Chapter 4

"I will tell you now what your brother said to me, Hope," he said, his voice half-quizzical, half-tender. "He's an impertinent young rascal, but I bore with him for your sake, dear. He said: 'Go in and win, old fellow, and I'll give you my blessing!' Generous of him, wasn't it? But the question is, have I won?"

Yet she could not speak. Only as he stretched out his hands to her, she laid her own within them without an instant's hesitation, and suffered them to remain in his close grasp. When he spoke to her again, his voice was sunk very low.

"How did I come to propose in this idiotic fashion across the breakfast-table?" he said. "Never mind, it's done now--or nearly done. You mustn't tremble, dear. I have been rather sudden, I know. I should have waited longer; but, under the circumstances, it seemed better to speak at once. But there is nothing to frighten you. Just look me in the face and tell me, may I be more than a friend to you? Will you have me for a husband?" Hope raised her eyes obediently, with a sudden sense of confidence unutterable. They were full of the quick tears of joy.

"Of course!" she said instantly. "Of course!" She blushed again afterwards, when she recalled her prompt, and even rapturous, answer to his question. But, at the time, it was the most natural and spontaneous thing in the world. It was not in her at that moment to have answered him otherwise. And Baring knew it, understanding so perfectly that no other word was necessary on either side. He only bent his head, and held her two hands very closely to his lips before he gently let them go. It was his sole reply to her glad response. Yet she felt as if there was something solemn in his action; almost as if thereby he registered a vow.

VI

HER ENEMY

Notwithstanding her determination to return to Ghantala after the breaking of the monsoon. Hope stayed on at the Hill Station with Mrs. Latimer till the rains were nearly over. She had wished to return, but her hostess, her _fiancé_, and her brother were all united in the resolve to keep her where she was. So insistent were they that they prevailed at length. It had been a particularly bad season at Ghantala, and sickness was rife there.

Baring even went so far as positively to forbid her to return till this should have abated.

"You will have to obey me when we are married, you know," he grimly told her. "So you may as well begin at once."

And Hope obeyed him. There was something about this man that compelled her obedience. Her secret fear of him had not wholly disappeared. There were times when the thought that she might one day incur his displeasure made her uneasy. His strength awed even while it thrilled her. Behind his utmost tenderness she felt his mastery.

And so she yielded, and remained at the Hill Station till Mrs. Latimer herself returned to Ghantala in October. She and Ronnie had not been together for nearly six weeks, and the separation seemed to her like as many months. He was at the station to meet them, and the moment she saw him she was conscious of a shock. She had never before seen him look so hollow-eyed and thin.

He greeted her, however, with a gaiety that, in some degree, reassured her. He seemed delighted to have her with him again, was full of the news and gossip of the station, and chattered like a schoolboy throughout the drive to their bungalow.

Her uncle came out of his room to welcome her, and then burrowed back again, and remained invisible for the rest of the evening. But Hope did not want him. She wanted no one but Ronnie just then.

The night was chilly, and they had a fire. Hope lay on a sofa before it, and Ronnie sat and smoked. Both were luxuriously comfortable till a hand rapped smartly upon the window and made them jump.

Ronnie exclaimed with a violence that astonished Hope, and started to his feet. She also sprang up eagerly, almost expecting to see her _fiancé_. But her expectations were quickly dashed.

"It's that fellow Hyde!" Ronnie said, looking at her rather doubtfully. "You don't mind?"

Her face fell, but he did not wait for her reply. He stepped across to the window, and admitted the visitor.

Hyde sauntered in with a casual air.

He came across to her, smiling in the way she loathed, and almost before she realized it he had her hand in a tight, impressive grip, and his pale eyes were gazing full into hers.

"You look as fresh as an English rose," was his deliberate greeting.

Hope freed her hand with a slight, involuntary gesture of disgust. Till the moment of seeing him again she had almost forgotten how utterly objectionable he was.

"I am quite well," she said coldly. "I think I shall go to bed, Ronnie. I'm tired."

Ronnie was pouring some whisky into a glass. She noticed that his hand was very shaky.

