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A gentle, half-amused smile flickered at the young man's lips for an instant, then, "David Claridge still," he answered. His last word stirred the meeting. A sort of ruffle went through the atmosphere, and now every eye was fixed and inquiring. The word was ominous.
"Thee sees things clearly," he answered. Lacey grasped his hand. At that moment an orderly advanced towards them. "He's after us one of the Palace cavalry," said Lacey. "Effendi Claridge Effendi! May his grave be not made till the karadh- gatherers return," said the orderly to David. "My name is Claridge," answered David.
Miss Claridge would have it so. And none in Hamley said nay, not one." The Duchess murmured to herself. Eglington was dead Eglington was dead Eglington was dead! And David Claridge was coming out of the desert, was coming to-day-now! "How did it happen?" she asked, faintly, at last. "Things went wrong wi' him bad wrong in Parliament and everywhere, and he didn't take it well.
It had never occurred to her, it did not now, that he had known the truth; for, of course, to know the truth was to speak, to restore to David his own, to step down into the second and unconsidered place. After all, to her mind, there was no disgrace. The late Earl had married secretly, but he had been duly married, and he did not marry again until Mercy Claridge was dead.
Did Faith know? Luke Claridge was gone without speaking, but had Soolsby told Faith? How closely had he watched the faces round him at Luke Claridge's funeral, to see if they betrayed any knowledge! Anxious days had followed that night in the laboratory.
"You are Mercy Claridge from beyond beyond and away," he answered dazedly. "I am Faith Claridge, Soolsby," answered I. He started, peered forward at me, and for a moment he did not speak; then the fear went from his face. "Ay, Faith Claridge, as I said," he answered, with apparent understanding, his stark mood passing.
Instinctively she glanced at the papers exposed in the box, and at the letters beside it. The document on the top of the pile in the box related to Cyprus the name caught her eye. Another document was half-exposed beneath it. Her hand went to her heart. She saw the words, "Soudan" and "Claridge Pasha."
He began to realize that there were forces stirring in his grandson which had no beginning in Claridge blood, and were not nurtured in the garden with the fruited wall. He was not used to problems; he had only a code, which he had rigidly kept. He had now a glimmer of something beyond code or creed. He saw that the shrill Elder was going to speak. He intervened.
Some months later the following letter came to David Claridge in Cairo from Faith Claridge in Hamley: David, I write thee from the village and the land of the people which thou didst once love so well. Does thee love them still? They gave thee sour bread to eat ere thy going, but yet thee didst grind the flour for the baking.
A gentle, half-amused smile flickered at the young man's lips for an instant, then, "David Claridge still," he answered. His last word stirred the meeting. A sort of ruffle went through the atmosphere, and now every eye was fixed and inquiring. The word was ominous.
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