The Crowned Skull | Page 4

as soon as I know why Mr. Bowring has come. Papa cannot do business without me.'
Somewhat annoyed, Forde lighted a cigarette and leaned over the brick wall to watch the billows rolling on the shore, while Dericka walked quickly to the house. She had cause for uneasiness, as she had heard her father express anything but amiable sentiments towards his tenant. Mr. Bowring was a rough man, as she had said, for she had met him once or twice, and having lived in lawless lands he was not likely to be bound by social rules. Sir Hannibal, weak and refined, would have no chance against his rugged strength, nor indeed would he have any chance did Bowring do business with him. The South African, fighting for his own hand, was always trying to get the better of his landlord with regard to the Grange, and would have done so on three occasions but for Dericka's shrewdness. Bowring bore no grudge towards the girl for her interference, and rather seemed to admire her for her cleverness of getting the better of him.
But Dericka's fears as to a fracas proved to be vain, for when she reached the front door she met Sir Hannibal and his visitor, issuing therefrom. The baronet certainly appeared to be agitated, but Bowring presented a calm aspect.
The millionaire was a man of bronze, grey as an old wolf, with shaggy hair fringing a bald head, and shaggy eyebrows overhanging piercing grey eyes. His long beard was also shaggy, but his skin, in spite of his sixty years, was fresh and pink as that of the girl who gazed at him. With the contempt for appearance in which wealthy men indulge on occasions, he wore a shabby suit of black, with an African felt hat, and carried in his ungloved hands a queer twisted stick, carved and painted by the hands of some Zulu witch-doctor. Beside Sir Hannibal, polished, stately, accurately dressed, and eminently refined, John Bowring looked like a savage, but a savage dowered with a powerful brain.
Man of bronze as he was the keen grey eyes lighted when they fell on Dericka, gazing fascinated by his strength.
'Good-day, missy,' he said in a deep, harsh voice, yet in a kindly manner. 'We have finished our conversation, and now your father--my old friend,' he cast a side glance on the baronet as he spoke, 'wants to see the fun.'
'Dericka will conduct you round the grounds,' said Trevick hurriedly. 'Where is Miss Stretton, my dear?'
'In the Tent of Mystery,' replied the girl carelessly; 'at least, I advised her to go there and have her fortune told.'
Sir Hannibal looked hard at his daughter, trying to discover if her words were double-edged. But she met his gaze serenely, and presently the baronet hurried away. Bowring turned to address the girl with something like a chuckle when behind him appeared a mild face and a lean, gaunt figure, in sad-coloured feminine garments.
'Why, Sophy, are you not in the tent?' said Dericka, recognising her governess with surprise.
'I just came in for a few minutes,' said Miss Warry timidly. 'It is trying work telling fortunes. I read Miss Stretton's hand.'
'What did you read?' asked Dericka, curiously.
'Sorrow and trouble and wickedness,' said the sibyl solemnly, and again the old millionaire chuckled.
'Do you really profess to tell the future?' he asked contemptuously.
'I really do,' said the mild governess, nettled by his disbelief, 'and if you will come with me to the tent I can tell yours.'
'My future is already my past,' said Bowring harshly; 'you can tell me nothing likely to interest me. However, I wish to give some money to the chapel, and as I give nothing for nothing I may as well buy a few fairy stories with my guinea.'
'I may make mistakes,' said Miss Warry simply and blinked with her tired old eyes, 'and sometimes I do, as I am not sufficiently conversant with the psychic life. But I do occasionally foretell things which really happen.'
'Let us see what will happen to me,' said Bowring jokingly, and with a grim smile walked after Miss Warry, who floated--the term is very appropriate, for she did not walk like an ordinary human being--towards the Tent of Mystery.
It was now about four o'clock, and Dericka saw her father bidding farewell to Miss Stretton, who was hanging on the arm of the still sulky-looking Mr. Penrith. The baronet seemed to be younger than ever as he basked in the smiles of the adventuress. 'For she is that,' insisted Dericka to herself, 'and wants to marry papa for his position.' It never occurred to the girl, who, after all, was young in experience, that the adventuress might seek money also, and that she was not likely to find in the pockets of Sir Hannibal Trevick.
Dericka saw the three