The Knave of Diamonds by Ethel May Dell (book recommendations for teens TXT) 📖

muddle." Again Dot wiped her eyes. "And I had so wanted him to come," she ended.
"Don't fret," said Lucas very kindly. "I wanted him too."
She looked at him eagerly. "You think as I do? You think he cares for Anne?"
"I guess so," he answered, "since your letter brought him back."
"And--and Anne? Do you think--do you really think--?"
"I guess so," he said again.
He lay silent for a while, his eyes drooping heavily, till she even began to wonder if he were falling asleep.
At length, "Dot," he said, "have I your permission to make what use I like of this?"
She gave a slight start. "You are going to tell Bertie?"
He looked at her. "My dear," he said, "I think Bertie had better know."
She nodded. "I know he ought. But he will be furious with me."
"Not if I talk to him," said Lucas, with his quiet smile.
"But it's so mean of me," she protested. "And I'm sure it's bad for you."
He reached out his hand to her. "No, it isn't bad for me, Dot. It's just the best thing possible. You've put me in the way of something great."
She squeezed his hand. "Do you really think you can make things go right?"
"Under God," said Lucas gravely.


CHAPTER XII
A FRIENDLY UNDERSTANDING

Notwithstanding Lucas's assurance, Dot awaited her husband's coming in undisguised trepidation that night.
She had not seen Nap since that brief glimpse of him in the hall when Anne had so nearly swooned. She did not so much as know if Bertie had seen him at all. They had not met on the previous evening, but Bertie's aspect had been so thunderous ever since he had heard of his return that she had been on thorns lest he should present himself again at the Dower House. That he would come sooner or later she knew, but she hoped with all her heart that it might not be when Bertie was at home.
She was convinced, moreover, that Bertie was going to be very angry with her, and her heart sank the more she thought of it. Bertie's anger had become a hard thing to face since he had made her know the depths of his tenderness.
The night was chilly, and her suspense made her cold. She sat very close to the fire in the cosy curtained hall, shivering, and straining her ears to catch the sound of his feet on the gravel. She had worked herself into a state of anxiety that made her start at the faintest noise.
It was nearing the dinner-hour, and she was beginning to wonder if perhaps he were staying at Baronmead to dine, though he had never done so before without sending her word, when there came the sudden hoot of a motor and the rush of wheels upon the drive.
She sat up, every pulse beating. It must be one of the Baronmead motors. But Bertie always walked.
She heard the car stop at the door, and she rose to her feet, scarcely knowing what to expect. The next moment the door opened and she heard Bertie's voice.
"The car will be all right," he said. "It's a fine night. Go in, won't you? I expect Dot is waiting."
And with amazement Dot saw Nap enter the hall in front of her husband.
He came straight to her just as he had come on the previous day, and she had a moment of sheer panic lest he should have the effrontery to kiss her; but he spared her this, though the smile with which he greeted her told her that he was quite aware of her embarrassment and its cause.
"Bertie has taken upon himself to ask me to dine," he said, as he held her hand. "I hope that is quite agreeable to Mrs. Bertie?"
"Of course I am delighted," she said, but her eyes sought Bertie's somewhat anxiously notwithstanding.
She saw with relief that the cloud had gone from his face. He came forward, bent, and kissed her. His hand lay upon her shoulder for an instant with a quick, reassuring touch, and she knew that all was well.
"Heavens, child! How cold you are!" he said. "I'll bring you down a shawl, shall I? Come along, Nap. We are late."
They went upstairs together, and Dot waited below, listening to their voices in careless converse and wondering by what means Lucas had wrought so amazing a change.
She wondered still more during dinner, for Nap was plainly upon his best behaviour. He seemed determined that Bertie should be on easy terms with him, and he was in a great measure successful. Though reticent, Bertie was undoubtedly cordial.
At the appearance of dessert Nap rose. "I must be getting back to Lucas," he said.
"Oh, skittles! He won't be wanting you," Bertie protested. "Sit down again, man. You haven't been here an hour."
But Nap was not to be persuaded. "Many thanks, but I'm going all the same. I want to secure him a good night if possible. Good-bye, Mrs. Bertie!" He bent and kissed her hand. "I am going to be pretty busy for the next week or two, but I shall call on you when I have time."
He took a cigarette from Bertie's case, and went out without stopping to light it.
Bertie followed him into the hall. "Shall I come?" he asked.
"No," said Nap.
He found a paper spill on the mantelpiece and lighted it. As he held it to his cigarette he looked at Bertie with a smile.
"Remember that day I baited you? It must be about a year ago."
Bertie looked uncomfortable. "I remember," he said shortly.
Abruptly Nap thrust out his hand. "I've eaten your salt now," he said. "I'll never bait you again."
Bertie gave his hand. "Is that what you wanted to dine for?"
"Partly." Nap's fingers gripped and held. "Also I wanted to persuade you that we are fighting for the same thing, only maybe with different weapons. You'll bear it in mind, eh, friend Bertie?"
Bertie looked at him hard for an instant. "I will," he said impulsively.
"Good!" said Nap laconically. "It isn't going to be a walk over, but I guess we'll pull it off between us."
"Amen!" said Bertie fervently.
And Nap wrung his hand and departed. For the first time in their lives there was a friendly understanding between them. For the first time Bertie was aware of a human heart throbbing behind that impenetrable mask.


