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Page 47
That was all Jimmie could say. He vaguely realized that he was in the
presence of a grief beyond the power of words to comfort. There was a
suspicious moisture in his eyes as he turned abruptly to the table and
mixed himself a mild stimulant. He drank it slowly to give himself time
to think.
Jack thrust the photograph into the breast pocket of his coat. He rubbed
one hand through his hair, and kicked an easel over. He burst into a
harsh, unnatural laugh.
"This is a rotten world!" he cried. "A rotten world! It's a stage
full of actors, and they play d---- little but tragedy! I've found
my long-lost wife again, Jimmie! Rejoice with me!"
He poured three fingers of neat brandy into a glass and drank it at a
gulp. Then the mocking laughter died on his lips, and he threw himself
into a chair. He buried his face in his hands, and his body shook with
the violence of the sobs he was powerless to stifle.
"It will do him good," thought Jimmie.
The clock ticked on, and at intervals there was the rumble of trains
passing to and from Ravenscourt Park station, and the clang of distant
tram-bells. The voice of mighty London mocked at Jack's misery, and he
conquered his emotions. He lifted a defiant face, much flushed.
"I've made a beastly fool of myself, Jimmie."
"Not a bit of it, old chap. Brace up; some one is coming." He had heard
a cab stop in the street.
There were rapid steps on the stairs, and Nevill entered the studio. His
face was eloquent with sympathy, and he silently held out a hand. Jack
gripped it tightly.
"Thanks, Vic," he said, gratefully. "Where did--did you take her?"
"To her lodgings, off Regent street. And then I came straight on here.
I thought she was dead, Jack. I don't wonder you're upset."
"Upset? It's worse than that. If I were the only one to suffer--"
"Then there's another woman?"
"Yes!"
"That's bad! I didn't dream of such a thing. I can't tell you how sorry
I feel."
Nevill sat down and lighted a cigar; he thoughtfully watched the smoke
curl up.
"I suppose I could get a divorce?" Jack asked, savagely.
"No doubt of it, but--"
"But you wouldn't advise me to do it. No, you're right. I couldn't
stand the publicity and disgrace."
"I would like to choke her," muttered Jimmie.
"I had a talk with her on the way to town," said Nevill. "She has been
in London for a month, and knew your address all the time, but did not
wish to see you. Now she is hard up, and that is why she made herself
known to you to-night."
"What became of the scoundrel she ran away with? Did he desert her?"
"Yes," Nevill answered, after a brief hesitation.
"Do you know who he was?"
"She intimated that he was a French Count. I believe she has had several
others since, and the last one left her stranded."
"She wants money, then?"
"Rather. That's her game. She knows she has no legal claim on you, and
for a fixed sum I think she will agree to return to Paris and not molest
you in future."
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