The Good Comrade | Page 8

Julia fancied, would have to wait a very long time before he
saw it again. She dismissed the young man from her mind and fell to
working out plans to meet the more pressing difficulties.
The relations would have to help; not with money; they would not do
that to a useful extent, but with invitations. Chèrie was easily provided
for; Aunt Louise had before offered to take her abroad for the winter;
Chèrie did not in the least want to go; it was likely to be nothing nicer

than acting as unpaid companion to a fidgety old lady; but under the
present circumstances she would have to go. For Violet it was not quite
so easy; it would look rather odd for her to go visiting among obliging
relatives, seeing that she was only just engaged--how things looked was
a point the Polkingtons always considered. But it would have to be
managed; Julia fancied something might be arranged at Bath, a place
which was a cheap fare from Marbridge. Mrs. Polkington would
probably go somewhere for part of the time, then there could be some
real retrenchments not otherwise possible. Mary might be dismissed;
Mr. Gillat even might come to board with them for a little; the outside
world need not know he was a guest that paid.
Julia was not satisfied with these plans; they would barely meet the
difficulty she knew, even with credit stretched to the uttermost and the
household crippled for some time; but she could think of nothing better,
and determined to suggest them to Mrs. Polkington. With these
thoughts in her mind, she went up-stairs; as she passed the
drawing-room, she noticed that the blinds had not been pulled down;
she went to the window to remedy the omission, and so saw in the
street below the young man who, with the debt owing to him, she had
lately dismissed from her mind. There was a street lamp directly below
the window, and she stood a moment by the curtain looking down. Mr.
Rawson-Clew was riding past, but slowly; it was quite possible to see
his face, which did not contradict her former opinion--good-natured but
foolish, and possibly weak. He turned in his saddle just below the
window to speak to his companion, and she noticed that it was a
stranger with him, a man wearing a single eyeglass, ten years older than
the other, and of a totally different stamp. Indeed, of a stamp differing
from any she had seen at Marbridge, so much so that she wondered
how he came to be here, and what he was doing. But this was rather a
waste of time, for the next day she knew.
The next day he came down the street again, but this time alone and on
foot. He stopped at No. 27, and there asked for Captain Polkington.
Julia, hearing the knock, and the visitor subsequently being ushered
into the dining-room, guessed it must be Mr. Gillat, perhaps come with
his parcel again; when she saw Mary she asked her.

"No, miss," was the answer; "it's another gentleman to see the master."
"Who?" Julia's mind was alert for fresh difficulties.
"Mr. Rawson-Clew."
"I don't know who he is," Mary went on; "I've never set eyes on him
before, but he's a grand sort of gentleman; I hardly liked to put him in
the dining-room, only missis's orders was 'Mr. Gillat or any gentleman
to see the master there.'"
Which was true enough, and might reasonably have been reckoned a
safe order, for no one but Mr. Gillat ever did come to see the Captain.
"I hope I've done right," Mary said.
"Quite right," Julia answered, though she did not feel so sure of it. The
name and the vague description of the visitor somehow suggested to
her mind the stranger who had ridden past with young Mr.
Rawson-Clew. She went up-stairs, uneasy as much from intuition as
from experience. In the hall she stood a minute. The dining-room door
did not shut too well, the lock was old and worn, and unless it was
fastened carefully, it came open; the Captain never managed to fasten it,
and now it stood ajar; Julia could hear something of what was said
within almost as soon as she reached the top of the kitchen stairs. The
visitor spoke quietly, his words were not audible, but the Captain's
voice was raised with excitement.
"The money, sir, the money that your cousin lent--accommodation
between gentlemen--"
So Julia heard incompletely, and then another disjointed sentence.
"Do you take me for an adventurer, a sharper? I am a soldier, sir, a
soldier and a gentleman--at least, I was--I mean I was a soldier, I am a
gentleman--"
Julia came swiftly up the hall, the instinct of the female to