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.