As soon as Bottles, who was attending to the meal, saw Spruce stepping in he became at once upon the alert, and devoured him with his light blue eyes. Hench, noticing this espionage, sent the lad away to get fresh tea, as he did not approve of Bottles watching and listening to what did not concern him. Madame Alpenny smiled blandly when Spruce entered and complimented him on his cool looks. She was hot herself, and this was little to be wondered at, as she wore her constant black dress with the orange spots, her picture hat and her heavy bead mantle. The Nut wondered if she had any other clothes, as she never seemed to wear another garb.
"You are just in time, Mr. Spruce," said Madame Alpenny in her lively way, and after she had paid her compliment. "Tell me what you know of Mr. Hench here."
Spruce stared. "Why do you ask me that?"
"Indeed you may well ask," said Hench with a frown, "as you cannot answer the question. But Madame here will not permit me to pay attention to Mademoiselle Zara until she knows more about me."
"I am a good mother, you see, and must consider my daughter's happiness," was the reply of the Hungarian lady, as she took the freshly filled teapot from Bottles and sent him out of the room again.
"If that is the case," said Spruce politely, "then you must allow her to become Mrs. Bracken."
"Certainly I shall not. Ah, but you are smiling."
"Indeed, I think your daughter will only be happy with Bracken," insisted the Nut lightly. "He loves her, and I think that she loves him."
"In that case," commented Madame with a shrug and glancing at Hench, "there is no chance for you."
"I admire Mademoiselle Zara and wish to make her my wife," said Hench steadily. "I am young and strong, and will soon make a fortune."
"So far you have been unsuccessful," she replied dryly; "and for my daughter I prefer a ready-made fortune." Her eyes rested on Spruce as she spoke. The little man did not take the hint, but chuckled softly in his hateful fashion, so she was obliged to go on. "Tell me, Mr. Spruce, what do you know of Mr. Hench?"
"Only that he is the best fellow in the world."
Hench frowned. "I don't see how you can swear to that, seeing we have not met for eight years."
"Oh, you were always a good sort of chap," said Spruce gaily. "If you don't mind my saying so, you haven't enough brains to be wicked. It takes a clever person to sin properly."
"Ah, but you will amuse yourself with this talk," broke in Madame, smiling. "I want a good man for my daughter."
"Take Bracken, then. He's a bit of a bounder, but decent enough."
The old woman pursed up her lips and shook her head. After a few moments of reflection she spoke freely. "My daughter must marry money, and neither you, Mr. Hench, nor Mr. Bracken have any money. I will not allow you to pay your addresses to her. Nor will Zara receive them. She is a good girl and loves her old mother."
"Well, Hench," said Spruce, when this speech was ended, "now you know. Are you not heart-broken?"
"No!" retorted Hench sharply. "Nor am I defeated. Zara will decide."
"She will decide what I order her to decide!" cried Madame Alpenny furiously. "And my daughter is not for you, Mr. Hench!"
"I should prefer to discuss that question privately," said the young man in a stiff, haughty way; "there is no need for Mr. Spruce to be present."
"Oh, don't say that," chimed in the Nut reproachfully; "I may be able to help you, old fellow. You don't go the right way to work."
"It's my own way," snapped Hench restlessly, and objecting to interference.
"Then it's the wrong way," snapped Spruce in his turn. "Remember that Madame Alpenny thinks you are a mystery. Use that to help you."
"In what way?" Hench opened his brown eyes.
"Mysterious persons are always interesting, and if Madame here finds that you may turn out to be some one great, who knows but what she may change her mind?"
"Are you something great?" asked the lady, addressing Hench quickly.
"No. I am nobody, and will remain nobody. Why should you think that I am, what you call, a mystery?"
"It is hard to say," she answered dreamily and staring hard at him. "I have seen eyes like yours somewhere. They are connected with a story--a kind of family mystery. But I can't remember to whom those eyes belonged."
"Perhaps you have met our friend here before," suggested the Nut eagerly.
"No!" said Madame positively, and Hench also shook his head. "I met him here for the first time. The person who had eyes like him I met--or I fancy I met--some twenty years ago. But it is all vague and uncertain. Yet I feel that the story I allude to is here"--she touched her forehead--"a mere word will bring it back to my memory."
"Then let us try and find the magic word," cried the irrepressible Spruce. "I am desperately curious myself to fathom a mystery which the person concerned in it does not guess."
"Meaning me," said Hench tartly. "You are talking rubbish."
"Sense, sense, common-sense. When the mystery is discovered you may be able to marry Mademoiselle Zara."
"There is no mystery about me, I tell you."
"Well, I am not so sure of that," remarked the little man, in spite of his friend's frown. "You don't know anything about your family, as you admitted to me. Yet I dare swear that those papers you are to inspect at your lawyers' in a few weeks, when you arrive at the age of twenty-five, may contain a history which will astonish you."
"Papers at your lawyers'," echoed Madame Alpenny, looking excited; "is that so?" Hench reluctantly admitted that such was the case. "But I don't suppose that anything I don't know will come to my knowledge."
"Who knows," observed the old lady thoughtfully. "Mr. Spruce is right. This hint of mystery interests me in you and makes me more ready to entertain your proposal to marry Zara. If you turned out to be wealthy----"
"I never will, I tell you," insisted Hench crossly.
"Then why are these mysterious papers in existence? No! believe me, they have a story to tell. I am better disposed towards you because of those papers, as who knows to what they may lead. Mr. Spruce is right about a mystery interesting me, and I congratulate Mr. Spruce. He ought to be in the diplomatic service. His knowledge of human nature does him credit."
Evidently both Madame and the Cherub were bent upon building a castle in the air, as Hench could not think that the papers in question were likely to make him a rich man. His father had never been rich, and knowing the sybaritism of his deceased parent, the young man was pretty certain that if there had been any money about, the elder Hench would have obtained it to waste. "You are both wrong," he said gloomily. "There is not likely to be a fortune waiting for me when I read those papers. My name is a commonplace one, and I have every reason to believe that my family is commonplace also. My father never gave me any information about his parents. All I know is that his name was Owain Hench, as mine is, and that he once or twice remarked that his youth had been passed in some Welsh place, called Rhaiadr!"
The effect of this last word on Madame was astonishing. She turned quite pale with sudden emotion, her large dark eyes blazed into vivid life and she clapped her hands loudly. "Rhaiadr! Owain of Rhaiadr! The word means water tumbling over a rock--a waterfall. Ah, yes, and so they call a torrent in the barbarous country of Wales."
