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diff --git a/1699-h/1699-h.htm b/1699-h/1699-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c3d1dc6 --- /dev/null +++ b/1699-h/1699-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13089 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Vanished Messenger, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + </title> + +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + --> +</style> +</head> + <body> + + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + +Project Gutenberg's The Vanished Messenger, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Vanished Messenger + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Release Date: November 23, 2008 [EBook #1699] +Last Updated: October 11, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VANISHED MESSENGER *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE VANISHED MESSENGER + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By E. Phillips Oppenheim + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + There were very few people upon Platform Number Twenty-one of Liverpool + Street Station at a quarter to nine on the evening of April 2—possibly + because the platform in question is one of the most remote and least used + in the great terminus. The station-master, however, was there himself, + with an inspector in attendance. A dark, thick-set man, wearing a long + travelling ulster and a Homburg hat, and carrying in his hand a brown + leather dressing-case, across which was painted in black letters the name + MR. JOHN P. DUNSTER, was standing a few yards away, smoking a long cigar, + and, to all appearance absorbed in studying the advertisements which + decorated the grimy wall on the other side of the single track. A couple + of porters were seated upon a barrow which contained one solitary + portmanteau. There were no signs of other passengers, no other luggage. As + a matter of fact, according to the time-table, no train was due to leave + the station or to arrive at it, on this particular platform, for several + hours. + </p> + <p> + Down at the other end of the platform the wooden barrier was thrust back, + and a porter with some luggage upon a barrow made his noisy approach. He + was followed by a tall young man in a grey tweed suit and a straw hat on + which were the colours of a famous cricket club. + </p> + <p> + The inspector watched them curiously. “Lost his way, I should think,” he + observed. + </p> + <p> + The station-master nodded. “It looks like the young man who missed the + boat train,” he remarked. “Perhaps he has come to beg a lift.” + </p> + <p> + The young man in question made steady progress up the platform. His hands + were thrust deep into the pockets of his coat, and his forehead was + contracted in a frown. As he approached more closely, he singled out Mr. + John P. Dunster, and motioning his porter to wait, crossed to the edge of + the track and addressed him. + </p> + <p> + “Can I speak to you for a moment, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. John P. Dunster turned at once and faced his questioner. He did so + without haste—with a certain deliberation, in fact—yet his + eyes were suddenly bright and keen. He was neatly dressed, with the quiet + precision which seems as a rule to characterise the travelling American. + He was apparently of a little less than middle-age, clean-shaven, + broad-shouldered, with every appearance of physical strength. He seemed + like a man on wires, a man on the alert, likely to miss nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Are you Mr. John P. Dunster?” the youth asked. + </p> + <p> + “I carry my visiting-card in my hand, sir,” the other replied, swinging + his dressing-case around. “My name is John P. Dunster.” + </p> + <p> + The young man’s expression was scarcely ingratiating. To a natural + sullenness was added now the nervous distaste of one who approaches a + disagreeable task. + </p> + <p> + “I want, if I may, to ask you a favour,” he continued. “If you don’t feel + like granting it, please say no and I’ll be off at once. I am on my way to + The Hague. I was to have gone by the boat train which left half an hour + ago. I had taken a seat, and they assured me that the train would not + leave for at least ten minutes, as the mails weren’t in. I went down the + platform to buy some papers and stood talking for a moment or two with a + man whom I know. I suppose I must have been longer than I thought, or they + must have been quicker than they expected with the mailbags. Anyhow, when + I came back the train was moving. They would not let me jump in. I could + have done it easily, but that fool of an inspector over there held me.” + </p> + <p> + “They are very strict in this country, I know.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster agreed, without change of expression. “Please go on.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw you arrive—just too late for the train. While I was swearing + at the inspector, I heard you speak to the station-master. Since then I + have made inquiries. I understand that you have ordered a special train to + Harwich.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. John P. Dunster said nothing, only his keen, clear eyes seemed all the + time to be questioning this gloomy-looking but apparently harmless young + man. + </p> + <p> + “I went to the station-master’s office,” the latter continued, “and tried + to persuade them to let me ride in the guard’s van of your special, but he + made a stupid fuss about it, so I thought I’d better come to you. Can I + beg a seat in your compartment, or anywhere in the train, as far as + Harwich?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster avoided, for the moment, a direct reply. He had the air of a + man who, whether reasonably or unreasonably, disliked the request which + had been made to him. + </p> + <p> + “You are particularly anxious to cross to-night?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” the youth admitted emphatically. “I never ought to have risked + missing the train. I am due at The Hague to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. John P. Dunster moved his position a little. The light from a + rain-splashed gas lamp shone now full upon the face of his suppliant: a + boy’s face, which would have been pleasant and even handsome but for the + discontented mouth, the lowering forehead, and a shadow in the eyes, as + though, boy though he certainly was in years, he had already, at some time + or another, looked upon the serious things of life. His nervousness, too, + was almost grotesque. He had the air of disliking immensely this asking a + favour from a stranger. Mr. Dunster appreciated all these things, but + there were reasons which made him slow in granting the young man’s + request. + </p> + <p> + “What is the nature of your pressing business at The Hague?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The youth hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said grimly, “that you will not think it of much + importance. I am on my way to play in a golf tournament there.” + </p> + <p> + “A golf tournament at The Hague!” Mr. Dunster repeated, in a slightly + altered tone. “What is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Gerald Fentolin.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster stood quite still for a moment. He was possessed of a + wonderful memory, and he was conscious at that moment of a subtle appeal + to it. Fentolin! There was something in the name which seemed to him + somehow associated with the things against which he was on guard. He stood + with puzzled frown, reminiscent for several minutes, unsuccessful. Then he + suddenly smiled, and moving underneath the gas lamp, shook open an evening + paper which he had been carrying. He turned over the pages until he + arrived at the sporting items. Here, in almost the first paragraph, he saw + the name which had happened to catch his eye a moment or two before: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + GOLF AT THE HAGUE + + Among the entrants for the tournament which commences + to-morrow, are several well-known English players, + including Mr. Barwin, Mr. Parrott, Mr. Hillard and + Mr. Gerald Fentolin. +</pre> + <p> + Mr. Dunster folded up the newspaper and replaced it in his pocket. He + turned towards the young man. + </p> + <p> + “So you’re a golfer, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I play a bit,” was the somewhat indifferent reply. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster turned to another part of the paper and pointed to the great + black head-lines. + </p> + <p> + “Seems a queer thing for a young fellow like you to be worrying about + games,” he remarked. “I haven’t been in this country more than a few + hours, but I expected to find all the young men getting ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Getting ready for what?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to fight, of course,” Mr. Dunster replied. “Seems pretty clear that + there’s an expeditionary force being fitted out, according to this + evening’s paper, somewhere up in the North Sea. The only Englishman I’ve + spoken to on this side was willing to lay me odds that war would be + declared within a week.” + </p> + <p> + The young man’s lack of interest was curious. + </p> + <p> + “I am not in the army,” he said. “It really doesn’t affect me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster stared at him. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll forgive my curiosity,” he said, “but say, is there nothing you + could get into and fight if this thing came along?