The Cruise of the Make-Believes by Tom Gallon
CHAPTER XVIII
MISS MAKE-BELIEVE ESCAPES
THE discreet Pringle, as on one other memorable occasion, had seatedhimself on the box in the middle of the road out of earshot; DanielMeggison, lounging not too steadily against the parapet of the bridge,addressed Gilbert.
"When I cast my mind back, sir, over the past, I find myselfmarvelling--marvelling is the correct word--at the splendid fashion inwhich you have kept the game alive for the sake of my child. For what,"went on Mr. Meggison, waving a hand towards the sky, and addressingthe landscape generally--"for what have you not done on her account?The splendid prodigality of it amazes me. In the first place, yougive up to her a house in the country--to which, quite naturally, shebrings her family, to say nothing of other relatives and friends whotrespass upon her. From that we fly"--Daniel Meggison made a movementwith his hands flutteringly in the air to suggest that flying--"to awell-appointed yacht, where perhaps at the beginning all is not as wellas it might be. Reckless of the consequences--careless of the resultsto life, limb and property--you splendidly drive that vessel upon therocks; you annex--(annex is the proper word, I believe)--a portion ofcountry that is probably not your own property; declare it to be anisland; and in the most romantic fashion provision the company castupon it with you. In a word, sir, the thing is magnificent--even ifcarried a little too far."
"I firmly believed it to be an island until a few days ago," saidGilbert. "I, like others, have been deceived; I, like others, havebeen driven on a road I never meant to travel. Great things and greatconsequences have sprung from my small beginnings."
"Nobly said, sir!" exclaimed Daniel Meggison. "But what I would askis--why give the game away now?" He lowered his voice to a whisper,and took a step towards the younger man. "You've played the gamesplendidly; play it a little longer. Here is a village--ready andwilling to supply all our needs; here is a pleasant land, where we maypass the summer, or what remains of it, in idyllic simplicity. Whychange anything? For my own part, I needed but little to complete mypersonal happiness, and that little I have found. Your credit here,sir--or the credit of your servant--is particularly well established;they bow before your name, sir."
"Are you another of them anxious to keep the fraud going?" askedGilbert in amazement.
"Certainly, sir," replied the unabashed Daniel Meggison. "In aprimitive fashion I am very happy here: what will happen when thewinter comes on is of course quite another matter. But let the futuretake care of itself; for the moment we are children, and we laugh inthe sunshine."
"The tide's turning, sir," said Pringle, getting up from his box, andpreparing to shoulder it.
"I'm afraid the tide has turned for me," said Gilbert with a sigh, ashe moved away.
Daniel Meggison was very merry over breakfast that morning. He chose tobe flippant with Gilbert, and to rally Pringle on the ease with whichthese islands could really be inhabited when it came to the pinch.Dubbing himself the new Crusoe, he declared his intention of searchingthe shore that very morning, in the hope to find that solitaryfootprint of a possible Man Friday. He asked Gilbert whether it wouldnot be wise to set about at once the building of a stockade, the betterto protect themselves against the possible incursion of a dusky foe.Altogether Daniel Meggison enjoyed the situation mightily, and borehimself with that easy flippant gaiety that had marked him out in theArcadia Arms as being above the common herd. He displayed his power byopenly asking Gilbert if he had ever been to the west coast of Ireland,and if so, what he thought of the scenery.
But it was by a combination of circumstances that the secret was atlast exposed to those who already were not in possession of it; andwhen the exposure came at last, it seemed to come in the strangest wayfrom several quarters. In the first place, Daniel Meggison, growingbolder, walked across that narrow neck of land one morning, and spentthe day in the village, or in an adjacent one, being regarded by theinhabitants as a species of amiable tramp who had drifted out of thegreat Unknown to enliven the monotony of their existence. As ill-luckwould have it, however, he drifted down across the bridge to the shoreagain, blissfully forgetful of the fact that the tide only served atcertain hours, and discovered that he was cut off for the night.Drifting back again, he made a bed for himself in an outhouse, andslept the night away.
But to Bessie his disappearance was a great and inexplicable disaster.She had been in the habit, even as in the old days of ArcadiaStreet, of bidding him good night, and asking the question--futilehere--whether she could do anything more for him. But this night he wasmissing; and an inquiry in various directions among that very scantypopulation of the island revealed the fact that nothing had been seenof him since early morning.
