“You are rather hard upon me, Colonel. You do me the honour to say I have brains, but you take it for granted that I haven’t used them. I’ve been on the rack between my thoughts and my feelings ever since I found out I loved this girl, and I’ve puzzled out for myself some sort of plan to live upon.”
“And what’s that? To ‘give her the key of your heart,’ I suppose, and make her ‘the sharer of your thoughts and feelings.’ ”
“I should be sorry to have a wife that wasn’t!”
The Colonel stopped with a short laugh, and looked at him with half-closed eyes and hard-set mouth.
“Well, try it!” said he raspingly; and with a half-mocking salute he turned round and went rapidly off by the way they had come.
George looked after him regretfully; he was inclined, after all, to put on Lady Florencecourt the whole blame of the souring process which the Colonel’s really warm and kindly nature had obviously undergone. He was grateful to the elder officer for a steady liking for and interest in himself. In the uprooting and tempestuous state of mind into which the red-hot romance of his marriage had plunged him, it was with a pang of yearning towards the sincere and steadfast old friend that he saw him depart disappointed, if not angry. But no man of three-and-twenty can trouble himself deeply about one of his own sex when he is on his way to a passionately adored bride; and a minute later George was in a hansom on his way to —— Street, in an ecstasy of anticipation that left no room for a doubt or a fear. Every step was bringing him nearer to her, making his heart beat faster; the hansom was turning into Wilton Place, and George, in his fiery impatience, had flung open the doors and taken a half-sovereign from his pocket for his shilling fare in the reckless spirit that makes us anxious to communicate to the meanest mortals (with no disrespect to the cabbies) the joy that seems too great for one body and soul to contain, when suddenly his eyes, straining to catch the earliest possible glimpse of the house that contained his treasure, fell, for the second time that day, upon the man who of all others seemed to the young bridegroom the harbinger of ill-luck and disaster. The Eastern merchant Rahas, not in the costume he had worn that morning, but in scarlet fez and a long, dark-blue garment, which was a cross between a frock-coat and a dressing-gown, was crossing the street hastily exactly in front of Nouna’s new home, as if he had just visited it.
“Stop!” shouted George to the driver, and before the man could obey he had sprung out, tossed him the half-sovereign, which the recipient caught with a dexterity he would not have shown for a shilling, and started in pursuit.
The Oriental had given one look round, and disappeared with the agile rapidity of a cat up a narrow street a little further on. George followed, dashed round the corner, and found himself in a stone-paved alley with stables on each side. There was no human being to be seen; but a barking dog at the other end seemed to have been lately disturbed. George traversed the little court at a sharp run, found an opening, and went through into a street beyond, where a few people were passing to and fro with no appearance of excitement, and carriages and cabs were going both ways. He saw that the ingenious Eastern gentleman had given him the slip, and he returned towards his new home with his spirits dashed, and his heart full of misgiving.
If Rahas had just visited Nouna, as George suspected, he must have followed her from the church to her new home, as George had told no one the address till after his wedding. Then how had he timed his departure so as just to escape meeting her husband? And then again came the question which had puzzled him at the church: How did Rahas know at what time and at what church Nouna would be married?
He took out the latch-key for which, with an old bachelor instinct, he had at once asked the landlady on taking the rooms, fitted it with an unsteady hand into the door, and let himself in. Just inside he caught sight of his face in the narrow strip of glass that filled the middle beam of the hat-stand, and was struck by his own pallor, and by the stern expression of his features.