Trade Wind (31 page)

He did not let this worry him unduly, for there was, after all plenty of time. And with a girl of Hero’s temperament he knew that he would get there a deal faster by moving slowly. Once they were safely married, things would be very different.

15

Mr and Mrs Hubert Platt and their four-year-old twins had duly returned from Pemba, and Olivia, secure in the knowledge that her boxroom now contained nothing more than her own empty trunks and the normal complement of dust and spiders, had been able to assure them that she had not been dull during their absence.

The
Virago
had left harbour on the day following Hero’s visit to The Dolphins’ House and was still absent on her own ambiguous affairs, and the
Daffodil
having been away on patrol duty off Kiloa, had put in again to rest and refuel. Letters had arrived from home, and a superb Arab gelding had arrived unexpectedly at the American Consulate—a gift from the ladies of Beit-el-Tani to the Consul’s niece, who had been heard to express a desire to ride in the open country beyond the city.

“Oh, isn’t he beautiful! Isn’t he
splendid!
” gasped Hero, enraptured. “But I can’t possibly accept him.”

“I’m afraid you can’t possibly refuse him,” returned the Consul glumly. “It would be considered an insult. I guess I should have warned you that you can’t go saying things like that to Arab potentates without their jumping in and making you a present of whatever it is they think you want. What’s more, you ought by rights to give ‘em something as good in return.”

It was difficult to think of a reply to this, for though Hero certainly recalled mentioning to Salmé that she enjoyed riding and hoped to acquire a horse of her own while in Zanzibar, she was well aware that this princely gift was in the nature of payment for services rendered. However, it was clearly impossible to explain that to Uncle Nat, so she assured him that she would think of some suitable gift to send in return, and dispatched a gracefully worded letter of thanks to the Seyyidas.

The horse, renamed Sherif (Prince) in oblique compliment to the Heir-Apparent, who had been indirectly responsible for its appearance, provided Hero with a far better mount than anything obtainable in her uncle’s stables, since the Consul was an indifferent horseman, while Cressy’s idea of equestrian exercise was a demure trot around the
maidan
or along some safe, sandy road. Aunt Abby did not ride at all, so it was Clayton who invariably accompanied Hero when she rode out past the acres of clove trees and through the long aisles of coconut plantations beyond the city.

She preferred to go in the early morning rather than in the cool of the evening, and they would often be joined by other riders: among them Colonel Edwards, Jules Dubail and Lieutenant Larrimore, Joseph Lynch (who was a particular friend of Clay’s and worked for a firm of spice exporters), Thérèse Tissot and the young German Wilhelm Ruete, half-a-dozen superbly mounted Arab Sheiks and landowners, and, on one occasion, the Heir-Apparent himself; Seyyid Bargash-bin-Saïd.

The Seyyid Bargash was, as Cressy had said, a handsome man; though his complexion was darker than that of many of the Arabs whom Hero had met, and in no way comparable to the ivory paleness of his lovely half-sister, Cholé. But he had a princely bearing and a manner that nicely blended dignity with graciousness, and in his rich robes and mounted upon a wicked looking black stallion he presented an impressive picture of Eastern pride and splendour.

He had asked to be introduced to Hero, and Clayton having performed this office, had addressed her in Arabic; complimenting her upon her supposed command of that language and her proficiency as a horsewoman:

“Some of my sisters,” added the Prince blandly, in English, “have spoken to me of you. Since when I had hoped to have the honour of making your acquaintance, and to thank you for your gracious interest in their humble affairs. May I hope that you will visit us one day at
Marseilles
?”

“
Marseilles
? You are going to France?”

“Ah no, no, no!” protested Bargash, laughing. “You mistake me. It is a country estate not far from here that my father named after some French city; perhaps in compliment to a Frenchman? But it belongs now to two of my sister Salmé‘s nieces. There is a park there where one may ride, and in the stables many horses. It would interest you, I think. I shall ask them to arrange a party and hope that you and your respected uncle and his family will honour it with your presence.”

He bowed and rode away without waiting for an answer, and Lieutenant Larrimore, who had been near enough to hear this exchange, said quietly: “I wouldn’t, you know. Not if I were you. Miss Hollis.”