Hench stared at her, not understanding this outburst, but Spruce, much more alive to what was meant, laughed and nodded. "We have hit upon the magic word, it seems," he observed, all on the alert for knowledge. "Tell us who was the owner of the eyes which were like those of Hench's, Madame?"
"Your father had such eyes," said Madame, turning to the astonished man.
"My father!"--Hench started to his feet--"you have never met my father. Why, he died about five years ago."
Madame nodded complacently and signed that he should seat himself again. "Ah, is that so? He is dead, then. Oh, but I did meet him, Mr. Hench. Some twenty years back--it was in Buda Pesth. I remember it all"--she pressed her jewelled fingers to her forehead--"it all comes back to me."
"Tell us about it, then," suggested Spruce eagerly. "Bah!" said Hench rather rudely, "it's all imagination."
"Indeed it is not," protested Madame, gesticulating. "If it were so, how would I know that Rhaiadr meant a waterfall and was in Wales, a country I know nothing about? Owain of Rhaiadr!--that is what your father called himself."
"Owain is my Christian name, and was my father's before me. But we don't live in the Middle Ages, when a man was known by his first name being connected with a town, or village, or county, or country. Owain Hench of Rhaiadr, if you like, Madame."
The woman shook her head and her eyes sparkled like diamonds. "Ah, but it is not so. Owain of Rhaiadr was what your father said. I remember we were sitting on the terrace of the hotel, and feeling ill, he sought my sympathy. Ah, my friend, and more than my sympathy. He wished to marry me."
"Marry you!" Hench stared at the withered old woman in amazement.
"Why not? I was a handsome young widow in those days and had some money. Afterwards I lost it, being unlucky at cards."
"Well, let us hope that to make up for your loss you were lucky in love," said Spruce affably.
"No! I did not wish to marry again, as I was devoted to the memory of my English husband. But I liked your father, Mr. Hench, even though I refused to become his wife. He was not rich, you understand, so it was useless for me to marry a poor man. But I liked him because he was well-bred and sympathetic in many ways. How it all comes back to me. I told him of my daughter, who was with her nurse in the gardens below the terrace, and he informed me that he had a son of four or five, who was in England being looked after by strangers."
"By strangers," echoed Hench bitterly; "that is true. All my life I have had to do with strangers."
"Ah, but, my friend, it was not the fault of your good father," said Madame in a hurried tone. "His young wife--your mother--died early, and it was impossible for your father to travel about the Continent with a baby--as you were."
"A baby of over four years old could have travelled well enough," said Hench in a sombre tone; "but my father never cared about me over-much. He----" here the young man checked himself, as he did not wish to discuss his father in the presence of Spruce, although he might have done so with Madame Alpenny, since he desired to marry her daughter. After a pause he continued: "Well, did my father tell you his family history?"
It was quite one minute before the old lady answered this question. She reflected deeply, with her eyes searching his handsome face, then shook her head sadly. "No! We were not so confidential as that. We met several times again, but as I refused to marry him, your father went away to Paris. I never saw him again, but the memory of his eyes remained, and those same eyes you now use to look at me suggested my old romance."
"They would not have done so but for the magic word Rhaiadr," said Spruce in brisk tones. "Well, Hench, you see that there is a mystery."
"There is not," declared the young man sharply and much vexed. "Your mystery resolves itself into what Madame here calls her romance. My father asked her to marry him and she refused. Very wisely, I think," he added, as if to himself--"she would never have been happy."
Madame overheard him, shrugged her shoulders, and rose, looking more shapeless in figure and more untidy in dress than ever. "In any case, I have never been happy," she said sadly, "so it does not matter. But I am now inclined to consider your proposal to pay attentions to Zara."
"He is not yet rich, remember," put in Spruce, grinning.
"Mind your own business," said Hench vehemently.
"No"--Madame's tone was peculiar--"and perhaps he never may be rich. But if Zara likes you, I am not sure but what I will not allow you to marry her. No, I have not yet quite made up my mind. Give me time to think"--she moved ponderously towards the door. "Owain of Rhaiadr! Ah, if you were only able to call yourself that. Well, who knows," and with a mysterious nod she disappeared.
"Queer thing, coming across an old flame of your father's in Queer Street," said the Nut affably. "What do you think?"
"I think," said Hench in anything but an amiable tone, "that you had better mind your own damned business."
Spruce was by no means offended. "As you will, although you should be sensible enough to use my brains to help you with your family mystery."
"There is no mystery. How often am I to repeat that?" And Hench walked away fuming with rage at the little man's persistence.
CHAPTER IV
THE ADVERTISEMENT
Hench felt annoyed with himself for talking so freely about his private affairs in the presence of Spruce, yet he could not see how he could have done otherwise. Madame Alpenny, disregarding the obvious fact that his proposal for her daughter's hand was not for public discussion, had appealed to the little man for information concerning the suitor, and in this way the Nut had been drawn into the conversation. If was not that Hench affected reticence, as he was a singularly frank man; or that there was anything to conceal in his past life, since that was free from punishable misdeeds. But it irritated him that Spruce should meddle, as the man appeared to have a finger in everybody's pie, and Hench saw no reason why he should have anything to do with this particular pastry. For this reason he gave his old schoolfellow the cold shoulder.
Spruce objected to this, as it was his aim to ingratiate himself, with a view to possible happenings which would place him in possession of money. At the outset Hench's friendship had not appeared to be worth cultivating, as he was poor, aggressively honest, and not at all a man to be exploited by the unscrupulous. But after Hench's confidence regarding the papers at the lawyers', Spruce scented a mystery which might be profitable. His suspicions, which at the outset were of the very faintest description, received colour and were rendered more substantial by the knowledge that Madame Alpenny had been acquainted with the young man's father. Spruce had noted her hesitation in replying to the question concerning the telling of the family history, and was satisfied in his own mind that she knew more than she would admit. The fact that after the conversation in the drawing-room she was willing to consider the proposal of marriage to Zara, implied that there was something in the wind. Having regard to Madame Alpenny's poverty and to her desire that Zara should marry a wealthy man, that something undoubtedly had to do with money. As yet Spruce was very vague about the whole matter, as his information was not accurate enough to enable him to act. But the key to the mystery, whatever it might be, was in the possession of Madame Alpenny, therefore the Nut watched her carefully. If she was agreeable that Zara should become the wife of Hench, there was certainly money to be gained by her as the result of the marriage; and if Hench was likely to possess riches, Spruce made up his mind to share in the same.