"All right," he said, not looking at her.

"You're not going to desert us already?" said Hyde; still, as she felt, mocking her with his smile. "It will be dark, indeed, when Hope is withdrawn."

He went to the door, but paused with his hand upon it. She looked at him with the wild shrinking of a trapped creature in her eyes.

"Never mind," he laughed softly; "I am very tenacious. Even now--you will scarcely believe it--I still have--Hope!"

He opened the door with the words, and, as she passed through in unbroken silence, her face as white as marble, there was something in his words, something of self-assured power, almost of menace, that struck upon her like a breath of evil. She would have stayed and defied him had she dared. But somehow, inexplicably, she was afraid.

VII

THE SCRAPE

Very late that night there came a low knock at Hope's door. She was lying awake, and she instantly started up on her elbow.

"Who is it?" she called.

The door opened softly, and Ronnie answered her.

"I thought you would like to say good-night, Hope," he said.

"Oh, come in, dear!" Hope sat up eagerly. She had not expected this attention from Ronnie. "I'm wide awake. I'm so glad you came!"

He slipped into the room, and, reaching her, bent to kiss her; then, as she clung closely to him, he sat down on the edge of her bed.

"I'm sorry Hyde annoyed you," he said.

She leaned her head against him, and was silent.

"It'll be a good thing for you when you're married," Ronnie went on presently. "Baring will take better care of you than I do."

Something in his tone went straight to her heart. Her clinging arms tightened, but still she was silent. For what he said was unanswerable.

When he spoke again, she felt it was with an effort.

"Baring came round to-night to see you. I went out and spoke to him. I told him you had gone to bed, and so he didn't come in. I was glad he didn't. Hyde was there, and they don't hit it particularly well. In fact--" he hesitated. "I would rather he didn't know Hyde was here. Baring's a good chap--the best in the world. He's done no end for me; more than I can ever tell you. But he's awfully hard in some ways. I can't tell him everything. He doesn't always understand."

Again there sounded in his voice that faint, wistful note that so smote upon Hope's heart. She drew nearer to him, her cheek against his shoulder.

"Oh, Ronnie," she said, and her voice quivered passionately, "never think that of me, dear! Never think that I can't understand!"

He kissed her forehead.

"Bless you, old girl!" he whispered huskily.

"My marriage will make no difference--no difference," she insisted. "You and I will still be to each other what we have always been. There will be the same trust between us, the same confidence. Rather than lose that, I will never marry at all!"

She spoke with vehemence, but Ronnie was not carried away by it.

"Baring will have the right to know all your secrets," he said gloomily.

"Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Hope impulsively. "He would never expect that. He knows that we are twins, and there is no tie in the world that is quite like that."

Ronnie was silent, but she felt that it was not the silence of acquiescence. She took him by the shoulders and made him face her.

"Ronnie," she said very earnestly, "if you will only tell me things, and let me help you where I can, I swear to you--I swear to you most solemnly--that I will never betray your confidence to Monty, or to any one else: I know that he would never ask it of me; but even if he did--even if he did--I would not do it." She spoke so steadfastly, so loyally, that he was strongly moved. He thrust his arm boyishly round her.

"All right, dear old girl, I trust you," he said. "I'll tell you all about it. As I see you have guessed, there is a bit of a scrape; but it will be all right in two or three weeks. I've been a fool, and got into debt again. Baring helped me out once. That's partly why I'm so particularly anxious that he shouldn't get wind of it this time. Fact is, I'm very much in Hyde's power for the time being. But, as I say, it will be all right before long. I've promised to ride his Waler for the Ghantala Valley Cup next month. It's a pretty safe thing, and if I pull it off, as I intend to do, everything will be cleared, and I shall be out of his hands. It's a sort of debt of honour, you see. I can't get out of it, but I shall be jolly glad when it's over. We'll chuck him then, if he isn't civil. But till then I'm more or less helpless. So you'll do your best to tolerate him for my sake, won't you?"

A great sigh rose from Hope's heart, but she stifled it. Hyde's attitude of insolent power was explained to her, and she would have given all she had at that moment to have been free to seek Baring's advice.

