The Vision of Desire
she were there in the room, an invisible presence, beseeching, supplicating
mercy for her son--claiming the fulfilment of the promise Ann had made so
many years ago. "'If it's in any way possible,' Ann," the voice seemed to
urge. "_'In any way'_ you said. And it _is_ possible. You could save Tony
if you would."
After what appeared to Tony an interminable time, Ann lifted her bent head.
Her face was white to the lips, but her eyes were strangely bright--like
golden stars, he thought. They looked almost unearthly.
"Don't worry, Tony," she said. Familiar little comforting phrase! "Don't
worry, old boy. Leave it all to me. I'm sure I can put things straight.
I'll talk to Brett--I'm certain he'll do what I ask and give you time to
pay."
"Time?" Tony laughed harshly. "If I had all the time until eternity I
couldn't produce twelve hundred pounds!"
"But I could," asserted Ann confidently. "Won't you trust me, Tony? I'm
sure--_sure_ that I can get you out of this scrape."
He looked at her in blank amazement. But something in her face convinced
him that she was speaking the truth--that he could rely on her.
"If you do," he said, and his voice rang true as steel, "I give you my
word, Ann, that I'll never get into another. I'll chuck gambling from this
day forth."
"Will you, Tony? Will you really?" she cried eagerly.
He took her hands in his.
"I promise," he said simply.
The two strained young faces gleamed palely in the chill dawnlight--on
each of them the impress of a stern resolution. Suddenly, moved by an
irresistible impulse of compassion, Ann lifted her arms and laying her
hands on either side Tony's face, drew it down level with her own. Then she
bent forward and kissed his forehead--tenderly, as his mother might have
kissed him.
"Good night, Tony boy," she said. And a minute later her slender figure
flitted, ghost-like, up the stairs to her own room.
CHAPTER XXXI
A BARGAIN
The day after Ann's return to the Cottage found her occupied in the
composition of a letter to Brett Forrester, the number of torn,
half-written sheets of paper which surrounded her testifying to the
difficulty she was experiencing in the matter. The whole idea of appealing
to Brett, of asking any service from him, was intensely repugnant to her
and rendered the performance of her task doubly difficult, but at last,
after several abortive attempts, it was accomplished. When completed, the
letter read as simply and shortly as possible, merely saying that she was
anxious to see him about a rather important matter and asking where it
would be possible for them to meet. She had no idea where he was at the
moment, but she had gathered from Tony that he had been in London as
recently as a week ago, so she addressed her letter to his flat in town,
posted it, and tried to possess her soul in patience until she should
receive an answer. It might have eased matters somewhat if she could have
shared her burden with Robin, but, as luck would have it, he had been
obliged to leave home on the day following that of her own return. Eliot
had unexpectedly commissioned him to inspect on his behalf a famous herd of
cattle in which he happened to be interested, a matter which would take
Robin up to Scotland and entail his absence from home for several days, and
in the hurry of packing and departure there had been no chance of a cosy,
confidential chat between brother and sister.
Two or three days passed, bringing no answer to her letter, and Ann
began to be nervously agitated in mind as to whether it had reached its
destination safely or not. She sought for reassurance by telling herself
that, if Brett happened to be out of town, the letter was probably
following him round and might not yet have caught up with him, but the
knowledge that time was an important factor in the solving of Tony's
difficulties, and the fear lest, in the interval, anything should occur to
drive the boy once more to despair, kept her nerves on the stretch.
It was late in the afternoon of the fourth day that the response came to
her letter--and in a form in which she least expected it. She had been out
in the garden, gathering snowdrops, and was returning to the house, her
hands filled with the white blossom of spring, when she lifted her eyes to
find Brett Forrester standing directly in her path. Her heart gave a great
terrified leap. She had pictured him as far enough away, and his appearance
was utterly unexpected. Moreover, the very sight of him brought back a
swift rush of painful memories, and involuntarily she recoiled a little. He
regarded her quizzically.
"You don't seem exactly pleased to see me," he observed.
"I'm--I'm surprised, that's all," she said hastily. "I didn't--I wasn't
expecting you." Transferring her harvest of snowdrops to one hand, she
extended the other towards him.
"Not expecting me?" he returned, when they had shaken hands. "After the
letter you wrote me?"
"I thought you would write first, suggesting where we could meet."
"I should have thought you would have known me better by this time," he
commented dryly, as he turned and walked beside her up the path to the
house. "I never waste time in preliminaries. You said you wanted to see
me--so here I am."
Ann made no response--for the simple reason that she couldn't think of one
to make. Brett always appeared to cut the ground from under one's feet, so
to speak--certainly as regards the small change of social intercourse. Even
behind his lightest remarks one seemed able to hear the threatening rumble
of the volcano.
"What was it you wanted to see me about?" he continued.
"I'll tell you. Come in, will you?"
By this time they had reached the house and Ann led the way into the
living-room. She was conscious of an acute feeling of trepidation and, by
way of postponing the evil moment, paused to put her snowdrops in water in
a bowl which she had left filled in readiness on the table.
"Are you staying at White Windows?" she asked, as she arranged the flowers
with quick, nervous touches.