For this reason he ignored the young man's bearish manner and scant civility, which otherwise he would not have tolerated. Spruce was amiability itself, and went out of his way to amuse the paying guests, so that Mrs. Tesk looked upon him as quite an acquisition. He played the piano, he sang songs, he performed conjuring tricks, and made himself generally agreeable. Also he escorted Zara to the Bijou Music-hall and there became acquainted with the management, with the stage hands, and with the hangers-on of the profession. In a week he was quite at home behind the scenes, and even became friendly with Mrs. Jedd, who was the mother of Bottles, and the wardrobe mistress. In fact, he ingratiated himself with every one and was highly popular; meantime watching Madame Alpenny with the ardour of a cat at a mouse-hole, and giving his best attentions to Hench. These were so coldly received that finally he remonstrated in a most plaintive manner.
"I don't see why you should be so confoundedly disagreeable," he said after seven days of hard work to be polite; "we are two gentlemen who are stranded here, and may as well chum up for the sake of company."
"I don't wish to chum up, as you call it, with any one," retorted Hench coldly.
"Not with Zara?" Spruce could not help giving his friend the dig.
"That is my business."
"I never suggested otherwise. But I would point out that Madame Alpenny's resolve to consider your marriage proposition favourably is due to me. Had I not guided the conversation as I did, she would never have remembered her meeting with your father. It is the romance of that which has inclined her to permit your wooing."
"Madame Alpenny would have remembered without your help."
"I think not. You have been here along with her for six months and have had endless conversations. But until I made a third----"
"An inconvenient third."
"Oh, as you will. But until I made a third, she did not recollect the adventure of her youth which has softened her towards you. This being the case, I don't see why you should hold me at arm's length."
"I am not taking the trouble to consider you in any way," said Hench in his most freezing manner. "We were never chums at school, and I see nothing in you to make me more friendly now. It is true that you offered to help me with money, but as I don't require your help in that way, I lie under no obligation to you. Why the dickens can't you go back to the West End?"
"I shall go back," lied Spruce, "when I gather sufficient material for my proposed book. Meanwhile, my friend----"
"Meanwhile," repeated Hench, cutting him short, "suppose you mind your own business and leave mine alone."
"Had I left your business alone, Madame Alpenny would not now be so agreeable to you, old fellow," said Spruce, persistently polite. "However, since you object, I shall meddle no more. All the same, if I can do you a good turn I am perfectly willing to do so."
"Don't be worthy and pose as a bed-rock Christian!"
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," sighed the little man, who knew perfectly well what was implied; "but as you are bent upon making yourself disagreeable, you will be pleased to hear that I am returning to the West End to-morrow for a few days."
"I hope you'll stay there," growled Hench wrathfully, and quite unable to get rid of this gadfly. "I prefer to be alone."
"You will be more alone than you think," retorted Spruce tartly. "Madame Alpenny is going away also for a few days. She told Mrs. Tesk, who told me."
"Just like you, to go interfering with other people's business, Spruce. Madame Alpenny can go away without the world coming to an end." He paused, then asked a question which he immediately regretted having put. "Where's she going?"
"Ah!" Spruce chuckled cynically, "you are curious in spite of your pretended dislike to meddle with what doesn't concern you. Well, she is going to see if any West End manager will come to see Zara dancing at the Bijou Music-hall, with a view to getting her daughter a better engagement."
"I hope she will succeed," said Hench heartily. "Zara is a rare dancer and well deserves better luck."
"If she goes, you will be parted."
"Oh, hang your interference!" cried Hench, and walked out of the smoking-room.
"Better make hay while the sun shines," Spruce called out after him, and, after his usual manner, chuckled when the door banged by way of reply.
There appeared to be a perfect exodus from The Home of the Muses, for Bracken also became conspicuous by his absence. He went to see his mother at Folkestone, who was a widow, as news came that her health was not what it might be. But the greatest surprise was when Bottles came to Hench on the morning of the exodus, dressed in his best clothes and smiling all over his freckled face. He was blushing also, which was a rare thing for the imp to do, and made a request which accounted for the same.
"Would you mind, sir--I mean, am I asking too much--that is, if you won't think it sauce on my part," he stumbled amongst his words and blushed deeper.
"Out with it, Bottles! What is it? Speak straight and to the point."
Jedd did so and very bluntly. "I want you to lend me five shillings, sir. Oh, I'll pay it back out of my wages at sixpence a week, see if I don't"--the boy went through a pantomine--"that wet; that dry; cut my throat if I tell a lie."
Hench, who had every reason to trust Bottles, and who considered him to be a lad with a future if clever wits went for anything, produced a couple of half-crowns from his slender resources. "There you are! You needn't pay me back."
"Oh, but I will, sir, thanking you all the same," said Bottles, pocketing the cash. "Mother's brought me up proper, she has, and always told me never to borrer. But I can't help borrering this time; it's business."
"What business?"
"Private," said the lad stiffly; "but the five bob shall be paid back, honest, Mr. Hench."
"Well, Bottles, I admire your principles and will accept the sixpence a week repayment. But why are you so excited and why this splendour of dress?"
"I'm going down the country to see my brother, sir."
"Your brother. I never knew you had a brother."
"Oh, yes sir, please. We're twins, we are, and I'm the elder by half an hour, as mother always says. Peter's a page in a lady's house in the country, and Mrs. Tesk allows me to go and see him sometimes. I asked her if I could go to-day, and she said that as Mr. Spruce and Mr. Bracken and Madame Alpenny were away for a few days, and there wouldn't be much work, that she would let me go."
"Well," said Hench with a good-natured laugh, "I hope you'll enjoy yourself, my lad. So you are Simon and your brother is Peter. Eh?"
"Yes, sir. Called after the Chief Apostle, sir. Mother reads her Bible even though she's only looking after the clothes at the Bijour Music-hall. I'm going to stay away for two days, Mr. Hench, and p'raps three. But I won't waste my time; oh no, not much, you bet, sir."
"What do you mean?" asked his patron, considerably mystified.
"I'll tell you some day, sir, as you've a right to know."
"Know what?"
"What I've got up my sleeve. It may be rot, and it may be something else. All I can tell you, sir, is, that when the time comes, you'll know. S'elp me Bob, I'll tell you everything," and Bottles panted with excitement.
"Bottles, you've muddled your brain with your adventure and detective penny-dreadful yarns. Well, go on your Sexton Blake errand, and mind you have a good time. I shall miss your attentions, though," ended Hench kindly.
"I hope you won't miss 'em very much, sir. I've told Amelia to see as you get everything you want. She's only a gal, but she'll do her best for my sake, sir," ended Bottles grandly. "She and me's going to marry when we're rich."
"Go away, you precocious imp, and don't talk nonsense."