"I'll try, dear," she said. "But I think the less I see of him the better it will be. Are you quite sure of winning the Cup?"

"Oh, quite," said Ronnie, with confidence. "Quite. Do you remember the races we used to have when we were kids? We rode barebacked in those days. You could stick on anything. Remember?"

Yes, Hope remembered; and a sudden, almost fierce regret surged up within her.

"Oh, Ronnie," she said, "I wish we were kids still!"

He laughed at her softly, and rose.

"I know better," he said; "and so does Baring. Good-night, old girl! Sleep well!"

And with that he left her. But Hope scarcely slept till break of day.

VIII

BEFORE THE RACE

Hope had arranged to go to the races with Mrs. Latimer after previously lunching with her.

When the day arrived she spent the morning working on the veranda in the sunshine. It was a perfect day of Indian winter, and under its influence she gradually forgot her anxieties, and fell to dreaming while she worked.

Down below the compound she heard the stream running swiftly between its banks, with a bubbling murmur like half-suppressed laughter. It was fuller than she had ever known it. The rains had swelled the river higher up the valley, and they had opened the sluice-gates to relieve the pressure upon the dam that had been built there after the disastrous flood that had drowned the English girl years before.

Hope loved to hear that soft chuckling between the reeds. It made her think of an English springtime. The joy of spring was in her veins. She turned her face to the sunshine with a smile of purest happiness. Only two months more to the zenith of her happiness!

There came the sound of a step on the veranda--a stumbling, uncertain step. She turned swiftly in her chair, and sprang up. Ronnie had returned to prepare for the race, and she had not heard him. She had not seen him before that day, and she felt a momentary compunction as she moved to greet him. And then--her heart stood still.

He was standing a few paces away, supporting himself against a pillar of the veranda. His eyes were fixed and heavy, like the eyes of a man walking in his sleep. He stared at her dully, as if he were looking at a complete stranger.

Hope stopped short, gazing at him in speechless consternation.

After several moments he spoke thickly, scarcely intelligibly.

"I can't race to-day," he said. "Not well enough. Hyde must find a substitute."

He could hardly articulate the last word, but Hope caught his meaning. The whole miserable tragedy was written up before her in plain, unmistakable characters.

But almost as quickly as she perceived it came the thought that no one else must know. Something must be done, even though it was at the eleventh hour.

Her first instinct was to send for Baring, but she thrust it from her. No! She must find another way. There must be a way out if she were only quick enough to see it--some way by which she could cover up his disgrace so that none should know of it. There was a way--surely there was a way! Ronnie's dull stare became intolerable. She went to him, bravely, steadfastly.

"Go and lie down!" she said. "I will see about it for you."

Something in her own words sent a sudden flash through her brain. She caught her breath, and her face turned very white. But her steadfastness did not forsake her. She took Ronnie by the arm and guided him to his room.

IX

THE RACE

"Such a pity. Hope can't come!"

Mrs. Latimer addressed Baring, who had just approached her across the racecourse. The sun was shining brilliantly, and the scene was very gay.

Baring, who had drawn near with a certain eagerness, seemed to stiffen at her words.

"Can't come!" he echoed. "Why not?"

Mrs. Latimer handed him a note.

"She sent this round half an hour ago."

Baring read the note with bent brows. It merely stated that the writer had been working all the morning and was a little tired. Would Mrs. Latimer kindly understand and excuse her?

He handed it back without comment.

"Where is young Carteret?" he asked. "Have you seen him yet?"

"No," she answered. "Somebody was saying he was late. Ah! There he is, surely--just going into the weighing-tent. What a superb horse that is of Mr. Hyde's! Do you think he will win the Cup?"

Baring thought it likely, but he said it with so preoccupied an air that Mrs. Latimer smiled, and considerately refrained from detaining him.

She watched him walk down towards the weighing-tent; but before he reached it, she saw the figure of young Carteret issue forth at the farther end, and start off at a run with his saddle on his shoulder towards the enclosure where the racers were waiting. He was late, and she thought he looked flurried.

A few minutes later Baring returned to her.