Hero turned sharply and looked at him as though she had not understood what he had said, and the Lieutenant, qualifying it, said: “Seyyid Bargash is a man you want to steer well clear of. I wouldn’t trust him any further than I could see him—and even then I wouldn’t be sure!”

“Indeed?” remarked Hero non-committally, and jerking her horse’s head, rode off to rejoin Clayton: annoyed at being given unsolicited advice by a gentleman with whom she had only a slight acquaintance and did not count among her friends.

She was to receive more of it only two days later, and from an even less welcome source; and this time Clayton had not been with her to offer sympathy. He had remained behind to check some figures needed by his stepfather, whom he was accompanying to an official audience with the Sultan later that morning, and Hero had ridden out at dawn with only a groom in attendance. She had confidently expected to come upon Mr Lynch or some other member of the European community before she had gone very far, and had indeed done so: though the gentleman she encountered a mile or so outside the city, riding towards her on a narrow track between thickets of wild coffee, was not one whom she at all desired to meet.

He was wearing Arab dress which was perhaps why she did not recognize him in time to avoid a meeting, and he pulled his horse sideways across the path, forcing her to stop, and said in tones of genuine astonishment: “Good God—the mermaid!”

The overgrown bushes and the fact that the groom was riding close behind her prevented her from turning back, and forced by these circumstances. Hero said “Good morning’ in a frigid voice, accompanying the words with a slight inclination of the head that was less a greeting than a nod of dismissal.

Captain Frost failed to take the hint and continued to block her path, subjecting her the while to an amused and openly appreciative scrutiny that brought the blood to her cheeks and made her back stiffen with indignation.

“I didn’t recognize you, now that your face has returned to normal, “observed the Captain with unpardonable candour.’ It’s a great improvement. I’d no idea you were hiding so much admirable material behind a black eye and that impressive assortment of cuts and bruises. Perhaps it was just as well, for if I’d realized what a few weeks of care and cold compresses were going to reveal I might have been tempted to kidnap you after all. You’re not a bad looking girl. Miss Hollis, and I begin to regret my lost opportunities.”

He bowed to her from the saddle, and Hero, still angrily conscious of her heightened colour, said with less dignity that she could have wished: “I do not consider that a compliment, and if you would please move to one side I should like to continue my ride.”

“But it is a compliment,” insisted Captain Frost.’ I never trouble to—”

“Kidnap plain women!” flashed Hero, betrayed into retaliation: “So you told me once before.”

Captain Frost flung back his head and roared with laughter.

“Did I? I’d forgotten. And you remembered that! Did it rankle so badly? I apologize. But I wasn’t to know what I’d got my hands on, was I? You looked like a bedraggled street-urchin, and I thought at first you were about fifteen and barely out of pigtails and pinafores. It was really only when you called at my house that I realized you were a good deal older than I’d imagined. Old enough, in fact to know better. And what I was about to say, when you so brusquely interrupted me, was that I never trouble to tell polite lies. It’s a waste of time. But there is something I have been wanting to say to you, so perhaps you will ride a short way with me.”

“No, I will not,” said Hero flatly; and was instantly ashamed of herself for resorting to a childish piece of rudeness. It was one of Captain Frost’s more maddening attributes that he should be capable of goading her into losing her dignity and descending to bandying words with him, and she bit her lip and said in a more restrained voice: “I’m sorry, but I do not happen to be going your way and I cannot see that we have anything further to say to each other. Good day. Captain Frost.”

“Yes it is, isn’t it?” agreed Captain Frost affably, making no effort to allow her to pass.’ I regret having to spoil it for you, but although you may have nothing further to say to me I have a great deal to say to you. Would you prefer to dismount and listen to it, or shall we ride on?”

