He had no very clear idea of how he got across the room. He found himself with his arm around Margot’s waist; he had an impression that he had just kissed her, and that she did not seem to mind; he was saying things like “My blessed little darlin’ ”; and she was staring at him with round, surprised blue eyes.
“Archie! How f-funny you are!”
Archie kissed a sticky little hand and held it to his cheek.
“My blessed child! Darlin’, where have you been? I’ve been nearly off my head about you.”
Margot took her hand away and sucked the stickiest finger. She looked through her black lashes at Archie and giggled.
“Did you think I was lost?”
Archie nodded.
“I said you would-I said you and Charles would both think I was lost. Were you in a frightful state? Is Charles nearly off his head too? I do hope he is! It’s frightfully exciting to have people in a frightful state about you.”
Archie began to pull himself together.
“You leave Charles alone-he’s not on in this scene. You fix your mind on me. What d’you mean by runnin’ away like that? I haven’t had time to look in the glass, but I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if my hair hadn’t been doin’ the turnin’ white in a single night stunt.”
Margot giggled.
“It hasn’t.” She pushed the chocolates towards him. “Have a choc. That’s a most frightfully good sort, only it comes off creamy on your fingers. I’m sticky all over from mine. Do have one.”
Archie shook his head.
“I only eat that sort in my bath.”
“Tell me about Charles. Is he looking for me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Doesn’t he know I’m lost?”
“I don’t suppose he does.”
“Oh, but I want him to-I want him to be frightfully upset, and then frightfully pleased to find me, just like you were. You were pleased to find me-weren’t you?”
She put her face up to his.
Archie kissed her again, this time quite deliberately. Margot returned his kiss with engaging frankness. Then she sat back. Neither of them heard a door open and close again.
“Are you proposing to me? Because you haven’t done it at all properly if you are. You ought to have said things first, and not kissed me till I said ‘Yes.’ ” Her mouth quivered a little. “It’s my first proposal, and I did want it to be a proper one. I don’t count Egbert.” Archie took both her hands-they were still rather sticky. He kissed them gently.
“My darlin’ child, I’d propose to you from here till the end of next week if it was the slightest good. I love you quite a lot, you know.”
“That’s better,” said Margot. Then her mouth quivered a little more. “Why isn’t it any good? Aren’t you going to? Why aren’t you?”
“Because you aren’t old enough,” said Archie. “You’re just a blessed baby, and I should be a perfect brute if I asked you to marry me.”
Margot’s bright round eyes filled with angry tears. She pulled her hands away with a jerk.
“Why, I’m eighteen! Lots of people are married by the time they’re eighteen. One of the girls at school had a sister who was engaged six times before she was eighteen.” She began to cry. “I think it’s frightfully horrid of you. And you’ve spoilt my first proposal. And-and-you needn’t think I’d have said ‘yes.’ And you needn’t think I like you the least little bit, because I don’t!”
“Look here, darlin’-”
“I think you’re frightfully horrid!” said Margot with a sob. Then suddenly she caught him by the hand. “You did say you loved me, didn’t you?”
“I oughtn’t to have said it.”
Margot pinched him very hard.
“I hate you when you talk like that. You kissed me, and you did say you loved me-you know you did. And then you go and spoil everything by saying I’m not old enough.” She made a snuggling movement towards him. “Archie- darling-do propose to me properly. I might say ‘yes’ if you ask me frightfully nicely.” Then she looked up and gave a little scream.
Archie turned around.
A man with thick grey hair and rather hard features was leaning on the end of the sofa. His expression was one of amusement.
Archie sprang up. He stared at the man, and his jaw dropped. A dozen different photographs of this man had frowned or smiled in just this sarcastic manner from the pages of every illustrated paper in London. The shock of recognition was so great that he forgot everything else.
The man spoke. There was a suspicion of a northern burr in his voice.
“How do you do, Mr. Millar? I must introduce myself. My name is Edward Standing.”
