Charles Rex

by Ethel M. Dell

The old Anchor Hotel facing the shore had been bought by a syndicate and rebuilt and was now a very modern erection indeed. It boasted a large lounge, palm-decked and glass-covered, in which a string band played for several hours of the day, and the constant swing of its doors testified to the great popularity to which it had attained since its renovation.

To Bunny, who had known the place under very different circumstances in his boyhood, it was always a source of amusement to drop in and mark progress. The polo-ground was only a few yards away, and he had become an ardent member of the Club to which he almost invariably devoted two afternoons of the week.

He was a promising player, and his keenness made him a favourite. He rode Lord Saltash's ponies, Saltash himself very seldom putting in an appearance. He was wont to declare that he had no time for games, and his frequent absences made it impossible for him to take a very active part in the proceedings of the Club which he had himself inaugurated in an idle hour. He dropped in occasionally to watch a game, and he took interest in Bunny's progress; but he was very rarely moved to play himself. He was too restless, too volatile, to maintain any lasting enthusiasm for any pastime. All that was generally seen of him when staying at Burchester was a lightning glimpse as he tore by in his car, or else galloped furiously over the downs and along the hard sands in the early morning.

He was a good deal in town as a rule during the season, but with the general exodus in July he was invariably the first to go, driven by a fever that gave him no rest. Even his most intimate friends seldom knew where he was to be found or whither his wild fancy would take him next. No one was sure of him at any time. He would accept an engagement and throw it up again without scruple if it did not accord with his mood. Yet wherever he went he could always command a welcome—at least from the feminine portion of the community who declared that Charles Rex could not be judged by ordinary standards; he was a law unto himself.

Even Bunny did not know where he was on that hot afternoon in mid-July when all Fairharbour gathered to watch a match between the regular team and the visitors. It bid fair to be an exciting event, and he was in high spirits at being one of those chosen to play. Maud had promised to bring Toby down to see the game at his special request. He had seen very little of Toby since that night at the Castle, though he was forced to admit to himself that if she avoided him of set purpose she did it in a fashion that baffled detection. She seemed to have settled down as a regular inmate of Jake's household, and with the exception of her early rides with Jake she gave herself up almost exclusively to helping Maud with the children. She had eased his sister's burden in a wonderful fashion, and the children loved her dearly. Her readiness and her sweet temper never seemed to fail. She was but a child herself, but Bunny had an uneasy feeling that she was changing. She had stipulated for six months, but he sometimes wondered if by the end of that time she would not have contrived to put herself out of his reach. It was that suspicion that kept him hotly determined to pursue her untiringly till he captured her. Even at a distance that odd charm of hers lured him strongly, and he knew instinctively that if once she were launched in society his chances of victory would be very greatly reduced. He wished he could have seen more of Captain Larpent and possibly have enlisted his sympathy, but he had left the Castle with Saltash, and even Toby herself professed ignorance of his whereabouts. It was evident that they had never seen much of one another, and Bunny realized that he would look in vain for help in that quarter.

He doggedly maintained his resolve to win her none the less, and his visits to his sister's house were frequent. He spoke no word on the subject either to Maud or Jake. Toby should not feel that he had in any sense taken a mean advantage. But he never looked at her without the quick longing to take her in his arms rising in his heart, and though the longing was never satisfied he believed that she was aware of it. She was always friendly with him and never embarrassed in his presence. Yet he had a strong feeling that by some subtle means she was holding him off. He bided his time with what patience he could muster, but he was determined it should not be for long.

The work on Saltash's estate had done him good. He was keen to prove himself, and the vigorous, out-door life suited him. Jake saw with satisfaction that he was developing a self-reliance and resourcefulness that had not characterized him formerly. He had given up racing according to his promise, and the life he now led was after Jake's own heart, an existence of wholesome activity that was making of him exactly the type of man that he desired him to become. The boy was a gentleman and there was fine stuff in him. Jake gloried in the fact. There had always been in Bunny qualities that appealed to him very strongly, and it was in a large measure due to his influence that those qualities had ripened as they had.

He did not accompany Maud and Toby down to Fairharbour, for business kept him at the Stables. "Bring him back with you!" he said to his wife at parting, and she smiled and promised. Bunny was never difficult to persuade.

But when they reached the polo-ground he was in the midst of a crowd of visitors from the hotel, and it seemed at first as if he would have no time to spare for them. He very speedily detached himself, however, at sight of them and came up with an eager greeting.

"So awfully glad you've come. There are some people here you used to know, Maud, in the old days. Friends of Charlie's too. The Melroses—you remember them, don't you?"