearly as if he stood before him. His instinct was to join him and say to him, in the words of the coster, ”You and me was pals out there.” He'd never lost an inch of trench.

”Bravo, Braithwaite!”

IV

”I beg your pardon, your Lords.h.i.+p.”

Tabs looked up. The dignified image had returned and was standing in the doorway, with his chin thrust out and his nose at a high angle with his collar.

The man coughed deferentially. ”If your Lords.h.i.+p will follow me----”

But at that moment he heard her calling from beneath the turret wall, ”Lord Taborley!”

Jumping to his feet, he hurried to the window and leant out. She was in her riding habit, standing on the terrace above the rose-garden. ”I've just got back from my morning ride. I have to visit the kennels. I was wondering whether you would accompany me.”

He turned to the footman. ”If you'll show me the way out to the terrace, I can find Lady Dawn myself.”

She had moved farther away to where the steps led down between the rose-bushes. As he came towards her through the sunlight, she pretended not to notice him, but stood meditatively flicking the dust from the toe of her boot with her crop. Even when he joined her, she did not look up.

They descended the steps in silence. When they had turned along a path, where no one could observe them, she raised her eyes. ”I was afraid you had left.”

He smiled, unconsciously imitating her quietness. ”And I, too, was afraid. I was afraid you would not want me.”

”Why not?” She stopped to pluck a bud in pa.s.sing. ”I should think any woman would want you.”

He looked to see if she were chaffing. ”Last night,” he explained, ”you were present when at least one woman didn't want me. That was why----”

She shot a glance at him with her honest, stone-gray eyes. Her hands started out to touch him, but she recalled them. ”You must feel sorry for her,” she said softly. ”She's so young. I think you'll live to thank her. She'll learn that men like you don't come every day--only once in a lifetime.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”_I was afraid you had left._”]

Uneasily he harked back to her first statement. ”Why did you fear that I had left?”

She shrugged her shoulders. ”You had nothing for which to stay.”

”There was you.”

”Me!” She laughed wisely. ”You had to say that out of politeness. In a man's world I'm of no consequence. I know how I appear in your eyes.

I've been married, so I'm no longer a novelty. I'm not so young as I was; I shall be older. And then I'm a mother--you forget that, Lord Taborley. Oh no, I have no attractions to offer.”