Chapter 16: Thomas Austin, Senior

Miss Joyce came into Mr. Elmore’s bedroom the next morning before he was out of it. As a matter of fact, he was arranging his tie before the looking-glass with that nice care which is becoming to a young gentleman of looks.

“There’s a gentleman come to see you--a Mr. Austin. I should say from the look of him that he’s the father of the Miss Austin who was here last evening.”

“The thing is possible.”

“I don’t know what he’s come about.”

“It’s conceivable that you soon will know if you keep your ear close enough to my sitting-room door. Mr. Austin has rather a hearty way of speaking.”

“Don’t you talk to me like that! You know I’ve never played the spy on you yet, and you know I never will. But don’t you make any mistake about last night. Mr. Dale’s got that paper you wrote and my letter in a sealed envelope, and if you don’t turn up on Thursday you’ll be sorry.”

“Thank you so much for the information. Now, let me clearly understand. If, as you put it, I do turn up on Thursday, what is going to happen--after the ceremony?”

“All I want is my marriage lines. I’m coming straight back home; you can do as you like.”

“If I like can I go through a similar ceremony with Miss Jones or Miss Brown?”

“If I thought you were going to be up to any game of that sort I’d--I’d----”

“Yes--you’d what?”

“I’d go and talk to your Mr. Austin to begin with. Don’t you get any ideas of that kind in your head; don’t you try it on.”

“I’ve no intention of, as you again put it, ‘trying it on,’ not I. I only wondered. Then, at least, you won’t insist on the position being made instantly public?”

“I don’t care if it’s made public or not. All I want is my marriage lines--when the time comes.”

“And you quite understand that, whatever the relations may be, from the legal point of view, in which we stand to each other, you’ll get no money out of me, for the sufficient reason that I shall have none to give you.”

“I don’t want your money. I don’t want anything from you except that one thing; and--and--mind you do turn up!”

“I’ve been thinking things over in the silent watches of the night, and I’ve quite decided that I will turn up.”

“Mind you do!”

“I will, I will; be assured I will. Now I believe I’m ready. I was thinking of troubling you to tell Mr. Austin that I’ll be with him in a second, but I’ll save you that trouble.”

“Mind----”

Standing by the door she was beginning a sentence. He cut her short.

“All right, my dear; I’ll mind. Would you mind getting out of the way?”

She moved aside to let him pass. He went down the stairs to his sitting-room below, quickly, lightly, humming a tune as he went, as if he had not a care in the world; and with a face which was all sunshine he entered his visitor’s presence.

“My dear Rodney, this is an unconventional hour at which to pay a call, but I didn’t think that in my case you’d mind about conventions, and I thought that, as I didn’t get a chance of speaking to you last night, I’d have a few words with you before you started for the City. I suspect that I needn’t tell you that I was glad to hear the news from Stella.”

The speaker was a short, sturdily-built, fresh-coloured man, probably somewhere in the fifties, whose neatly trimmed beard was a shade whiter than his hair. A pair of bright eyes looked out from behind gold-rimmed spectacles; about his whole appearance there was a suggestion of health, vigour, and clean living. He took both the young man’s hands in his, looking up at him as at one whom he both esteemed and liked.

“You’re on the tall side. Stella always did like six-footers. I shouldn’t wonder if that’s the main reason why she’s contracted a fondness for you.”

Rodney laughed.

“It’s very good of you, sir, to look me up in this unceremonious way. You must join me at breakfast.”

“On this occasion I’ve been an earlier bird than you--I’ve breakfasted--but I will join you in a cup of coffee.”

Rodney rang the bell. Miss Joyce entered with the breakfast on a tray. As she was placing the various articles on the table the two men scarcely spoke. The young man was examining the outsides of three or four letters which the morning post had brought; the elder, who had taken up his position before the fireplace, was for the most part observing Miss Joyce. When she had gone he said:

“That’s not a bad-looking young woman. Who is she?”