Part 3 — CHAPTER XI THE VICTOR

The glare of light from the hotel lounge dazzled Rosemary as she entered. She paused on the mat just within the great swing-door, looking around her. The warmth of the place after the chill without was almost overpowering. It gave her a curious sensation of insecurity, as if the old allurement from which she had so narrowly escaped were weaving its net afresh about her feet. She cast an instinctive glance over her shoulder, caught a glimpse of The Old Bean's towsled red head and was reassured. This solid supporter of hers was made of stouter stuff than dreams. There was no danger of his vanishing into thin air.

He saw the glance and replied to it in an audible undertone. "Carry on! There he is—over in that corner. You lead—I'll follow!" She turned her dazzled eyes in the direction he indicated, and, her vision clearing, she saw the dark, refined face of her travelling-companion bent over a paper. He was evidently not in the least perturbed regarding her absence, and her relief at the discovery was not unmixed with indignation. There seemed to be something almost studied in his complete indifference. It was more in response to The Old Bean's request than her own impulse that she made her way towards him.

There were but few people present as the tea-hour was over. Dick Dynamo had pushed his own tray on one side and was smoking a cigarette as he read. He looked up, however, before she reached him, and she saw in a moment by the mocking light in his eyes that her entrance had not been unobserved by him.

She felt herself turn scarlet as she stood before him. It was with immense effort that she spoke.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I—met a friend."

"Pray don't apologize!" said Dick Dynamo. "I concluded that there was some good reason for your absence." His eyes went beyond her and spent perhaps two seconds in summing up The Old Bean. Then he said: "Have you had any tea?"

The question did not convey that the matter was one of the faintest interest to him, but it had to be answered. Rosemary began to reply in the negative, but The Old Bean gently assumed the responsibility himself.

"No, we haven't. But we're just going to. You've had yours, I see, so it's no good asking you to join us."

Dick Dynamo's eyes kindled a little in response to this, but his voice remained quite suave as he said, "Thanks, no. But it will give me great pleasure to look on. I didn't quite catch your name, I'm afraid."

"It wasn't mentioned," said The Old Bean. "My name is Ross—Donald Ross. Sit down, Rosemary, while I get hold of a waiter!"

"Don't trouble!" said Dick Dynamo, and struck a bell on his own table. "My name is Graves—Richard Graves, at the present moment, as possibly Rosemary may have mentioned. Did she explain that we are travelling together?"

"I didn't need to be told that," said The Old Bean stolidly. "I've been following you for the past three weeks."

Dick Dynamo's black brows went up. "Indeed!" he said. "It has taken you some time to come up with us."

"Yes, I know," said The Old Bean. "It's been rather like following a streak of lightning." He drew forward a chair for Rosemary with the words, and pressed her quietly into it.

Dick Dynamo's laugh had a ring of derision. "I followed my mood," he said. "I had an idea that there was someone behind us. That is really why I pulled up."

The Old Bean seated himself close to Rosemary. His freckled face looked more square than usual. His green eyes were unfailingly direct. There was nothing in the least subtle about him, but he looked a solid mass of determination.

Rosemary sat forward in her chair with her head bent. She was evidently feeling her position acutely. She made no attempt to intervene in any way. The flush of embarrassment had passed, leaving her very pale.

Dick Dynamo glanced towards her. "You have been a long way," he remarked.

She shook her head, not lifting her eyes. "No, not very far, only along the shore."

"Perhaps a little further than you anticipated," he suggested.

She made a quick gesture of negation. The Old Bean leaned forward, almost with a screening movement.

He was on the verge of speaking when she looked up sharply. "Tell him we're engaged!" she said.

The Old Bean turned ponderously to the other man. "We're engaged," he said.

Dick Dynamo's smile was instant; it had something of an acrobatic quality. "Oh, not without my consent, I think," he said.

"Your consent?" repeated The Old Bean. "Has that—excuse me—anything to do with it?"

"I should say—everything—morally," said Dick Dynamo. "But that by the way! Won't you have your tea first?"

"I don't know," said The Old Bean. "I think I'd sooner talk first if it's all the same to you. Rosemary may be your guest, but I don't see that that involves any moral obligation to ask your consent to our getting married. I've always meant to marry her for as long as I've known her, and I've known her for considerably longer than you have."