Gilbert had his suspicions, of course, and so had Pringle; but Bessiewas frantic with anxiety. A thousand things, in her imagination, mighthave happened to him; he might have climbed the rocks and fallen intothe sea, or he might have fallen asleep on the shore and been carriedaway by the waves. At all events, the most exhaustive inquiry failed tofind him within the limited circumference of the island; and Bessie wassuddenly a new power to be reckoned with.
Those who were the head and front of the actual conspiracy came toGilbert that night--drifting to him guiltily and secretly one afterthe other. Mr. Edward Stocker came first; and Mr. Edward Stocker wasvaguely apologetic for his wife's brother.
"An anxiety to the family at all times, sir," said Mr. Stocker."Clever man, of course, with much more dignity and much more of realgentlemanly feeling than ever I had, or am likely to have. Bit ofgenius in his way, sir." Mr. Stocker paused, and thoughtfully pulled atone ear as he looked at Gilbert. "I suppose it isn't necessary to askwhere he's gone, sir?"
"I'm afraid not," replied the other. "He penetrated the secret of thisplace a little time back; he's making the most of his new freedom onthe mainland--and I expect he's been cut off by the tide. He's safeenough; but it means that we must tell Bessie."
"I suppose so," said Mr. Stocker, with a long face. "And that alsomeans that Mrs. Stocker and me will go back to Clapham. Well," headded, with a sigh--"the best of holidays must end."
Mr. Stocker had perhaps more gentlemanly feeling after all than heimagined; at the very moment of departure from Gilbert's hut he cameback to him, to make a little set speech that had been in his mindevidently from the first. "I should like to say, sir, on behalf of selfand Mrs. Stocker (although Mrs. Stocker may not think it absolutelynecessary to speak for herself), I should like to say that we takeit kind that people who force themselves on a gent like you, withoutso much as 'by your leave,' should have been so treated as I may saywe have been. It isn't everyone that would go and put up with peoplethat shoved themselves on him, and insisted on being shipwrecked withhim--and even on being supported, like the early Christians, in rocksand caves of the earth. On behalf of self and Mrs. Stocker--I am verythankful, sir."
Mr. Jordan Tant came up the hill jubilantly enough; he carried his headalmost defiantly. He was still a yard or two away, in fact, when heburst out with his great news.
"She accepts me! As I predicted, she accepts me!"
"That's not the most important thing on earth," retorted Gilbert."What about this wretched old man who has suddenly disappeared, ashis daughter supposes, and who will force us to tell the secret, andexplain the false position in which we stand?"
"That scarcely matters to me now," said Tant. "My dear Enid is a womanof her word, and although I may be forced to return to civilization,she will I know go with me--understanding me better for the way inwhich I have risen to the occasion during our dangers and privations.She will say to herself--'If this man can behave in such a fashion amidunknown perils, and with the sea roaring and leaping about us--whatwill he not be like in the neighbourhood of a mere tame Hyde Parkor Kensington Gardens?' That's what she will say; that's what she'salready saying. Consequently, my dear Byfield, I don't mind how soon Igo back to civilization."
"Well--you've won your woman; you can afford to play the deserter now,"retorted Gilbert. "Go, by
"Where I shall immediately telegraph news of my safety, and proceed tobuy a few rough garments with the money I still have, and which it hasbeen impossible for me to spend in this place," broke in Jordan Tant."Above all things, Byfield, I shall cherish the remembrance that in afair and open field, when reduced almost to the condition of primitivemen, I won her from you, as the better man. I always knew it; I wasalways certain that in me were qualities undeveloped by the artificiallife I had led."
"You can believe that if you will," said Gilbert, laughing. "As formyself, the bottom seems to have dropped out of everything I evercontemplated doing, and I am living here a more artificial life thanever I lived in London. Take your way out into the world, my Tant--andbe happy."
