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CHAPTER XXVIII A STARTLING CONTRAST

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mrs. bromley-martin's rooms were well filled as usual, for she was giving one of those bridge parties of which she and her set never seemed to tire. it seemed strange that they had not become weary of their pursuit. but, then, the element of gambling entered largely into their calculations, and of this they never tired. it was a perfect night out-of-doors. the long french windows leading to the lawn were invitingly open. but probably few of the guests appreciated the beauty of the night. the rooms were hot and stuffy and there was a cackle of conversation and high-pitched chatter without which no smart function is complete. there were a dozen tables going, and from time to time those whose hands lay on the table were gathered together round the fireplace discussing choice morsels of scandal. the hostess herself, resplendent in blue and silver, was being listened to with rapt attention, for she had something especially fresh and piquant which she was relating to the motley throng around her. her shrill voice rang through the room.

"i assure you it is perfectly true," she said. "i saw her myself at the station. she came back this afternoon and went straight to the queen's hotel."

"did you speak to her?"

mrs. bromley-martin laughed.

"my dear, of course i did," she screamed. "did you ever know me do anything like other people? did you ever know me care two straws for what folk said? oh, i know i ought to have walked by with my head in the air and my skirts drawn about me as if i feared contamination from her very touch. but i did nothing of the kind. behold in me the good samaritan!"

a wild cackle of laughter followed this suggestion.

"oh, you may laugh," mrs. bromley-martin went on good-temperedly. "besides, i was desperately curious. and there she was, looking more saint-like than ever; indeed, i felt quite a sinner by contrast. besides, she is no worse than the rest of us. the only difference is that she has been found out."

"but has she been found out?" a tall man asked seriously. "can you mention one single thing against mrs. charlock? here is a woman married to a boor, who is supposed to ill-treat her because he can't have his own way; he sells the house over her head, and says she can remain if she please. a woman ought to be able to get rid of a man for less than that. upon my word, i think it was one of the most chivalrous things i ever heard of. then there is arnold rent, whom we all regard as a clever fellow, who, apart from his science, is living entirely for himself. i have heard it said that he has no heart and no feeling. and yet he makes a deliberate sacrifice for the sake of a woman who apparently cares nothing for him. really, in these prosaic times, for a man to go out of his way to offer a suffering woman the shelter of his mother's roof is touching. this kind of thing an author might make into a book. i suppose nobody has heard anything of rent?"

"indeed, they have," a voice interrupted. "it is my turn now to contribute to the harmony of the evening. our charming hostess has given us the first act of the comedy. now i can proceed to write up the second. what the third act will be like is a matter for speculation. anyway, as i was coming here to-night, i saw rent going along the shore to his offices. he wouldn't allow me to stop him; he would hardly allow me to speak to him. at any rate, he is back again, and the charlock-rent romance is at an end. i am sorry to spoil sport in this way, but i am bound to speak the truth. it looks to me as if the story had a commonplace ending, after all. probably mrs. rent threw a cold douche of common sense upon her son's argument, and mrs. charlock has made the best of it by coming back to her husband. that is my conclusion."

"i don't believe a word of it," mrs. bromley-martin cried. "i refuse to have my illusions scattered in this way. if i had only known arnold rent was here i would have asked him to come round this evening. his appearance would have created a sensation. and sensations in these times——"

the speaker paused, conscious that there was something wrong. her back was to the door. she did not see that someone had come into the room. that everything was not quite in order she could gather by the expression on the faces of her guests. no one was sneering or smiling. most of them were looking blank, and one or two decidedly uncomfortable.

"what is the matter?" mrs. bromley-martin asked. "have i said anything so very outré, or have you all suddenly become——"

"it is a pure matter of conscience," a cold, clear voice said. "you have every right to your own opinion. but on this occasion, gracious lady, you are absolutely wrong, much as it grieves me to tell you so."

a little spurt of colour flamed to mrs. bromley-martin's face. possibly it was the first time she had blushed for years. she forced her voice to a higher pitch as she recognised rent.

"talk of an angel and you hear his wings," she cackled. "how dare you stand there and listen to what i was saying! why, bless my soul, a set like ours, if we all knew what our neighbours thought of us, would be deadly enemies in a week. still, my dear boy, i forgive you, because it was so thoughtful of you to come round this evening to make my party a success. but did you hear what i was saying?"

"every word," rent said gravely.

"in that case, it would be foolish of me to apologise. we were talking of mrs. charlock and yourself. i believe it was under this roof that you met her for the first time. it was here that the tender romance had its initiation. it was here, also, that john charlock behaved in such a brutish way and played into the hands of his wife. i daresay you recollect the occasion."

"perfectly well."

"what a sphinx it is!" mrs. bromley-martin remarked, with a shrug of her shoulders. "why don't you try to help me out? you must know what conclusion we came to. we all give you credit for acting the part of the cavalier without fear and without reproach. but when both parties came back in this prosaic fashion, why, naturally——"

"one moment," rent said coldly. "loth as i am to spoil your recreation, i must speak. you are all mistaken. it is true that chance gave me the opportunity of befriending mrs. charlock when she was badly in need of advice, but there the thing begins and ends. i might have been wrong in offering mrs. charlock a temporary home with my mother; i am not prepared to say that i had given the matter due consideration. however, mrs. charlock has thought the matter over and come to the conclusion that she cannot do better than fall in with her husband's wishes. that is why she is here, and you can guess why i have returned, also. it will be just as well in future to drop this subject."

there was something so cool and self-possessed in the speaker's words that no one in the group round the fireplace ventured even to smile. rent flashed a challenge from one to the other, but no one offered to take it up. there were one or two murmurs of approval, and mrs. bromley-martin thought it wise to change her ground.

"i am sure, i beg your pardon," she said. "i had no idea you would take it in this way. you see, it is so seldom that anybody in our set is serious that one forgets that there are real responsibilities in life. now let us go back to the tables and devote ourselves to the business of the evening."

rent bowed gravely. mrs. bromley-martin had gone as far in the way of an apology as she was likely to go. before he could say anything there was a further commotion at the door, and another man entered, apparently bursting to relate some item of news. mrs. bromley-martin heralded the intrusion at once as a godsend. here was a speedy and graceful escape from the position she had taken up, and she hastened across the room.

"well, colonel, what is it? what fresh scandal is afoot? positively, we are so dull here that anything, even if it is deliberately untrue, will be welcomed."

"oh, this is true enough," the man replied. "i was coming past charlock's house just now, and i met that fellow grey coming out of the gate in a hurry. you know the man i mean—he is staying with that clever italian, tanza, on his yacht. at first, i could not make out what was the matter with him. it appeared he was asking me to fetch a policeman, as something terrible had happened in charlock's grounds. mrs. charlock had fallen into a fountain, or something of that kind. at any rate, when grey and charlock found her she was lying there quite dead."

a sudden exclamation broke from rent's lips. he turned a white, set face towards the speaker.

"in the fountain?" he asked hoarsely. "by the sundial, do you mean? oh, the thing is incredible."

"all the same, it is quite true," the newcomer said. "i saw it for myself before i went off for the police. and the strange part of the whole thing is that mistress and maid perished in the same way. there seems to be a fatality about that sundial."

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