"It looks as if her intentions and yours have not always been identical," observed Dick Dynamo, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "It's the first I've heard of them anyway."

His eyes were upon Rosemary as he spoke with the old appraising look that she had come to know so well. She met them with a kind of desperation. "You're only joking," she said, in a low voice. "It doesn't really matter two pins to you what I do."

His smile at once included her in its mockery. "I hope I take a more serious view of my responsibilities than that," he said.

"Your responsibilities!" said The Old Bean, a sudden throb in his voice that seemed to indicate that there was more beneath his composure than he had so far permitted to appear. "That's a point I should rather like to discuss with you."

Dick Dynamo's attention was at once transferred to him. "You shall, my good fellow," he said kindly, "but I recommend that the discussion should be held in a more private place than this. And meantime, here is your tea, so don't let me interrupt you!"

He leaned back in his chair again and resumed the study of his paper, leaving his two companions completely to their own devices. The result of this proceeding was that they sat as culprits in a guilty silence while the waiter clattered the tea-cups in front of Rosemary and finally withdrew.

The Old Bean was the first to move. Laboriously and with furrowed brow, he dragged his chair round until his back was completely turned upon Dick Dynamo; then with a steady hand he drew the tray to him and began to pour out the tea.

Rosemary started, as one coming out of a dream. "Shan't I do that?" she said.

"No, darling," said The Old Bean quietly and with great distinctness. "I'll see to everything. You're tired."

The opportunity to serve her seemed to restore his confidence. He ate and drank and saw that she did the same without the smallest sign that he was aware of the man who sat reading the paper behind him. And Rosemary also, re-acting to his influence, gradually recovered her equilibrium, so that at the end of the meal they were talking together in low tones almost as if they had been alone.

"You had better go and get a rest," said The Old Bean when she had finished, and nodded reassuringly when she looked up with quick interrogation in her eyes.

She rose without demur, and he rose also and walked with her across the nearly deserted lounge to the stairs. "Don't get wind up!" he said when they were out of earshot. "I've got you all right and I'm going to keep you. Mephistopheles himself couldn't alter that."

She smiled though somewhat wanly. "Don't have a row with him, Old Bean!" she said.

"Good gracious, no!" said The Old Bean with a smile.

He watched her up the stairs, then turned with square intention and walked back to the corner he had just left. Dick Dynamo was still deep in his paper. He pulled a chair to his side and sat down.

"I want to talk to you," he said.

The elder man looked up, and over his dark thin features there passed an odd expression, as if for a moment he saw something more than the honest, freckled countenance before him.

"Talk away!" he said.

The Old Bean proceeded without further preamble. "You don't altogether understand the situation," he said. "Perhaps I don't either. But I know all I need to know. I've followed Rosemary out here to take her home."

"Oh, indeed!" said Dick Dynamo. He glanced around him with the words, and seeing one or two people still lingering in the vicinity, he got up. "Perhaps we shall dispose of this matter more quickly in private," he said.

"Wherever you like," said The Old Bean.

Dick Dynamo led the way to the lift and they ascended together. On the top floor he took the lead again, and they finally entered a room that looked out over the bay now all spangled with lights.

The Old Bean shut the door behind him and moved forward. There was another door in the room at which he glanced.

Dick Dynamo smiled a little, showing his teeth. "There is a curtain on the other side," he said. "You won't be overheard unless you raise your voice."

"Rosemary's room?" asked The Old Bean bluntly.

"Exactly. Rosemary's room." Very blandly came the reply. "I am taking good care of her, you see."

The Old Bean heard the gibe in the words and flushed a little, but he kept himself in hand. "I'm glad you've been decent to her," he said. "I don't see how anyone could be anything else myself. She's such a kid. I haven't yet fathomed why you brought her here."

"It was by her own wish," said Dick Dynamo.

"Yes, she told me that." The Old Bean paused a moment; then: "She's told me everything," he said, "that is, everything she knows."

"Then I hope you are satisfied," said Dick Dynamo.

"I am on some points," said The Old Bean. "Not on all. Why don't you want me to marry her?"

The question was characteristically direct, but it held no challenge. He spoke merely as one seeking information. Dick Dynamo, leaning against the bed-rail, regarded him wholly without animosity. He even after a moment took out his cigarette-case and offered it to him.