Meanwhile there were other happenings. Mr. Edward Stocker had deemedhimself safe from his formidable spouse, and had perhaps grown a littlecareless under his new liberty; but it happened that on that particularnight, when the little man had climbed the hill to Gilbert's hut,Mrs. Stocker had thought it prudent to follow him. She had marked hisabsence on other occasions; she who had forced from him every secrethis unromantic life had known determined that she would force fromhim now any knowledge he possessed outside that she herself held. Shelistened outside the hut, and heard that talk of the mainland and ofthe absent Daniel Meggison; when Mr. Stocker, after his set speech,cautiously scrambled down the hill, Mrs. Stocker, scratching herselfwith briers, and gasping as she stumbled over the rough earth, followedhim. Bessie being absent from the hut, Mrs. Stocker suddenly pouncedupon Mr. Stocker, to his great alarm, and dragged him into that portionof the hut hitherto occupied by Bessie Meggison and herself.
"My dear--I've been for a little walk," faltered Edward Stocker,looking at her with a faint smile.
"Plotter and schemer!--so you thought you would keep everything fromyour Julia--did you?" she demanded, in a suppressed voice. "You hadno objection to your wife being made a guy of for the amusement ofthose who consider themselves superior in station; you didn't careif she lived in a sort of cattle shed, without so much as a scrap oflooking-glass or a comb for weeks on end; you didn't mind if she had toendure the pity of women who never really look anything at all unlessthey are dressed to death! What's this talk of the island and themainland; and where is my brother?"
"My dear--we've really been very comfortable here," pleaded EdwardStocker. "It's been quite a new experience--the sort of holiday to talkto our friends about long years afterwards."
"I dare say," she sniffed. "Friends who have enjoyed the privileges ofMargate or Ramsgate, or even Brighton, and worn respectable clothingwith the best--with a special blouse for dinner in the evening.Holiday, indeed! I shall never be able to hold up my head again as longas I live."
"I'm extremely sorry," said Mr. Stocker. "What would you like me to do?"
"The moment this tide or whatever it is turns, you will conduct me tothe mainland. There, after we have procured proper clothing, you willdiscover the best way to reach Clapham; and for the rest of your lifeyou will remain there--respectably. No more gadding about after peoplewith whom one is not really concerned. And don't you ever dare, EdwardStocker, to refer to this time as a holiday!"
Late though it was, Mrs. Edward Stocker, primed with this newknowledge, set out to impart it to the lady she had hitherto regardedas her foe. Mrs. Ewart-Crane should understand that Mrs. Stocker wasno mere ordinary woman, to be imposed upon; Mrs. Ewart-Crane shouldbe impressed with the fact that Mrs. Stocker had sprung into the veryheart of the secret, and had in fact, if it came to that, suspected thetruth from the first. Binding the trembling Edward Stocker to her witha fierce command, she set out to find Mrs. Ewart-Crane.
She performed the visit with all due ceremony; apologized profuselyand yet with dignity for a call which she knew was not strictly inaccordance with the usages of polite society; and then, in a mostcasual manner, declared that she had at last been able to verify thesuspicion that she had entertained for a long time.
"In fact, for some inexplicable reason, we have been kept here, when wemight have escaped at any moment. The whole thing is one gigantic hoax,and I am surprised that anyone should have been taken in by it for amoment," said Mrs. Stocker loftily. "Personally, I have had reasons forremaining here, not altogether unconnected with relatives of my own;but I see no further necessity for enduring discomfort when I can quiteeasily get home."
"I am extremely sorry that you should have had the trouble to call atthis hour," retorted Mrs. Ewart-Crane, shaking out her print dressmore gracefully about her. "But I was informed some time ago of theextraordinary fact you have related. Our friend Mr. Jordan Tant knowsall about it. We shall of course return to London at once. We werebrought into this discreditable business greatly against my wish, andthe sooner we have done with it the better I shall be pleased. Goodnight, ma'am--and pray take care of your husband; he doesn't lookstrong."
Mrs. Stocker led Edward Stocker back to the hut, commenting fiercelyupon the manners of the upper classes, and upon the airs they gavethemselves. On second thoughts she decided that, once back in herClapham home, she might reasonably expand the adventures on thissupposed island; might come near to starvation and that casting oflots that had been threatened; and might be rescued in the nick oftime and in the last stage of exhaustion by a friendly vessel, flyinga foreign flag, the captain of which was not altogether unimpressed byher charms. Also she determined that the island should be placed in asituation very remote from the British Isles.