"There's many a true word spoke in nonsense, as mother says, sir. She's great on proverbs, is mother!" and with this parting shot Bottles rapidly disappeared, grinning amiably and very much excited. Hench wondered at the boy's mysterious hints and could not for the life of him see how they could have anything to do with his own affairs. However, thinking that Bottles was merely drawing on his imagination, he dismissed the matter from his mind.
And, indeed, for the next few days, and until the return of the absent, the young man found his hands full enough. Zara being alone, with neither her mother nor Bracken at her elbow, Hench thought that he might as well take advantage of the opportunity to carry on an uninterrupted wooing. He escorted Zara to the music-hall and escorted her home again. He took her sundry walks, gave her sundry meals in restaurants, and provided her with cheap amusements in the form of cinematograph entertainments. Zara, who really liked Hench, was very grateful for his attentions, but she resolutely refused to allow him to make love to her. With the dexterity of a woman she managed to keep him at arm's length; but one evening while he conducted her to business the young man managed to get nearer to his divinity. Certainly the crowded streets, flaring with gas-lights, were unfit surroundings for love-making. But Hench had to carry on his romance as best he could, since Zara was so clever in throwing obstacles in his way. On this occasion, however, he broke through them.
"You are very cruel to me," he remarked, after many minutes of desultory conversation, and seizing the opportunity when the pair turned down into a quiet side street, "very cruel indeed."
The handsome girl was silent for a moment or so. "It's no use my pretending to misunderstand you, Mr. Hench," she said at length. "What's the time?"
Rather surprised by the irrelevance of the question, Hench looked at his very cheap watch. "Eight o'clock."
"Well, I'm not on until a quarter to nine, and although I do take a long time to dress, I can give you ten minutes."
"Oh, thank you, Zara. You are----"
"Don't make any mistake, Mr. Hench. I won't have those ten minutes spent in love-making, which would bore me and waste your time."
"No time spent upon you is wasted, Zara."
"There you are wrong. It is time we had an explanation. So long as mother objected to you as she does to Ned----"
"To Ned?"
"I mean to Mr. Bracken," said Zara, colouring and wincing. "Well then, so long as she was in that frame of mind, I let things slide. But now mother seems inclined to consider you as a possible son-in--law, and I must appeal to you."
"Command me in any way."
"Then don't worry me with attentions. Oh, I don't mind your behaving like a gentleman, as you have been doing, to pass the time while mother is away. I am very grateful to you for the amusement you have given me. But"--added the girl, leaning against the railings of a convenient dwelling-house--"I am not in love with you, no more than you are with me."
"I do love you," said Hench, frowning; "what's the use of saying otherwise?"
"You don't love me, I tell you," insisted Zara petulantly. "Trust a woman to understand the exact state of a man's heart. You like me, you admire me, you think me a good sort, but love"--she shook her head--"you don't understand love as Ned--I mean, Mr. Bracken--does."
"Oh, call him Ned by all means," said Hench quietly. "I see you are friendly enough with him to do so."
"I am engaged to him."
"With your mother's consent?"
"No. You know very well that mother wants me to marry a rich man, and Ned is poor, although he does hope to get a few hundred pounds now that his mother is dying. I love him and I intend somehow to marry him."
"That is unpleasant hearing for me, Zara."
"Indeed, it isn't, Mr. Hench. I know quite well what has led you to propose marriage to me----"
"I never have proposed as yet," interpolated Hench quickly.
"No. But you intended to. If I had not prevented you from going too far these last few days you would have proposed. Come now, isn't that the truth?"
"Yes! And to make you understand me fully I ask you now to be my wife."
"Then I refuse. I love Ned, and Ned only, even though he's but a poor violinist in the orchestra and earns little money. He loves me also, and in a way which you cannot comprehend."
"Why not?"
"Because your heart has never been touched either by me or by any other woman. It's no use your saying that it has been. I know you better than you do yourself, Mr. Hench."
The young man felt slightly mortified. "You appear to have a bad opinion of me, Mademoiselle."
"Indeed, I have a most excellent opinion of you. Make no mistake about that, Mr. Hench. You are an honourable gentleman; you are extremely kind-hearted and you will be an admirable husband--to the woman you love."
"You are the woman, believe me!" cried Hench impetuously.
Zara shook her proud head, smiling, and looked less fierce than usual. "Oh, what children men are. They want a toy and cry when they don't get it, yet break it when it is in their possession. I am the toy, Mr. Hench, and you are the child who wants it."
"And if I got the toy I would break it. Eh?"
"Yes," said the dancer frankly, and began to walk on slowly, as the ten minutes were nearly up, "and I'll tell you why. You are a lonely man, who has no home, no relations, no centre in life, if I may put it so. Having an intensely domestic nature--that nature which makes an admirable husband, a devoted father, and which is domestic in its essence--you want a wife to create a centre round which you can revolve. I happen to be passably good-looking, to have some good qualities, and to be an agreeable companion. Therefore, liking me, you mistake that liking for love, and offer me a respectable but dull future. Any other woman, decently kind and presentable, would suit you just as well as I would, and with her you would believe yourself to be in love as you think you are with me. But a happy marriage is not built up upon such a foundation, Mr. Hench, believe me. A woman wants love, she wants a heart. You can give me neither."
"And Mr. Bracken can?"
"Yes! Otherwise I wouldn't marry him. If mother is successful and can get me a West End engagement, I daresay I'll have plenty of men fluttering about me, and can pick and choose amongst lovers of higher rank and with more money than poor Ned has. But I won't find one who loves me as he does."
"I don't quite understand the kind of love you mean," murmured Hench, perplexed.
"Of course you don't, for the very simple reason that you require an explanation. True love comes from within and not from without. When you really feel the passion you require no explanation. Come and tell me when you really fall in love, Mr. Hench, if I am not right."
"Where did you learn how to talk in this way?" asked Hench, who was beginning to see that she was right.
"Experience has taught me, and experience is a great teacher. I am older than you think, Mr. Hench."
"You are only three and twenty. Your mother told me so."
"I am older in experience, for you know that a woman is always twice as old as a man in the ways of the world. However, here is the Bijou, and I must go in to get ready for my work. You understand what I mean, don't you?"
"Yes. I daresay my love is of a very feeble quality."
"Don't be bitter and don't pity yourself, Mr. Hench. Your liking for me is perfectly honourable, and I am sure you would make a kind husband. But love--you know nothing of love. I said that before, I fancy, and I say it again." She offered her gloved hand. "Come! Let us be friends, nothing nearer, nothing dearer. Otherwise you will make me unhappy."