"No, thanks," said The Old Bean. "I prefer a pipe later. Do you mind answering me?"

"You're rather young, aren't you?" said Dick Dynamo, helping himself.

"I am twenty-two," said The Old Bean.

The other nodded. "So I should have said. I shouldn't do it if I were you."

The Old Bean showed no sign of exasperation. "Different things suit different people," he said. "But I doubt if I should come to you for advice in any case. The whole point is that I am going to marry Rosemary at the earliest possible moment. You may try to prevent it, though I don't see why you should. But you won't succeed, so it's a pity to waste your time."

"Quite sure of that?" said Dick Dynamo, blowing his cigarette-smoke thoughtfully upwards.

"I am quite sure," said The Old Bean.

"You're wrong then," said Dick Dynamo. "I can stop you with the greatest ease. I think you forget that. Rosemary is a minor."

"That can be got over," said The Old Bean.

"Not without my consent," said Dick Dynamo.

"Your consent!" Again The Old Bean repeated the words as if he were not quite sure that he heard aright. "But what has it to do with you? You don't want to marry her yourself, I suppose?"

Dick Dynamo's eyes came to his with a gleam that was like the flash of steel. "Why should you suppose that, I wonder?" he said in a voice that was very level.

The Old Bean replied with his customary simplicity. "You're not in love with her for one thing and she wouldn't have you for another."

"Has she told you so?" asked Dick Dynamo.

"No, she didn't need to. You see, she's accepted me." With complete assurance The Old Bean made reply. He was playing his strong suit now and he had no fear of being routed. "You may of course manage to postpone our marriage but you won't prevent it in the end—just because of that. I shall take her straight back to her people. I have told her so, and it is her own wish. I am not afraid of their refusing their permission."

"I see," said Dick Dynamo. His eyes went back to his cigarette-smoke, and he was silent for a space. At length: "Then I—having brought her thus far under my more or less capable guardianship—am to have no further say in the matter?" he said.

"I don't know why you should want any," said The Old Bean.

"You know very little," said Dick Dynamo. "But I will tell you this. Having put my mind to the plough, I don't as a rule look back. Rosemary will not marry you—or any other man—until she has gone back to her people and got their consent. That's final."

"Then in heaven's name let's take her back!" said The Old Bean.

"Us!" Dick Dynamo's look returned to him, but it was brief and scathing. "Strange to say, I am not proposing to include you in my party," he said.

"No," said The Old Bean quietly. "But you can't prevent me coming too."

"I don't advise you to do that." The words came with a clean-cut brevity, like the drawing of a rapier. Dick Dynamo no longer leaned against the bed-rail. He was on his feet, poised as it were for action like a practised fencer.

But The Old Bean with his hands in his pockets remained completely quiescent. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I'm not taking your advice. Wherever Rosemary goes—I go."

"You think I shall allow that?" said Dick Dynamo.

"I think you can't prevent it," said The Old Bean.

Dick Dynamo smiled again and the scar down the side of his face became a deep furrow reaching to the temple. "I believe I can convince you on that point anyhow," he said, and suddenly his right hand went into his pocket.

It was a lightning movement, and one which The Old Bean could scarcely have frustrated had he been forewarned. He found himself looking straight at the shining muzzle of a small automatic held with absolute steadiness within a yard of his face.

Taken wholly by surprise, he could not check an instinctive gesture of recoil, but it was only momentary. The next instant he was his own master. "Hullo!" he said. "What's that for?" and dug his hands still deeper into his pockets.

Dick Dynamo answered him in an undertone. He spoke between his teeth, and his thin lips scarcely moved with the words; they remained set in that terrible smile that seemed to stretch up to his temple.

"It's for you if you get in my way," he said.

The Old Bean's green eyes faxed him unwaveringly. "I suppose they allow that sort of thing in this country," he said. "But I haven't given you much reason for shooting me at present."

"That depends on how you look at it," said Dick Dynamo. "I don't mean to be hampered by you, that's all. So the sooner you quit, the better."