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing at all, that I know of,” the youth replied coolly. “War is an + affair which concerns only the military and naval part of two countries. + The civil population—” + </p> + <p> + “Plays golf, I suppose,” Mr. Dunster interrupted. “Young man, I haven’t + been in England for some years, and you rather take my breath away. All + the same, you can come along with me as far as Harwich.” + </p> + <p> + The young man showed signs of some satisfaction. “I am very much obliged + to you, sir,” he declared. “I promise you I won’t be in the way.” + </p> + <p> + The station-master, who had been looking through a little pile of + telegrams brought to him by a clerk from his office, now turned towards + them. His expression was a little grave. + </p> + <p> + “Your special will be backing down directly, sir,” he announced, “but I am + sorry to say that we hear very bad accounts of the line. They say that + this is only the fag-end of the storm that we are getting here, and that + it’s been raging for nearly twenty-four hours on the east coast. I doubt + whether the Harwich boat will be able to put off.” + </p> + <p> + “We must take our chance about that,” Dunster remarked. “If the mail boat + doesn’t run, I presume there will be something else we can charter.” + </p> + <p> + The station-master looked the curiosity which he did not actually express + in words. + </p> + <p> + “Money will buy most things, nowadays, sir,” he observed, “but if it isn’t + fit for our mail boat, it certainly isn’t fit for anything else that can + come into Harwich Harbour. However, you’ll hear what they say when you get + there.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster nodded and relapsed into a taciturnity which was obviously one + of his peculiarities. The young man strolled down the platform, and + catching up with the inspector, touched him on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who the fellow is?” he asked curiously. “It’s awfully decent + of him to let me go with him, but he didn’t seem very keen about it.” + </p> + <p> + The inspector shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No idea, sir,” he replied. “He drove up just two minutes after the train + had gone, came straight into the office and ordered a special. Paid for + it, too, in Bank of England notes before he went out. I fancy he’s an + American, and he gave his name as John P. Dunster.” + </p> + <p> + The young man paused to light a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “If he’s an American, I suppose that accounts for it,” he observed. “He + must be in a precious hurry to get somewhere, though.” + </p> + <p> + “A night like this, too!” the inspector remarked, with a shiver. “I + wouldn’t leave London myself unless I had to. They say there’s a + tremendous storm blowing on the east coast. Here comes the train, sir—just + one saloon and the guard’s van.” + </p> + <p> + The little train backed slowly along the platform side. The engine was + splashed with mud and soaking wet. The faces of the engine-driver and his + companion shone from the dripping rain. The station-master held open the + door of the saloon. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve a rough journey before you, sir,” he said. “You’ll catch the boat + all right, though—if it goes. The mail train was very heavy + to-night. You should catch her up this side of Colchester.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I am taking this young gentleman with me,” he announced shortly. “It + seems that he, too, missed the train. I am much obliged to you, + station-master, for your attention. Good night!” + </p> + <p> + They were about to start when Mr. Dunster once more let down the window. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” he said, “as it is such a wild night, you will oblige me + very much if you will tell the engine-driver that there will be a five + pound note for himself and his companion if we catch the mail. Inspector!” + </p> + <p> + The inspector touched his hat. The station-master had turned discreetly + away. He had been an inspector himself once, and sovereigns had been + useful to him, too. Then the train glided from the platform side, plunged + with a scream through a succession of black tunnels, and with rapidly + increasing speed faced the storm. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + The young man sat on one side of the saloon and Mr. John P. Dunster on the + other. Although both of them were provided with a certain amount of + railway literature, neither of them made any pretence at reading. The + older man, with his feet upon the opposite seat and his arms folded, was + looking pensively through the rain-splashed window-pane into the + impenetrable darkness. The young man, although he could not ignore his + companion’s unsociable instincts, was fidgety. + </p> + <p> + “There will be some floods out to-morrow,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster turned his head and looked across the saloon. There was + something in the deliberate manner of his doing so, and his hesitation + before he spoke, which seemed intended to further impress upon the young + man the fact that he was not disposed for conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” was his sole reply. + </p> + <p> + Gerald Fentolin sighed as though he regretted his companion’s taciturnity + and a few minutes later strolled to the farther end of the saloon. He + spent some time trying to peer through the streaming window into the + darkness. He chatted for a few minutes with the guard, who was, however, + in a bad temper at having had to turn out and who found little to say. + Then he took one of his golf clubs from the bag and indulged in several + half swings. Finally he stretched himself out upon one of the seats and + closed his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “May as well try to get a nap,” he yawned. “There won’t be much chance on + the steamer, if it blows like this.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster said nothing. His face was set, his eyes were looking + somewhere beyond the confines of the saloon in which he was seated. So + they travelled for over an hour. The young man seemed to be dozing in + earnest when, with a succession of jerks, the train rapidly slackened + speed. Mr. Dunster let down the window. The interior of the carriage was + at once thrown into confusion. A couple of newspapers were caught up and + whirled around, a torrent of rain beat in. Mr. Dunster rapidly closed the + window and rang the bell. The guard came in after a moment or two. His + clothes were shiny from the wet; raindrops hung from his beard. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” Mr. Dunster demanded. “Why are we waiting here?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s a block on the line somewhere,” the man replied. “Can’t tell + where exactly. The signals are against us; that’s all we know at present.” + </p> + <p> + They crawled on again in about ten minutes, stopped, and resumed their + progress at an even slower rate. Mr. Dunster once more summoned the guard. + </p> + <p> + “Why are we travelling like this?” he asked impatiently. “We shall never + catch the boat.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall catch the boat all right if it runs, sir,” the man assured him. + “The mail is only a mile or two ahead of us; that’s one reason why we have + to go so slowly. Then the water is right over the line where we are now, + and we can’t get any news at all from the other side of Ipswich. If it + goes on like this, some of the bridges will be down; that’s what I’m + afraid of.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster frowned. For the first time he showed some signs of + uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” he muttered, half to himself, “a motor-car would have been + better.” + </p> + <p> + “Not on your life,” his young companion intervened. “All the roads to the + coast here cross no end of small bridges—much weaker affairs than + the railway bridges. I bet there are some of those down already. Besides, + you wouldn’t be able to see where you were going, on a night like this.” + </p> + <p> + “There appears to be a chance,” Mr. Dunster remarked drily, “that you will + have to scratch for your competition to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Also,” the young man observed, “that you will have taken this special + train for nothing. I can’t fancy the Harwich boat going out a night like + this.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster relapsed into stony but anxious silence. The train continued + its erratic progress, sometimes stopping altogether for a time, with + whistle blowing repeatedly; sometimes creeping along the metals as though + feeling its way to safety. At last, after a somewhat prolonged wait, the + guard, whose hoarse voice they had heard on the platform of the small + station in which they were standing, entered the carriage. With him came a + gust of wind, once more sending the papers flying around the compartment. + The rain dripped from his clothes on to the carpet. He had lost his hat, + his hair was tossed with the wind, his face was bleeding from a slight + wound on the temple. + </p> + <p> + “The boat train’s just ahead of us, sir,” he announced. “She can’t get on + any better than we can. We’ve just heard that there’s a bridge down on the + line between Ipswich and Harwich.” + </p> + <p> + “What are we going to do, then?” Mr. Dunster demanded. + </p> + <p> + “That’s just what I’ve come to ask you, sir,” the guard replied. “The + mail’s going slowly on as far as Ipswich. I fancy they’ll lie by there + until the morning. The best thing that I can see is, if you’re agreeable, + to take you back to London. We can very likely do that all right, if we + start at once.