Pringle sought his master in the hope of having some new light thrownupon this strange development of the story. Single-hearted as topurpose, so far as Byfield was concerned, Pringle had held obstinatelyto that fact he had set before himself at the first: that the place wasan island. Now, in a moment, it seemed that there was no hope of thatfiction being kept alive; he desired fresh instructions as to how todeal with the problem before him.
"Asking your pardon, sir, for interfering," he said--"but I suppose youunderstand that this won't be the end of it, by no means. Mr. Meggison,sir, has been lured away in search of things he couldn't find here,sir--and I'm afraid the others'll follow. I've done my best from thevery first; I wouldn't have you think otherwise, sir."
"I know you've done your best, Pringle," replied Gilbert, laughingruefully--"but that doesn't mend matters. The thing has gone beyondMr. Daniel Meggison; there are others already who know it. You haveplayed your part of the game admirably, Pringle; but unfortunately Ishall be supposed to have played it with you from the very beginning.So far as Mr. Meggison is concerned, let him stay on the mainland, orlet him come back; personally, I should be glad if both he and his sonhad gone altogether. The others are free to go when they like, becauseI'm afraid that the sorry game is played out. It isn't your fault,Pringle, because if it comes to that you played your game better thanany of us."
"Much obliged to you, sir, for your good opinion," said Pringle. "If itwould ease matters at all, I'd take the boat and row across, and bringMr. Meggison back--by force if necessary, sir."
"That wouldn't do at all; but we must invent some story to allay MissMeggison's anxiety."
"If I might make so bold, sir--wouldn't it be better to tell her thetruth? She's the best of the whole bunch, sir--again asking your pardonfor the liberty--and I'm sure she'd understand, sir."
"Perhaps you're right, Pringle; in any case something has to be done,and that without delay."
That thought was in the mind of Pringle as he walked back towards hisown quarters. Counting over in his mind the various people who had beenso strangely brought together in that place, he came with particulardislike to a recollection of Mr. Aubrey Meggison--that coarse-manneredyouth who had consistently refused to assist in any work on the island,and who had always taken growlingly his full share of all the food andclothing that were to be had. It might be a good idea to rid thisharassed master of his of
Fortune played into his hands. He was sitting by the last remains ofthe fire when he heard steps, and, looking up, saw the man of whom hehad been thinking staring moodily down at him. Pringle looked up, andnodded cheerfully, and spoke with that deep respect with which he spoketo all men.
"Good evening, sir," said Pringle cheerfully. "Bad business, sir--thisabout your guv'nor."
"A very mysterious business," said Aubrey darkly. "If I was in London,I should have a word or two to say about what the police had beendoin'; I should let 'em know what I thought about the matter--and Ishould point out a theory or two, to put 'em on the right track. Youcan't deceive me, you know; I wasn't born yesterday, not by a longchalk."
"I can quite believe it, sir," said Pringle. "Now, what might be yourtheory, sir?--or, if left to yourself, how would you set about findingthis guv'nor of yours, sir?"
Mr. Aubrey Meggison lowered himself to the ground, and, resting a handon each knee, leaned forward towards Pringle. "My opinion," he saidsolemnly, "is that the guv'nor was in the way--another mouth to feed,you'll understand--and he's been made away with." Aubrey leaned back,and nodded slowly three times.
"Now, I should never have thought of that, sir," said Pringle.
"Nor anybody else that hadn't knocked about the world as I have, andseen things," said Aubrey composedly. "Mind, I'm not sayin' that ina way it doesn't serve the guv'nor right; he hasn't played what youmight call the gentleman since we've been 'ere. At the same time, yousee, he's my father--and as fathers go he wasn't bad. At the same time,justice is justice, and I want to know what's become of the old man."
"If you'll excuse the saying, sir," said Pringle, with deeprespect--"you're smart--but your father's smarter. That's putting itin the rough, sir; but you've not been fairly dealt with, sir, and Ishould like to speak my mind to you."
"You're probably mistaken, you know," said Aubrey--"but you can go on."
"Thank you, sir," said Pringle. "You must know, then, that your fatherhas discovered that there is a way of escape from this place--and hehas taken that way."
