One portion of Hailey's varied duties was to walk a mile down the road and post letters at the village post-office. He generally was not required to do this till late in the evening, but occasionally there would be an important letter for the morning post, for Mrs. Porter was a voluminous correspondent.
One morning, as he was turning in at the gate on his way back from the village, a voice addressed him, and he was aware of a man in a black suit, seated upon a tricycle.
This in itself would have been enough to rivet his interest, for he had never in his life seen a man on a tricycle. But it was not only the tricycle that excited him. The voice seemed familiar. It aroused vaguely unpleasant memories.
"My good man-why, Mr. Bannister! Bless my soul! I had no idea you were in England. I am delighted to see you. I never tire of telling my friends of your kindness to me in New York."
The landscape reeled before Hailey's blinking eyes. Speech was wiped from his lips. It was Professor Tupper-Smith.
"I must not offer to shake hands, Mr. Bannister. I have no doubt there is still risk of infection. How is the patient?"
"Eh?" said Hailey.
"Mumps is a painful, distressing malady, but happily not dangerous."
"Mumps?"
"Mrs. Porter told me that there was mumps in the house. I trust all is now well? That is what has kept me away. Mrs. Porter knows how apprehensive I am of all infectious ailments, and expressly forbade me to call. Previously I had been a daily visitor. It has been a great deprivation to me, I can assure you, Mr. Bannister. A woman of wonderful intelligence!"
"Do you meant to tell me-do you live near here?"
"That house you see through the trees is mine."
Hailey drew a deep breath.
"Could I speak to you," he said, "on a matter of importance?"
In the stable-yard, which their meetings had hallowed for him, Hailey stood waiting that night. there had been rain earlier in the evening, and the air was soft and mild, and heavy with the scent of flowers. But Hailey was beyond the soothing influence of cool air and sweet scents. He felt bruised.
She had been amusing herself with him, playing with him. There could be no other explanation. She had known all the time that this man Tupper-Smith was living at their very gates, and she had kept it from him. She had known what it meant to him to find the man, and she had kept it from him. He waited grimly.
"Hailey!"
There was a glimmer of white against the shadows.
"Here I am."
She came to him, her face raised, but he drew back.
"Sybil," he said, "I never asked you before. Can you tell me where this man Tupper-Smith lives?"
She started. He could only see her dimly, but he sensed it.
"N-no."
He smiled bitterly. She had the grace to hesitate. That, he supposed, must be put to her credit.
"Strange," he said. "He lives down the road. Curious your not knowing, when he used to come here so often."
When Sybil spoke her voice was a whisper.
"I was afraid it would happen."
"Yes, I'm sorry I have not been able to amuse you longer. But it must have been delightful, while it lasted. You certainly fooled me. I didn't even think it worth while asking you if you knew his address. I took it for granted that, if you had known, you would have told me. And you were laughing the whole time! Well, I suppose I ought not to blame you. I can see now that I used to treat you badly in New York, and you can't be blamed for getting even. Well, I'm afraid the joke's over now. I met him this morning."
"Hailey, you don't understand."
"Surely it couldn't be much plainer?"
"I couldn't tell you. I-I couldn't."
"Of course not. It would have spoiled everything."
"You know it was not that. it was because-do you remember the day you came here? You told me then that, directly you found him, you would go back to America."
"Well?"
"Well, I didn't want you to go. And afterwards, when we began to meet like this, I-still more didn't want you to go."
A bird rustled in the trees behind them. The rustling ceased. In the distance a corncrake was calling monotonously. The sound came faintly over the meadows, emphasizing the stillness.
"Don't you understand? You must understand. I was awfully sorry for you, but I was selfish. I wanted to keep you. It has all been so different here. Over in New York we never seemed to be together. We used to quarrel. Everything seemed to go wrong. But here it has been perfect. It was like being together on a desert island. I couldn't end it. I hated to see you unhappy, and I wanted it to go on for ever. So-"
Groping at a venture, he found her arm, and held it.
"Sybil! Sybil, dear, I'm going back to-morrow; going home. Will you come with me?"
"I though you had given me up. I thought you never wanted me back. You said-"
"Forget what I said. When you left New York I was a fool. I was a brute. I'm different now. Listen, Sybil. Tupper-Smith-I always liked that man-lent me fifty pounds this morning. In gold! He tricycled five miles to get it. That's the sort of man he is. I hired a car, went to Southampton, and fixed things up with the skipper of an American tramp. She sails to-morrow night. Sybil, will you come? There's acres of room, and you'll like the skipper. He chews tobacco. A corking chap! Will you come?"
He could hear her crying. He caught her to him in the darkness.
"Will you?"
"Oh, my dear!"
"It isn't a floating palace, you know. It's just an old, rusty tramp- ship. We may make New York in three weeks, or we may not. There won't be much to eat except corned beef and crackers. And, Sybil-er-do you object to a slight smell of pigs? The last cargo was pigs, and you can still notice it a little."
"I love the smell of pigs, Hailey, dear," said Sybil.
In the drawing-room Lora Delane Porter, that great woman, relaxed her powerful mind with a selected volume of Spinoza's "Ethics." She looked up as Sybil entered.
"You've been crying, child."
"I've been talking to Hailey."
Mrs. Porter dropped Spinoza and stiffened militantly in her chair.
"If that boy Hailey has been bullying you, he shall wash Mike now ."
"Aunt Lora, I want to go home to-morrow, please."
"What!"
"Hailey has met Mr. Tupper-Smith and he lent him fifty pounds, and he motored into Southampton-"
"Mr. Tupper-Smith?"
"No, Hailey."
" That'swhere he was all the afternoon. No wonder they couldn't find him to dig the potatoes."
"And he has bought accommodation for me and himself on a tramp-steamer which has been carrying pigs. We shall live on corned beef and crackers, and we may get to New York some time or we may not. And Hailey says the captain is such a nice man, who chews tobacco."
Mrs. Porter started.
"Sybil, do you meant to tell me that Hailey proposes to sail to New York on a tramp-steamer that smells of pigs, and live on corned beef and crackers? And that he likes a man who chews tobacco?"
"He said he was a corking chap."
Mrs. Porter picked up her Spinoza.
"Well, well," she said. "I failed with the clothes-brush, but I seemed to have worked wonders with the simple-life treatment."