CHAPTER XL
Archie felt a tug at his sleeve. Margot had jumped up, scattering her chocolates. She hung on his arm, laughing and excited.
“Archie, you didn’t guess, did you? Papa, I didn’t tell him. I wanted to frightfully, but I didn’t. So you see I can keep a promise. I didn’t tell him a single word-did I, Archie? Archie, isn’t it frightfully exciting about Papa not being drowned? Papa, may I tell him all about it now? Because we’re very nearly engaged-aren’t we, Archie? Papa, he won’t propose to me because he says I’m not old enough. Archie, if Papa says I’m old enough, will you do it nicely? Papa;-”
Mr. Standing put a hand on her shoulder.
“I want to talk to Mr. Millar. Run away and play.”
Margot pouted, then brightened.
“My hands are a bit sticky. If I go and wash them, will that be long enough?”
Mr. Standing gave her a push toward the door.
“I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
When she had gone, he turned a cool, hard gaze upon Archie.
“So you think Margot’s too young to be engaged?”
The back of Archie’s neck burned.
“I don’t quite know when you came in, sir.”
“Well, I heard you tell her she was too young. I agree with you. We’ll leave it at that. You didn’t, I take it, expect to find me here.”
“I didn’t expect to find Margot. I came because Miss Silver told me to come.”
“Yes, I know all about that. I have met Miss Silver. She tells me I am very considerably indebted both to you and to Mr. Charles Moray. I am very glad to have the opportunity of thanking you and of explaining some of the rather extraordinary things that have been happening. Sit down, Mr. Millar.”
Archie sat down. He was irresistibly reminded of interviews, now happily remote, with his headmaster; there was the same feeling of unpreparedness.
Mr. Standing laughed suddenly. The atmosphere changed.
“We’re being a bit solemn, aren’t we? That’s my fault, I’m afraid. I must have been a bit of a shock to you. Now Margot took me with perfect calm-she merely remarked, ‘Oh, Papa, you’re not drowned! How frightfully nice!’ and at once proceeded to pour out a full account of some very curious adventures. Well, I’m beginning at the end of the story. I must go back a bit.”
Mr. Standing sat forward in his chair.
“I want to begin by saying something about all this rubbish that has appeared in the papers on the subject of my daughter’s legitimacy. I am sending a statement to the press to-morrow. I married as a young man, and I am now a widower. My marriage did not take place in England. Margot is my legitimate daughter. I had not failed to provide for her future. I made my will fifteen years ago. The document was in the hands of my solicitor, Mr. Hale senior. It was destroyed after his father’s death, and after my supposed death, by Mr. James Hale.”
“He was in it then! Do you know, sir, it was Margot who wouldn’t let us go to him-and a jolly good thing we didn’t. Charles Moray was tellin’ me all about it last night.”
“Yes, James Hale was in it. And so, I regret to say, was my nephew Egbert. Well, that disposes of the will. About a year ago I became aware of the existence of a criminal conspiracy directed by a singularly cunning and able rascal. Certain things came to my knowledge; but I hadn’t a shred of evidence against anybody. Then, about two months ago, my man Jaffray came to me with a most extraordinary story. He was a good fellow whom I used as a sort of steward-cum-valet on my yacht. He’d been left stone deaf after shell-shock. Well, a queer thing happened-he got his hearing back. He said it came quite suddenly one day when he was crossing Hammersmith Broadway. He said one minute everything was quiet, and the next the roar of the traffic nearly knocked him down. Well, he didn’t tell anyone except me. He said he wasn’t sure it would last. And then he had another reason. He went down to the yacht to get ready for my cruise, and he overheard a conversation between the understeward and my butler, Pullen. It was an appalling conversation. He came off and told me about it. Pullen and this man Ward were discussing the best way of murdering me-that’s what it amounted to. Well, I thought things out, and I made up my mind to give them a helping hand. D’you see?”