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster, ignoring the man’s suggestion, drew from one of the + voluminous pockets of his ulster a small map. He spread it open upon the + table before him and studied it attentively. + </p> + <p> + “If I cannot get to Harwich,” he asked, “is there any possibility of + keeping straight on and reaching Yarmouth?” + </p> + <p> + The guard hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “We haven’t heard anything about the line from Ipswich to Norwich, sir,” + he replied, “but we can’t very well change our course without definite + instructions.” + </p> + <p> + “Your definite instructions,” Mr. Dunster reminded him drily, “were to + take me to Harwich. You have been forced to depart from them. I see no + harm in your adopting any suggestions I may have to make concerning our + altered destination. I will pay the extra mileage, naturally.” + </p> + <p> + “How far did you wish to go, sir?” the guard enquired. + </p> + <p> + “To Yarmouth,” Mr. Dunster replied firmly. “If there are bridges down, and + communication with Harwich is blocked, Yarmouth would suit me better than + anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + The guard shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn’t go on that way, sir, without instructions.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there a telegraph office at this station?” Mr. Dunster inquired. + </p> + <p> + “We can speak anywhere on the line,” the guard replied. + </p> + <p> + “Then wire to the station-master at Liverpool Street,” Mr. Dunster + instructed. “You can get a reply from him in the course of a few minutes. + Explain the situation and tell him what my wishes are.” + </p> + <p> + The guard hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a goodish way from here to Norwich,” he observed, “and for all we + know—” + </p> + <p> + “When we left Liverpool Street Station,” Mr. Dunster interrupted, “I + promised five pounds each to you, the engine-driver, and his mate. That + five pounds shall be made twenty-five if you succeed in getting me to the + coast. Do your best for me.” + </p> + <p> + The guard raised his hat and departed without another word. + </p> + <p> + “It will probably suit you better,” Mr. Dunster continued, turning to his + companion, “to leave me at Ipswich and join the mail.” + </p> + <p> + The latter shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see that there’s any chance, anyway, of my getting over in time + now,” he remarked. “If you’ll take me on with you as far as Norwich, I can + go quietly home from there!” + </p> + <p> + “You live in this part of the world, then?” Mr. Dunster asked. + </p> + <p> + The young man assented. Again there was a certain amount of hesitation in + his manner. + </p> + <p> + “I live some distance the other side of Norwich,” he said. “I don’t want + to sponge on you too much,” he went on, “but if you’re really going to + stick it out and try and get there, I’d like to go on, too. I am afraid I + can’t offer to share the expense, but I’d work my passage if there was + anything to be done.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster drummed for a moment upon the table with his fingers. All the + time the young man had been speaking, his eyes had been studying his face. + He turned now once more to his map. + </p> + <p> + “It was my idea,” he said, “to hire a steam trawler from Yarmouth. If I do + so, you can, if you wish, accompany me so far as the port at which we may + land in Holland. On the other hand, to be perfectly frank with you, I + should prefer to go alone. There will be, no doubt, a certain amount of + risk in crossing to-night. My own business is of importance. A golf + tournament, however, is scarcely worth risking your life for, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t know about that!” the young man replied grimly. “I fancy I + should rather like it. Let’s see whether we can get on to Norwich, anyhow, + shall we? We may find that there are bridges down on that line.” + </p> + <p> + They relapsed once more into silence. Presently the guard reappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Instructions to take you on to Yarmouth, if possible, sir,” he announced, + “and to collect the mileage at our destination.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be quite satisfactory,” Mr. Dunster agreed. “Let us be off, + then, as soon as possible.” Presently they crawled on. They passed the + boat train in Ipswich Station, where they stayed for a few moments. Mr. + Dunster bought wine and sandwiches, and his companion followed his + example. Then they continued their journey. An hour or more passed; the + storm showed no signs of abatement. Their speed now rarely exceeded ten or + fifteen miles an hour. Mr. Dunster smoked all the time, occasionally + rubbing the window-pane and trying to look out. Gerald Fentolin slept + fitfully. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any idea where we are?” Mr. Dunster asked once. + </p> + <p> + The boy cautiously let down the window a little way. With the noise of the + storm came another sound, to which he listened for a moment with puzzled + face: a dull, rumbling sound like the falling of water. He closed the + window, breathless. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think we are far from Norwich. We passed Forncett, anyhow, some + time ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Still raining?” + </p> + <p> + “In torrents! I can’t see a yard ahead of me. I bet we get some floods + after this. I expect they are out now, if one could only see.” + </p> + <p> + They crept on. Suddenly, above the storm, they heard what sounded at first + like the booming of a gun, and then a shrill whistle from some distance + ahead. They felt the jerk as their brakes were hastily applied, the + swaying of the little train, and then the crunching of earth beneath them, + the roar of escaping steam as their engine ploughed its way on into the + road bed. + </p> + <p> + “Off the rails!” the boy cried, springing to his feet. “Hold on tightly, + sir. I’d keep away from the window.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage swayed and rocked. Suddenly a telegraph post seemed to come + crashing through the window and the polished mahogany panels. The young + man escaped it by leaping to one side. It caught Mr. Dunster, who had just + risen to his feet, upon the forehead. There was a crash all around of + splitting glass, a further shock. They were both thrown off their feet. + The light was suddenly extinguished. With the crashing of glass, the + splitting of timber—a hideous, tearing sound—the wrecked + saloon, dragging the engine half-way over with it, slipped down a low + embankment and lay on its side, what remained of it, in a field of + turnips. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + As the young man staggered to his feet, he had somehow a sense of + detachment, as though he were commencing a new life, or had suddenly come + into a new existence. Yet his immediate surroundings were charged with + ugly reminiscences. Through a great gap in the ruined side of the saloon + the rain was tearing in. As he stood up, his head caught the fragments of + the roof. He was able to push back the wreckage with ease and step out. + For a moment he reeled, as he met the violence of the storm. Then, + clutching hold of the side of the wreck, he steadied himself. A light was + moving back and forth, close at hand. He cried out weakly: “Hullo!” + </p> + <p> + A man carrying a lantern, bent double as he made his way against the wind, + crawled up to them. He was a porter from the station close at hand. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he exclaimed. “Any one alive here?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m all right,” Gerald muttered, “at least, I suppose I am. What’s it all—what’s + it all about? We’ve had an accident.” + </p> + <p> + The porter caught hold of a piece of the wreckage with which to steady + himself. + </p> + <p> + “Your train ran right into three feet of water,” he answered. “The rails + had gone—torn up. The telegraph line’s down.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you stop the train?” + </p> + <p> + “We were doing all we could,” the man retorted gloomily. “We weren’t + expecting anything else through to-night. We’d a man along the line with a + lantern, but he’s just been found blown over the embankment, with his head + in a pool of water. Any one else in your carriage?” + </p> + <p> + “One gentleman travelling with me,” Gerald answered. “We’d better try to + get him out. What about the guard and engine-driver?” + </p> + <p> + “The engine-driver and stoker are both alive,” the porter told him. “I + came across them before I saw you. They’re both knocked sort of sillylike, + but they aren’t much hurt. The guard’s stone dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are we?” + </p> + <p> + “A few hundred yards from Wymondham. Let’s have a look for the other + gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. John P. Dunster was lying quite still, his right leg doubled up, and a + huge block of telegraph post, which the saloon had carried with it in its + fall, still pressing against his forehead. He groaned as they dragged him + out and laid him down upon a cushion in the shelter of the wreckage. + </p> + <p> + “He’s alive all right,” the porter remarked. “There’s a doctor on the way. + Let’s cover him up quick and wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t we carry him to shelter of some sort?” Gerald proposed. + </p> + <p> + The man shook his head. Speech of any sort was difficult. Even with his + lips close to the other’s ears, he had almost to shout. