★ 15 ★::A Gentleman of Leisure
Mr. McEachern Intervenes
Life at the the days of his visit Jimmy with a of emotions, mainly unpleasant. Fate, in its pro-Jimmy capacity, to be taking a rest. In the place, the part to him was not that of Lord Herbert, the who talked to Molly most of the time. The Charteris learned from Lord Dreever that Jimmy had at one time actually been on the stage professionally, he that Lord Herbert offered too little scope for the new man’s talents.
“Absolutely no good to you, my dear chap,” he said. “It’s just a small part. He’s got to be a ass.”
Jimmy that he be a than living; but Charteris was firm.
“No,” he said. “You must be Captain Browne—true acting part, the biggest in the piece, full of lines. Spennie was to have played it, and we were in for the in the history of the stage. Now you’ve come it’s all right. Spennie’s the of Lord Herbert. He’s got to be himself. We’ve got a success now, my boy. Rehearsal after lunch. Don’t be late.”
And he had gone off to up the of the company.
From that moment Jimmy’s began. Charteris was a man in a for the stage was implanted. It nothing to him these days that the sun shone, that it was on the lake, and that Jimmy would have five a minute to be allowed to Molly to himself for an hour every afternoon. All he or about was that the local and were to arrive at the a week from that day, and that very of the company their lines. Having Jimmy into the part of Captain Browne, he gave his energy free play. He with a which occasionally almost the he was into something coherency. He painted and left it about—wet—and people sat on it; he up for luck, and they 96fell on people. But nothing him; he rested.
“Mr. Charteris,” said Lady Julia frigidly, after one rehearsal, “is indefatigable. He me about!”
It was, perhaps, his triumph, properly considered, that he had Lady Julia to take a part in his piece; but to the of no of this is impossible, and Charteris was one of the most in the country. There had been some talk—late at night in the billiard-room—of his being about to in a role for Sir Thomas, but it had through; not, it was felt, Charteris not have him into it, but Sir Thomas was unfit.
Mainly as a result of the producer’s energy Jimmy himself one of a crowd, and the sensation. He had not much in the in which he appeared; but those who appeared with him had. It to Jimmy daily, after he had “running through the lines” with a series of amateurs, male and female, that for all practical purposes he might just as well have gone to Japan. In this of his opportunities of talking with Molly were infinitesimal. And worse, she did not appear to mind. She was cheerful, and to be in a crowd. Probably, he with some melancholy, if she met his eye, and noted in it a gleam, she put it to the same which other in the company that week.
Jimmy to take a view of theatricals, and of these in particular. He that in the electric of the regions there should be a special gridiron, for the man who these performances, so to the true of civilisation. At the close of each day he Charteris with regularity.
There was another thing that him. That he should be unable to talk with Molly was an evil, but a negative evil. It was by one that was positive. Even in the of the of he not help noticing that Molly and Lord Dreever were very much together. Also—and this was more sinister—he that Sir Thomas Blunt and Mr. McEachern were making to this of affairs.
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Of this he had proof one when, after and in a way that had the great of Machiavelli and Richelieu like the work of novices, he had cut Molly out from the and her off for the purpose of helping him the chickens. There were, as he had suspected, to the castle. They in a little world of noise and at the of the stables. Bearing an iron pot full of a poisonous-looking mash, and by Molly, he had felt, for a minute and a half, like a successful general. It is difficult to be when you are with chicken-feed in an iron pot, but he had that that of the should be brief—the should that on the quick-lunch principle—then to the more of the rose-garden. There was of time the hour of the of the dressing-gong. Perhaps a on the lake——
“What-ho!” said a voice.
Behind them, with a on his face, his of Dreever.
“My uncle told me I should you out here. What have you got there, Pitt? Is this what you them on? I say, you know, coves, hens! I wouldn’t touch the for a fortune. What? Looks to me poisonous.”
He met Jimmy’s and stopped. There was that in Jimmy’s that would have stopped an avalanche. His his in pink embarrassment.
“Oh, look!” said Molly. “There’s a little chicken out there in the cold. It hasn’t had a morsel. Give me the spoon, Mr. Pitt. Here, chick, chick! Don’t be silly, I’m not going to you. I’ve you your dinner.”
She moved off in of the fowl, which had away. Lord Dreever Jimmy.
“Frightfully sorry, Pitt, old man,” he feverishly. “Didn’t want to come. Couldn’t help it. He sent me out.” He looked over his shoulder. “And,” he added rapidly, as Molly came back, “the old boy’s at his window now, us through his opera-glasses!”