Round the corner of the music-hall, where no one was about, Hench bent over Zara's hand and kissed it. "Let it be as you say," he said firmly; "all the same, I envy Bracken his future wife."
"You will meet a woman who will suit you better than I will," Zara assured him, and her great black eyes shone. "When you do, come and tell me how wholly correct I have been. And another thing, Mr. Hench, don't let mother bully me about you."
"There's no chance. I am too poor to be your husband so far as Madame Alpenny is concerned, even though she likes me better than she did."
Zara looked at him curiously. "Are you sure that you are poor?" she asked in an enigmatic tone, and then ran into the music-hall, through the dark stage door, before he could reply.
Hench strolled home leisurely, wondering what she meant by her last speech. Of course he was poor. She knew it; so did Madame Alpenny; so did every one in the boarding-house. Yet she implied a doubt. Resolving to ask for an explanation when occasion served, the young man dismissed this particular matter from his mind, and thought of his misfortune in losing Zara. He had always admired her, and now that she had spoken to him so eloquently he admired her more than ever. Hitherto more or less silent, she had never displayed the common-sense qualities of her mind before. Therefore Hench saw that she was not only a handsome woman and an accomplished girl, but had considerable mental powers. Otherwise she could scarcely have placed the truth so plainly before him as she had done. And with a sigh the pseudo-lover confessed that it was the truth. What he felt was not love, for, although he regretted his dismissal from the wooing of a noble woman, he by no means felt broken-hearted, as Bracken would have done. Hench recognized that his desire for Zara was only a strong wish for a home and a wife and a family, and--as she put it--for a centre round which his life could revolve. Having arrived at this conclusion he decided to leave the girl alone, and wait until fortune brought him to the feet of his true mate. "And I must have some sort of mate in the world, anyhow," added Hench to himself, by way of comfort.
Henceforth the relations of the two were much more unembarrassed, for it was a brother and sister connection--frank and markedly comfortable. During the remainder of Madame Alpenny's absence, Hench took Zara about as usual, and she confided in him her love for Bracken, her plans for the accomplishment of that love, and her many difficulties with her mother. Madame Alpenny, it seemed, was by no means an angel, as she possessed a furious temper, and wasted all her money in gambling. She was an ill woman to cross, since her nature was vindictive and eminently determined to have its own way. Zara gave Hench to understand that if she could marry Bracken and pension her mother she would be truly happy. At present she was very miserable, and only the hope of escaping from her mother's clutches in the manner described enabled her to endure trouble. Hench, in his new character of her brother, consoled her, and promised to do what he could to forward her aims. But he did not see at the present moment how he could do anything.
Madame Alpenny returned on the third day, but the other absentees still remained away. The old woman looked very satisfied with herself, and hinted that she had done good business which would improve Zara's position. She was markedly civil to Hench, and encouraged him greatly to pay attentions to her daughter. As the two now understood one another, to do this was easy--both for Hench to pay them and for Zara to receive them--but Madame Alpenny remained in the dark as to the true meaning of their comedy. Then, on the second day after her return, a surprising thing happened, with which she had to do. What it was Hench learned while sitting at a lonely breakfast. Madame Alpenny, who always took that meal in her own room, came down unexpectedly arrayed in a greasy dressing-gown and flourishing a newspaper in her hand. "Rhaiadr! Rhaiadr!" she called out excitedly. "What does it mean?" Hench looked at her in surprise. "Tumbling water, you told me," he said, after an astonished pause. "Don't you remember----?"
"No! No! I don't mean that." She clapped The Express on the table before him, and pointed with one chubby finger at an advertisement. "I mean, what do you make of that? Rhaiadr! No one can have anything to do with that word but your father--and you."
Hench, more puzzled than ever by her excitement, read the advertisement upon which her finger rested. "If Rhaiadr," he read aloud, "will come to the Gipsy Stile at Cookley, Essex, at eight o'clock on the 1st of July, he will hear of something greatly to his advantage."
"There!" said Madame Alpenny triumphantly, and looking more shapeless than ever in her dressing-gown; "what do you think of that?"
"It has nothing to do with me," said Hench, with a shrug.
"Nothing to do with you!" she screamed. "Why, the name Rhaiadr shows that it has everything to do with you. Go there and see what it means. Ah, I always said that you were a mystery; now I am sure of it." And she rubbed her hands.
CHAPTER V
THE NEXT STEP
Hench could not help admitting that the mention of the peculiar Welsh word "Rhaiadr" in the newspaper had something to do with him. Undoubtedly he was the person whom the unknown advertiser wished to meet; but the whole matter was so strange and unexpected that he determined to think it over carefully before taking any steps. For this reason he said little to the excited Hungarian lady, who was rather annoyed by his reticence. But he did not take any notice of her hints, and retired as speedily as possible to his own room. There he lighted his pipe, sat by the window and read the advertisement twice and thrice again, after which he laid down the newspaper so that he might think more freely. And his thoughts had to do with his past life when travelling with his father.
The record of earlier days was bare enough, as Hench decided when he recalled the same. His father had paid strangers to look after him immediately after the death of Mrs. Hench, and when Owain was only five years of age. For years the lad saw very little of his parent, who was always moving from one place to another after the fashion of the Wandering Jew. Then came his education at a private school, and afterwards the wider training at Winchester. Later, Owain had expected to go to Oxford, but his father, finding the need of some one to lean upon in his old age, had summoned the boy to Berlin unexpectedly. Owain's mysterious parent proved to be an aristocratic-looking gentleman, perfectly dressed, perfectly acquainted with the motley Continental world, and perfectly heartless. Hench senior frankly acknowledged that he cared for no one but himself, and turned his son into a kind of superior servant. The two travelled all over Europe in moderately good style, as Mr. Hench always seemed to have enough to keep him in comfort if not in luxury. But this last he also obtained by gambling, as he frequently won large sums of money, which were always squandered in extravagant whims and fancies. If Owain had not possessed a sterling thoughtful nature he would have been ruined by this hand-to-mouth existence, which was distinguished by continual ups and downs. But the young man had his own views of leading a decent life, and when unhampered by his spendthrift father determined to carry them out. The opportunity did not come to him until he was twenty years of age, when Mr. Hench died in Paris and was buried without parade in Pere La Chaise. Cold-hearted and selfish to the end, he passed away without suggesting how his son, to whom he had given no profession, was to exist. He simply told him to go to Gilberry & Gilberry, solicitors, of Lincoln's Inn Fields, on his twenty-fifth birthday, when certain papers would be handed to him. Thus it can be seen that the young man had little reason to regret the demise of so egotistic a parent, who had been a curse rather than a blessing.
