The Missing Angel, Erle Cox [suggested reading TXT] 📗
- Author: Erle Cox
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There was an appropriate interlude.
Then Billy said, “I suppose what happened was, that she nailed Tyddie in
mistake for me.”
“That would account for the whole wretched mix-up,” Geraldine pointed
out.
“And,” Billy spoke with deep indignation, “for the ghost of Jerry McCann,
and Tyddie’s altruistic perjury next morning—the double-edged little
double-crosser!”
“And,” Geraldine said with intense conviction, “for that Basil Williams
man also!”
“Oh, nuts! Gerry, darlint,” protested Billy. “You’re letting it run away
with you. Tyddie wouldn’t get tight and paint the town red. He never had
a snifter in his life.”
“You don’t know half,” she asserted. Rising, she went to a drawer. “Look
at those,” she said, handing him an envelope.
Billy examined the cigar butts and bands it contained with a
connoisseur’s eye. “Crikey! Gerry, those cost three and six apiece,” he
said, looking up. “How come?”
Geraldine related the finding of cigars and the whisky perfumed tumblers.
He heard her out. “Well,” he said with profound feeling, “I hand it to
Tyddie for being the double-crossingest, and most unmitigated
double-shuffler, and the finest and most uncompromising liar south of the
equator.”
“Fair enough as a character sketch,” agreed Geraldine.
Then Billy laughed long and heartily. “I don’t care, Gerry,” he gasped,
“but I like him all the better for it. Dash it all, what a time he’s been
having!”
“I know it’s disgraceful,”—Geraldine had joined in the laugh—“but
that’s the way I feel about it, too.”
“But how can he do it? How can he do it? There’s no magic these days.”
“Do you know, Billy,” Geraldine’s voice was very grave, “I can’t help
feeling Tyddie has mixed himself up with something dreadful. What I saw
this afternoon was not only not natural, it was…” She paused.
“Pretty tough stuff,” Billy nodded.
“There’s only one word,” Geraldine whispered, “Unholy!”
“It’ll get him into one unholy mess, if he’s not careful,” Billy said.
“I shouldn’t be surprised if he has done that already,” she replied.
“People don’t meddle in things like that and get off scot free.”
“The question is,” Billy returned to their own affair, “what are we to
do?”
“We can do absolutely nothing,” Geraldine asserted. “Think, Billy, what
would people say if I told that I had seen your double converted into
Tyddie?”
“They’d probably say you’d gone potty, and believe it, too,” Billy
admitted. “Anyway, I can’t see myself saying from the witness box that
the man who has been cutting capers with Hilda Cranston was Tyddie in
disguise as me.”
“That’s the madly exasperating part of it,” Geraldine’s voice had an edge
on it. “That demon Tyddie can laugh at us. He’s absolutely unassailable.”
She paused. “Unless…”
Billy sat up. “What’s in that devious brain of yours, best beloved? I’m
with you if you want to put a swift one across Tyddie.”
Geraldine held out her hand to the light so that the diamond on its
finger flashed back in colour. “It’s a positively catty idea.”
“I’ll bite,” Billy laughed. “Who’s going to be the mouse?”
“Mice, darling.” Geraldine chuckled, her eyes following the flashing
light from the stone. “Tyddie and Amy are elected as the mice.”
“And how?”
“Well, I think Amy believes that she has mortgaged her heart to Mr.
William Brewer—the Jezebel!”
“Jezebel’s good—go on.”
“Now, suppose I let her know quietly and quite casually that I, Geraldine
Brand, am engaged to marry Mr. William Brewer. Can you conceive, first,
how she would feel, herself? And secondly, what she would say to that
dastardly deceiver Brewer the next time they met?”
“Just because I can conceive faintly what she would say to William
Brewer, I reject your plan with as much scorn as haste.”
“But, why, Billy? I think it is a lovely idea.”
“Gerry, my angel, you’re a perfect fiancee, but a positively rotten
conspirator.”
“But, boy, wouldn’t that smart and festive Tyddie get all that is coming
to him?”
“Perhaps, and perhaps not,” Billy insisted. “Suppose that sweet thing you
have just, very properly, defined as a Jezebel, were, in the paroxysms of
her joy at the news, to come hunting for Mr. William Brewer at the
warehouse. Beloved child, the chances are she would chant her paean of
praise to the first Brewer she caught—who would be me.”
“Ooh! I never thought of that.”
“That’s where my superior male brain comes in.” Billy grinned. “I love
Tyddie as a fellow sinner, but jigger my eyes if I care about acting as a
lightning conductor for him for that thunderbolt.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Geraldine admitted reluctantly. “What a pity! You
know, Billy, it would be a pure delight for me to scratch pieces out of
Amy, because the creature imagines she’s making love to you.”
“It’s a laudable ambition, sweetheart, but forget it.”
“Well,” said Geraldine decisively, “Tyddie’s not getting off altogether.
Tomorrow morning I’m going to tell him what I saw and demand an
explanation.”
“Gerry!” Billy’s voice was really startled.
“He can only sack me, and I don’t care if he does. But I don’t think he
will do that much. He’s too clever.”
“But, dearest…!”
Geraldine swept the three cushions from the couch to the floor, and the
debate closed.
That night Tydvil Jones listened in silence to the news of battle
conveyed to him in accurate detail by Nicholas.