The return to the house was performed in silence—on Jimmy’s part in silence. He hard, and had been since.
He had material for thought. That Lord Dreever was as in 98his uncle’s hands he was aware. He had not his long, but he had him long to that a had been from his composition. What his uncle that would he do. The looked to Jimmy. The order, he knew, had gone out that Lord Dreever was to money, and Molly was an heiress. He did not know how much Mr. McEachern had in his with New York crime, but it not but be something considerable. Things looked black.
Then he had a reaction. He was taking too much for granted. Lord Dreever might be into to Molly, but what was there for that Molly would accept him? He for an to look upon Spennie’s title in the light of a lure. Molly was not the girl to for a title. He to his lordship’s other claims. He was a fellow, with—to judge on acquaintanceship—an disposition. That much must be conceded. But against this must be the that he was also, as he would have put it himself, a most ass. He was weak. He had no character. Altogether, the Jimmy more cheerful. He not see the light-haired one, with Sir Thomas Blunt behind, as it were, the knight’s ends. Shove he so wisely, Sir Thomas make a Romeo out of Spennie Dreever.
It was while in the billiard-room one night after dinner, his play a hundred up with the Hargate, that Jimmy came definitely to this conclusion. He had stopped to watch more he to study his man at close range than the game was anything out of the common as an of billiards. As a of fact, it would have been hard to a game. Lord Dreever, who was twenty, was poor, and his an beginner. Again, as he looked on, Jimmy was of an idea that he had met Hargate before. But once more he his memory and blank. He did not give the thing much thought, being on his of Lord Dreever, who, by a series of cannons, had into the forties, and was now a points ahead of his opponent.
Presently, having his up to his satisfaction, and with the game, Jimmy out of the room. 99He paused the door for a moment, what to do. There was in the smoking-room, but he did not for bridge. From the drawing-room there came of music. He in that direction, then stopped again. He came to the that he did not sociable. He wanted to think. A cigar on the would meet his needs.
He up to his room for his cigar-case. The window was open. He out. There was almost a full moon, and it was very light out of doors. His was by a movement at the end of the terrace, where the was. A girl came out of the shadow, walking slowly....
Not since early had Jimmy stairs with such a of speed. He the turn at the end of the at a pace. Fate, however, had up again and business, for he did not his neck. A moments later he was out on the terrace, a which he had up en in the hall.
“I you might be cold,” he said, quickly.
“Oh, thank you,” said Molly. “How of you!” He put it her shoulders. “Have you been running?”
“I came fast.”
“Were you the would you?” she laughed. “I was of when I was a small child. I was always of them. I used to when I had to go to my room in the dark, unless I some one to my hand all the way there and back.”
Her had with Jimmy’s arrival. Things had been that her. She had gone out onto the to be alone. When she his she had the of some fellow-guest, full of small talk. Jimmy, somehow, was a comfort—he did not the atmosphere. Little as they had of each other, something in him—she not say what—had her to him. He was a man, she instinctively, she trust.
They walked on in silence. Words were into Jimmy’s mind, but he not them. He to have the power of thought.
Molly said nothing. It was not a night for conversation. The moon had and garden into a of black and silver. It was a night to look and and think.
They walked slowly up and down. As they for the second 100time Molly’s themselves into a question. Twice she was on the point of it, but each time she herself. It was an question. She had no right to put it, and he had no right to answer. Yet something was her on to ask it.
It came out suddenly, without warning.
“Mr. Pitt, what do you think of Lord Dreever?”
Jimmy started. No question have in more with his thoughts. Even as she spoke he was to keep himself from her the same thing.
“Oh, I know I ought not to ask,” she on. “He’s your and you’re his friend, I know. But——”
Her voice off. The of Jimmy’s and quivered, but he no words.
“I wouldn’t ask any one else. But you’re—different somehow. I don’t know what I mean—we know each other—but——”
She stopped again, and still he was dumb.
“I so alone,” she said very quietly, almost to herself. Something to in Jimmy’s head. His brain cleared. He took a step forward.
A the white grass. Jimmy round. It was McEachern.
“I have been looking for you, Molly, my dear. I you must have gone to bed.”
He to Jimmy and him for the time since their meeting in the bedroom.
“Will you us, Mr. Pitt?”
Jimmy and walked the house. At the door he stopped and looked back. The two were where he had left them.
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