CHAPTER XXIII

THE UNEXPECTED

Four days pa.s.sed away, and still the Great Horatio had not arrived in London. He had sent a couple of telegrams from Ma.r.s.eilles explaining that a chill had delayed him.

"Sly old dog," Jimmy growled to Sangster. "He means that he's having a thundering good time where he is."

Sangster laughed.

"Ma.r.s.eilles isn't much of a place. Perhaps he really is ill."

Jimmy grunted something unintelligible.

"I doubt it," he added. "And the devil of it is that Christine doesn't believe me. She doesn't think the old idiot's coming home at all; she doesn't believe anything I tell her--now."

"Nonsense!" But Sangster's eyes looked anxious. He had seen a great deal during the last four days, and for the first time there was a tiny doubt in his mind. Had Christine really lost her love for Jimmy? He was obliged to admit that it seemed as if she had. She never spoke to him if she could help it, and he knew that Jimmy was as conscious of the change as he, knew that Jimmy was worrying himself to a shadow.

"Your brother will turn up when you're least expecting him," he said in his most matter-of-fact voice. "You'll see if he doesn't--and then everything will come right."

Jimmy grunted. He fidgeted round the room and came to anchorage in front of the window. He stood staring out into the not very cheerful street.

Sangster knocked the ashes from his pipe and rose.

"Well, we may as well be going," he said. "I thought you told me we were to lunch with your wife."

"So I did. She's gone shopping this morning--didn't want me. I said we'd meet her at the Savoy at one. I want to call in at my rooms first, if you don't mind." Jimmy spoke listlessly. He was a great deal with Sangster nowadays. Christine so often made excuses for him not to be with her, and he had got into that state when he could not tolerate his own company. He dreaded being left to his thoughts; he would not be alone for a minute if he could help it.

They left Sangster's rooms and went to Jimmy's.

"I asked Christine to come here the other day," Jimmy said with a short laugh as he fitted his key in the door. "She wouldn't, of course."

"Why not?"

"Because Cynthia had been here." He looked away from his friend's eyes. "I don't blame her. She'll never understand the difference.

That--that other---- I wonder how it ever came about at all now, when I look back."

Sangster followed him silently.

"I shall give the d----d place up," Jimmy said sullenly. "I can't afford to keep it on really; and if she won't come here----"

Sangster made no comment. Jimmy put his hat down on the table and went over to the sideboard for whisky and gla.s.ses.

"Don't be a fool, Jimmy," said Sangster.

He shrugged his shoulders when Jimmy told him to mind his own business.

He turned away.

"Here's a telegram," he said suddenly.

Jimmy turned.

"For me?"

"Yes--your brother I expect."

Jimmy s.n.a.t.c.hed up the yellow envelope and tore it open. He read the message through:

"Coming to London to-night. Meet me Waterloo eight-thirty."

He laughed mirthlessly.

"The Great Horatio?" Sangster asked.

"Yes."

Jimmy had forgotten the whisky. He took up his hat.

"Come on; I must tell Christine." He made for the door.

"You'd better take the wire to show her," said Sangster. They went out into the street together.

"It's too early to go to the Savoy," said Jimmy. He was walking very fast now. There was a sort of eagerness in his face; perhaps he hoped that his brother's presence, as Sangster had said, would make all the difference. "We'll hop along to the hotel and fetch her."

He walked Sangster off his feet. He pushed open the swing door of the hotel with an impatient hand.

"Mrs. Challoner--my wife--is she in?"

The hall porter looked at Jimmy curiously. He thought he and Christine were the strangest married couple he had ever come across. There was a little twinkle in his solemn eyes as he answered:

"Mrs. Challoner went very early, sir. She asked me to telephone to you at the Savoy at one o'clock and say she was sorry she would not be able to meet you----"

"Not be able to meet me?" Jimmy's voice and face were blank.

"That is what Mrs. Challoner said, sir. She went out with a gentleman,--a Mr. Kettering, she told me to say, sir."

Sangster turned sharply away. For the first time for many weeks he was utterly and profoundly sorry for Jimmy Challoner, as he stood staring at the hall porter with blank eyes. The eager flush had faded from his face; he looked, all at once, ill and old; he pulled himself together with an effort.

"Oh! All right--thanks--thanks very much."

His voice sounded dazed. He turned and went down the steps to the street; but when he reached the pavement he stood still again, as if he hardly knew what he was doing. When Sangster touched his arm he started violently.

"What is it? Oh, yes--I'm coming." He began to walk on at such a rate that Sangster could hardly keep pace with him. He expostulated good-humouredly:

"What's the hurry, old chap? I'm getting old, remember."

Jimmy slackened speed then. He looked at his friend with burning eyes.

"I'll break every bone in that devil's carca.s.s," he said furiously.