"I am not," replied Brett. "I gathered, during the last conversation I held
with my revered aunt, that my welcome had worn a trifle thin--as you are
doubtless aware," he concluded mockingly.
"Then--then where--how did you come here?"--in some astonishment.
"I came on the _Sphinx_. I am at present living on board, and at the moment
she is anchored in Silverquay bay. Any other questions?"
Ann flushed hotly.
"I beg your pardon," she said with downcast eyes. "I didn't mean to be
inquisitive, only naturally I--I rather wondered where you had sprung from.
You _did_ arrive somewhat suddenly, you know."
"I did," he acquiesced. "I was on my way to the south, of France and your
letter was forwarded on to me at Southampton, where I'd put in en route.
So we steamed for Silverquay at once. Now, perhaps, you'll gratify my
curiosity as to what is the important matter you want to see me about. I
can only think of one matter of any real importance," he added daringly,
his blue eyes raking her face with the audacious, challenging glance which
was so characteristic of the man.
Reluctantly Ann desisted from fidgeting with the bowl of snowdrops, and
Brett nodded approval.
"Yes, I'm sure you've done your level best for them" he observed
ironically.
She sat down, clasping her hands tightly together in her lap, while Brett
remained standing on the hearthrug, looking down at her with quizzical
amusement.
"I--I wanted to ask you--" she began, then halted abruptly and made a fresh
start. "I wrote to you because--because--" Once again she came to a dead
stop.
"Well?" he queried. "I'm afraid I haven't grasped it yet."
Ann pulled herself together and made another effort.
"It's about Tony," she said bluntly.
Brett's eyes narrowed, but he made no comment. He waited quietly for her to
continue.
"He's told me--I've found out--that he owes you a large sum of money."
He nodded.
"He owes me money, certainly. Whether you'd define it as a large or small
sum would be a matter of relative proportion, I should imagine."
"That's it!" exclaimed Ann eagerly. "That's just it. To him, twelve hundred
is an enormous sum--a small fortune! To you--it isn't very much to you,
Brett, is it?"
"I don't quite understand," he replied cautiously.
"You hold some bills of his--notes of hand, don't you call them?" she
pursued. "And they're due to be paid now, aren't they?"
"That is so. Well, what then?"
"Why, it wouldn't make much difference to you--would it,
Brett?"--appealingly--"if he didn't pay just yet--if you waited a little
longer?"
"I'm afraid I don't see with what object," he returned coldly.
Ann caught her lip between her teeth. Oh, how difficult men were when it
came to any question of money! How hard! Hardening all at once into cold
and implacable strangers.
"Why--why--" she said entreatingly. "Tony hasn't got the money to pay you
with just now, and if you'll only wait a little--give him a little time to
pay--Oh, Brett, won't you do it?"
"Wait for my money, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Do you think"--sardonically--"that I'm any more likely to get it at the
end of six months than I am at present? If Tony hasn't got twelve hundred
now--is he proposing to earn it in the next six months?"
The bitter, gibing note in his voice roused her anger.
"You'd no business to lend it him!" she exclaimed hotly. "He's only young,
and you were simply helping him, _encouraging_ him to gamble, when you know
as well as I do that gambling is absolutely in his blood. You'd no _right_
to lend it him!"
"I like that"--coolly. "Brabazon plays the fool--or knave, rather"--with a
sudden harshness in his voice--"borrowing money which he knows he can't
repay, apparently--and it's my fault! Not having enough sins of my own,
I suppose you think you can saddle me with Tony's, too. Many thanks." He
bowed mockingly.
"You're the older man," persisted Ann. "You ought not to have made it
possible--easy for him to play beyond his means. Brett, please--will you
give him time to pay? As"--with an effort she swallowed her pride--"as an
act of personal friendship to me?"
"You still haven't answered my question. Supposing I agree, supposing
I do give him another six months, how is he going to get the money by
then--unless that old curmudgeon of an uncle of his shells out for him?"
Ann shook her head.
"He won't," she said. "I know that."
"Then how is the young fool going to find the money in the time? Tell me
that."
"He _will_ find it," said Ann quietly. "I can't--tell you how. But if
you'll wait six months, I'll give you my personal guarantee that the money
shall be paid."
Brett's eyes narrowed again in sudden concentration.
"_Your_ personal guarantee?"
"Yes, mine. If you'll wait six months--or even _three_"--urgently. "Oh,
Brett, you will wait?"
"'Even three,'" he repeated thoughtfully. Suddenly he threw up his head
and laughed. "I see it--it's as clear as daylight! I believe"--smiling
blandly--"you are proposing to marry Coventry next month. At least, I'm
told that's the programme. And I suppose you count on paying off Tony's
debt--with Coventry's money. Is that it? What a charming arrangement!"
Ann felt her colour rise till her whole face and neck seemed scorching with
the hot rush of blood.
"Whatever the arrangement would be, you may be sure it would be a perfectly
fair one," she said steadily. "Nor does it concern you so long as you get
the money owing to you."
"On the contrary, it would concern me very much to be paid off with
Coventry's money. I shouldn't like it a bit. He's got the woman I want--and
he can keep his damn money!"
Sick as she felt under the insult of his manner, Ann forced herself into
making yet another appeal.