"Once I am in England, I can earn my living; I am a qualified teacher. I will pay you back some day, Captain Mallender—as sure as I stand here," she faltered tremulously.
"Please don't let that worry you. I'll draw out the money, take your ticket, and bring you the balance, shall we say here? the day after to-morrow—early, or late?"
"I cannot come here early, the servants and syces are always about, but I could meet you after dinner,—before they begin bridge."
"All right then—Thursday—no, by Jove! I'm dining out. Shall we fix Friday, on this spot at half-past nine, sharp?"
Miss Sim was about to reply, when a man came suddenly round a turn of the walk, and stood momentarily transfixed. It was Captain Wylie—one of the dwellers in tents.
"Hullo, Mallender!" he began awkwardly, "they are looking for you indoors. Byng wants you. Well, Miss Sim, and so you did not go to the Croquet Tournament after all? How was that? Preferred the garden, eh?"
"Yes," she answered brusquely, and turning her back on him, instantly disappeared among the shrubs. Mallender however stood his ground, and said: "Oh, Byng, yes! By Jove, I forgot him! it's about the polo of course. I'll go in now——" and he walked away whistling "The Jewel of Asia," and thus the interloper was left in sole possession of the field. For some time, he stood with a half smile on his keen clean-shaven face, then he gave a loud harsh laugh, and strolled away.
Naturally the Friday rendezvous fell through. Mallender the conspirator was obliged to take bolder, and more open measures; he sent Miss Sim a note by Anthony, contrived to sit next to her at dinner, and discussed her arrangements; subsequently in the drawing-room he brought her a little packet, which he handed over stealthily—saying as he did so:
"This belongs to you."
The packet contained money, and a first-class ticket to London.