CHAPTER I
SOWING
THE WIND"I
say you're a bad lot!""And
I reply that you're a liar!""Take
that!""Here's
the repayment!"The
man who had spoken first went down like a log. He was a red-headed
creature, with a rasping voice and an aggressive manner, evidently
one of those who bullied his way through the world, for want of a
bold spirit to stand up to him. In this instance he found his
match,
for the handsome face of the young fellow he insulted was sternly
set
and considerably flushed. After the war of words came the blow from
the bully. His fist passed harmlessly by the head of this
antagonist,
and a well-delivered return blow caught him fairly on the jaw. Then
red-head lay down to consider the lesson he had been taught."You
confounded scoundrel!" said the other, standing over him. "You
may be thankful that I don't wring your neck. You're no good in the
world that I can see, and would be better out of it.""Guess
you'd like to send him on the journey into Kingdom Come?"
suggested a weather-beaten little man near at hand, who looked like
a
sailor."I
just would," said the young man, panting. "What does the
ruffian mean by making me a target for his brutal wit? He'd leave
the
world fast enough if I had my way. Lie still!"This
to red-head, who was rising. But the prostrate man did not obey the
injunction, having some fight left in him yet. He scrambled to his
feet, and rushed with a lowered head at his enemy like a bull. But
the other was ready. He skipped aside, and the red-head met the
wood
of the counter with a sickening thud. This time he dropped
insensible. The sailor man knelt beside the defeated. "I guess
you'd better skip, Lancaster," said he. "You've done it
this time. An' the police are coming."It
was not the police, but the attendants, who forced their way
through
the crowd in the bar. Seeing this, Lancaster's friend, by name
Dicky
Baird, and by profession an idler of the West End, seized his
chum's
arm and dragged him out of the bar by main force."No
use waiting for a summons," said Dicky, when the two were in the
vestibule. "I think you'd better get home, Frank."The
other stared at a poster which announced that a new musical comedy
would be produced that night at the Piccadilly Theatre, with Miss
Fanny Tait in the chief part."I'm
not going till I see her," he said, pointing to this name."What,
Fairy Fan? Why, all the row was about her.""Because
he abused the woman. She's a good sort, and I like her very much.
You
know I do, but there's no love.""Not
on your part, perhaps, but Starth loves her, and you knocked him
down.""I
wish I'd killed him," said Lancaster, between his teeth."Don't
talk rashly, Frank," said the other, with uneasiness. "If
anything goes wrong with Starth you'll get into trouble.""Malice
aforethought," said Lancaster, carelessly. "Pshaw The man
isn't hurt. He'll be up and swearing before the play
begins."It
seemed that he was right, for a tall, bulky dark man approached
with
a smile. "Starth's all right," said he, with a nod. "You've
swelled his eye a bit, Frank, but that's all. Berry's going to put
him into a hansom. And now we'd better get to our seats."The
others assented, and the trio moved into the theatre. As they
passed
down the steps leading to the stalls, they caught a glimpse of
Captain Berry conducting a swaying figure to the door."How
did the row begin?" asked Dicky, when they were seated."Starth
said I didn't know who my father was," said Frank."Well,
you don't, do you?""That's
neither here nor there. Starth has nothing to do with my domestic
business.""H'm!"
said Baird to himself, thoughtfully.Frank
Lancaster was a dark horse, and although Dicky had known him for
some
years, he was not aware of his private history. Lancaster kept that
to himself, and seemed unnecessarily annoyed by the question of
Baird. Dicky could see nothing in Starth's remark which should lead
to a free fight, though to be sure Fairy Fan's name had likewise
been
mentioned. However, Frank seemed indisposed to speak, and like a
wise
man Baird held his usually too-free tongue.Miss
Tait, commonly known as Fairy Fan, was a popular music-hall star,
who
danced gracefully and sang sweetly. For a salary largely in excess
of
her merits, she had deserted the halls for the theatre, and
to-night
was her first appearance in "The Seaside Girl." Hence the
large audience and the subdued excitement. At the present moment
she
was dancing like a fay and singing like a lark, but the three men
nevertheless talked all the time."Jolly
little thing, ain't she?" said Dicky. "She comes from the
Californian Slopes.""Did
she pick up those diamonds there?" asked the dark man, who was a
Rhodesian called Darrel, and acquainted with stones of
price."No.
Banjo Berry, who is her uncle, gave them to her. He's a rich man,
and
lavishes his money on his niece.""Why
does he let her appear on the boards, then?" asked Darrel,
heavily."Ask
Frank, here. He's a friend of Berry's.""I'm
not," growled Lancaster, still ruffled by his late encounter. "I
can't bear the creature. His niece is worth a dozen of him.""Is
she his niece?" questioned the Rhodesian millionaire."Yes.
