CHAPTER V.
UNDER FIRE.
A tall, well-built man entered the room hurriedly and stopped short, facing Brenda, who met his gaze with gentle self-possession.
'Ah!' he muttered in a thick voice, and his unsteady hand went to his long fair moustache.
It was a terribly unhealthy face upon which Brenda's eyes rested inquiringly. The skin was cracked in places, and the cheeks were almost blue. The eyelids were red and the eyes bloodshot, while there was a general suggestion of puffiness and discomfort in the swollen features. The man was distinctly repulsive, and yet, with a small amount of tolerance, he was a figure to demand pity. Despite his dissipated air, there was that indefinite sense of refinement which belongs to birth and breeding, and which never leaves a man who has once moved among gentlemen. There was even a faint suggestion of military vanity in his dress and carriage, though his figure was by no means so smart as it must have been in bygone days.
The room was rather dark, and he glanced round, failing to see Theo Trist, who was leaning against the wall behind him.
'Ah!' he repeated; 'Brenda. I suppose you are in it, too!'
She made no reply, but stood before him in all her maidenly sweetness and strength, looking into his face through the twilight with clear and steady eyes which he hesitated to meet. Into his weak soul a flood of bitter memories rushed tumultuously—memories of a time when he could meet those eyes without that sudden feeling of self-hatred which was gnawing at his heart now. His tone was not harsh nor violent, but there was an undernote of determination which was not pleasant to the ear.
'Tell me,' he continued thickly, 'where my wife is to be found.'
Trist noticed that she never took her eyes off Huston's face, never glanced past the sleek, closely-cropped head towards himself. In some subtle way her wish was conveyed to him—the wish that he should remain there and continue, if possible, to be unnoticed by Huston. This he did, leaning squarely against the wall, his meek eyes riveted on the girl's face with a calm, expectant attention. From his presence Brenda gathered that strength and self-reliance which, I think, God intends women to gather from the companionship of men.
'No, Alfred,' she answered, using his Christian name with a gentle diplomacy which made him waver for a moment and sway backwards upon his rigid legs; 'I must not tell you that yet.'