The Quiet Gentleman

no!'

Martin was silenced. Theo said, in his usual, level tone: 'You feel, then, that it would be possible to have me arrested, do you, Gervase? Does your fancy even lead you to suppose that I could be convicted on this evidence?'

'I could have you arrested. I think you would be acquitted. But it would ruin you, Theo.'

'I must suppose that it is your intention to ruin me.'

'No, it isn't my intention, or my desire. I would prefer to send you to Jamaica.'

'Eh?' said Martin, startled.

Gervase turned his head. 'Why not? Let him go out to manage the West Indian property! He himself has frequently said that he believed it to be ill-run; neither of us can doubt his ability to manage an estate.'

'But the West Indian property is mine!'

'Yes, and yours must therefore be the deciding voice.'

'Well, but— Of course, he can't remain at Stanyon!'

'No.'

'I must say, that to be putting him in charge of anything, after what he has tried to do to us, seems to me the craziest notion I ever heard! However, if he can't remain at Stanyon—and that he certainly cannot!—I daresay it may be best to send him to Jamaica. It would be bound to create a deal of talk and conjecture if he left us, and was still in England. Everyone would know there must have been something devilish bad to account for it, and I'm at one with you in wanting to hush the business up. Dash it, Gervase, it makes me as sick as a horse to think of a thing like this happening amongst us Frants! You had better do as you choose about it, I suppose!'

'Then will you, if you please, go and tell them to put my horses to, Martin?'

Martin glanced undecidedly at his cousin. 'Well—'

He caught the Earl's eye, said, rather crossly: 'Oh, as you please!' and walked out of the room.

There was a long silence. The Earl was absently studying the mountings of his pistol, a frown between his brows; and Theo continued for a full minute to stare down into the fire. He moved at last, and came back to the chair behind the table. He began mechanically to tidy the papers before him into heaps, saying in an expressionless voice: 'I hope my successor will do as well by you as I have done.'

The Earl raised his eyes. 'It is unlikely. I know that Stanyon has never had one who served it better, or loved it more. Alas, Theo! My father did you an ill turn, did he not?'

Their eyes met. After a moment Theo's dropped to the pistol in his cousin's hand. 'Oh, put that thing away!' he said.

The Earl slid it into his pocket. 'Go to Jamaica!' he said. 'If my father, instead of bringing you up to think only of Stanyon, had given you this place, or some other, to have called your own!—if you would have let me repair his omissions—! But it is all too late!'

'I never wanted anything either he or you would have given me!' Theo said.

'No. I suppose it became an obsession with you, a madness! And lately—forgive me!—there was an added reason, was there not?'

He saw Theo fling up a hand, and was silent. After a pause, Theo said heavily: 'And if I go to Jamaica—what then?'

'Oh!' Gervase said, smiling, 'you will turn the property into a flourishing concern, and then, I have no doubt, you will yourself become a landowner there, and a prosperous one, for you were born to succeed, Theo!'

Theo gave one of his short laughs. 'You are a strange creature, Gervase!'

'No, why? I remember only a cousin who took care of my interests, of whom I was fond. The rest will be forgotten.' He got up, as he heard the sound of horses on the carriage-sweep. 'I think I had better go, or we shall have Martin coming to fetch me. The West Indian business shall be settled as speedily as I can contrive. Good- bye—and God speed!'

He left the room before Theo could reply. Martin was waiting for him below the steps, seated in his curricle. 'I've told Theo's man I'll send over to fetch the bay tomorrow. I am going to drive you home!' Martin announced belligerently. 'I don't want you laid up again, and you're looking as queer as Dick's hatband, let me tell you!'

'Thank you,' said Gervase meekly, climbing into the curricle.

'What did he say to you? Did he admit it?' Martin asked, setting the grays in motion.

'To tell the truth,' said Gervase, 'we did not speak of it.'

'Good God! Well, does he mean to go to Jamaica?'

'Oh, yes!'

'He may count himself fortunate! And who is to fill his place? What a pickle it all is! He was devilish good at looking after our affairs, you know!'

'I fancy you might become as good.'

'I?' Martin exclaimed. 'Are you asking me to become your agent?'

'No, that would be unsuitable. I shall employ an agent, but Theo was more than that. You could do much that he did—if you chose to!'

'If I chose to! Why, there's nothing I'd liefer do!' Martin said. He added, in a burst of unwonted humility: 'Mind, I may make mistakes! But if I do—I mean, when I do!— you will just have to tell me!'

CHAPTER 22

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Mr. Leek, when he found himself deserted by his employer, and with an unconscious lady on his hands, became a little flustered. Several agitated shouts for help having elicited no response, he knelt down, somewhat ponderously, beside Miss Morville, and tried to ascertain whether she was alive, or whether she had, as he was much inclined to fear, broken her neck. He was not without experience in such matters, and after he had cautiously raised her head, he felt reasonably assured that this ultimate disaster had not befallen her. He could not discover that she was breathing, but after a good deal of fumbling he managed to find the pulse in her wrist. It was certainly beating, so, heaving a sigh of considerable relief, he rose, puffing, to his feet, and went off to ring the iron bell which hung beside the entrance-doors. So vigorously did he tug at it that its summons brought not only a footman, but Abney also, hurrying from the servants' quarters. It then became manifest to Mr. Leek that although the domestic staff might, if suitably adjured, render assistance, no constructive effort need be expected. Abney was so much appalled that he seemed unable to do anything but wring his hands, and demand distractedly what was to be done; and the footman merely waited for orders.

'The first thing as has to be done,' said Mr. Leek, 'is to take and carry her to a sofy! You catch hold of her head, young feller, and I'll take her feet!'

'Ought she to be moved?' Abney asked nervously. 'Oh dear, oh dear, she's very pale!'

'Well, don't start to nap your bib!' said Mr. Leek, with a touch of asperity. 'Anyone would look pale as was gone off into a swound! Her neck ain't broke, that I do know, so that's a comfort, anyways. If you was to lope off and fetch a female to her, you'd be doing more good than what you are now, standing about as like as ninepence to nothing, and asking whether she ought to be moved! O' course she ought! Nice thing it would be if we was to leave a swell mort like she is laying about at the bottom of the stairs for anyone to tread on as wasn't looking where they was going! Now, you lift your end, young feller, and gently does it!'

Thus encouraged, the footman carefully raised Miss Morville's shoulders from the floor. Between them, he and Mr. Leek bore her into the Great Hall, and laid her down on one of the sofas. The footman thought she would be more comfortable if he placed a cushion beneath her head; Abney hovered about, wondering whether he should fetch the housekeeper, feathers, or a glass of water; and Mr. Leek, with great delicacy, smoothed Miss Morville's dress carefully about her ankles. Having informed Abney that persons in her condition stood in more need of eye- water than Adam's Ale, he told the footman to call Mrs. Marple, and made a discovery. Miss Morville had broken her arm.

'Well,' said Mr. Leek philosophically, as he disposed the limb across her bosom, 'that's what you might call Dutch comfort, because it might ha' been worse.'

'I will send a message to the stables at once!' said Abney. 'One of the grooms must ride for the doctor! Oh dear, I am sure I don't know what has come over Stanyon! It seems to be one thing after another!'