It was later that very morning, in fact, that an elderly harridan with a face like a wet umbrella conceived it to be her duty, since I was Mrs. Longman's uncle, and though, of course, I would understand that she didn't want to make mischief, to tell me in the interests of all concerned, though really it was nothing to do with her and she was only too glad to see young people enjoying themselves, but that she was sure I wouldn't mind her mentioning that my charming niece was being a little indiscreet.
I didn't enlighten her on the relationship question, and pooh-poohed the whole thing. But in the course of the next two or three days I realised that the old woman was perfectly right. They were the talk of the whole ship. Literally, they were never out of one another's pockets. And I decided that it was time I did something. So I buttonholed Mary.
'Look here, my dear,' I said, 'for a few moments I'm going to be an uncle in reality. Have you forgotten that you're going out to a perfectly good husband?' I could see she understood, though she pretended not to at first. 'Your come-hither eye with young Jack is the one topic of conversation on board ship,' I went on. 'Do you think you're being quite fair to him—because it strikes me he's got it badly.'
And then she admitted it; they were in love with one another. Her marriage to George had been a hideous mistake, and all the usual palaver.
'It may have been, my dear,' I said, 'but it's a mistake which, unfortunately, cannot be rectified. Are you really serious about this, or is it just a bit of ship-board slap and tickle?'
Evidently it was not, and I began to foresee complications. What did they propose to do about it? I asked. They hadn't got as far as that yet, she told me, and I breathed again. In all probability they would never see one another again after we reached Rio, and the man who said that absence makes the heart grow fonder coined the most idiotic utterance in the language. But there was one thing that had to be seen to, and I tackled Callaghan that night. 'Look here, young feller,' I said, 'I want a few words with you. I hope you'll take em the right way, and not regard me as an impertinent outsider. Mary has told me how things are, and I'm extraordinarily sorry for both of you. However, it can't be helped. You've got to grin and bear it, as lots of other people have done before you. But I'm going to ask you to do one thing—a very important thing—a thing for Mary's sake. She, I assume, has told you about her husband, the manner of man he is. Well, I can confirm what she says. Without exception he is the most jealous individual I have ever met. Now almost certainly he will come on board to meet his wife at Rio, which brings me to the point. I do not want there to be the slightest possible chance— don't forget he's got an eye like a gimlet—of his spotting that there is anything between you two. So, for the love of Allah, get your good-byes over the night before we arrive, and behave as casual acquaintances in front of him. No sighs and soulful glances—for if he intercepts one he'll make her suffer for it afterwards.'
'The swine,' he muttered. 'Oh, how I wish I could ask her to come away with me, but I can't arrive at Cadaga with her in tow.'
'Where did you say?' I said slowly. 'Cadaga! My sainted aunt!'
'What's the matter?' He stared at me in surprise.
'The matter, my young friend,' I said, 'is that that has put the lid on it. Cadaga is not five miles from where Mary is going. I had hoped that several hundreds were going to be between you. Brutal, I admit, but far safer.' They hadn't realised it, of course; the geography of the country was unknown to them. And their reaction was wild joy. Mine was not. But there was nothing to be done about it. I talked to them both as seriously as I could, but what was the use? They promised to be careful, and see one another as little as possible, but with a man like Longman the only hope would be if they didn't see one another at all. However, as I say, there was nothing to be done except let matters take their own course and hope for the best. Doc, I'll have a spot of that whisky of yours.
It was four months later—continued Charlie Maxwell— that I picked up the threads again. Longman had met her at Rio as I anticipated, and Jack Callaghan, realising that it wasn't good-bye, had treated Mary with a casual indifference that satisfied even me. But a lot could happen in four months, and being in their vicinity I decided to look them up and see if anything had.
I arrived at Longman's house in the afternoon, to find Mary alone. He was down with his snakes, so we could talk freely.
'It can't go on, Uncle Charlie,' she said dully. 'Jack and I both realise that now. He's coming over tomorrow, and I'm going to say good-bye to him and tell him he mustn't come over again.'
'Poor kid,' I said. 'I'm frightfully sorry for you, but it does seem the only solution. Have you seen much of him?'
'Half a dozen times,' she answered. 'That's all.'
'And George doesn't suspect?'
'Oh no! He hasn't an idea. He never will have.'
'Well done,' I said. 'For I don't mind telling you now, Mary, that I've been devilish uneasy as to what was going to happen.'
And it was a fact—I had been. I had not thought it possible for those two to see one another and not give the whole show away, which, with a man of Longman's nature, would have spelled disaster. But when he came in and we started dinner, I had to admit that on the face of it Mary was quite right. He was exactly the same as ever, cold and precise to me, courteous to her. He talked in an interesting way of experiments he was carrying out, and by the end of the meal my fears were quite allayed. And then in a flash they returned. Mary had left us, and he had just lit a cigar. I don't know why I watched the operation particularly, but I remember thinking how typical it was of his character. The meticulous care with which the end was cut the delicate way the used match was deposited in the ash-tray; the slow exhalation of the smoke—in each separate movement one saw George Longman, who was now staring fixedly at me.
'Did you,' he said, speaking with extreme deliberation, 'see much of a young man called Callaghan on the way out?'
The question was utterly unexpected, but a kindly providence has endowed me with a face which enables me to win more money than I lose at poker. And I'll guarantee he got nothing out of me.
'Callaghan,' I answered thoughtfully. 'Callaghan! I remember him. A nice boy, who was always running round after some girl whose name I forget. Why do you ask?'
'He is on a plantation close to here,' he remarked, 'and has been over to see Mary once or twice. You forget the name of the girl, you say.'
'Completely,' I answered. 'She didn't get off at Rio, but went on to Buenos.' And speaking, knew that he knew I lied.
But his voice as he continued was quite expressionless. 'He has seemed very interested in some of my experiments. Strange, too, for I have never met a human being who is in such mortal terror of a snake. It is worse than terror, it is a peculiar revulsion which comes over him if a snake is near him, even though it is shut up in a box. And so, as I say, it is strange that he should go out of his way to accompany me to the farm!'
'Perhaps he is trying to overcome it.' I said casually. I couldn't get his line of country at the moment, though it was clear Mary and young Jack had been living in a fool's paradise.
'Perhaps,' he agreed. 'Or there may be some other motive; who knows?'
'Motive?' I said. 'A rather strange way of putting it, isn't it, Longman? It may surely be that he thinks it only polite to show an interest in your hobby.'
'Politic I think is le mot juste.' he remarked, and I knew the blighter had spotted it. Jack Callaghan wasn't going trotting round a snake farm when he might have been with Mary, unless they'd both deemed it wise. The trouble was that it evidently had not deceived Longman.
'Politic,' he repeated, as if the word pleased him. 'It's astonishing how blind some people can be, Maxwell. Are you quite sure that the girl whose name you forget went on to Buenos?' He didn't wait for an answer, but pushed back his chair and rose. 'You'll excuse me if I leave you,' he continued, 'but I am in the middle of an experiment down at the farm, which I must return to.' He went out through the open window, and for a while I sat on at the table. He knew; there was not a shadow of doubt about it. And the sooner Mary was aware of the