"Come--no bunkum, you know," said Aubrey. "You can't gammon me; I'mmuch too fly."
"It would be waste of breath to try to, sir," replied Pringle. "Butyour father has discovered, quite by accident, what no one else knows;he has found out that this place is not an island at all, but isconnected with the mainland. Consequently, sir, to that mainland he hasgone; and I expect at the present moment he's got his toes stuck upin front of a very decent fire, sir--with a glass of something in hishand, and I shouldn't be surprised if there was a cigar in the other."
Aubrey Meggison slowly got to his knees, and leaned forward, and staredin blank amazement at the placid Pringle. "You don't mean to say thatwhile all these mugs are rottin' about here, playin' shipwrecks, theguv'nor's gone and found a little place for himself, where he can benice and comfortable? Don't tell me that the old man's gone one betterthan anybody else!" he pleaded.
"Unhappily it's a fact, sir. He's living on the fat of the land," saidPringle.
Aubrey got up, and walked round the fire, swearing softly to himselfas he went. Then he stopped, and looked down at Pringle, and beganto laugh; shook his head whimsically more than once, and slapped histhigh, and danced about a little.
"By George!--he's a wonder!" he exclaimed, in a tone of deepadmiration. "I've always been proud of him in a way; never mindedtippin' him the nod in a billiard-room or anything of that kind,because he wasn't quite like other chaps' guv'nors. But to think of himslipping off like that and having a good time---- I tell you what itis--my old guv'nor would make a jolly good livin' at the North Pole,without a relief expedition. He's a living wonder!"
"He's a very remarkable man, sir," supplemented Pringle.
"But I'll bowl him over; I'll show him that two can play at that game,"said Aubrey, with a chuckle. "You show me what's the best way to getoff this blessed place--same as father's done--and I'll ferret out theold man, and stand before him, and show him that two can play at thatgame as well as one. All's well that ends well, don't you know; whenI've got a good old cigar in between my teeth, and something a littlestronger than water ready to my hand, I shall feel like a man again!"
Pringle, delighted with the success of his scheme, arranged anearly meeting at the point where the rocks jutted into the sea. Thatappointment (surprisingly enough for one who hated early rising) waskept by Aubrey Meggison; and on the way across the narrow neck ofland the youth chuckled to himself at the ease with which it had beenpossible all along to reach the mainland. On the opposite shore heturned to Pringle impressively.
"Don't you run away with the idea, my man, that you've got rid of us,"he said; "we're not so easy shaken off as that. I know the guv'nor, andI also know myself; and we shall have just a word to say, if necessary,to the person that placed us in this position. I don't think I needenlarge on the subject; if you want to understand my feelings just castyour eye over my clothes. This Mr. Byfield has trotted us about for hisown convenience; he needn't think he's going to dump us anywhere, andleave us to shift for ourselves. I'm going to find the guv'nor, and I'mgoing to make myself comfortable with him. So long!"
Pringle stood to watch him climbing over the bridge; shook his headover his departing figure with an expression of disgust. "It'sa rum thing, when you come to think of it," murmured Pringle tohimself--"it's a mighty rum thing that that sort of creature generallymanages to get through the world, and to get some one else to keep it.I suppose the real reason is that it turns so nasty if it doesn't getwhat it calls its rights, that it becomes pleasanter for all partiesjust to pay it to keep quiet."
Bessie had gone, in her bewilderment and anxiety, at last to Gilbert;to him she presented that mystery which was no mystery at all. Whatdid he think had become of her dear father?
Even then he held back from the truth; even then he evaded the onlyexplanation possible. "My dear," he said gently, taking her hand, "Ican only assure you that your father is well--and safe."
"Then you know where he is?" she demanded quickly.
"I can guess--and I can only tell you that it is at the moment a littlesecret. You must trust me, just as you have trusted me all through. Youshall know everything to-day; and everything shall be set right to-day."
"Set right?" She looked at him in perplexity. "Is anything wrong?"
"Nothing," he assured her. "You shall know everything to-day, mydarling; that at least I can promise you. And your father is well."