“Jove, Nicholas!” he said when the tale was completed, “you were right
about that girl.”
Nicholas nodded. “She’ll make things difficult for you, I’m afraid.”
“And to think that she put her finger at once on my affair with Amy—do
you know, I admire her. The pluck of her!”
“Aye, she’s a fine type. Pity,” went on Nicholas regretfully, “that she
is not on my side. On my side, Tydvil, it is women like Geraldine Brand
who wreck empires; on the other side they swindle me out of men like
William Brewer.” Then he added, “What do you propose to do?”
Tydvil stretched his legs straight before him and laughed quietly. “Enjoy
the fight, Nicholas.”
“Have a care that she does not share too much in the enjoyment,”
cautioned Nicholas.
Next morning Billy made a last moment appeal to Geraldine to reconsider
her decision to take the offensive. But he found himself confronted with
a calm and inflexible damsel, who assured him that she was craving for
battle and that nothing else would satisfy her. She declined emphatically
his offer to fight beside her. The only concession she would make was
that if she were cornered she would call on him for reinforcements.
“I’m afraid you’ll think I’m greedy, Billy, but I can’t share this even
with you,” she said. “Tyddie has been fibbing to me for weeks. He’s let
you in for a whole heap of trouble, and he is going to answer to ME for
it.” There was a glorious light of battle in her eyes.
Billy surrendered reluctantly.
Scarcely had Geraldine finished preparing the mail when Tydvil’s quick
step in the warehouse announced his advent. He entered his office with a
hearty, “Good morning, Miss Brand. Quite well again I hope!”
Geraldine replied demurely as usual. “Thank you, Mr. Jones.”
Then, as he hung up his coat, “It’s really a pleasure to have you back.
Our little Miss Marsden is willing—but—she is not Miss Brand. I’m
afraid,” he took his place at the table opposite her, “that if I could
arrange a quarrel between you and our Mr. Brewer, I should be tempted to
do it. The thought of losing you haunts my days”. His engaging smile as he
spoke was friendly and flattering.
Geraldine returned the smile. “That would be placing too high a value on
my services, Mr. Jones. Even if you could cause us to quarrel, I know you
are too kind-hearted to give pain to either of us.” She looked straight
into his face as she spoke.
“You’re quite right, Miss Brand. Quite right!” He opened the first
letter. “A charming romance such as yours is too fine to spoil but I will
miss you terribly.”
The two worked on with their usual systematic efficiency that scarcely
needed words between them. Tydvil dictated letter after letter in swift,
flowing sentences that Geraldine caught and stowed away faultlessly in
her note book.
“That, I think, is the lot!” he said finally, sitting back and running
his eye over the table.
Geraldine was about to fire an opening well-rehearsed shot when, as
though aware of her purpose, Tydvil cut in with: “And now, Miss Brand, I
think we can discuss my private affairs on which you are so much
concerned.” His smile was quite friendly.
Although Geraldine was astonished she was by no means disconcerted.
Without hesitation she answered. “Thank you, sir, the suggestion coming
from you makes what I was going to say much more easy.”
“Well, now we can talk comfortably. Say just what you wish,” he invited.
“I was going to do that in any case,” retorted the smiling Geraldine
coolly.
“That was what I anticipated, Miss Brand,” Tydvil came back easily, “so I
thought I would make the necessity of hearing what you have to say
something like an engaging virtue.”
“You seem to be an adept at disguising anything as a virtue, however
remote it may, be from one,” she flashed back.
He met the thrust with a quiet chuckle of evident enjoyment. “First blood
to you! Though, you know, it is hardly the kind of thing a good secretary
should say to her employer.”
“Nevertheless,” came the uncompromising retort, “that is only the
beginning of what a good secretary is going to say to her employer.”
“Our little interview is not going to be dull then,” he was quite
unabashed. “But, pray, don’t let me interrupt you. Go on.”
“I will!” Geraldine replied with spirit. “Yesterday afternoon, in the
Botanic Gardens, I saw a man who looked like Mr. Brewer, but who was
really you, kissing Mrs. Jones.”
“Well, really, dear lady,” protested Tydvil, “though I admit that in a
public place it may not have been in the best taste, after all, it is not
a cardinal sin for a man to kiss his own wife.”
“If it were not a cardinal sin, it was something rotten to kiss her when
she thought it was another man—especially from my point of view, when
that other man was my fiance.”
“But, Geraldine—may I say Geraldine, since our discussion is so
intimate?”
“You may not! Geraldine is for my friends.”
“My apologies, Miss Brand. What I was saying was that it appears to me
that your views of the ethics of the case are somewhat distorted. I knew
I was kissing my wife. In justice you should admit that any obloquy was
hers.”
“You or she may kiss anyone you please,” retorted Geraldine tartly. “What
I object to is the wickedness of your involving Mr. Brewer in your own
private and personal scandals.”
“A harmless proxy in this instance, I assure you.”
“Harmless proxy indeed!” Her voice shook with indignation. “Suppose Mrs.
Jones learned of my engagement to him?”
“Oh! Miss Brand, please be fair. Why, you even suggested that you should
tell her yourself, only Brewer recognised, as I do, that it would be
injudicious.”
His words left her, for the moment, breathless. They made it clear that
by some means he knew of everything that had passed between herself and
Billy. “From
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