The Thirteenth Man

Philip Barrimore’s new book was growing to his full satisfaction under his pen, despite the frequent interruptions occasioned by the visits of Phyllis Lane.

Phyllis had received one letter from her husband—a cheerful letter, which touched only lightly on the dangers he was going to encounter in quelling the native rising—the purpose for which he had been sent out. He did earnestly beg permission to inform Colonel Lane of their secret marriage, expressing regret that they could not have been open about it all.

This angered Phyllis. She knew that she alone was responsible for the secret marriage. She had clamored for it; she had insisted, even with tears, partly because she wanted to prove to her father that she was a young woman not to be thwarted, and partly because the spice of romance appealed to her.

No, she would certainly not give Charlie permission to make a clean breast of it, she told Philip. It was really very unkind of Charlie to worry her like this, when he must know that she had quite enough to bear, thinking of him “millions and millions of miles away,” and very likely getting himself killed by those horrid natives.

That was the way Phyllis had spoken to Philip. But she had written over about a quire of paper to her husband, using the most extravagant endearments, but telling him that if he wanted to make her bear all the brunt of their escapade by herself—well, he had only to do what he proposed and inform her father.

She walked down to the General Post Office with this precious letter to get it weighed before posting.

As she was fixing the stamps, who should enter the office but Colonel Lane himself. Close behind him was a woman, who had a dog on a leash.

Colonel Lane looked with some curiosity at the address of the letter which required so much extra postage.

Then he saw.

He would not make a scene in a public place. He would follow his daughter outside, and ask her not to post the letter till they had had a little conversation about it.

But Phyllis turned and looked over her shoulder, and seeing her father, darted laughingly to the door.

Colonel Lane was about to follow when his foot caught in the leash of the dog, and he had to disentangle himself.

Consequently, when he emerged, it was to see his daughter coming empty-handed from the first of the two big letter-boxes.

She glanced up from under an enormous hat-brim and smiled saucily.

“Going anywhere, dad?” she inquired innocently, as she tried to button a glove which was a trifle too small.

“I was going over to Brighton,” he answered briefly.

“Oh! then why change your mind?” inquired Phyllis.

“Because I want to talk to you about the letter you have just posted.”

They had started walking in the direction of the Clock Tower, and instead of taking the way to the railway station, Colonel Lane piloted his daughter across the tram lines, past the side of the Queen’s Hotel, and across to the spot where the two Albertines were hauled up.

Phyllis knew quite well that her father was seeking the long seat opposite the “Albany,” where they could sit and talk unobserved, for at this hour the band was playing higher up on the Parade, and it was there that the holiday crowd gathered.

Phyllis had guessed rightly, for coming to the seat that runs the full length of the enclosed garden in front of the “Albany,” Colonel Lane suggested that they should sit down.

Phyllis was far from comfortable.

“I am sorry that my little girl should deceive me,” began the Colonel in pained tones.

“Oh, don’t be cross!” said Phyllis, tugging viciously at a lace scarf which she was wearing, and which had caught on a button of her blouse. “There! now I have torn it!” she exclaimed.

“You know that you and Captain Arbuthnot were not to hold any communication during his absence,” went on the Colonel, ignoring his daughter’s remarks. “It is not treating that young man fairly—or me.”

“Oh, dad, let us talk of something else,” broke out Phyllis.

The Colonel began to lose patience. “I shall write to Captain Arbuthnot,” he said, “and express a wish that he leaves your letter unanswered. He is a gentleman and a soldier, and will understand. Women have no sense of honor.”

(The speaker made a mental reservation in favor of Mrs. Barrimore.)

“Any more for the motor boat?” shouted a boatman in raucous tones. “Come and have a jolly sail! We’re just a-going to start!”

“Oh, dear! do go to Brighton and leave me in peace!” cried Phyllis. “You’ll see some day the mistake you have made in your treatment of me! You complain that I deceive you, but you force me to do it! I love Captain Arbuthnot.”

“My dear child, you think you do. If I were sure this love you speak of would be lasting, I would act quite differently. Let us see it properly tested by absence and by silence. If when Captain Arbuthnot comes back from India you are both of the same mind, I will make no further objection. Is not that enough?”

“You will get a big surprise when he does come back,” muttered Phyllis.

Just then to the girl’s great relief Mrs. Barrimore and Mr. Burns came up.

Uncle Robert was in a state of pleased excitement.

“Do come to the bandstand!” he panted. “Come at once, and I will show you the most beautiful girl in the world!”