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn’t be done,” he replied. “It’s all one can do to walk alone when + you get out in the middle of the field, away from the shelter of the + embankment here. There’s bits of trees flying all down the lane. Never was + such a night! Folks is fair afraid of the morning to see what’s happened. + There’s a mill blown right over on its side in the next field, and the man + in charge of it lying dead. This poor chap’s bad enough.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald, on all fours, had crept back into the compartment. The bottle of + wine was smashed into atoms. He came out, dragging the small dressing-case + which his companion had kept on the table before him. One side of it was + dented in, but the lock, which was of great strength, still held. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps there’s a flask somewhere in this dressing-case,” Gerald said. + “Lend me a knife.” + </p> + <p> + Strong though it had been, the lock was already almost torn out from its + foundation. They forced the spring and opened it. The porter turned his + lantern on the widening space. Just as Gerald was raising the lid very + slowly to save the contents from being scattered by the wind, the man + turned his head to answer an approaching hail. Gerald raised the lid a + little higher and suddenly closed it with a bang. + </p> + <p> + “There’s folks coming at last!” the porter exclaimed, turning around + excitedly. “They’ve been a time and no mistake. The village isn’t a + quarter of a mile away. Did you find a flask, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Gerald made no answer. The dressing-case once more was closed, and his + hand pressed upon the lid. The porter turned the light upon his face and + whistled softly. + </p> + <p> + “You’re about done yourself, sir,” he remarked. “Hold up.” + </p> + <p> + He caught the young man in his arms. There was another roar in Gerald’s + ears besides the roar of the wind. He had never fainted in his life, but + the feeling was upon him now—a deadly sickness, a swaying of the + earth. The porter suddenly gave a little cry. + </p> + <p> + “If I’m not a born idiot!” he exclaimed, drawing a bottle from the pocket + of his coat with his disengaged hand. “There’s whisky here. I was taking + it home to the missis for her rheumatism. Now, then.” + </p> + <p> + He drew the cork from the bottle with his teeth and forced some of the + liquid between the lips of the young man. The voices now were coming + nearer and nearer. Gerald made a desperate effort. + </p> + <p> + “I am all right,” he declared. “Let’s look after him.” + </p> + <p> + They groped their way towards the unconscious man, Gerald still gripping + the dressing-case with both hands. There were no signs of any change in + his condition, but he was still breathing heavily. Then they heard a shout + behind, almost in their ears. The porter staggered to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right now, sir!” he exclaimed. “They’ve brought blankets and a + stretcher and brandy. Here’s a doctor, sir.” + </p> + <p> + A powerful-looking man, hatless, and wrapped in a great ulster, moved + towards them. + </p> + <p> + “How many are there of you?” he asked, as he bent over Mr. Dunster. + </p> + <p> + “Only we two,” Gerald replied. “Is my friend badly hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Concussion,” the doctor announced. “We’ll take him to the village. What + about you, young man? Your face is bleeding, I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Just a cut,” Gerald faltered; “nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucky chap,” the doctor remarked. “Let’s get him to shelter of some sort. + Come along. There’s an inn at the corner of the lane there.” + </p> + <p> + They all staggered along, Gerald still clutching the dressing-case, and + supported on the other side by an excited and somewhat incoherent + villager. + </p> + <p> + “Such a storm as never was,” the latter volunteered. “The telegraph wires + are all down for miles and miles. There won’t be no trains running along + this line come many a week, and as for trees—why, it’s as though + some one had been playing ninepins in Squire Fellowes’s park. When the + morning do come, for sure there will be things to be seen. This way, sir. + Be careful of the gate.” + </p> + <p> + They staggered along down the lane, climbing once over a tree which lay + across the lane and far into the adjoining field. Soon they were joined by + more of the villagers, roused from their beds by rumours of terrible + happenings. The little, single-storey, ivy-covered inn was all lit up and + the door held firmly open. They passed through the narrow entrance and + into the stone-flagged barroom, where the men laid down their stretcher. + As many of the villagers as could crowd in filled the passage. Gerald sank + into a chair. The sudden absence of wind was almost disconcerting. He felt + himself once more in danger of fainting. He was only vaguely conscious of + drinking hot milk, poured from a jug by a red-faced and sympathetic woman. + Its restorative effect, however, was immediate and wonderful. The mist + cleared from before his eyes, his brain began to work. Always in the + background the horror and the shame were there, the shame which kept his + hand pressed with unnatural strength upon the broken lock of that + dressing-case. He sat a little apart from the others and listened. Above + the confused murmur of voices he could hear the doctor’s comment and brief + orders, as he rose to his feet after examining the unconscious man. + </p> + <p> + “An ordinary concussion,” he declared. “I must get round and see the + engine-driver now. They have got him in a shed by the embankment. I’ll + call in again later on. Let’s have one more look at you, young man.” + </p> + <p> + He glanced at the cut on Gerald’s forehead, noted the access of colour in + his cheeks, and nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Born to be hanged, you were,” he pronounced. “You’ve had a marvellous + escape. I’ll be in again presently. No need to worry about your friend. He + looks as though he’d got a mighty constitution. Light my lantern, Brown. + Two of you had better come with me to the shed. It’s no night for a man to + be wandering about alone.” + </p> + <p> + He departed, and many of the villagers with him. The landlady sat down and + began to weep. + </p> + <p> + “Such a night! Such a night!” she exclaimed, wringing her hands. “And + there’s the doctor talks about putting the poor gentleman to bed! Why, the + roof’s off the back part of the house, and not a bedroom in the place but + mine and John’s, and the rain coming in there in torrents. Such a night! + It’s the judgment of the Lord upon us! That’s what it is—the + judgment of the Lord!” + </p> + <p> + “Judgment of the fiddlesticks!” her husband growled. “Can’t you light the + fire, woman? What’s the good of sitting there whining?” + </p> + <p> + “Light the fire,” she repeated bitterly, “and the chimney lying out in the + road! Do you want to suffocate us all, or is the beer still in your head? + It’s your evil doings, Richard Budden, and others like you, that have + brought this upon us. If Mr. Wembley would but come in and pray!” + </p> + <p> + Her husband scoffed. He was dressed only in his shirt and trousers, his + hair rough, his braces hanging down behind. + </p> + <p> + “Come in and pray!” he repeated. “Not he! Not Mr. Wembley! He’s safe + tucked up in his bed, shivering with fear, I’ll bet you. He’s not getting + his feet wet to save a body or lend a hand here. Souls are his job. You + let the preacher alone, mother, and tell us what we’re going to do with + this gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “The Lord only knows!” she cried, wringing her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Can I hire a motor-car from anywhere near?” Gerald asked. + </p> + <p> + “There’s motor-cars, right enough,” the innkeeper replied, “but not many + as would be fools enough to take one out. You couldn’t see the road, and I + doubt if one of them plaguey things would stir in this storm.” + </p> + <p> + “Such nonsense as you talk, Richard Budden!” his wife exclaimed sharply. + “It’s twenty minutes past three of the clock, and there’s light coming on + us fast. If so be as the young gentleman knows folks round about here, or + happens to live nigh, why shouldn’t he take one of them motor-cars and get + away to some decent place? It’ll be better for the poor gentleman than + lying here in a house smitten by the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald rose stiffly to his feet. An idea was forming in his brain. His + eyes were bright. He looked at the body of John Dunster upon the floor, + and felt once more in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “How far off is the garage?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “It’s right across the way,” the innkeeper replied, “a speculation of + Neighbour Martin’s, and a foolish one it do seem to me. He’s two cars + there, and one he lets to the Government for delivering the mails.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald felt in his pocket and produced a sovereign. + </p> + <p> + “Give this,” he said, “to any man you can find who will go across there + and bring me a car—the most powerful they’ve got, if there’s any + difference. Tell them I’ll pay well. This—my friend will be much + better at home with me than in a strange place when he comes to his + senses.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s sound common sense,” the woman declared. “Be off with you, Richard.” + </p> + <p> + The man was looking at the coin covetously, but his wife pushed him away. