XVI
It was nearly an hour later when Charter made his way to the fashionable club that he knew Belhaven commonly frequented. He went deliberately, after a brief space of time given to what he would have called deliberation, but which did not deserve the name. He had left Rachel in a storm of feeling, so much more violent than anything usual to his equable nature that he had been unable at first to think with coherence. All smaller considerations, even the events of yesterday, seemed relegated to the limbo of eternal forgetfulness, and nothing was of consequence but this terrible fact, thrust so rudely into his life, this trapping of the woman he loved by a coward who was using her, so Charter felt, as a shield to save him from the punishment which he so richly deserved. Yet, even in his passion, he saw that Rachel's argument was true, that he could do nothing without exposing both sisters to an open scandal, but, in his present mood, even that seemed a small matter compared to Rachel's vindication, and he had no pity for Eva at all.
It was certain, however, that he could not apply primitive methods to the case, and he did not even dream of wringing Belhaven's neck, but, in spite of his rage against him, he was also aware that he could not let this go on without informing him of his own position. When he left the old house on the hill, he had felt keenly the sting of shame and disgust. It seemed to him that he had been there on Belhaven's own errand, to make love to another man's wife, that he was falling to the level of his adversary. But he would not give Rachel up; every instinct battled against such a renunciation, and, being determined to rescue her at any cost, he suddenly hit upon the only course that seemed open to one of his temperament. He would see Belhaven and warn him; he would tell him, face to face, exactly what he intended to do. This idea taking possession of him, he acted upon it with a sudden deviation from his usual tardy deliberation; he went directly to the club and inquired for Belhaven.
As he supposed, he had no difficulty in finding him, seated in a corner of the library reading, or pretending to read, a new book that in reality was only a cover to prevent the interruption of his thought, for Belhaven had more than enough to occupy his mind.
Catching sight of his dark head and handsome profile bent over his book in a remote corner of the big room, Charter walked in, and observing that the only other occupants, two rather elderly men, were deeply engaged with their newspapers, he went over to Belhaven's retreat and addressed him with an abruptness that made him start slightly and lay his book upon his knee.
"I want a word with you."
Belhaven's face darkened with the recollection of John's hands on his throat but he restrained himself with admirable determination.
"I can't exactly prevent you from saying it here," he remarked coolly.
But John took no notice of his manner; instead he leaned against the wall opposite and folded his arms across his breast, perhaps to be certain that he would not make too violent use of them, but he spoke as calmly as Belhaven had, only with a slight stiffening of the lips that with him was a sign of great anger hardly controlled.
"I came over here to tell you that I've just been to your house; I don't want you to think I'm a sneak or a coward. I went there to see Mrs. Belhaven because I've heard—pretty plainly—all the circumstances of your marriage."