She plied him with questions, but he would not answer her. Truth totell, he had not yet made up his mind what to do; he seemed to see her,in imagination, drifting again out of his life--refusing to receive anyexplanation that he could offer. He whispered of his love for her--ofall that they might do together in some impossible future, when theyshould have been rescued from that place. She listened with only avague understanding of what he said; doubts were in her mind alreadyas to what was happening, and why it should be necessary to keep herin ignorance concerning her father. She loved Gilbert--she thought sheunderstood him; but passionately she declared to herself that she hadbeen tricked once, and she would not be tricked again. She strovehard to keep an open mind; strove to remind herself that what he didwas done for her sake, and out of his love for her. But he had swornto tell her the truth always, and to cheat her no more; and to that hemust keep steadfastly. There must be no second path.
Meanwhile, a series of personally conducted tours were taking place,under the guidance of Pringle. To Pringle each party appeared--and tohim each party appealed. Mrs. Stocker, leading the obedient Stocker,demanded to be shown the way; the obliging Pringle, feeling that hereat last was a solution of the great difficulty, willingly conducted thepair round the rocks--and pointed the way. He watched them climbingwhere Aubrey had climbed but a little time before--incongruous-lookingfigures, facing the dawn and going back into the world. Also he carriedin his mind, as a message not to be delivered, certain parting wordsspoken by Mrs. Stocke
"You may tell your master," that lady had said at the last moment,"that I am not likely to forget the position in which he has placed alady who has hitherto been able to hold up her head with the very bestin the most select part of Clapham. I am not sure that my husband willnot lay the matter before his solicitors, with a view to a claim fordamages. Do you understand?"
"I will bear it in mind, ma'am," said Pringle humbly.
"I am given to understand that we are probably on the western coastof Ireland, which is much the same as being cast among savages," wenton the lady. "In any case the return fare to Clapham Junction (thestation nearest our home), to say nothing of garments to be purchased,will be considerable; a claim shall be duly posted to your master, andmust be met forthwith. So far as moral damage is concerned, I willconsult with my husband, as I have suggested, and Mr. Byfield willdoubtless receive a communication in due course."
"Very good, ma'am," said Pringle. "Go straight across, ma'am, and keepto the road. Nice little village, and pleasant people. Good morning!"
Pringle was turning away, not troubling for once to conceal hislaughter, when he was met by the second party, consisting of Mr. JordanTant, Mrs. Ewart-Crane, and Enid. Pringle straightened his face, andgave them at once a cheerful but respectful greeting.
"Good morning, sir," he said to Tant. "Are you taking a walk, sir?"
"We are leaving this place, if it is at all possible," broke in Mrs.Ewart-Crane. "You can no longer deceive us, my good man."
"Not for the world, ma'am," said Pringle. "In fact, if you hurry a bit,there's just a chance you may be able to get across before the tideturns. Nice village, sir, just over the bridge; cheerful people. Thisway, sir."
He watched them also disappear--splashing a little in the middle ofthe neck of land, and with some lifting of skirts on the part of theladies. Then he got back just in time himself, and set about thepreparation of breakfast, quite as though nothing unusual had happened.
"Everybody's late this morning," commented Simon Quarle, as he tookhis place by the fire, and nodded to Pringle. "Heard anything aboutMeggison?"
Pringle saw Bessie approaching, and merely shook his head. The girlgreeted Simon quietly; her face was white and set, and she did not lookround even when Gilbert approached. Gilbert seemed a little surprisedto find that they were the only breakfasters; a gloomy silence hadsettled upon them all. Pringle was withdrawing as usual, to take hisbreakfast a little apart, when Gilbert called him back.
"Pringle--have you called the others?"
Pringle looked uncomfortable, and gazed down into the cup he wascarrying. "Might I have a word with you, sir?" he asked, withoutraising his eyes.
"You can speak now; there's nothing to hide," said Gilbert, watchingthe girl.
"Well, sir--very early this morning the ladies and gentlemen madeup their minds, sir, to go. It seems that everybody understood,sir--they'd found it out somehow or other, sir, and the delights ofthe island no longer attracted them. They've gone, sir, by the way youknow."
"All of them?" Gilbert stared at the man incredulously.
"Every one of 'em, sir," replied the man. "First it was Mr.Aubrey--longing to see his father--and then it was Mr. and Mrs.Stocker--and then Mr. Tant and the other ladies."