"The boy is behindhand, as usual," he remarked. "I didn't get near him. Time is just up. I hear the Rajah thinks very highly of Hyde's Waler."

Mrs. Latimer looked across at the Indian Prince who was presenting the Cup. He was seated in the midst of a glittering crowd of natives and British officers. She saw that he was closely scanning the restless line of horses at the starting-point.

Through her glasses she sought the big black Waler. He was foaming and stamping uneasily, and she saw that his rider's face was deadly pale.

"I don't believe Ronnie can be well," she said. "He looks so nervous."

Baring grunted in a dissatisfied note, but said nothing.

Another two minutes, and the signal was given. There were ten horses in the race. It was a fair start, and the excitement in the watching crowd became at once intense.

Baring remained at Mrs. Latimer's side. She was on her feet, and scarcely breathing. The black horse stretched himself out like a greyhound, galloping splendidly over the shining green of the course. His rider, crouched low in the saddle, looked as if at any instant he might be hurled to the earth.

Baring watched him critically, his jaw set and grim. Obviously, the boy was not himself, and he fancied he knew the reason.

"If he pulls it off, it'll be the biggest fluke of his life," he muttered.

"Isn't it queer?" whispered Mrs. Latimer. "I never saw young Carteret ride like that before."

Baring was silent. He began to think he understood Hope's failure to put in an appearance.

Gradually the black Waler drew away from all but two others, who hotly contested the leadership. He was running superbly, though he apparently received but small encouragement from his rider.

As they drew round the curve at the further end of the course, he was galloping next to the rails. As they finally turned into the straight run home, he was leading.

But the horse next to him, urged by his rider, who was also his owner, made so strenuous an effort that it became obvious to all that he was gaining upon the Waler.

A great yell went up of "Carteret! Carteret! Wake up, Carteret! Don't give it away!" And the Waler's rider, as if startled by the cry, suddenly and convulsively slashed the animal's withers.

Through a great tumult of shouting the two horses dashed past the winning-post. It seemed a dead heat; but, immediately after, the news spread that Hyde's horse was the winner. The Waler had gained his victory by a neck.

Hyde was leading his horse round to the Rajah's stand. His jockey, looking white and exhausted, sat so loosely in the saddle that he seemed to sway with the animal's movements. He did not appear to hear the cheering around him.

Baring took up his stand near the weighing-tent, and, a few minutes later, Hyde and his jockey came up together. The boy's cap was dragged down over his eyes, and he looked neither to right nor left.

Hyde, perceiving Baring, pushed forward abruptly.

"I want a word with you," he said. "I've been trying to catch you for some days past. But first, what did you think of the race?" He coolly fastened on to Baring's elbow, and the latter had to pause. Hyde's companion passed swiftly on; and Hyde, seeing the look on Baring's face, began to laugh.

"It's all right; you needn't look so starched. The little beggar's been starving himself for the occasion, and overdone it. He'll pull round with a little feeding up. Tell me what you thought of the race! Splendid chap, that animal of mine, eh?"

He kept Baring talking for several minutes; and, when they finally parted, his opportunity had gone.

Baring went into the weighing-tent, but Ronnie was nowhere to be seen. And he wondered rather grimly as he walked away if Hyde had detained him purposely to give the boy a chance to escape.

X

THE ENEMY'S TERMS

It was nearly dark that evening when Hope stood again on the veranda of the Magician's, bungalow, and listened to the water running through the reeds. She thought it sounded louder than in the morning--- more insistent, less mirthful. She shivered a little as she stood there. She felt lonely; her uncle was away for a couple of days, and Ronnie was in his room. She was bracing herself to go and rouse him to dress for mess. Slowly, at last, she turned to go. But at the same instant a voice called to her from below, and she stopped short.

"Ah, don't run away!" it said. "I've come on purpose to see you--on a matter of importance."

Reluctantly Hope waited. She knew the voice well, and it made her quiver in every nerve with the instinct of flight. Yet she summoned all her resolution and stood still, while Hyde calmly mounted the veranda steps and approached her. He was in riding-dress, and he carried a crop, walking with all the swaggering insolence that she loathed.

