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Then he understood; and, this time, it was no mirage. Ronnie's desert wanderings were over. "But don't you want to see your son?" Helen asked, presently. Ronnie leapt up. "See him? Why, of course I do! Oh, come on!... Helen! What does one say to a very young baby?" Helen followed him upstairs, laughing. "That entirely depends upon circumstances.
Ronnie saw the woman lay her left hand noiselessly upon the back of the Italian chair, then slip her right behind her and take something bright, off a table covered with bright things. And, as he watched, she flung her right hand high above her head, and in it, point downwards, gleamed the sharp blade of a dagger. Her eyes met Ronnie's in the mirror. A gleam of malicious triumph shot from them.
"It is quite inexplicable to me," said Helen, slowly, "that you should have any knowledge of my cousin's letter. Also, you have obviously been prompt, but I have not the faintest idea why prompt action was necessary." "Didn't your cousin give you my message?" "Your name was not mentioned in his letter." "Did he tell you of Ronnie's critical condition?"
I best remember leaving home, and going back, and also playing cricket. Ronnie's father lives as a just and straightforward gentleman, who never caned a boy except for what was mean or dirty, and whom we all loved and respected. But then I have known and loved him and his wife all my life. If our house was a second home to Ronnie, theirs has always been a second home to me.
I have always looked rather for some one to admire, some one whose ideals and personality were congenial, whatever their position or occupation. I have also, on the whole, always preferred comfort to show, simple to elaborate living. This I trace to the simple comfort and naturalness of my old home. I went to a day school kept by Ronnie's father when I was nine.
Once again it was Garth's vantage, and once again Ronnie's arm swung high for an untakable smasher. "Play up, Dal!" cried a voice, amid the general hubbub. Garth knew that dear voice. He did not look in its direction, but he smiled. The next moment his arm shot out like a flash of lightning. The ball touched ground on Ronnie's side of the net and shot the length of the court without rising.
Every emotion of which the human soul is capable, passed over Ronnie's countenance perplexity, amazement, anger, fury; grief, horror, dismay. She saw them come and go, and come again; then, finally, resolve into a look of indignant misery. At last he spoke. "If that is your opinion, Helen," he said, "it is a pity I ever returned from the African jungle.
The whole thing carried out exactly Ronnie's favourite description of his 'cello: "just like the darkest horse-chestnut you ever saw in a bursting bur." The open rosewood case, with its soft white lining, was the bursting bur; and within lay his beautiful Infant! Helen had done this. Ronnie's pleasure was largely tinged with pain.
I doubt whether he can catch anything down from town before the five o'clock." She flew to her room, pressing Ronnie's sad little note to her heart. All the world looked different! Ah, what would it be, now, to tell him of his little son! But she must get home before him. Supposing Ronnie went upstairs alone, and found the baby!
"Can you write to her to-night, and mail the letter so that it will reach her before he arrives home?" "I have every intention of doing so." Dick Cameron sat forward, eagerly. "Good! It will come better from you than from a total stranger. No doubt I am known to her by name; but we have never chanced to meet. Without alarming her too much, I want you to make Ronnie's condition quite clear to her.
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