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not a sovereign you’ll be taking from the gentleman for a little + errand like that,” she insisted sharply. “He shall pay us for what he’s + had when he goes, and welcome, and if so be that he’s willing to make it a + sovereign, to include the milk and the brandy and the confusion we’ve been + put to this night, well and good. It’s a heavy reckoning, maybe, but the + night calls for it. We’ll see about that afterwards. Get along with you, I + say, Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be wet through,” the man muttered. + </p> + <p> + “And serve you right!” the woman exclaimed. “If there’s a man in this + village to-night whose clothes are dry, it’s a thing for him to be ashamed + of.” + </p> + <p> + The innkeeper reluctantly departed. They heard the roar of the wind as the + door was opened and closed. The woman poured out another glass of milk and + brought it to Gerald. + </p> + <p> + “A godless man, mine,” she said grimly. “If so happen as Mr. Wembley had + come to these parts years ago, I’d have seen myself in my grave before I’d + have married a publican. But it’s too late now. We’re mostly too late + about the things that count in this world. So it’s your friend that’s been + stricken down, young man. A well-living man, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + Gerald shivered ever so slightly. He drank the milk, however. He felt that + he might need his strength. + </p> + <p> + “What train might you have been on?” the woman continued. “There’s none + due on this line that we knew of. David Bass, the station-master, was here + but two hours ago and said he’d finished for the night, and praised the + Lord for that. The goods trains had all been stopped at Ipswich, and the + first passenger train was not due till six o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald shook his head with an affectation of weariness. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” he replied. “I don’t remember anything about it. We were + hours late, I think.” + </p> + <p> + The woman was looking down at the unconscious man. Gerald rose slowly to + his feet and stood by her side. The face of Mr. John P. Dunster, even in + unconsciousness, had something in it of strength and purpose. The shape of + his head, the squareness of his jaws, the straightness of his thick lips, + all seemed to speak of a hard and inflexible disposition. His hair was + coal black, coarse, and without the slightest sprinkling of grey. He had + the neck and throat of a fighter. But for that single, livid, blue mark + across his forehead, he carried with him no signs of his accident. He was + a little inclined to be stout. There was a heavy gold chain stretched + across his waist-coat. From where he lay, the shining handle of his + revolver protruded from his hip, pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Sakes alive!” the woman muttered, as she looked down. “What does he carry + a thing like that for—in a peaceful country, too!” + </p> + <p> + “It was just an idea of his,” Gerald answered. “We were going abroad in a + day or two. He was always nervous. If you like, I’ll take it away.” + </p> + <p> + He stooped down and withdrew it from the unconscious man’s pocket. He + started as he discovered that it was loaded in every chamber. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t bear the sight of them things,” the woman declared. “It’s the men + of evil ways, who’ve no trust in the Lord, who need that sort of + protection.” + </p> + <p> + They heard the door pushed open, the howl of wind down the passage, and + the beating of rain upon the stone flags. Then it was softly closed again. + The landlord staggered into the room, followed by a young man. + </p> + <p> + “This ‘ere is Mr. Martin’s chaffer,” he announced. “You can tell him what + you want yerself.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald turned almost eagerly towards the newcomer. + </p> + <p> + “I want to go to the other side of Holt,” he said, “and get my friend—get + this gentleman away from here—get him home, if possible. Can you + take me?” + </p> + <p> + The chauffeur looked doubtful. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid of the roads, sir,” he replied. “There’s talk about many + bridges down, and trees, and there’s floods out everywhere. There’s half a + foot of water, even, across the village street now. I’m afraid we + shouldn’t get very far.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” Gerald begged eagerly, “let’s make a shot at it. I’ll pay you + double the hire of the car, and I’ll be responsible for any damage. I want + to get out of this beastly place. Let’s get somewhere, at any rate, + towards a civilised country. I’ll see you don’t lose anything. I’ll give + you a five pound note for yourself if we get as far as Holt.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m on,” the young man agreed shortly. “It’s an open car, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn’t matter,” Gerald replied. “I can stick it in front with you, + and we can cover—him up in the tonneau.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll wait until the doctor comes back?” the landlord asked. + </p> + <p> + “And why should they?” his wife interposed sharply. “Them doctors are all + the same. He’ll try and keep the poor gentleman here for the sake of a few + extra guineas, and a miserable place for him to open his eyes upon, even + if the rest of the roof holds, which for my part I’m beginning to doubt. + They’d have to move him from here with the daylight, anyhow. He can’t lie + in the bar parlour all day, can he?” + </p> + <p> + “It don’t seem right, somehow,” the man complained doggedly. “The doctor + didn’t say anything about having him moved.” + </p> + <p> + “You get the car,” Gerald ordered the young man. “I’ll take the whole + responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + The chauffeur silently left the room. Gerald put a couple of sovereigns + upon the mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + “My friend is a man of somewhat peculiar temperament,” he said quietly. + “If he finds himself at home in a comfortable room when he comes to his + senses, I am quite sure that he will have a better chance of recovery. He + cannot possibly be made comfortable here, and he will feel the shock of + what has happened all the more if he finds himself still in the + neighbourhood when he opens his eyes. If there is any change in his + condition, we can easily stop somewhere on the way.” + </p> + <p> + The woman pocketed the two sovereigns. + </p> + <p> + “That’s common sense, sir,” she agreed heartily, “and I’m sure we are very + much obliged to you. If we had a decent room, and a roof above it, you’d + be heartily welcome, but as it is, this is no place for a sick man, and + those that say different don’t know what they are talking about. That’s a + real careful young man who’s going to take you along in the motor-car. + He’ll get you there safe, if any one will.” + </p> + <p> + “What I say is,” her husband protested sullenly, “that we ought to wait + for the doctor’s orders. I’m against seeing a poor body like that jolted + across the country in an open motor-car, in his state. I’m not sure that + it’s for his good.” + </p> + <p> + “And what business is it of yours, I should like to know?” the woman + demanded sharply. “You get up-stairs and begin moving the furniture from + where the rain’s coming sopping in. And if so be you can remember while + you do it that this is a judgment that’s come upon us, why, so much the + better. We are evil-doers, all of us, though them as likes the easy ways + generally manage to forget it.” + </p> + <p> + The man retreated silently. The woman sat down upon a stool and waited. + Gerald sat opposite to her, the battered dressing-case upon his knees. + Between them was stretched the body of the unconscious man. + </p> + <p> + “Are you used to prayer, young sir?” the woman asked. + </p> + <p> + Gerald shook his head, and the woman did not pursue the subject. Only once + her eyes were half closed and her words drifted across the room. + </p> + <p> + “The Lord have mercy on this man, a sinner!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + “My advice to you, sir, is to chuck it!” + </p> + <p> + Gerald turned towards the chauffeur by whose side he was seated a little + stiffly, for his limbs were numbed with the cold and exhaustion. The + morning had broken with a grey and uncertain light. A vaporous veil of + mist seemed to have taken the place of the darkness. Even from the top of + the hill where the car had come to a standstill, there was little to be + seen. + </p> + <p> + “We must have come forty miles already,” the chauffeur continued, “what + with going out of our way all the time because of the broken bridges. I’m + pretty well frozen through, and as for him,” he added, jerking his thumb + across his shoulder, “it seems to me you’re taking a bit of a risk.” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor said he would remain in exactly the same condition for + twenty-four hours,” Gerald declared. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he didn’t say anything about shaking him up over forty miles of + rough road,” the other protested. “You’ll excuse me, sir,” he continued, + in a slightly changed tone; “it isn’t my business, of course, but I’m + fairly done. It don’t seem reasonable to stick at it like this. There’s + Holt village not a mile away, and a comfortable inn and a fire waiting. I + thought that was as far as you wanted to come. We might lie up there for a + few hours, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + His passenger slipped down from his place, and, lifting the rug, peered + into the tonneau of the car, over which they had tied a hood. To all + appearance, the condition of the man who lay there was unchanged. There + was a slightly added blueness about the lips but his breathing was still + perceptible. It seemed even a little stronger. Gerald resumed his seat. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t worth while to stay at Holt,” he said quietly. “We are scarcely + seven miles from home now. Sit still for a few minutes and get your wind.” + </p> + <p> + “Only seven miles,” the chauffeur repeated more cheerfully. “That’s + something, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “And all downhill.” + </p> + <p> + “Towards the sea, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Straight to the sea,” Gerald told him. “The place we are making for is + St. David’s Hall, near Salthouse.” + </p> + <p> + The chauffeur seemed a little startled. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that’s Squire Fentolin’s house!” + </p> + <p> + Gerald nodded. + </p> + <p> + “That is where we are going. You follow this road almost straight ahead.” + </p> + <p> + The chauffeur slipped in the clutch. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know the way now, sir, right enough!” he exclaimed. “There’s + Salthouse marsh to cross, though. I don’t know about that.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall manage that all right,” Gerald declared. “We’ve more light now, + too.” + </p> + <p> + They both looked around. During the last few minutes the late morning + seemed to have forced its way through the clouds. They had a dim, + phantasmagoric view of the stricken country: a watery plain, with here and + there great patches of fields, submerged to the hedges, and houses + standing out amidst the waste of waters like toy dwellings. There were + whole plantations of uprooted trees. Close to the road, on their left, was + a roofless house, and a family of children crying underneath a tarpaulin + shelter. As they crept on, the wind came to them with a brackish flavour, + salt with the sea. The chauffeur was gazing ahead doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like the look of the marsh,” he grumbled. “Can’t see the road at + all. However, here goes.” + </p> + <p> + “Another half-hour,” Gerald assured him encouragingly, “and we shall be at + St. David’s Hall. You can have as much rest as you like then.” + </p> + <p> + They were facing the wind now, and conversation became impossible. Twice + they had to pull up sharp and make a considerable detour, once on account + of a fallen tree which blocked the road, and another time because of the + yawning gap where a bridge had fallen away. Gerald, however, knew every + inch of the country they were in and was able to give the necessary + directions. They began to meet farm wagons now, full of people who had + been driven from their homes. Warnings and information as to the state of + the roads were shouted to them continually. Presently they came to the + last steep descent, and emerged from the devastated fragment of a wood + almost on to the sea level. The chauffeur clapped on his brakes and + stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he exclaimed. “Here’s more trouble!” + </p> + <p> + Gerald for a moment was speechless. They seemed to have come suddenly upon + a huge plain of waters, an immense lake reaching as far as they could see + on either side. The road before them stretched like a ribbon for the next + three miles. Here and there it disappeared and reappeared again. In many + places it was lapped by little waves. Everywhere the hedges were either + altogether or half under water. In the distance was one farmhouse, only + the roof of which was visible, and from which the inhabitants were + clambering into a boat. And beyond, with scarcely a break save for the + rising of one strangely-shaped hill, was the sea. Gerald pointed with his + finger. + </p> + <p> + “There’s St. David’s Hall,” he said, “on the other side of the hill. The + road seems all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Does it!” the chauffeur grunted. “It’s under water more than half the + way, and Heaven knows how deep it is at the sides! I’m not going to risk + my life along there. I am going to take the car back to Holt.” + </p> + <p> + His hand was already upon the reverse lever, but Gerald gripped it. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he protested, “we haven’t come all this way to turn back. You + don’t look like a coward.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a coward, sir,” was the quiet answer. “Neither am I a fool. I + don’t see any use in risking our lives and my master’s motor-car, because + you want to get home.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” Gerald answered calmly, “but remember this. I am responsible + for your car—not you. Mr. Fentolin is my uncle.” + </p> + <p> + The chauffeur nodded shortly. + </p> + <p> + “You’re Mr. Gerald Fentolin, aren’t you, sir?” he remarked. “I thought I + recognised you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” Gerald admitted. “We’ve had a rough journey, but it doesn’t seem + sense to turn back now, does it, with the house in sight?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all very well, sir,” the chauffeur objected doubtfully, “but I + don’t believe the road’s even passable, and the floods seem to me to be + rising.” + </p> + <p> + “Try it,” the young man begged. “Look here, I don’t want to bribe you, or + anything of that sort. You know you’re coming out of this well. It’s a + serious matter for me, and I shan’t be likely to forget it. I want to take + this gentleman to St. David’s Hall and not to a hospital. You’ve brought + me here so far like a man. Let’s go through with it. If the worst comes to + the worst, we can both swim, I suppose, and we are not likely to get out + of our depth.” + </p> + <p> + The chauffeur moved his head backwards. + </p> + <p> + “How about him?” + </p> + <p> + “He must take his chance,” Gerald replied. “He’s all right where he is. + The car won’t upset and there are plenty of people who’ll see if we get + into trouble. Come, let’s make a dash for it.” + </p> + <p> + The chauffeur thrust in his clutch and settled himself down. They glided + off along that winding stretch of road. To its very edge, on either side + of them, so close that they could almost touch it, came the water, water + which stretched as far as they could see, swaying, waveless, + sinister-looking. Even Gerald, after his first impulse of wonder, kept his + eyes averted and fixed upon the road ahead. Soon they reached a place + where the water met in front. There were only the rows of white palings on + either side to guide them. The chauffeur muttered to himself as he changed + to his first speed. + </p> + <p> + “If the engine gets stopped,” he said, “I don’t know how we shall get out + of this.” + </p> + <p> + They emerged on the other side. For some time they had a clear run. Then + suddenly the driver clapped on his brakes. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” he cried. “We can’t get through that!” + </p> + <p> + In front of them for more than a hundred yards the water seemed suddenly + to have flowed across the road. Still a mile distant, perched on a ridge + of that strangely-placed hill, was their destination. + </p> + <p> + “It can’t be done, sir!” the man groaned. “There isn’t a car ever built + could get through that. See, it’s nearly up to the top of those posts. I + must put her in the reverse and get back, even if we have to wait on the + higher part of the road for a boat.” + </p> + <p> + He glanced behind, and a second cry broke from his lips. Gerald stood up + in his place. Already the road which had been clear a few minutes before + was hidden. The water was washing almost over the tops of the white posts + behind them. Little waves were breaking against the summit of the raised + bank. + </p> + <p> + “We’re cut off!” the chauffeur exclaimed. “What a fool I was to try this! + There’s the tide coming in as well!” + </p> + <p> + Gerald sat down in his place. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said, “we can’t go back, whether we want to or not. It’s + much worse behind there than it is in front. There’s only one chance. Go + for it straight ahead in your first speed. It may not stop the engine. In + any case, it will be worse presently. There’s no use funking it. If the + worst happens, we can sit in the car. The water won’t be above our heads + and there are some boats about. Blow your horn well first, in case there’s + any one within hearing, and then go for it.” + </p> + <p> + The chauffeur obeyed. They hissed and spluttered into the water. Soon all + trace of the road was completely lost. They steered only by the tops of + the white posts. + </p> + <p> + “It’s getting deeper,” the man declared. “It’s within an inch or two of + the bonnet now. Hold on.” + </p> + <p> + A wave broke almost over them but the engine continued its beat. + </p> + <p> + “If we stop now,” he gasped, “we’re done!” + </p> + <p> + The engine began to knock. + </p> + <p> + “Stick at it,” Gerald cried, rising in his place a little. “Look, there’s + only one post lower than the last one that we passed. They get higher all + the time, ahead. You can almost see the road in front there. Now, in with + your gear again, and stick at it.” + </p> + <p> + Another wave broke, this time completely over them. They listened with + strained ears—the engine continued to beat. They still moved slowly. + Then there was a shock. The wheel had struck something in the road—a + great stone or rock. The chauffeur thrust the car out of gear. The engine + still beat. Gerald leaped from the car. The water was over his knees. He + crossed in front of the bonnet and stooped down. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, tugging hard. “It’s a stone.” + </p> + <p> + He moved it, rolled it on one side, and pushed at the wheel of the car as + his companion put in the speed. They started again. He jumped back his + place. + </p> + <p> + “We’ve done it, all right!” he cried. “Don’t you see? It’s getting lower + all the time.” + </p> + <p> + The chauffeur had lost his nerve. His cheeks were pale, his teeth were + chattering. The engine, however, was still beating. Gradually the pressure + of the water grew less. In front of them they caught a glimpse of the + road. They drew up at the top of a little bridge over one of the dikes. + Gerald uttered a brief exclamation of triumph. + </p> + <p> + “We’re safe!” he almost sobbed. “There’s the road, straight ahead and + round to the right. There’s no more water anywhere near.” + </p> + <p> + They had left the main part of the flood behind them. There were still + great pools in the side of the road, and huge masses of seaweed had been + carried up and were lying in their track. There was no more water, + however. At every moment they drew nearer to the strangely-shaped hill + with its crown of trees. + </p> + <p> + “The house is on the other side,” Gerald pointed out. “We can go through + the lodge gates at the back here. The ascent isn’t so steep.” + </p> + <p> + They turned sharply to the right, along another stretch of straight road + set with white posts, ending before a red brick lodge and a closed gate. + They blew the horn and a gardener came out. He gazed at them in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right,” Gerald cried. “Let us through quickly, Foulds. We’ve a + gentleman in behind who’s ill.” + </p> + <p> + The man swung open the gate with a respectful salute. They made their way + up a winding drive of considerable length, and at last they came to a + broad, open space almost like a platform. On their left were the marshes, + and beyond, the sea. Along their right stretched the long front of an + Elizabethan mansion. They drew up in front of the hall door. Their coming + had been observed, and servants were already waiting. Gerald sprang to the + ground. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a gentleman in behind who’s ill,” he explained to the butler. “He + has met with an accident on the way. Three or four of you had better carry + him up to a bedroom—any one that is ready. And you, George,” he + added, turning to a boy, “get into the car and show this man the way round + to the garage, and then take him to the servants’ hall.” + </p> + <p> + Several of the servants hastened to do his bidding, and Gerald did his + best to answer the eager but respectful stream of questions. And then, + just as they were in the act of lifting the still unconscious man on to + the floor of the hall, came a queer sound—a shrill, reverberating + whistle. They all looked up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “The master is awake,” Henderson, the butler, remarked, dropping his voice + a little. + </p> + <p> + Gerald nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I will go to him at once,” he said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + Accustomed though he was to the sight which he was about to face, Gerald + shivered slightly as he opened the door of Mr. Fentolin’s room. A strange + sort of fear seemed to have crept into his bearing and expression, a fear + of which there had been no traces whatever during those terrible hours + through which he had passed—not even during that last reckless + journey across the marshes. He walked with hesitating footsteps across the + spacious and lofty room. He had the air of some frightened creature + approaching his master. Yet all that was visible of the despot who ruled + his whole household in deadly fear was the kindly and beautiful face of an + elderly man, whose stunted limbs and body were mercifully concealed. He + sat in a little carriage, with a rug drawn closely across his chest and up + to his armpits. His beautifully shaped hands were exposed, and his face; + nothing else. His hair was a silvery white; his complexion parchment-like, + pallid, entirely colourless. His eyes were a soft shade of blue. His + features were so finely cut and chiselled that they resembled some + exquisite piece of statuary. He smiled as his nephew came slowly towards + him. One might almost have fancied that the young man’s abject state was a + source of pleasure to him. + </p> + <p> + “So you are back again, my dear Gerald. A pleasant surprise, indeed, but + what is the meaning of it? And what of my little commission, eh?” + </p> + <p> + The young man’s face was dark and sullen. He spoke quickly but without any + sign of eagerness or interest in the information he vouchsafed. + </p> + <p> + “The storm has stopped all the trains,” he said. “The boat did not cross + last night, and in any case I couldn’t have reached Harwich. As for your + commission, I travelled down from London alone with the man you told me to + spy upon. I could have stolen anything he had if I had been used to the + work. As it was—I brought the man himself.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin’s delicate fingers played with the handle of his chair. The + smile had passed from his lips. He looked at his nephew in gentle + bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy,” he protested, “come, come, be careful what you are saying. + You have brought the man himself! So far as my information goes, Mr. John + P. Dunster is charged with a very important diplomatic commission. He is + on his way to Cologne, and from what I know about the man, I think that it + would require more than your persuasions to induce him to break off his + journey. You do not really wish me to believe that you have brought him + here as a guest?” + </p> + <p> + “I was at Liverpool Street Station last night,” Gerald declared. “I had no + idea how to accost him, and as to stealing any of his belongings, I + couldn’t have done it. You must hear how fortune helped me, though. Mr. + Dunster missed the train; so did I—purposely. He ordered a special. + I asked permission to travel with him. I told him a lie as to how I had + missed the train. I hated it, but it was necessary.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin nodded approvingly. + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy,” he said, “to trifle with the truth is always unpleasant. + Besides, you are a Fentolin, and our love of truth is proverbial. But + there are times, you know, when for the good of others we must sacrifice + our scruples. So you told Mr. Dunster a falsehood.” + </p> + <p> + “He let me travel with him,” Gerald continued. “We were all night getting + about half-way here. Then—you know about the storm, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin spread out his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Could one avoid the knowledge of it?” he asked. “Such a sight has never + been seen.” + </p> + <p> + “We found we couldn’t get to Harwich,” Gerald went on. “They telegraphed + to London and got permission to bring us to Yarmouth. We were on our way + to Norwich, and the train ran off the line.” + </p> + <p> + “An accident?” Mr. Fentolin exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Gerald nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Our train ran off the line and pitched down an embankment. Mr. Dunster + has concussion of the brain. He and I were taken to a miserable little inn + near Wymondham. From there I hired a motor-car and brought him here.” + </p> + <p> + “You hired a motor-car and brought him here,” Mr. Fentolin repeated + softly. “My dear boy—forgive me if I find this a little hard to + understand. You say that you have brought him here. Had he nothing to say + about it?” + </p> + <p> + “He was unconscious when we picked him up,” Gerald explained. “He is + unconscious now. The doctor said he would remain so for at least + twenty-four hours, and it didn’t seem to me that the journey would do him + any particular harm. The roof had been stripped off the inn where we were, + and the place was quite uninhabitable, so we should have had to have moved + him somewhere. We put him in the tonneau of the car and covered him up. + They have carried him now into a bedroom, and Sarson is looking after + him.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sat quite silent. His eyes blinked once or twice, and there + was a curious curve about his lips. + </p> + <p> + “You have done well, my boy,” he pronounced slowly. “Your scheme of + bringing him here sounds a little primitive, but success justifies + everything.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin raised to his lips and blew softly a little gold whistle + which hung from a chain attached to his waistcoat. Almost immediately the + door opened. A man entered, dressed somberly in black, whose bearing and + demeanour alike denoted the servant, but whose physique was the physique + of a prize-fighter. He was scarcely more than five feet six in height, but + his shoulders were extraordinarily broad. He had a short, bull neck and + long, mighty arms. His face, with the heavy jaw and small eyes, was the + face of the typical fighting man, yet his features seemed to have become + disposed by habit into an expression of gentle, almost servile civility. + </p> + <p> + “Meekins,” Mr. Fentolin said, “a visitor has arrived. Do you happen to + have noticed what luggage he brought?” + </p> + <p> + “There is one small dressing-case, sir,” the man replied; “nothing else + that I have seen.