"There's something I want to say to you," he said. "I can come in, I suppose? It won't take me long."

He took her permission for granted, and turned into the drawing-room. Hope followed him in silence. She could not pretend to this man that his presence was a pleasure to her. She hated him, and deep in her heart she feared him as she feared no one else in the world.

He looked at her with eyes of cynical criticism by the light of the shaded lamp. She felt that there was something worse than insolence about him that night--something of cruelty, of brutality even, from which she was powerless to escape.

"Come!" he said, as she did not speak. "Doesn't it occur to you that I have been a particularly good friend to you to-day?"

Hope faced him steadily. Twice before she had evaded this man, but she knew that to-night evasion was out of the question. She must confront him without panic, and alone.

"I think you must tell me what you mean," she said, her voice very low.

He shrugged his shoulders indifferently, and then laughed at her--his abominable, mocking laugh.

"I have noticed before," he said, "that when a woman finds herself in a tight corner, she invariably tries to divert attention by asking unnecessary questions. It's a harmless little stratagem that may serve her turn. But in this case, let me assure you, it is sheer waste of time. I hold you--and your brother, also--in the hollow of my hand. And you know it."

He spoke slowly, with a confidence from which there was no escape. His eyes still closely watched her face. And Hope felt again that wild terror, which only he had ever inspired in her, knocking at her heart.

She did not ask him a second time what he meant. He had made her realize the utter futility of prevarication. Instead, she forced herself to meet his look boldly, and grapple with him with all her desperate courage.

"My brother owed you a debt of honour," she said; "and it has been paid. What more do you want?"

A glitter of admiration shone for a moment through his cynicism. This was better than meek surrender. A woman who fought was worth conquering.

"You are not going to acknowledge, then," he said, "that you--you personally--are in any way indebted to me?"

"Certainly not!" The girl's eyes did not flinch before his. Save that she was trembling, he would scarcely have detected her fear. "You have done nothing for me," she said. "You only served your own purpose."

"Oh, indeed!" said Hyde softly. "So that is how you look at it, is it?"

He moved, and went close to her. Still she did not shrink. She was fighting desperately--desperately--a losing battle.

"Well," he said, after a moment, in which she withstood him silently with all her strength, "in one sense that is true. I did serve my own purpose. But have you, I wonder, any idea what that purpose of mine was?"

He waited, but she did not answer him. She was nearly at the end of her strength. Hyde did not offer to touch her. He only smiled a little at the rising panic in her white face.

"Do you know what I am going to do now?" he said. "I am going to mess--it's a guest night--and they will drink my health as the winner of the Ghantala Cup. And then I shall propose someone else's health. Can you guess whose?"

She shrank then, shrank perceptibly, painfully, as the victim must shrink, despite all his resolution, from the hot iron of the torturer.

Hyde stood for a second longer, watching her. Then he turned. There was fiendish triumph in his eyes.

"Good-bye!" he said.

She caught her breath sharply, spasmodically, as one who suppresses a cry of pain. And then, before he reached the window, she spoke:

"Please wait!"

He turned instantly, and came back to her.

"Come!" he said. "You are going to be reasonable after all."

"What is it that you want?" Her desperation sounded in her voice. She looked at him with eyes of wild appeal. Her defiance was all gone. The smile went out of Hyde's face, and suddenly she saw the primitive savage in possession. She had seen it before, but till that moment she had never realized quite what it was.

"What do I want?" he said. "I want you, and you know it. That fellow Baring is not the man for you. You are going to give him up. Do you hear? Or else--if you prefer it--he will give you up. I don't care which it is, but one or the other it shall be. Now do we understand one another?"

Hope stared at him, speechless, horror-stricken, helpless!

He came nearer to her, but she did not recoil, for as a serpent holds its prey, so he held her. She wanted to protest, to resist him fiercely, but she was mute. Even the power to flee was taken from her. She could only stand as if chained to the ground, stiff and paralyzed, awaiting his pleasure. No nightmare terror had ever so obsessed her. The agony of it was like a searing flame.