“It is poor Eweretta’s half-sister, Aimée Le Breton,” explained Mrs. Barrimore. “She is with her uncle, listening to the music. I think she is surpassingly beautiful, and now I do not wonder that poor Philip is consecrated to Eweretta’s memory. I never saw Eweretta, but I am told that the sisters were remarkably alike. It has been a lasting regret of Philip’s that he had no photograph of Eweretta.”

Uncle Robert beamed as a thought crossed his mind, to which he gave instant expression.

“Dan shall paint Aimée Le Breton!” he exclaimed. “I will move heaven and earth to bring it about, and I will give the picture to Philip.”

“But this poor girl is not—quite right, I understand,” said the Colonel. “I hear that no one is allowed to visit her.”

“A big mistake—now, anyway,” vociferated Uncle Robert. “She is out like anyone else, and looks as sane as you—but sad. Yes, there is no doubt she looks sad. A lovely girl! Won’t Dan like his job! The old uncle is a rough sort of fellow, but he answered quite pleasantly when I spoke to him. I didn’t tell him who I was, though. Come along and see them before they go.”

Eweretta was seated on a deck-chair near the bandstand. She was wearing a white serge costume and a big white hat, which set off her dark beauty and wonderful complexion. The sea air had given color to her otherwise pale face. She looked almost out of place with her uncouth companion.

Phyllis, who had already caught sight of her in the garden of the White House, was amazed at the change in her.

“I shouldn’t wonder,” she whispered to Mrs. Barrimore, “if Philip falls in love with her, as she is so like Eweretta.”

“Ah, no!” said the mother. “Philip will remain faithful. Moreover, that poor girl ought never to marry anyone. She may any time fall back into her former condition.”

It was the morning following this evening that Philip received a note, delivered by Pierre, which a good deal surprised him. It was from Thomas Alvin, expressing regret at the manner in which he had received Philip, the day he had been so kind as to call. It told him, too, a fact Philip had already heard, that Miss Le Breton (by which name he, of course, called Eweretta) had made a complete recovery.

Thomas Alvin, in his new-born affection for his niece, had conceived the idea of giving her another chance to win back her lover by letting the young people meet again, and this letter was a preliminary move in the game.

As for the intimacy between Philip and Miss Lane, which everyone was saying was an engagement, Alvin did not trouble himself in the least. Philip belonged to Eweretta. If there was any stealing away of a lover, then Miss Lane was the thief. If Philip should once more love Eweretta—though he believed her to be Aimée—then much of the wrong inflicted upon the girl would be undone.

But Eweretta Alvin knew nothing of all this.

Eweretta’s attitude after that interview with her uncle in which she had capitulated had been one of extreme reserve—on the one point, at least. Alvin could not understand her. The women he had known had loudly proclaimed their griefs. Eweretta herself had had more than one hysterical outbreak at the time when drugs were constantly given to her. But Eweretta without the drugs was a very different person.

Alvin had scarcely seen her up to the time of her father’s death, and knew nothing of her natural characteristics. He concluded that as she was certainly not an Alvin, she must take after her mother’s family. He had never even seen Eweretta’s mother. But he had heard that she was a woman of great refinement and reserve. He had heard, too, that knowing her husband’s infidelity, she had never opened her lips upon the subject, but had quietly and silently died.

Alvin did not mean for Eweretta to follow her example. The kind look in the girl’s eyes as she had spoken those memorable words which showed him what Divine forgiveness could mean had worked a miracle in Alvin. He was reclaimed to human feeling by being taught that he was a man still, recognized and treated as a man. For the first time he had felt that he was not despised, and his heart had opened in a tide of affection and generosity.

If Alvin failed to understand Eweretta, she was even more of a riddle to Mrs. Le Breton.

“I shall call you ‘mother’ now,” Eweretta had said to her, after briefly explaining her changed conditions, “and I will try to be as a daughter to you.”

Mrs. Le Breton’s ideas of a daughter were, to begin with, full confidence. This Eweretta withheld.

Apparently the girl’s one idea was to bury the past, and take her place in the household as if really the girl Aimée whom she personated. She evidently had no intention of brooding and moping. She asked her uncle for a piano, which was immediately purchased at Hermitage’s in Robertson Street. She also accompanied both Mrs. Le Breton and her uncle on their excursions into Hastings, and showed an interest in her clothes. She was behaving in every way as a normal young woman.

But Mrs. Le Breton felt her own life very considerably brightened by the change.

So this is how it came about that “Miss Le Breton” was seen on the Parade, listening to the band.