The Sundial

by Fred M. White

The speaker broke off and a little sob came from her throat. It was dark now, and Rent took her in his arms and soothed her with loving words. It was too dark to see the outline of the figure standing by a belt of shrubs facing the door. But on the still air every word and sound carried, so that John Charlock, from his hiding-place, missed nothing. He would have been hard put to say why he had returned. Perhaps his conscience had smitten him. Perhaps it had occurred to him that he was treating his wife with undue severity. But the fact remained that he was back there again, prepared with a new proposition.

For the moment he had forgotten Arnold Rent. The man had never come into his mind again, though, at the time, he had meant to give Rent a sharp lesson on the prudence of minding his own business. He had come back through the shrubbery in time to witness a tender little scene in the porch. A wave of sudden anger passed over him. Then he grew calm and collected. After all, why should he interfere? Why should he come between this heartless woman and her platonic flirtation with this besotted fool—this business man gone mad?

For, man of the world as he was, Charlock had not yet grasped the true inwardness of the situation. That his wife was an actress to her fingertips he had learnt by bitter experience. Doubtless Rent had arrived to keep the appointment and thus these two had come together. Charlock smiled bitterly to himself as his mind dwelt upon the dramatic story which his wife must have had to tell. He could imagine how the woman would play upon the feelings of the man as a master plays upon an instrument. And the setting to the play was worthy of the great actress herself. No doubt Rent had been so moved by the whispered wrongs of this outraged wife that he had placed all he possessed at her disposal. Doubtless he was removing her to the loving custody of some relation who would take care of her for the present. But how far things had gone Charlock did not know. If he had, he might have interfered—and again he might not. It all depended upon his sardonic mood for the moment. He stood there now, erect and motionless, and disposed to watch the thing to the end. Presently the great car jumped forward, and a few moments later the tail lights had vanished down the drive.

"Well, why not?" Charlock murmured. "Unless I am greatly mistaken, Arnold Rent is a long way from being a fool. A little more knowledge of the world, and he is likely to be a force to cope with. Let him find out for himself. Let him learn what I have had to put up with. It will be an education for him. Upon my word, though he little knows it, I am going to prove that young man's greatest benefactor."

Meanwhile, the great car sped on through the darkness, with Kate Charlock and Rent behind and the driver in front. They were very quiet and subdued, for, after the first moments of his mid-summer madness, Rent could not be blind to the seriousness of the step he had taken. And the woman by his side, following his every mood and phase of thought, played up to him like a past mistress in the art of emotions. She laid her head tenderly on his shoulder and sighed, as she nestled up to him.

"You do not regret already?" she whispered.

"Regret?" Rent murmured passionately. "I will never do that. But one does not burn one's boats and mock all the shibboleths without realising the responsibilities that one is casting aside. I do hope that you understand that much, Kate."

Under cover of the darkness, the woman yawned slightly. She was beginning to long now for the life and bustle of the hotel, and, besides, she had not dined as yet, and, like most people who have their feelings well in hand, she was possessed of a healthy appetite. She jumped down briskly from the car as it pulled up at the Royal Solent Hotel, and the hall porter, majestic in his uniform, threw back the heavy plate-glass doors. To Rent's annoyance, the lounge was thronged with people in evening dress. He had forgotten the presence of Royalty in Portsmouth. He had expected to have the hotel pretty much to Kate and himself. It was no far cry to Southampton, and there was the chance of being recognized by somebody who knew one or another of them. Still, sooner or later, the ordeal would have to be encountered and dealt with. The thought had hardly flashed through Rent's mind before a strikingly handsome woman in evening dress rose from the lounge and came towards Kate Charlock. Then, as she caught sight of the man by her side, she appeared to hesitate, and something like a scornful smile swept across her dark features, and she slowly went back to her seat. But, all the same, she continued to stare at Kate Charlock and her companion. Kate grasped Rent's arm.

"Lady Strathmore," she whispered. "I am certain that she recognised us. Did you see how she came down the hall and then turned back? I wish we hadn't come here."

It was the first blow, and the woman staggered under it. She stood there, perplexed and uneasy. In a dim kind of way she comprehended the fact that Arnold Rent was ordering rooms for himself and Mrs. Charlock. It all came to her in a kind of dream. But she roused herself presently as Rent laid his hand upon her arm.