She was a topper, and the boy friends realised the fact. But strangely enough, in spite of her relations with her father, she showed no signs of accepting any of them, though I know several of 'em asked her. She used to bemoan the fact to me that they did so. 'It's never quite the same after you've given them the push' she said. 'And I don't want to get married for a long while.'
Judge, then, of my surprise when I came back to England a couple of years ago to find that she'd gone and done the deed. It was her father who told me when I met him in the club one day, and I could see at once he wasn't too pleased about it. 'Women beat me, Charlie,' he said. 'There's Mary, with a dozen fellows of her own age to be had for the lifting of a finger, goes and marries a man of our age. Financially he's a good match, and he seems devoted to her, but he ain't my idea of fun and laughter. Come down this week-end and have a look at him yourself. They're both stopping with me.'
'What's his particular worry in life?' I asked him.
'He goes in for research work,' he told me. 'He qualified as a doctor, and then some aunt died and left him a lot of money. So he doesn't practise, but devotes himself to original work on his own. A clever fellow.'
Well, I went down, and I got my first inkling into Mr. George Longman's character shortly after my arrival. Mary, as was her invariable custom, gave me a kiss, and I happened to see his face just after. And I was not surprised to overhear a remark a little later which was not intended for my ears.
'What nonsense, George,' she was saying, 'I've known Uncle Charlie since I was born.' I did not hear his reply, but the subject of their conversation was not hard to guess, and it did not start our relations too auspiciously. Of course, I was his age and all that sort of thing, and she was his wife, but for all there was to it I might really have been her uncle. Naturally, nothing was said about the matter, and neither of them had any idea that I had overheard. But—there it was.
Now both you fellows have seen Longman, and he was just the same then as he is now. He could talk well when he chose to on a variety of subjects, but it always seemed to me that behind all his conversation was a cold, analytical mind. Never once would he allow an argument of his to be influenced by the milk of human kindness. Sentiment had no place in his mental equipment; a thing was either proven or non proven. And the more I saw of him the more did I share her father's surprise at Mary having married him. On the surface she seemed happy enough, and he, in his peculiar and rather precise way, was undoubtedly very much in love with her. But on the second day after my arrival the rocks ahead began to show pretty clearly.
Her father, as usual, was in London, and at lunch I suggested a round of golf to Mary. There was no question of a three-ball, as Longman didn't play. To my intense surprise she looked rather hesitatingly at him, and asked him if he objected. And to my even greater surprise it was quite clear he did object. He didn't say so. Knowing who I was, and the terms I was on with the family, he hadn't the face to. But his consent to our round very nearly congealed the fish on the sideboard. So I tackled her about it on the way up to the links. 'Look here, Mary, my child,' I said, 'that husband of yours seems to have a nasty mind. Does he think I'm going to kiss you on the first tee?'
For a while she didn't answer; then it came out with a rush. 'It's awful. Uncle Charlie,' she cried. 'His jealousy is something unbelievable. Do you know that this is the first game of golf I've played with a man since my marriage?'
'Great Scott!' I said. 'I thought people like that only existed in books. What does he think you're going to do on a golf-links?'
'And it's not only that,' she continued. 'It's the same over everything. Dancing, for instance; he has a fit if I dance with anyone else. And as he doesn't care about it himself, there's simply no good going to one.'
We drove on in silence for a bit, and it was then that I asked her why she married him. Couldn't help it; that question just had to be put. And as I told you before, I don't think she knew herself. I think, perhaps, she'd been flattered a bit by a man of his brains running after her. Possibly before they were married he'd been a little more human. Anyway, that was the state of affairs two years ago. Now we're coming to the point.
The branch of research in which Longman was most interested was toxicology, with special reference to snake poisons. And he had undoubtedly studied the question very thoroughly. But he was very anxious to go for a time to some place abroad where he could observe the brutes first hand. And he started pumping me on the matter. I told him that all I knew about snakes was that they made me move quicker than anything else, but that for variety of specimens, each one more pestilential than the last, Brazil was hard to beat.
Then one of those extraordinary things happened that makes one wonder who pulls the strings. The very morning after we'd been talking about it I got a letter from a pal of mine telling me that he was going out to Brazil on some form of experimental work connected with snake bites and their antidotes. It was a semi-Government job, a bit up-country from Rio, and would I look him up next time I was there? It was such an amazing coincidence that I threw the letter over to Longman to read.
'If that's any use to you,' I said, 'I can easily give you an introduction to the writer.' He was delighted, and accordingly I asked them both to meet at my club, left em together, and forgot all about it.
A few months later I butted into Mary walking down Bond Street. I hadn't seen her in the interval, or her father, so I suggested lunch. 'Or,' I said jestingly, 'will George object?'
'George is in Brazil, Uncle Charlie,' she answered with a smile. 'So it will be a bit late if he does.'
'So he went, after all!' I cried. 'I'd forgotten all about it. Perhaps I shall see him out there.'
She clapped her hands together. 'You aren't going, are you?'
'Next week,' I told her, 'by the good ship Oregon.'
'But it's too wonderful,' she said. 'So am I. You'll be able to help me through all the difficulties.'
I laughed. 'The difficulties, my child,' I assured her, 'of going from London to Rio will not turn your hair grey. Now tell me all about what George is doing.'
Well, it appeared that George had gone out with this other fellow, leaving Mary to follow him if accommodation was suitable. The place seemed to be a sort of glorified snake farm, and they were carrying out experimental work with antidotes. George was there on his own in an unofficial capacity, and he had managed to obtain a house not far away. I knew the country near, though not the exact spot, and I was able to assure her that she would not be eaten by cannibals or lions, nor would she find an alligator in her bed. And ten days later the Oregon sailed, with us both on board.
Now, we who go down to the sea in ships for most of our lives have probably forgotten the ecstatic thrill of our first long voyage. And it was her first long voyage. Moreover, dear George's influence had been absent for some months. The result was what one would have expected; she was as excited as a dog with two tails. She danced every night; she played deck-tennis every day, and except at meals I saw very little of her. I was working on a report and my nose was pretty well down to it. A pity, because I might have spotted it sooner, though I don't know if it would have done much good if I had.
There was on board a youngster called Jack Callaghan, and a more delightful boy it would have been difficult to meet. And one morning—it was after they'd triced the tarpaulin up for a swimming bath—I happened to be strolling round the deck. It was early—before breakfast—and there were very few people about. But a splash in the pool below made me look over, and there were Mary and young Jack having a bathe. They were alone; they didn't see me, and they were ragging in the water. Then they got out and sat down side by side, and I was on the verge of calling out to them when he covered her hand with one of his and kissed her shoulder.
And Mary, to put it mildly, did not resent it.
I don't know why it came as a bit of a shock—my morals are fireproof. I suppose it was because it was Mary. However, I withdrew discreetly, and decided to keep my eyes open. Ship-board flirtations are so common and so harmless that I didn't anticipate any trouble, but I thought I'd watch 'em. And I very