There's no doubt about that. I respect Miss Berry
immensely.""I
thought her name was Tait.""On
the bills. In private she's Miss Fanny Berry. Her uncle is rich,
but,
in spite of that, she's so vain that she likes to appear on the
stage. I like her, and--""You're
in love with her," contradicted Baird."A
trifle. Anyone would love such a pretty woman. But I wouldn't ask
her
to marry me.""No,
Starth will do that.""She
won't have him," said Frank, snappishly. "He's a bad lot.""A
very sore lot at present," put in Baird, smiling."It's
his own fault," replied Lancaster. "Why can't he leave me
alone. It's not the first time he's quarrelled with me.""Because
he knows you are a rival in the affections of Fairy Fan.""Rubbish,
Dicky! Don't get that bee in your bonnet. Starth can marry her for
all I care. I merely admire her, and only came into contact with
her
when Berry wrote asking if I could write her a couple of songs. I
came and saw, and--""And
she conquered," said Darrel. "Who is Berry? I fancy I've
met him before. If he's the same man, he hasn't any morals.""We'll
say principles," remarked Baird. "Berry's a fiery-tempered
Tom Thumb, who talks 'American' slang through his nose concerning
an
interesting past of a superlatively shady description. 'Been a
South
Sea blackbirding skipper from the looks of him, and I expect he
made
his money in that way. Ever met him?""Los
Angeles, now I come to think of it," said Darrel.Frank
looked up uneasily. "Who is he, anyhow?""Don't
know," responded the millionaire, imperturbably. "He was
running an apple orchard when I dropped across him. Clean shot,
too."Baird
laughed. "Sounds like a retired pirate of sorts. But he's on the
square now. He and Miss Berry have rooms in Bloomsbury, and go to
church and have the entry of some decent houses. Frank knows all
about them.""Only
that she's a nice woman and a good woman, and that Berry is a
ruffian. He won't let Starth marry her.""I
hope not," said Darrel, darkly. "I've known Starth a long
time, and he's a bounder. But he's got an uncommonly pretty sister,
as beautiful and sweet-tempered as he is the reverse. Hush! Let's
stick to the play; we're talking too much."Frank
certainly couldn't be accused of chattering, as he was rather
silent.
Even the rattling chorus and the jokes of the low comedian could
not
banish the frown from his brow. And he became aware that a man was
looking at him--a fair-faced, effeminate little man, with light
eyes
and a deprecating manner. Lancaster, in no very good temper,
scowled
at the man, who immediately turned away his head. As he did so the
first act ended amidst loud applause."An
eighteen months' run if the other act is as silly," pronounced
Baird; "but the management won't keep Fan all that time. She's
as freakish as a cat, and her uncle is rich enough to allow her to
snap her fingers at the Treasury.""She
_is_ a cat from the looks of her," said Darrel, grimly. "Come
out, boys, I'll put up the drinks."Dicky
assented affably, as the night was warm. But Frank remained behind.
"I don't want to run the risk of meeting Starth again. He might
come back.""To
fetch his sister," said the big Rhodesian. "Yonder she is
in a box with an old lady.""What
a pretty girl," said the frivolous Dicky, and departed.Lancaster
raised his glasses, rather curious to see what Miss Starth was
like.
He beheld a slender, dark girl, as unlike her brother as possible.
Plainly dressed in some gauzy stuff, with a string of seed pearls
round her neck, she looked about twenty years of age, but might
have
been even younger. Apparently she had all the unappeasable
curiosity
of youth, for her dark eyes roved round the theatre with great
eagerness. Finally they rested on Frank, and she flushed when she
found he was looking directly at her. First she looked away after
the
manner of girls, then she stole a stealthy glance at the rude young
man, and finally became engrossed in conversation with the elderly
lady who was her companion. Frank still looked. He was most polite
to
the sex, but this face interested him so much that he stared almost
rudely. Twice their eyes met, in spite of Miss Starth's
ostentatious
indifference. She coloured, and he--to his astonishment--likewise
blushed. There was something about her which took his heart by
storm.
To be sure he was susceptible where a woman was concerned, but it
seemed absurd to be fascinated by a girl after a few league-long
glances. Still, she was distinctly agreeable to him. Fairy Fan he
admired after the manner of youth, but she was a pink-and-white
doll
beside this glorious creature who looked like a queen. Where could
his eyes have been to admire the fragile charms of Miss Berry, when
true beauty was to be found alone in a stately brunette with coils
of
shining hair, and eyes like fathomless lakes in the starshine? Fan
had been Frank's Rosaline; this vision of loveliness was his
Juliet,
which means in plain English that he had fallen in love at first
sight. But, as he assured himself calmly, such a passion was at
once
ridiculous and impossible. All the same he continued to "behold
vanity," until his divinity grew really angry, and concealed
herself behind an envious curtain, which shielded her beauty. At
once
Lancaster became aware of his bad manners."Hang
it! I should like to apologise," he thought as his friends
returned, and then considered dismally that he had quarrelled past
all reconciliation with the brother of his angel, and that there
was
no chance of a meeting.Starth
hated Frank virulently, because Miss Berry openly approved of the
young man's good looks and genuine talents. But even before Fairy
Fan
appeared to enchant a London public, Starth and Lancaster had never
been able to meet without snarling at one another like dogs. Frank
was not to blame, being good-natured and much too indolent to
fight.