CHAPTER XIII
THE FINAL DEFEAT

It was growing late that night when Lucas opened his eyes after a prolonged and fruitless attempt to sleep, and found Nap standing at the foot of the bed watching him. A lamp was burning in the room, but it was turned very low. For a few seconds he lay wondering if the motionless figure he saw had been conjured there by some trick of the shadows. Then as he stirred he saw it move and at once he spoke.
"Hullo, dear fellow! You! I never heard you come in."
Nap stepped noiselessly to his side. "Don't talk!" he said. "Sleep!"
"I can't sleep. It's no use. I was only pretending." Lucas stifled a sigh of weariness. "Sit down," he said.
But Nap stood over him and laid steady hands upon his wrists. His hold was close and vital; it pressed upon the pulses as if to give them new life. "You can sleep if you try," he said.
Lucas shook his head with a smile. "I'm not a good subject, Boney. Thanks all the same!"
"Try!" Nap said insistently.
But the blue eyes remained wide. "No, old chap. It's too high a price to pay--even for sleep."
"What do you mean?" There was a fierce note in the query, low as it was; it was almost a challenge.
Lucas answered it very quietly. "I mean that I'm afraid of you, Boney."
"Skittles!" said Nap.
"Yes, it may seem so to you; but, you see, I know what you are trying to do."
"What am I trying to do?" demanded Nap.
Lucas paused for a moment; he was looking straight up into the harsh face above his own. Then, "I know you," he said. "I know that you'll get the whip hand of me if you can, and you'll clap blinkers on me and drive me according to your own judgment. I never had much faith in your judgment, Boney. And it is not my intention to be driven by you."
There was no resentment in the tired voice, only unflagging determination.
Nap's hold slowly relaxed. "You don't trust me then?"
"It's your methods I don't trust, dear fellow, not your motives. I'd trust them to perdition."
"But not my--honour?" Nap's lips twisted over the word.
Lucas hesitated. "I believe you would be faithful to your own code," he said at length.
"But you don't consider that to trick a man who trusted me would be against that code?"
Again Lucas hesitated, and in the silence Nap straightened himself and stood waiting, stern, implacable, hard as granite.
"Don't do violence to yourself," he said cynically.
On the instant Lucas spoke, in his voice a tremor that was almost passionate. "Boney--Boney, old chap, have I wronged you? God knows I've tried to be just. But are you straight? Are you honest? I'd give my soul to be able to trust you. Only--dear fellow, forgive me--I can't!"
Nap's hands clenched. "Why not?" he said.
"Because," very slowly and painfully Lucas made reply, "I know that you are trying to blind me. I know that you are sacrificing yourself--and another--in order to deceive me. You are doing it to save me pain, but--before God, Boney--you are torturing me in the doing far more than you realise. I'd sooner die ten times over than endure it. I can bear most things, but not this--not this!"
Silence followed the words, a silence that was vital with many emotions. Nap stood upright against the lamplight. He scarcely seemed to breathe, and yet in his very stillness there was almost a hint of violence. He did not attempt to utter a word.
Lucas also lay awhile without speaking, as if exhausted. Then at length he braced himself for further effort. "It seems to me there's only one way out, Boney," he said gently. "It's no manner of use your trying to deceive me any longer. I happen to know what brought you back, and I'm thankful to know it. After all, her happiness comes first with both of us, I guess. That's why I was so almighty pleased to see you in the first place. That's why it won't hurt me any to let her go to you."
Nap made a sharp movement and came out of his silence. "Luke, you're mad!"
"No, Boney, no! I'm saner than you are. When a fellow spends his life as I do, he has time to look all round things. He can't help knowing. And I'm not a skunk. It never was my intention to stand between her and happiness."
"Happiness!" Harshly Nap echoed the word; he almost laughed over it. "Don't you know that she only tolerates me for your sake? She wouldn't stay within a hundred miles of me if it weren't for you."
"Oh, shucks, Boney!" A faint smile touched the worn face on the pillow. "I know you hurt her infernally. But she will forgive you that--women do, you know--though I guess she would have forgiven you easier if she hadn't loved you."
"Man, you're wrong!" Fiercely Nap flung the words. "I tell you there is no love between us. I killed her love long ago. And as for myself--"
"Love doesn't die," broke in Lucas Errol quietly. "I know all about it, Boney. Guess I've always known. And if you tell me that your love for Anne Carfax