His tone was still affable, but there was a disquieting look in his eyes that did not match it, and Hero became suddenly aware, with an odd sense of shock, that he was angry: deeply and coldly angry. The knowledge brought with it a ridiculous feeling of panic, and she threw a quick, hunted glance over her shoulder, and was preparing to pull her horse’s head round when the Captain leaned forward, and catching her reins said more or less the same words that Dan Larrimore had used only two days ago, but in a tone that neither Dan nor anyone else had ever used to her before:

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Hero stared at him, wide-eyed: her cheeks no longer flushed but white with anger and alarm, and her breath coming short as though she had been running. Her fingers tightened convulsively on the ivory handle of her riding whip, but if she had contemplated using it in an unorthodox manner she thought better of it, for there was something in Rory Frost’s grimly amused and unpleasantly comprehending gaze that dared her to do it, and convinced her that if she did he was perfectly capable of retaliating in kind. Her grip relaxed and her eyes wavered, and Captain Frost said dryly, and as though she had spoken aloud: “Very sensible of you.”

He turned his horse, and a moment later they were riding side by side down the narrow track; the leaves brushing against them and the impassive groom following at a discreet distance behind.

It took Hero a full two minutes to master her breathing and gain some measure of control over herself, and when at last she felt capable of speech, she said: “Well, Captain Frost? What is it you have to say to me? If you have changed your mind on the question of a reward for rescuing me, I will naturally see that it is paid. Provided, of course, that it is not an unreasonable sum. But you would have done better to have approached my uncle.”

“Possibly. I have no doubt he would be exceedingly interested in what I have to say; though it has nothing to do with money, and I should not have been put to the necessity of saying it had I not been absent from the Island during the last ten days and therefore unable to prevent you from a piece of criminal folly. I wonder, Miss Hollis, if you have any idea what you have been doing?”

“I don’t understand you,” said Hero blankly.

“You should. I do not for one moment suppose that your uncle, who is a well-meaning little man, has the least idea how and why you came by that horse you are riding. But you must not think that others—myself for one—are equally credulous.”

Hero gasped, choked, and was overtaken by a violent fit of coughing. Recovering herself, she said breathlessly: “I don’t—I don’t at all know what you are talking about.”

“Nonsense!” said Captain Frost impatiently. “You can’t play off those airs on me. You know perfectly well what I am talking about, and what I’d like to know is what possessed you to do it? No—don’t say “Do what?” or I shall begin to think very poorly of your intelligence.”

“I wasn’t going to,” began Hero. “I—”

“Oh yes, you were. I could see it trembling on your tongue. But if you think you can fob me off with a display of bewildered innocence you are very much mistaken, because I happen to know only too well what you and your friends have been up to.”

“You can’t know,” said Hero, startled. “You’re only guessing—you’ve…What have I been doing then?”

“Playing with gunpowder. And what is worse, with people’s lives.”

“You can say that?” breathed Hero. “You, who make money out of buying and selling wretched, helpless people who—” She found herself unable to continue.

Captain Frost laughed shortly and said: “The Devil rebuking sin, you think? But you must own that I make a living out of it, whereas you have merely acquired a horse. Or did they perhaps pay you a ‘not unreasonable sum’ in addition?”

Hero jerked her mount to a standstill, and taking refuge in sarcasm said scornfully: “But surely you must know—since you know so much else about me?”

“You did it all for love, did you? Love of what. Miss Hollis? Mischief? Excitement? Meddling? Who were you busy impersonating? Joan of Arc, or Flora MacDonald?”

I won’t answer him, thought Hero. I won’t. But it seemed she could not help herself:

“You don’t understand; it wasn’t like that at all. You don’t know anything about it. Anything at all.”

“Only that largely owing to you—it was your idea wasn’t it?—a quantity of exceedingly dangerous material has been put into the hands of an ambitious man whose envy and overwhelming conceit make him capable of murdering any number of people m order to get what he wants. You probably thought yourself very clever and got a great deal of pleasurable excitement out of doing it; and I am willing to believe that you had no idea of the issues involved, or what a complicated death-trap of lies and double dealing you had allowed yourself to become entangled in. But I would advise you not to meddle any further with such dirty business. Leave it to those who know what they are doing.”

“Yourself, for instance!” blazed Hero.

“Certainly,” agreed Captain Frost. “I assure you I am better at this sort of thing than you are, and a deal less likely to make dangerous mistakes.”