What the papers in charge of Gilberry & Gilberry might contain, Owain could not guess, nor had his dying father enlightened him, but he fancied that they might have something to do with proving the identity of the dead man. Owain had always suspected, from the strict silence preserved by his father about his past, that Hench was an assumed name, and hoped that the mysterious documents might afford some clue to the family history. The sole clue which the young man had to guide him to knowledge of any sort or description was the mention of his father of Rhaiadr as the place where he had passed his youthful days. Yet the word had proved to be of some value, for its mention had evoked a memory of Madame Alpenny's early romance, although that story had proved to be more interesting than useful. Now it appeared that the talismanic word was being used to lure him to meet a stranger, who--as the advertisement put it--would tell him of something greatly to his advantage.
Owain, having reached this point of his meditations, rose to pace the room and consider the position. He was of two minds about answering the summons, since an open-air meeting seemed scarcely business-like or even reasonable. Also it was now the last week in June, and the appointment was arranged for the first day of July. But on the tenth day of that month came Owain's birthday, when he would be placed in possession of the papers for which he had waited so long. The young man considered, prudently enough, that it would be just as well to curb his curiosity for nine days, as the documents might throw some light on the admittedly odd advertisement. If he obeyed the summons to the Gipsy Stile, Cookley, Essex, on the first of July, he would be at the disadvantage of being in the dark, since he would know nothing, while the person who met him would know much. The rough-and-tumble life which he had led since the death of his father inclined Owain to prudence, as he knew from dire experience what tricky people there were in the world. Therefore he determined to take no notice of the advertisement--at all events for the present, since he had a week to think over the matter--and calmly wait until he became possessed of the papers on his twenty-fifth birthday. Finally, he resolved to say nothing to Spruce, who, luckily, had not yet returned, and to ask Madame Alpenny to keep the Nut in ignorance of the advertisement. He certainly would have to be more or less frank with the Hungarian lady, since she had drawn his attention to the notice in The Express.
Madame Alpenny was full of curiosity when she met Hench at afternoon tea, and, as they had the room to themselves, she immediately proceeded to ask questions. Hench baffled her as well as he could, but found it difficult to do so. She appeared to be certain that he was more of a mystery than ever, and insisted upon scenting a fortune in the same. Naturally, as Zara's mother, she was anxious to know if her belief was correct, as then Hench could make the girl his wife and supply a meritorious mother-in-law with ample funds. As usual, she wore her eternal orange-spotted dress, her shabby bead mantle and her flamboyant picture hat, looking quite a merry old blackguard of an adventuress. Hench had long since decided that she was such a one.
"Of course you'll keep this appointment," said Madame Alpenny eagerly, when she handed Hench his tea.
"I'm not sure. You see, I may not be the person wanted."
"Pfui!" said the woman contemptuously, and her large, dark eyes sparkled. "Why, the word Rhaiadr proves conclusively that you are the person. It is strange, Mr. Hench," she continued with great vivacity, "that I should have heard the word from you only a few days before this advertisement appeared."
"It's very strange," assented the young man, with his eyes searching her face. "You know nothing about the advertisement, I suppose?"
"Eh, but why should I?" she asked in amazement. "Only by chance did I see the name Rhaiadr, and immediately brought the paper to you, remembering our conversation of some days back. I presume, sir," she went on, with a shrug, "that you do not think I put in the advertisement?"
"Oh, no; by no means," said Owain hastily; "but you might have mentioned the Welsh name to some one else."
"No," said Madame Alpenny decidedly. "That is, I mentioned it only to Zara, and she took little notice of what I mentioned. Of course, there was Mr. Spruce, who was in this room when we talked about my meeting with your father. But he is not likely to have asked you to meet him in Essex, when he can see you here any day; also he probably has not seen the advertisement."
"Oh, I don't suspect Spruce, Madame; and that reminds me, it will be as well to say nothing to Spruce about the matter."
"Am I a chatter-box, or a fool?" asked Madame fiercely, and with a lowering look on her face. "Certainly I will say nothing to Mr. Spruce. But you must tell me all that takes place when you meet whosoever you are to meet."
"I am going to meet no one," retorted Hench resolutely; "there is no need for me to do so."
"But, my friend, you will hear of something greatly to your advantage, as it said in the newspaper," expostulated the woman, frowning.
"I mean to wait until I get the papers from my lawyers on the tenth of July, Madame. They may tell me of the something greatly to my advantage without my going on a wild-goose chase into Essex."
"But I don't understand your objection."
"It is this. If I go now, I am quite in ignorance of my family history with which this appointment has to do, as I shrewdly suspect. If I go after the tenth of July I will be in a better position to deal with the matter, as I think the papers at my lawyers' will tell me much about my father."
Madame Alpenny nodded. "There is something in that. All the same, this advertisement concerns you and not your father, who is dead and buried."
"It and the papers also concern my father's past life, and therefore concern my present," argued Hench seriously. "And I have waited so long for light to be thrown on the past that I can easily wait a few days longer."
"You have made no attempt to get at the past up till now?"
"Oh, yes. After my father's death I went to my lawyers"--Hench did not intend to tell Madame Alpenny the name of the firm--"and asked about the papers. They admitted that they had them, and promised to deliver them on my twenty-fifth birthday. Otherwise they would say nothing."
"And you--what did you do?"
"What could I do save go away and do my best to keep myself alive for five years. I went as a sailor on a tramp vessel and met with many adventures. I found that I had a talent for writing, and in San Francisco I managed to get a short story of mine accepted, printed and paid for. Then I went to Peru, and afterwards to the South Seas, coming back to England through Australia, China, India and Persia. Rather a roundabout way of progression, I admit. But I was like a leaf blown by the winds of fortune--and bitter winds they were. In one way and another, chiefly by writing short adventure tales, I managed to keep myself afloat. This year I came here, six months ago, to wait for the tenth of July. Here I met you----"
"And Zara," said Madame quickly.
Hench looked at her with a peculiar expression, and raked his brown beard with outspread fingers. It was on the tip of his tongue to relate how he had been refused by the girl, but on second thoughts he refrained. According to Zara her mother had a quick temper, and if all was told the girl might suffer from that temper. Also Madame Alpenny, being given a clue, might learn that Zara and Bracken were engaged, which knowledge would assuredly lead to trouble. On the whole, therefore, Hench decided to be silent, and replied evasively. "Ah, yes, I met your charming daughter, of course."
"And admired her?" persisted Madame, not finding his speech sufficiently ardent in tone.