But The Old Bean remained stationary. "If you think," he said, "that I'm like one of those Dago chaps in Mexico to be frightened away by the sight of a gun, you're damn' well mistaken. I haven't spent three weeks hunting for Rosemary to be put off by that kind of thing now I've found her. So—as I've no intention of quitting, you may as well shoot at once."

He spoke, as he had spoken throughout, with complete moderation. There was in The Old Bean, wary Scot though he might be, a strain of that high daring that had borne his ancestors through many a wild foray. But as he faced Dick Dynamo, there was nothing about him to suggest that he was literally gambling with his life as the stake. If the man before him were sane, the odds were in his favour. But there was something—a species of devilish derision—in the eyes that met his that made him very doubtful on that point. He realized in that most critical moment that Dick Dynamo was capable of madness.

And then very abruptly the tension ended, and he knew that he had won. The murderous little weapon was plunged back into the pocket from which it had been taken, and a sinewy hand came forth and grasped his shoulder.

"You young fool!" said Dick Dynamo. "You love her so much that you'd die for her, eh?"

"Not for choice," said The Old Bean, still almost phlegmatic in his self-control. "I didn't expect you to murder me, and I'd sooner live for her. You see, as I think I've mentioned before, I'm going to marry her."

Dick Dynamo broke into a half-grudging laugh. "Well, you can have her," he said. "She turned me down only this afternoon. Did she tell you that?"

"No," said The Old Bean with simplicity. "She wouldn't, you know. All she said was—after accepting me—that she couldn't marry me without your consent, because you had been good to her."

"Ah!" said Dick Dynamo. "I told you you couldn't have her without it, didn't I? You won't get her to run away with you. I promise you that."

"I'm not the sort that runs away," protested The Old Bean. "I can't see any necessity. If you think there will be any difficulty about our getting married without her aunt's consent, I'll wire to her at once."

"You're a persevering lad, aren't you?" said Dick Dynamo.

"I know what I want, if that's what you mean," said The Old Bean.

"And see that you get it, eh?" Something besides derision sounded in the words. "Well, it's your own show. But if she lets you down, don't blame me!"

The Old Bean looked at him and for the first time addressed him with respect. "I shouldn't blame anyone except myself, sir, if that happened," he said. "It'll be up to me to see it doesn't."

Dick Dynamo's hand loosed its grasp and struck him a friendly blow. "By gad, I hope you'll succeed!" he said. "You deserve to. There's more in you than meets the eye."

"Oh, I don't think so," said The Old Bean modestly. "At least it's the first I've heard of it."

Dick Dynamo laughed—a laugh that entirely transformed him. "Well, you've upset my apple-cart completely," he said. "I had just made up my mind to take her back again to her people when you turned up. And now, since you are here, perhaps you had better get married first."

"I certainly think the sooner the better," said The Old Bean. "It'll make things easier for her."

"I suppose you've got enough to live on?" said Dick Dynamo.

"Oh, more than enough," The Old Bean assured him. "I'm quite certain her people will approve from that point of view."

"All right," said Dick Dynamo. "I'll answer for the rest. Do you know what made me point that gun at you just now?"

"You probably felt like it," said The Old Bean politely.

"No. I just wanted to know what you would do with your hands." Dick Dynamo regarded him with unmasked approval. "There's a lot in that," he said. "And you did exactly what I wanted you to do. You kept 'em down. I congratulate you.—It wasn't loaded, by the way."

"Of course I guessed that," said The Old Bean, turning a dark red.

Dick Dynamo's eyes retained their approval. He held out his hand. "My boy, you're a bad liar," he said. "Will you shake?"

The Old Bean's hand came out of his pocket at last to grip the one which a few seconds before had threatened him. He said nothing, but the grip was obviously satisfactory.

"Yes," said Dick Dynamo, with his swift electric smile. "I'd go down to hell with a fellow like you, and the odds are we'd come back again. If I'd had you with me fifteen years ago—" he caught back a sudden sigh and laughed again. "What am I talking about? You weren't born then!"

"I was seven," said The Old Bean practically. "But I'd be proud to go to hell with you any day you like to mention."

"Ah!" said Dick Dynamo between a sigh and a smile. "Married men can't do things like that! And I'm getting past the age myself."

"You'll have to get married too," said The Old Bean.

There was an instant's silence. Then: "Let's go down and get a drink!" said Dick Dynamo.