But suddenly something seemed to crack in Tommy’s brain.
He rose to his feet.
“Oh, get out!
You don’t really care, damn you!
You asked her to marry you in your rotten cold-blooded way, but I loved her.
I’d have given the soul out of my body to save her from harm.
I’d have stood by without a word and let her marry you, because you could have given her the sort of time she ought to have had, and I was only a poor devil without a penny to bless himself with.
But it wouldn’t have been because I didn’t care!”
“See here,” began Julius temperately.
“Oh, go to the devil!
I can’t stand your coming here and talking about ‘little Tuppence.’
Go and look after your cousin.
Tuppence is my girl!
I’ve always loved her, from the time we played together as kids.
We grew up and it was just the same.
I shall never forget when I was in hospital, and she came in in that ridiculous cap and apron!
It was like a miracle to see the girl I loved turn up in a nurse’s kit——”
But Julius interrupted him.
“A nurse’s kit!
Gee whiz!
I must be going to Colney Hatch!
I could swear I’ve seen Jane in a nurse’s cap too.
And that’s plumb impossible!
No, by gum, I’ve got it!
It was her I saw talking to Whittington at that nursing home in Bournemouth.
She wasn’t a patient there! She was a nurse!”
“I dare say,” said Tommy angrily, “she’s probably been in with them from the start.
I shouldn’t wonder if she stole those papers from Danvers to begin with.”
“I’m darned if she did!” shouted Julius. “She’s my cousin, and as patriotic a girl as ever stepped.”
“I don’t care a damn what she is, but get out of here!” retorted Tommy also at the top of his voice.
The young men were on the point of coming to blows. But suddenly, with an almost magical abruptness, Julius’s anger abated.
“All right, son,” he said quietly, “I’m going.
I don’t blame you any for what you’ve been saying.
It’s mighty lucky you did say it.
I’ve been the most almighty blithering darned idiot that it’s possible to imagine.
Calm down”—Tommy had made an impatient gesture—“I’m going right away now—going to the London and North Western Railway depot, if you want to know.”
“I don’t care a damn where you’re going,” growled Tommy.
As the door closed behind Julius, he returned to his suit-case.
“That’s the lot,” he murmured, and rang the bell. “Take my luggage down.”
“Yes, sir.
Going away, sir?”
“I’m going to the devil,” said Tommy, regardless of the menial’s feelings.
That functionary, however, merely replied respectfully:
“Yes, sir.
Shall I call a taxi?”
Tommy nodded.
Where was he going?
He hadn’t the faintest idea.
Beyond a fixed determination to get even with Mr. Brown he had no plans.
He re-read Sir James’s letter, and shook his head.