The Intriguers | Page 9

drew nearer, Blanche was struck by something that
suggested the family likeness of the Challoners. He had their firm
mouth and wide forehead, but by no means their somewhat austere
expression. He looked as if he went carelessly through life and could
readily be amused. Then he saw Bertram, and, starting, made as if he
would pass the entrance to the gallery, and Blanche turned her
surprised glance upon her husband. Bertram's hand was tightly closed
on the glasses he held, and his face was tense and flushed, but he
stepped forward with a cry:
"Dick!"
The newcomer moved toward him, and Blanche knew that he was the
man who had brought dishonor upon her husband's family.
"This is a fortunate meeting," Bertram said, and his voice was cordial,
though rather strained. "Blanche, here's my cousin, Dick Blake."
Blake showed no awkwardness. Indeed, on the whole, he looked
amused; but his face grew graver as he fixed his eyes on Mrs.
Challoner.
"Though I'm rather late, you'll let me wish you happiness," he said. "I
believe it will be yours. Bertram's a good fellow; I have much to thank
him for."
There was a sincerity and a hint of affection in his tone, and Bertram
looked uncomfortable.
"But how did you come here?" Bertram asked, as if to turn the
conversation from himself. "Where have you been since----"
He stopped abruptly, and Blake laughed.

"Since you surreptitiously said good-by to me at Peshawur? Well, after
that I went to Penang, and from there to Queensland. Stayed a time at a
pearl-fishing station among the Kanakas, and then went to England for
a few months."
"But how did you manage?" Bertram inquired with some diffidence. "It
raises a point you wouldn't let me talk about at Peshawur, but I've often
felt guilty because I didn't insist. Traveling about as you have done is
expensive."
"Not to me," Blake explained with a twinkle. "I've turned adventurer,
and I have the Blake gift of getting along without money." He added in
an explanatory aside to Blanche: "For two or three generations we kept
open house and a full stable in Ireland, on a revenue derived from rents
which were rarely paid, and if I hadn't been too young when a disaster
gave the creditors their chance. I'd have given them a sporting run."
"But what did you do when you left England?" Bertram broke in.
"Went to East Africa; after that, to this country, where I tried my hand
at prairie farming. Found it decidedly monotonous and sold the
homestead at a profit. Then I did some prospecting, and now I'm here
on business."
"On business!" Bertram exclaimed. "You could never be trusted to get
proper value for a shilling!"
"I've learned to do so lately, and that's not going far. If you're in
commerce in this country, you must know how to put down fifty cents
and take up a dollar's worth. Anyhow, I'm here to meet an American
whose acquaintance I made farther West. He's a traveler in paints and
varnishes, and a very enterprising person, as well as an unusually good
sort. But I've told you enough about myself; I want your news."
Blanche thought it cost her husband an effort to fall in with his cousin's
casual mood. Blake, however, seemed quite at ease, and she was
growing interested in him. He reminded her of the Challoner portraits
in the dark oak gallery at Sandymere, but she thought him lighter, more

brilliant, and, in a sense, more human than those stern soldiers. Then
she remembered that his Irish blood explained something.
They talked a while about English friends and relatives; and then Blake
asked rather abruptly:
"And the Colonel?"
"Well," said Bertram, "I heard that you saw him, Dick."
"I did, for half an hour. I felt that it was my duty, though the interview
was hard on us both. He was fair, as he always was, and tried to hide
his feelings. I couldn't blame him because he failed."
Bertram looked away, and Blake's face was troubled. There was a hint
of emotion in his voice as he went on, turning to Blanche:
"Whatever he may think of me, I have a sincere respect for Colonel
Challoner; and I owe him more than I can ever repay. He brought me
up after my father's death and started me, like a son, in an honorable
career." His tone grew lighter. "It's one of my few virtues that I don't
forget my debts. But I've kept you some time. My American friend
hasn't turned up yet and I may be here a few days. Where are you
staying? I'll look you up before I leave."
"We go West to-morrow morning. Come down and have dinner with us
at the Windsor," Bertram said;