"Who told you so?" he asked.
"All the birds of Wellingsford."
"I did go to see him now and then," he admitted. "I thought he was much maligned. A man with sincere opinions, even though they're wrong, is deserving of some respect, especially when the expression of them involves considerable courage and sacrifice. I wanted to get to the bottom of his point of view."
"If you used such a metaphor in the Albemarle," I interrupted, "I'm afraid you would be sacrificed by your friends."
He had the grace to laugh. "You know what I mean."
"And did you get to the bottom of it?"
"I think so."
"And what did you find?"
"Crass ignorance and malevolent hatred of everyone better born, better educated, better off, better dressed, better spoken than himself."
"Still," said I, "a human being can have those disabilities and yet not deserve to be qualified as the most infernal swine unhung."
"That's a different matter," said he, unbuttoning his canvas jacket, for the morning was warm. "I can talk patiently to a fool--to be able to do so is an elementary equipment for a life among men and women--"
Why the deuce, thought I, wasn't he expending this precious acquirement on a platoon of agricultural recruits? The officer who suffers such gladly has his name inscribed on the Golden Legend (unfortunately unpublished) of the British Army--"but when it comes," he went on, "to low-down lying knavery, then I'm done. I don't know how to tackle it.
All I can do is to get out of the knave's way. I've found Gedge to be a beast, and I'm very honourably in love with Gedge's daughter, and I've asked her to marry me. I attach some value, Major, to your opinion of me, and I want you, to know these two facts."
I again expressed my gratification at learning his honourable intentions towards Phyllis, and I commended his discovery of Gedge's fundamental turpitude. I cannot say that I was cordial. At this period, the unmilitary youth of England were not affectionately coddled by their friends. Still, I was curious to see whether Gedge's depravity extended beyond a purely political scope. I questioned my young visitor.
"Oh, it's nothing to do with abstract opinions," said he, thinning away the butt-end of his cigarette. "And nothing to do with treason, or anything of that kind. He has got hold of a horrible story--told me all about it when he was foully drunk--that in itself would have made me break with him, for I loathe drunken men--and gloats over the fact that he is holding it over somebody's head. Oh, a ghastly story!"
I bent my brows on him. "Anything to do with South Africa?"
"South Africa--? No. Why?"
The puzzled look on his face showed that I was entirely on the wrong track. I was disappointed at the faultiness of my acumen. You see, I argued thus: Gedge goes off on a mysterious jaunt with Boyce. Boyce retreats precipitately to London. Gedge in his cups tells a horrible scandal with a suggestion of blackmail to Randall Holmes. What else could he have divulged save the Vilboek Farm affair? My nimble wit had led me a Jack o' Lantern dance to nowhere.
"Why South Africa?" he repeated.
I replied with Macchiavellian astuteness, so as to put him on a false scent: "A stupid slander about illicit diamond buying in connection with a man, now dead, who used to live here some years ago."
"Oh, no," said Randall, with a superior smile "Nothing of that sort."
"Well, what is it?" I asked.
He helped himself to another cigarette. "That," said he, "I can't tell you. In the first place I gave my word of honour as to secrecy before he told me, and, in the next, even if I hadn't given my word, I would not be a party to such a slander by repeating it to any living man." He bent forward and looked me straight in the eyes. "Even to you, Major, who have been a second father to me."
"A man," said I, "has a priceless possession that he should always keep--his own counsel."
"I've only told you as much as I have done," said Randall, "because I want to make clear to you my position with regard both to Phyllis and her father."
"May I ask," said I, "what is Phyllis's attitude towards her father?" I knew well enough from Betty; but I wanted to see how much Randall knew about it.
"She is so much out of sympathy with his opinions that she has gone to live at the hospital."
"Perhaps she thinks you share those opinions, and for that reason won't marry you?"
"That may have something to do with it, although I have done my best to convince her that I hold diametrically opposite views, But you can't expect a woman to reason."
"The unexpected sometimes happens," I remarked. "And then comes catastrophe; in this case not to the woman." I cannot say that my tone was sympathetic. I had cause for interest in his artless tale, but it was cold and dispassionate. "Tell me," I continued, "when did you discover the diabolical nature of the man Gedge?"
"Last night."
"And when did you ask Phyllis to marry you?"
"A week ago."
"What's going to happen now?" I asked.
"I'm hanged if I know," said he, gloomily.
I was in no mood to offer the young man any advice. The poor little wretch at the hospital--so Betty had told me--was crying her eyes out for him; but it was not for his soul's good that he should know it.
"In heroic days," said I, "a hopeless lover always found a sovereign remedy against an obdurate mistress."
He rose and buttoned up his canvas jacket.
"I know what you mean," he said. "And I didn't come to discuss it--if you'll excuse my apparent rudeness in saying so."
"Then things are as they were between us."
"Not quite, I hope," he replied in a dignified way. "When last you spoke to me about Phyllis Gedge, I really didn't know my own mind. I am not a cad and the thought of--of anything wrong never entered my head.
On the other hand, marriage seemed out of the question."
"I remember," said I, "you talked some blithering rot about her being a symbol."
"I am quite willing to confess I was a fool," he admitted gracefully.
"And I merited your strictures."
His reversion to artificiality annoyed me. I'm far from being of an angelic disposition.
"My dear boy," I cried. "Do, for God's sake, talk human English, and not the New Oxford Dictionary."
He flushed angrily, snapped an impatient finger and thumb, and marched away to the gravel path. I sang out sharply:
"Randall!"
He turned. I cried:
"Come here at once."
He came with sullen reluctance. Afterwards I was rather tickled at realizing that the lame old war-dog had so much authority left. If he had gone defiantly off, I should have felt rather a fool.