But Starth snapped at everyone. That he should have so charming a
sister was extraordinary. Even Dicky, the most critical of men,
thought so. "Ripping girl, Miss Starth," said he."I
didn't notice," grunted Lancaster, not wishing to have Baird
know too much on account of that gentleman's long, long tongue. He
might repeat things to Starth, who could find offence
everywhere.The
second act requires no description. It was like the first, but
slightly more incoherent. Fairy Fan had it all her own way, as the
low comedian had not yet had time to invent his part. When the
curtain fell on a pronounced success, with Fan standing in the
midst
of flowers, Baird bustled out to the bar again with Darrel and his
chum. It was to discuss the prospects of the play that they
went.Frank
did not notice that the neat man with the light eyes was following
them. He was taken up with the weather-beaten Berry, who rejoiced
over the triumph of his niece. He was a small man, and had a hard
face that might have been hewn out of iron-wood. His lips were
tightly closed, his eyes were grey and close-set, and he carried
himself in a bouncing, aggressive way, which must have cost him
many
a fight in the Naked Lands where bounce is not approved of.
Berry--Captain by courtesy--looked quite out of place amidst
civilised surroundings. A pea-jacket, a tarpaulin hat, a streaming
bridge and a rocking, plunging tramp ship would have been more in
keeping with his piratical appearance. Why such a Captain Kidd
should
accompany his niece to London and play the part of a sober citizen
puzzled a great many people, Baird amongst the number. But Banjo
Berry--such was his odd name--always explained profusely, having no
call to do so. Whereby the more astute assumed, and not
unreasonably,
that he had something to hide."Well,"
said this mariner, gaily, "I guess the play's a go.""A
great success," said Frank, so indifferently that the little man
looked at him sharply. Lancaster was wont to be more enthusiastic
where Fairy Fan was concerned."She
sang your chanty well," he remarked, following them to the
bar."First
rate," assented Lancaster. "How's Starth?""Sent
him home in a cab of sorts," replied Berry, still puzzled. "I
guess he'll wake up and apologise to-morrow morning.""Not
to me," said Frank, aggressive at once, in spite of the charming
sister. "I don't want to have anything to do with him.""Ah,
pistols and coffee for two is your idea of a meeting," was the
Captain's reply. "You'd like to see him buzz into the
everlasting darkness, I guess?"Before
Frank could reply, his arm was plucked. In the crowd he did not see
who it was for the moment. There was a rush of thirsty souls to the
bar, and Berry disappeared in the mob. Still the unknown kept his
hand on Lancaster's arm, and drew him towards the door with a
gentle
pressure. Rather surprised, Frank allowed himself to be so drawn,
thinking it was one of his friends. But when the crowd grew thin he
found himself face to face with the small, neat man."Well?"
said Frank, interrogatively."I'm
glad you didn't answer," said the man with the light eyes. "It
is dangerous to answer that man.""Captain
Berry. Why?"The
stranger opened the swing door and stepped into the street. He did
not even wait for Frank, but walked along the pavement, dexterously
avoiding the people as he walked. Taken by surprise by this odd
demeanour, Lancaster followed, and managed to catch up with the man
as he was turning into a side street which was deserted. "What
do you mean?" asked Lancaster, catching the man by his coat.
"Who are you?"The
other stopped under a lamp-post, and laughed in an elfish way. "No
matter who I am," he said in a precise voice, "but what I
am is another and more important matter.""Well,
what are you?" asked Lancaster, more and more puzzled."A
man who can read faces and hands and tell the secrets of the
future,"
said the other, gravely."Bah!"
was Frank's disgusted exclamation. "A charlatan.""Just
so. A charlatan. Yet I am sufficiently interested in you to warn
you
against coming danger.""Do
you know me?""No.
I don't know your name or your face, nor anything about you. I
happened to be in the bar when you hit that red-headed man, and I
saw
that the little fellow--""Captain
Berry?""Is
that his name? Well, he was trying to foment the quarrel. He is
your
enemy.""Nonsense!
He has no cause to be my enemy.""That
is the worst kind of enemy to have--one who pretends friendship and
strikes in the dark. I read your face, sir, and the face of the
red-headed man. If you two meet again--" He hesitated."Well?"
asked Frank, sharply. "If we meet?""One
of you will die."In
spite of his scepticism Lancaster felt a chill run through his
veins
at this speech. "Rubbish!" he said, roughly. "Which
one?""I
sha'n't tell you that," replied the unknown. "You may
consider my reply rubbish also. But there is that in your face,
sir,
which hints at coming trouble. Your fate and the fate of the
red-headed man are bound up together. Also, there is a
woman.""How
do you know that?" asked Frank, thinking of Fan."She
is a relative of the red-headed man," said the unknown, "and
it is probably--" Here he broke off abruptly. "I sha'n't
tell you any more. I may be wrong, I may be right, but the signs
are
there.""What
signs?""Good-night,
sir," said the man, and passed swiftly away before Frank could
retain him. Lancaster walked to his rooms without returning to the
theatre. He laughed at the warning, so vague and absurd did it
seem.
All the same it haunted him, and he had cause to remember the man
afterwards. He never saw the seer again, but, as after events
proved,
undoubtedly the man was no charlatan.