The Missing Angel - Erle Cox (whitelam books .TXT) 📗
- Author: Erle Cox
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that Billy of yours, and that won’t matter.”
He waited for the comment she did not make, and continued, “Suppose you
tried to tell. Remember, I am Tydvil Jones, Merchant, reformer, a public
man of proved integrity. You and Billy are two of my employees. I should
be exceedingly sympathetic toward your extraordinary obsession, and would
generously make provision for you while you are under restraint, and
until you are released, happily cured.”
Forgetting herself for the moment, Geraldine exclaimed, “Tyddie, you’re a
devil!” Then, seeing the expression on his face, she said hurriedly, “Oh!
I beg your pardon, Mr. Jones, that just slipped out.”
Tydvil laughed heartily. “Please, please don’t spoil it by apologising—I
like it. You all call me Tyddie, I know.”
“But…”
“No buts! While we are together you must retain the Tyddie; aren’t we
fellow conspirators?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “You’re hopeless.” Then, after a moment, “But
what about the synthetic Billy and Mrs. Jones?”
Tydvil was rubbing the palm of his left hand absently, and looked up.
“I’m afraid, Geraldine, that that is a matter I cannot discuss with you.”
“Since we are being honest with one another,” she replied vigorously, “I
hope you get all you deserve out of that little plan. And I hope it will
be a shock.”
“If anyone gets a shock out of it, I don’t think I’ll be the one.”
“Maybe, but you’re the one who deserves it.”
“Shucks!” growled Mr. Jones. “Don’t babble, Geraldine.” Then, “Would you
like to meet my friend Mr. Senior?”
“I most certainly would not.”
“He admires you immensely. He warned me all along that you would bowl me
out.”
“If he were sitting in that chair,” Geraldine nodded to the visitor’s
armchair, “I’d tell him just what I think of him.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised if he had been sitting in that chair all the
time we’ve been talking.” Tydvil smiled at her.
Geraldine stared at the chair in alarm.
“Am I right, Nicholas?” Tydvil addressed the empty chair.
“Quite correct, Tydvil.” Nicholas in person smiled from one to the other
with engaging candour.
Geraldine was beyond speech. She stared, and hers was a hostile stare.
Mr. Senior’s eyes turned on her were quite friendly and conciliating.
“I’m afraid you will think my conduct unpardonable, Miss Brand,” he
began.
Geraldine suddenly found her lost voice and interjected, “It is! Quite
unpardonable!”
Nicholas disregarded the hostility and the interjection. “You see, I
could not resist the temptation of being present at your interview with
Tydvil.”
“It is a pity your courtesy is not as great as your curiosity,” retorted
the uncompromising Geraldine. “Geraldine!” exclaimed Tydvil in protest.
“You keep out of this, Tyddie,” snapped the girl, her claws bared for
battle.
The eyes of Nicholas sparkled with mirth as he glanced at Tyddie. “It’s a
private fight, Tydvil,” he chuckled.
“And we don’t want a referee, either,” added Geraldine. “Rafferty rules,”
conceded Nicholas.
“Now!” She turned on Nicholas, head high and battle in her eyes.
“What I wished to explain was, that I was not apparent because I thought
my presence might interfere with your freedom of speech.” His smile
deepened as he added, gently, “I admit, misjudging your diffidence.”
She let the jab go by unnoticed. “All I want to say to you is that I
think this abominable contract into which you have inveigled Mr. Jones is
entirely worthy of you and your reputation.”
Nicholas raised his eyebrows. “Have you heard Mr. Jones making any
complaint?”
“You know, as well as I do, that he has no idea of what he has done,” she
insisted.
“Dear lady,” his voice was aggravatingly patient, “don’t you think you
are rather overworking your sex’s congenital inconsistency?”
Geraldine began to see red. “Don’t you dare to address me as ‘Dear
lady’…”
He interposed: “The adjective is entirely respectful, and I trust you do
not reject the noun.”
“It is because I accept the noun, I have ref rained from calling you all
that you deserve—and are.” She pushed out a belligerent chin.
“I should feel more grateful for your restraint, Miss Brand, were I not
aware that it was the charge of inconsistency, and not the ‘Dear lady’
that caused you to boil over,” retorted the unabashed Nicholas. “It was
the major truth that hurt.”
“The charge of inconsistency is as false as your friendship with Mr.
Jones,” she came back at him.
“Out of your own mouth you prove me Tydvil’s friend.”
“You may fool him, but not me,” she retorted.
“And yet you, both with yourself and your fiance, have agreed that since
Tydvil has been released from his inhibitions through my agency, he is
much more human, much more likeable, and a much better and natural man.”
“That was when I was unaware of the price he had paid for his release.”
Nicholas shook his head slowly. “No, no, Miss Brand, be honest. Even with
that knowledge, you still like the new Tydvil better than the old.
Telling fibs to me is a most unprofitable pastime.”
“I’m not telling fibs, as you call them,” she asserted angrily.
“Oh, Geraldine! Geraldine!” said Mr. Senior reprovingly.
“Mr. Senior can read your thoughts, Geraldine,” warned Tydvil from across
the table.
Geraldine sat up. There was consternation in her face, over which a deep
flush spread. “Oh, you…” she gasped. Then, recovering herself, she
said defiantly, “Well, if you can read my thoughts, I hope you liked
them.”
“I must confess that I did not like them very much,” Nicholas admitted.