"And admired her to the extent of asking your permission to propose to her. But, of course, when you refused me that, because I am poor, I have changed my mind. As a gentleman I can do no less."
"As a lover you can do much more," retorted the old woman, with a look of annoyance. "And remember that I was favourable to your proposal when I learned that you were the son of the man who wished to marry me so long ago."
"Yet I am still poor," said Hench ironically.
"That has yet to be proved," rejoined Madame bluntly. "Oh, don't look so astonished, my friend. I am old and I am shrewd, and I have learned by experience that two and two make four. Those papers you mention, together with this advertisement which plainly refers to you, appear to me proof that you will inherit money."
"I don't see that, Madame, unless, of course, my father gave you some hint that there was money in the family."
"Mr. Hench gave me no hint," said the lady sharply and hastily. "He explained that he had a small income, and frequently won large sums at cards. On the whole, he gave me to understand that if I married him there would be no lack of money. But he never said a word about a fortune coming to him."
"Then why should you think that a fortune is likely to come to me?" asked Hench very naturally.
"I have intuition, my friend, and intuition tells me that those papers and that advertisement mean money." Madame Alpenny paused, and then continued after some thought: "You say that you had great difficulty in getting money after your father's death?"
"That is so. I had to earn every penny."
"Strange, when he had a sufficient income to keep him comfortable."
"That was an annuity. He told me so shortly before he died."
"And told you that the papers with your lawyers would place you in possession of money?"
"No." Hench shook his head. "He never even hinted at such a thing."
Madame Alpenny nursed her pointed chin and frowned at the carpet. "I am sure there is money," she mused, loud enough for the young man to overhear. "Your father gave you no profession or trade with which to earn money, and it is not likely that he would have behaved so unless he knew that the future held a fortune in store for you."
Hench's lip curled. "I am sorry to destroy any illusion about my father," he said with a shrug; "but I don't think he cared two straws about my future."
"Then why should he tell you about the papers?" asked Madame, as sharp as a needle. "Believe me, those papers refer to a fortune."
"Well"--Hench rose and stretched himself--"I shall know all about that when I see the lawyers on the tenth of July."
"Or when you meet this unknown person in Essex on the first of July."
"I am not going to meet the person," said Hench coldly; "and I have given my reasons for not meeting him."
"Him!" Madame Alpenny laughed. "It may be a woman, for all you know."
Hench wheeled round to face her searchingly. "Why do you think it is a woman?"
"Oh," she answered smoothly, "I only surmise. I don't say that the person is a woman, for I know no more about the matter than you do. All I do say is, that if you wish to marry my daughter you will have to learn about this fortune as quickly as possible. I hope that I have managed to get an engagement for Zara in the West End, and there she may meet with some one wealthy who will make her his wife."
"You don't appear to take Mademoiselle Zara's feelings into consideration."
"Feelings!" echoed Madame Alpenny vehemently. "What are feelings of any sort compared with poverty? I have little money myself, and what I have is all in these things." She touched her rings, bracelets and brooches. "Zara does not earn what her talents demand. We want money, and the sole way in which we can get it is for her to marry money. Failing you there are others."
"Quite so," said Hench, thinking of Bracken, and smiling slightly. "But a man who has no wealth may wish to marry her."
"Referring to yourself, I suppose," said Madame Alpenny dryly, and quite mistaking his meaning. "Well, you won't marry her unless you prove through those papers and that advertisement to be possessed of a fortune. Until then, I hope you will be circumspect with regard to Zara. Don't be too attentive to her, and turn the poor child's head."
"There is no fear of my doing that," said Hench equally dryly, "but to make things safe I propose to remove myself from temptation. To-morrow I shall leave this place."
"For how long?"
"For ever."
"Oh,"--Madame Alpenny looked as black as thunder, as this proposal by no means suited her scheme of getting a rich son-in-law,--"don't do that."
"Why not? After all, there is nothing to keep me here."
"Zara!"
"But you will not let me pay attention to Zara with a view to matrimony." Madame Alpenny looked uneasy and puzzled. "You place me on the horns of a dilemma, Mr. Hench. I can't let you become engaged to my daughter until I am sure you have money. But of course"--she brightened up--"if what I suspect is true, and money comes, you can return and marry her."
This frank suggestion placed Hench on the horns of a dilemma, but he managed to evade binding himself in a most dexterous way. "If Mademoiselle Zara is really able to return my love, and thinks that she will be happy as my wife, I shall certainly return and renew my suit. But remember, Madame, she must become my wife of her own free will, and not because you insist."
"Oh, that's all right," said the old lady easily. "Zara is a good girl and will obey her mother to whom she owes so much."
"That is the very thing I don't wish her to do," insisted Hench, sharply; "it is no question of filial obedience. If she accepts me of her own free will, and without coercion from you, I marry her; otherwise I will not."
"I am not in the habit of coercing my daughter," said Madame Alpenny loftily, and, as usual, evading the main point; "and I shall expect you to return with all information about your family. Then we can talk. I look upon you as a man of honour, Mr. Hench, so much so that I do not even ask you to give me any address. If you get money you will marry Zara."
"And if I do not?"
Madame Alpenny shrugged her fat shoulders. "In that case she will marry another person who has money."
"You are very business-like," said Hench, highly disapproving of this mercantile way of looking at things.
"I always am," she assured him coolly; "it saves trouble!"
Owain said no more at the moment, nor did he have any conversation on the subject again with the Hungarian lady prior to his departure. Madame Alpenny evidently had full confidence in his love for her daughter, and believed that Zara's beauty would lure him back again with gold in his pockets. Had she had any idea of the interview between the two young people, and the new relationship of brother and sister which that interview had suggested, she might have been less easy in her scheming mind. But Hench held his tongue and so did Zara, therefore Madame Alpenny was kept in a kind of fool's paradise. The young man reported the conversation hurriedly to the girl, and being clever, she knew exactly how to act so as to keep her mother in ignorance, until such time as she could declare her own mind and choose her own mate.
Meanwhile; Hench got to work expeditiously and packed his scanty luggage, after paying Mrs. Tesk what he owed her. The ex-school-mistress was very sorry to lose him, not only from a financial point of view but because she really had a regard for him. Still, as she intimated, they were both leaves floating on the river of life, and the currents of circumstances were parting them. She hoped that he would enjoy himself and prosper wherever he was going, but if Fortune proved unkind, he was to remember that a refined abode always waited for him as a haven in adversity. All this and much more said Mrs. Tesk, who had a warm heart and hospitable nature. Hench was quite sorry to leave her, as he liked the quaint old lady and her odd ways. And just when Owain finished his business in her sanctum he emerged to run against Spruce, who looked more like a fashion-plate and less like a man than ever.