"That will do, Pringle--thank you," said Gilbert; and the man walkeda few paces away, and seated himself on the ground, and began hisbreakfast.
"Gone? Where the devil have they gone?" demanded Quarle, staringopen-mouthed at Byfield. "I want to understand. Where could they go to?"
Gilbert turned to the girl; there could be no further delay.
"Bessie," he began gently--"you must understand that this place is not,as we thought, an island at all. At low tide it is connected with themainland--and that mainland is, I believe, Ireland. Your father foundthat out, and was one of the first to go back into civilization; theothers have discovered the secret, and have followed him. I did notknow until--until a day or two ago that this place was not an island. Ihave been perfectly honest with you--up to that time."
She did not take her eyes from his face; a chill drop of doubt seemedto fall upon her heart, and to deaden it. She got to her feet andwalked away; the two men, watching her, saw her suddenly stop, and dropher face in her hands. Gilbert sprang to his feet, and Simon Quarlescrambled up also.
"Bessie!" cried the younger man; and again as he got nearer toher--"Bessie!"
She turned swiftly, and dropped her hands at her sides, and faced him."And all these people know now that the thing has been a cheat--a liefrom the beginning. Just as we played at make-believe at your house atFiddler's Green--just as we played at make-believe on the yacht--sowe've played at make-believe here. Is that true?"
He took a step towards her, and laid his hands upon her shoulders; hefelt her stiffen under his touch.
"Bessie--my dear, dear girl--it's true--but it wasn't my fault thistime. I did indeed believe that we were cast away here; I hadn't theremotest notion of where we were at all. Then, when at last--only a fewdays ago, comparatively speaking--I found out that we could get backinto civilization so easily, I determined that I would keep the gamealive a little longer----"
"Ah!--the game--always the game!" she breathed tearfully, and droppedher head.
"And I did that because I loved you; and because I was afraid that youmight stand before me as you're standing now, and refuse to believewhat I told you. I wanted to keep you here a little longer--I wanted tosee you cheerfully playing make-believe day after day; I didn't wantyou to go back into the world--the common ordinary world again."
"And now the game is ended," she said, looking up at him with eyesbrimming with tears. "Take your hands away from me, Mr. Byfield,please; the game is ended. It has been a poor game from the first--andGod help me!--I've lost every time. Take your hands away from me!"
He watched her go--standing miserably and helplessly looking after her.He dared not follow; he was afraid to think what she would do, or howthis poor comedy that had so strangely developed into a tragedy was toend. Simon Quarle said nothing; he stood grimly muttering a little tohimself; he seemed dazed by the sudden turn of events.
"An island--and not an island; and to think that I never for a momentsuspected it," muttered Quarle. "And for me, at my time of life, toplay at shipwrecks and Robinson Crusoe and the devil knows what! It'samazing!"
Strangely enough, Simon Quarle was to cut the knot on this occasion.He had sought out Pringle, and had got the real truth fromhim--understanding only too well that it would be necessary to waituntil early morning if he would cross to the mainland. He was wanderingdisconsolately on the shore when Bessie approached him.
"Mr. Quarle--you were always my friend--weren't you?" she pleaded,looking quickly round about to see that they were not observed. "Andyou're going to help me?"
He nodded. "With my life, if necessary, my dear," he said, with anattempt at whimsicality. "What are you going to do?"
"The boat will take us across to the mainland; we need not wait anothernight here," she whispered hurriedly. "Dear good kind old friend--takeme across--and set me free."
He nodded again, and turned away at once in the direction of the boat,she following. Together they shoved it into the water, and with sturdystrokes the man pulled round the rocks and in the direction of themainland. As he helped her out, she suddenly bent, and put her armsabout his neck, and kissed him.
"Good-bye, old friend," she said, a little brokenly--"I'm going to runaway."
"You'll find the others all down in the village, I expect," he remindedher.
She shook her head, and smiled through her tears. "I'm not going tofind the others; I couldn't bear to meet them," she replied. "I'mgoing to run away into the world--all alone. Good-bye!"
"Stop!" he exclaimed, "you can't go like that." But she waved her handto him, and ran up towards the bridge; turned there for a moment towave her hand again, and to blow a kiss in his direction. And then ranon out of his sight, and down into the world.