“They were very rude, and it is surprising, even to me, how such a nice
girl could even think of such words. But I can be tolerant and make
allowances for your unjust prejudices. You see, Miss Brand, despite your
conviction to the contrary, I am quite truthful.”
“Prejudices! Indeed!” Geraldine bridled.
“And yet you owe me something, Miss Brand,” said
Nicholas.
“I owe you something!”
He nodded. “Your Mr. Brewer was, in justice and in law, my property, and
you stepped in and took him out of my hands without as much as ‘by your
leave’.”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” said Geraldine sincerely. “Well, I was very
much annoyed,” admitted Nicholas. “And I am more delighted still to hear
that.”
“So I am aware.” He was smiling almost derisively. “And if I can grab
Tyddie from you, I’ll do that, too!” she said with spirit.
Nicholas turned to Tydvil. “Jove, Tydvil! There’s nothing in humanity
like the flaming zest of these redheads for a fight.” Then, to
Geraldine, “Miss Brand, it’s refreshing to meet an honest fighter who
comes out into the open. My old opponents, the churchmen, who resort to
poison gas and more poisonous propaganda, have never fought fairly. I
admire your spirit.”
“Flattery now!” said Geraldine wrinkling her dainty nose. “That reminds
me of a saying of my grandfather which amused the family when he became
excited.”
“May we hear it?” Mr. Senior enquired.
“Certainly,” replied Geraldine politely. “In moments of stress the old
boy always exclaimed: ‘May the devil admire me!”
“Personalities apart, Geraldine,” commented Nicholas, “there are not may
of the race that I do admire.”
“If you don’t like personalities, Mr. Senior, please refrain from remarks
about the colour of my hair, as for the rest, I do not echo, nor ever
have echoed, my grandfather’s peculiar wish.”
Nicholas laughed. “I’ve known millions of your sisters who have not
agreed with you.”
“Poor mutts!” replied Geraldine flatly.
“And,” said Nicholas regretfully, “I was hoping that apart from our
sentimental animosities, we could call a truce and be friends.”
“Well, that’s a hope you can forget. There’s nothing doing, Mr. Senior,”
she replied decisively.
“Couldn’t I induce you and Mr. Brewer to dine with me and Mr. Basil
Williams at Menzies this evening?” Nicholas coaxed.
She shook her red mane emphatically.
“Because,” and a mischievous smile danced round the corners of her mouth,
“there was never a spoon made long enough for my needs in such
circumstances.”
The two men laughed heartily at the thrust. Said Nicholas, when he had
recovered his gravity, “Do you know what I think, Miss Brand?”
“Not having your peculiar gift, I don’t,” replied Geraldine.
“Well,” said Nicholas, “I think there may be times after your marriage
when Billy may regret that he slipped out of my hands.”
“Should I ever catch him hankering after the world, the flesh and you, I
can promise you that he will.”
There was such a ring of sincerity in her voice, that Mr. Senior felt a
twinge of pity for Billy.
“Then it is war?” he smiled.
She looked steadily into the compelling, luminous eyes. “Yes! War!”
She stood up and gathered her baskets in her arm. “And I’m wasting my
time, and you’re about the only one who could make me do that.”
Nicholas bowed ironically. “You flatter me, Miss Brand.”
She took no notice of the remark, but walked round the table and stood
beside Tydvil, looking down on him. “Well?” he said, turning his face up.
She placed her disengaged hand affectionately on his shoulder. “Oh,
Tyddie! Tyddie,” she said gently, “you have been an ass! But I
understand.”
“Friends?” asked Tydvil.
“Always!” she nodded.
She walked towards the door, and Nicholas started to his feet and opened
it for her. Head up and defiant, she paused on the threshold, “And if I
don’t make you discount that infernal bill of yours, it won’t be for want
of trying.”
“That, I am sure of.” He bowed as to royalty and closed the door on her
exit.
Nicholas resumed his seat and the two regarded one another with smiles.
“Not much change out of her,” was Tydvil’s comment.
“You know,” said Nicholas thoughtfully, “it’s fortunate for me that there
are not more like her. But, dash it all, Tydvil, I like her.”
“She’ll make Billy Brewer a good wife,” ventured Tydvil. “She’ll make him
a far better husband,” chuckled Nicholas.
It was a fascinated Billy who listened to Geraldine’s story of her
interview with Tydvil and Nicholas that evening. Said he, at the close of
the narrative, “By Jove, Gerry, I’d like to slam that Nicholas bird in
the jaw.”
“Shouldn’t advise you to try, Billy,” she laughed. “And besides, after
all, his behaviour was really courteous and friendly.”
“Dashed cheek asking us to dinner, I think,” growled Billy.
She ran her fingers through his hair. “Here’s a confession. I’d have
loved to have accepted that invitation. I think a dinner with Mr. Senior
would be delightful—while it lasted.”
“Gerry!”
“But I didn’t accept; too risky.” There was a trace of regret in her
voice.
“Why, if you had, Tyddie as Basil Williams might have landed the lot of
us in quod.” Billy was not mollified.
“I doubt it, if I had been with you,” Geraldine assured him.
“Well,” Billy said, “I know what a night out is, but from what I heard
about town of Basil Williams, I’m hanged if I’d risk a binge with him.”
“Don’t you let me catch you at it, boy. Tyddie trying to catch up with
his lost youth is no companion for a nice Billy. Just remember that!” She
drew his head to her by his ear, and kissed him lightly on the tip of the
nose.
Billy submitted to treatment
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