"Just got back," said the Nut airily; "had a topping time. Wish you had been with me, instead of wasting your sweetness on the desert air hereabouts."
"I was not going to waste it any longer," said Hench dryly. "I am leaving this house this afternoon."
"Oh, I say,"--Spruce looked disappointed and uneasy,--"for how long?"
"For ever! There is nothing to keep me here that I know of, and as I told you long ago, I am more or less of a bird of passage."
"What about Mademoiselle Zara?"
"Oh, that's all right; and may I remind you it's none of your business?"
"Well, don't get in a wax," protested Spruce amiably. "I never saw such a chap for jumping on a fellow."
"If you think so, you must be glad that I am going away."
"No, I'm not," confessed the Nut frankly. "You're a gentleman and so am I, and in this hole you're the only chap I can chum up with."
"We have not chummed up, as you put it," said Hench frigidly. "Well, that isn't my fault. I am always willing to be friendly, and if you won't be it's your loss, not mine. Where are you going?"
"That, again, is my business. I may be going abroad, or I may stay in London, or I may be going to the moon."
"You're crazy enough for that last, anyhow, if lunatics live there as some one said," fumed Spruce, who was growing angry. "And you're silly to make an enemy of me, you know."
"I don't want you as a friend, and I don't care if you are my enemy five times over," said Hench very straightly. "What the deuce do you mean by that threat? What harm can you do me?"
"I never said that I could or would do you any harm," protested Spruce, feeling uncomfortable; "but some day I may be able to do you a good turn."
Hench looked at the spic and span little man, and felt rather sorry for him, as he seemed to mean well, in spite of his irritating curiosity. "Let us part friends," he said, holding out his hand. "After all, you are an old schoolfellow and have got your good points. But oil and water don't mix. See?"
Spruce gave the extended hand a feeble shake and dropped it. "I can't help seeing, when you put things so straightly. It's a difference of temperament, I suppose--you're clay and I'm china. But I tell you what," cried Spruce, with his pale blue eyes flashing maliciously, "you'll be glad enough some day for me to come and help you!"
"I always make a point of seeking no one's assistance," said Hench coldly, and walked up to his room, wondering what Spruce meant, since there was a significance in his tone which intimated that he quite expected to meet his enemy again.
Spruce looked after the tall, straight form of the young man, and bit his nether lip with anything but an amiable look. He greatly regretted that Hench should go away thus suddenly, as the unexpected departure upset his plans for making money out of him. He still clung to the idea that the mysterious papers at the lawyers' had something to do with a fortune, and determined not to lose sight of Hench, come what may. Therefore he also retired to his own room to plot and plan and devise schemes whereby he could entangle his prey in invisible nets. But this he could not do without the aid of Madame Alpenny, since she was the mother of Zara, whom Hench loved. So to Madame Alpenny the Nut went and had quite a long conversation with her, which conversation resulted in his quitting the house at the hour of Hench's departure. Owain was relieved when the time came for him to go to find that Spruce was not at his elbow with his disagreeable civilities. He never could bring himself to like Spruce.
It was Bottles who helped the taxi-cab driver to carry down the trunk and portmanteau which formed his hero's luggage. The boy had returned on the morning of the day when Hench departed and was desperately sorry to hear of the exit. Hench gave him a sovereign and comforted him with a promise that on some future occasion they would meet again. Then Bottles proffered a request that Hench would give him some address to write to, and strange to say, the young man supplied him with the information he asked for. He felt that he could wholly trust Bottles.
"But you won't have anything to write to me about," he said, when the written address was handed over.
Bottles looked up with a shrewd smile on his freckled face. "The mouse helped the lion, sir, as mother told me, and I may help you."
"What do you mean by that? How can you help me?"
"Least said is soonest mended, as mother says," retorted Bottles wisely. "And it ain't for nothing as I've read detective stories. I won't give any one the address, sir. I'm yours till death!" and he folded his arms with a noble air.
Hench drove away rather bewildered. "The boy is mad," he said. But the boy was not.
CHAPTER VI
SEEKING TROUBLE
It was for two reasons that Hench left The Home of the Muses and vanished--so far as the paying guests were concerned--into the unknown. In the first place, he wished to render Zara's position more easy; in the second he desired to have nothing more to do with Madame Alpenny; and also there was a third and less important reason, which had to do with Cuthbert Spruce. While Owain drove westward in the taxi, he amused himself by surveying his position.
With regard to the girl, Hench was beginning to grasp the fact that he really did not love her, or he would have been more moved by her frank confession of love for Bracken. What she had said was quite true, as he now acknowledged. He admired her, and being lonely, wished for a companion, so as to make a centre in life round which he could revolve. It was an odd comparison but a very true one. Any other woman, handsome, kind-hearted and affectionate, would have done as well as Zara to bring about the desired end, and Owain confessed to himself that to propose such a business-like scheme to a girl was rather a cold-blooded way of looking at love. She was--he confessed this also--quite right to refuse him, and to accept the offer of a man who adored her. This being the case, Hench decided that it only remained for him to go away, since his presence would more or less embarrass her, in spite of the brother-and-sister compact. Finally, being very human, Owain felt that it was impossible to stay, and witnessing Bracken triumphing where he had failed. On the whole, therefore, he was well pleased to escape from Bethnal Green, and his feelings suffered very little from the exile.
The second reason, which had Madame Alpenny for its excuse, was also connected more or less indirectly with Zara's refusal. Since the idea of money coming to him had occurred to the Hungarian lady, she had been more amiably disposed towards Hench with regard to his half-hearted wooing of her daughter. Yet, as she was still uncertain that Owain would be rich, she had not--according to the slang phrase--forced the pace. But if fancy became fact and the mysterious papers really did place him in possession of a fortune, Hench felt tolerably convinced that Madame Alpenny would worry him and worry Zara until she brought about the marriage. Under the circumstances this was not to be thought of, as apart from the fact of his readjusted relations with the girl, Madame Alpenny was by no means desirable as a mother-in-law. She was poor, inquisitive, scheming and decidedly dangerous; always on the alert to make what she could out of others, and--as Hench believed--unscrupulous in her methods of gaining what she desired. Already he had told her more about his private affairs than was altogether wise, more or less against his will, as it would seem, since she had wormed her way into his confidence with remarkable dexterity. It struck him forcibly that he was wise to avoid her by leaving the boarding-house, and he congratulated himself on his promptitude in dealing with the situation. And as he had done so judiciously, it was unlikely that Madame Alpenny would ever trouble him again.