The girl was pretty, with hair of dull gold and a figure that was both straight and supple. Now her face was flushed with annoyance, and the dark eyes were ablaze. Barney certainly had prying habits, the heritage of his unregenerate days. Other servants had left the house for the same reason, and Peter had cursed and threatened without wholly reforming his servitor.
The girl did not see him as she turned and flounced into the house, leaving the old man to stare after her.
“You’ve made her cross,” said John, coming up behind him.
Barney Ford spun round and stared. Then his jaw dropped.
“Good Lord, Johnny, when did you come down from college?”
The visitor laughed softly.
“Term ended yesterday,” he said. “How is Peter?”
Before he replied the servant blew his nose violently, all the time keeping his eye upon the newcomer. “How long have you bin here?” he asked at length.
“I arrived at the tail-end of your conversation,” said Johnny, amused. “Barney, you haven’t reformed!”
Barney Ford screwed up his face into an expression of scorn.
“They think you’re a hook even if you ain’t one,” he said. “What does she know about life? You ain’t seen Peter? He’s in the house; I’ll tell him in a minute. He’s all right. All beans and bacon about the girl. That fellow adores the ground she walks on. It’s not natural, being fond of your kids like that. I never was.” He shook his head despairingly. “There’s too much lovey-dovey and not enough strap nowadays. Spare the rod and spoil the child, as the good old poet says.”
John Gray turned his head at the sound of a foot upon a stone step. It was Peter, Peter radiant yet troubled. Straight as a ramrod, for all his sixty years and white hair. He was wearing a morning coat and pearl-grey waistcoat—an innovation. For a second he hesitated, the smile struck from his face, frowning, and then he came quickly his hand outstretched.
“Well, Johnny boy, had a rotten time?”
His hand fell on the young man’s shoulder, his voice had the old pleasure of pride and affection.
“Fairly rotten,” said Johnny; “but any sympathy with me is wasted. Personally, I prefer Dartmoor to Parkhurst—it is more robust, and there are fewer imbeciles.”
Peter took his arm and led him to a chair beneath the big Japanese umbrella planted on the lawn. There was something in his manner, a certain awkwardness which the newcomer could not understand.
“Did you meet anybody … there … that I know, Johnny boy?”
“Legge,” said the other laconically, his eyes on Peter’s face.
“That’s the man I’m thinking of. How is he?”
The tone was careless, but Johnny was not deceived. Peter was intensely interested.
“He’s been out six months—didn’t you know?”
The other’s face clouded.
“Out six months? Are you sure?”
Johnny nodded.
“I didn’t know.”
“I should have thought you would have heard from him,” said John quietly. “He doesn’t love you!”
Peter’s slow smile broadened.
“I know he doesn’t; did you get a chance of talking with him?”
“Plenty of chances. He was in the laundry, and he straightened a couple of screws so that he could do what he liked. He hates you, Peter. He says you shopped him.”
“He’s a liar,” said Peter calmly. “I wouldn’t shop my worst enemy. He shopped himself. Johnny, the police get a reputation for smartness, but the truth is, every other criminal arrests himself. Criminals aren’t clever. They wear gloves to hide fingerprints, and then write their names in the visitors book. Legge and I smashed the strongroom of the Orsonic and got away with a hundred and twenty thousand pounds in American currency—it was the last job I did. It was dead easy getting away, but Emanuel started boasting what a clever fellow he was; and he drank a bit. An honest man can drink and wake up in his own bed. But a crook who drinks says good morning to the gaoler.”
He dropped the subject abruptly, and again his hand fell on the younger man’s shoulder.
“Johnny, you’re not feeling sore, are you?”
Johnny did not answer.
“Are you?”
And now the fight was to begin. John Gray steeled himself for the forlorn hope.
“About Marney? No, only—”
“Old boy, I had to do it.” Peter’s voice was urgent, pleading. “You know what she is to me. I liked you well enough to take a chance, but after they dragged you I did some hard thinking. It would have smashed me, Johnny, if she’d been your wife then. I couldn’t bear to see her cry even when she was quite a little baby. Think what it would have meant to her. It was bad enough as it was. And then this fellow came along—a good, straight, clean, cheery fellow—a gentleman. And well, I’ll tell you the truth—I helped him. You’ll like him. He’s the sort of man anybody would like. And she loves him, Johnny.”
There was a silence.
“I don’t bear him any ill-will. It would be absurd if I did. Only, Peter, before she marries I want to say—”
“Before she marries?” Peter Kane’s voice shook. “John, didn’t Barney tell you? She was married this morning.”
III
“Married?”
Johnny repeated the word dully.
Marney married … ! It was incredible, impossible to comprehend. For a moment the stays and supports of existence dissolved into dust, and the fabric of life fell into chaos.
“Married this morning, Johnny. You’ll like him. He isn’t one of us, old boy. He’s as straight as … well, you understand, Johnny boy? I’ve worked for her and planned for her all these years; I’d have been rotten if I took a chance with her future.”
Peter Kane was pleading, his big hand on the other’s shoulder, his fine