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all we brought,” Gerald interposed. + </p> + <p> + “You will bring the dressing-case here at once,” Mr. Fentolin directed, + “and also my compliments to Doctor Sarson, and any pocket-book or papers + which may help us to send a message to the gentleman’s friends.” + </p> + <p> + Meekins closed the door and departed. Mr. Fentolin turned back towards his + nephew. + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy,” he said, “tell me why you look as though there were ghosts + flitting about the room? You are not ill, I trust?” + </p> + <p> + “Tired, perhaps,” Gerald answered shortly. “We were many hours in the car. + I have had no sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin’s face was full of kindly sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” he exclaimed, “I am selfish, indeed! I should not have + kept you here for a moment. You had better go and lie down.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go directly,” Gerald promised. “Can I speak to you for one moment + first?” + </p> + <p> + “Speak to me,” Mr. Fentolin repeated, a little wonderingly. “My dear + Gerald, is there ever a moment when I am not wholly at your service?” + </p> + <p> + “That fellow Dunster, on the platform, the first moment I spoke to him, + made me feel like a cur,” the boy said, with a sudden access of vigour in + his tone. “I told him I was on my way to a golf tournament, and he pointed + to the news about the war. Is it true, uncle, that we may be at war at any + moment?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sighed. + </p> + <p> + “A terrible reflection, my dear boy,” he admitted softly, “but, alas! the + finger of probability points that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what about me?” Gerald exclaimed. “I don’t want to complain, but + listen. You dragged me home from a public school before I could even join + my cadet corps. You’ve kept me banging around here with a tutor. You + wouldn’t let me go to the university. You’ve stopped my entering either of + the services. I am nineteen years old and useless. Do you know what I + should do to-morrow if war broke out? Enlist! It’s the only thing left for + me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin was shocked. + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy!” he exclaimed. “You must not talk like that! I am quite sure + that it would break your mother’s heart. Enlist, indeed! Nothing of the + sort. You are part of the civilian population of the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Civilian population be d——d!” the boy suddenly cried, white + with rage. “Uncle, forgive me, I have stood all I can bear. If you won’t + let me go in for the army—I could pass my exams to-morrow—I’m + off. I’ll enlist without waiting for the war. I can’t bear this idle life + any longer.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin leaned a little forward in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Gerald!” he said softly. + </p> + <p> + The boy turned his head, turned it unwillingly. He had the air of a caged + animal obeying the word of his keeper. A certain savage uncouthness seemed + to have fallen upon him during the last few minutes. There was something + almost like a snarl in his expression. + </p> + <p> + “Gerald!” Mr. Fentolin repeated. + </p> + <p> + Then it was obvious that there was something between those two, some + memory or some living thing, seldom, if ever, to be spoken of, and yet + always present. The boy began to tremble. + </p> + <p> + “You’re a little overwrought, Gerald,” Mr. Fentolin declared. “Sit quietly + in my easy-chair for a few moments. Wait until I have examined Mr. + Dunster’s belongings. Ah! Meekins has been prompt, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + There was a stealthy tap at the door. Meekins entered with the small + dressing-case in his hand. He brought it over to his master’s chair. Mr. + Fentolin pointed to the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Open it there, Meekins,” he directed. “I fancy that the pocket-book you + are carrying will prove more interesting. We will just glance through the + dressing-case first. Thank you. Yes, you can lay the things upon the + floor. A man of Spartan-like life, I should imagine Mr. Dunster. A spare + toothbrush, though, I am glad to see. Pyjamas of most unattractive + pattern. And what a taste in shirts! Nothing but wearing apparel and + singularly little of that, I fancy.” + </p> + <p> + The dressing-case was empty, its contents upon the floor. Mr. Fentolin + held out his hand and took the pocket-book which Meekins had been + carrying. It was an ordinary morocco affair, similar to those issued by + American banking houses to enclose letters of credit. One side of it was + filled with notes. Mr. Fentolin withdrew them and glanced them through. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” he murmured. “No wonder our friend engages special trains! He + travels like a prince, indeed. Two thousand pounds, or near it, in this + little compartment. And here, I see, a letter, a sealed letter with no + address.” + </p> + <p> + He held it out in front of him. It was a long commercial envelope of + ordinary type, and although the flap was secured with a blob of sealing + wax, there was no particular impression upon it. + </p> + <p> + “We can match this envelope, I think,” Mr. Fentolin said softly. “The seal + we can copy. I think that, for the sake of others, we must discover the + cause for this hurried journey on the part of Mr. John P. Dunster.” + </p> + <p> + With his long, delicate forefinger Mr. Fentolin slit the envelope and + withdrew the single sheet of paper which it contained. There were a dozen + lines of written matter, and what appeared to be a dozen signatures + appended. Mr. Fentolin read it, at first with ordinary interest. Then a + change came. The look of a man drawn out of himself, drawn out of all + knowledge of his surroundings or his present state, stole into his face. + Literally he became transfixed. The delicate fingers of his left hand + gripped the sides of his little carriage. His eyes shone as though those + few written lines upon which they were riveted were indeed some message + from an unknown, an unimagined world. Yet no word ever passed his lips. + There came a time when the tension seemed a little relaxed. With fingers + which still trembled, he folded up the sheet and replaced it in the + envelope. He guarded it with both his hands and sat quite still. Neither + Gerald nor his servant moved. Somehow, the sense of Mr. Fentolin’s + suppressed excitement seemed to have become communicated to them. It was a + little tableau, broken at last by Mr. Fentolin himself. + </p> + <p> + “I should like,” he said, turning to Gerald, “to be alone. It may interest + you to know that this document which Mr. Dunster has brought across the + seas, and which I hold in my hands, is the most amazing message of modern + times.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do about it?” he asked abruptly. “Do you want any + one in from the telegraph room?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin shook his head slowly. + </p> + <p> + “At present,” he announced, “I am going to reflect. Meekins, my chair to + the north window—so. I am going to sit here,” he went on, “and I am + going to look across the sea and reflect. A very fortunate storm, after + all, I think, which kept Mr. John P. Dunster from the Harwich boat last + night. Leave me, Gerald, for a time. Stand behind my chair, Meekins, and + see that no one enters.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sat in his chair, his hands still gripping the wonderful + document, his eyes travelling over the ocean now flecked with sunlight. + His eyes were fixed upon the horizon. He looked steadily eastward. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + Mr. John P. Dunster opened his eyes upon strange surroundings. He found + himself lying upon a bed deliciously soft, with lace-edged sheets and + lavender-perfumed bed hangings. Through the discreetly opened upper window + came a pleasant and ozone-laden breeze. The furniture in the room was + mostly of an old-fashioned type, some of it of oak, curiously carved, and + most of it surmounted with a coat of arms. The apartment was lofty and of + almost palatial proportions. The whole atmosphere of the place breathed + comfort and refinement. The only thing of which he did not wholly approve + was the face of the nurse who rose silently to her feet at his murmured + question: + </p> + <p> + “Where am I?” + </p> + <p> + She felt his forehead, altered a bandage for a moment, and took his wrist + between her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “You have been ill,” she said. “There was a railway accident. You are to + lie quite still and not say a word. I am going to fetch the doctor now. He + wished to see you directly you spoke.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster dozed again for several moments. When he reopened his eyes, a + man was standing by his bedside, a short man with a black beard and + gold-rimmed glasses. Mr. Dunster, in this first stage of his + convalescence, was perhaps difficult to please, for he did not like the + look of the doctor, either. + </p> + <p> + “Please tell me where I am?” he begged. + </p> + <p> + “You have been in a railway accident,” the doctor told him, “and you were + brought here afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “In a railway accident,” Mr. Dunster repeated. “Ah, yes, I remember! I + took a special to Harwich—I remember now. Where is my dressing-bag?” + </p> + <p> + “It is here by the side of your bed.” + </p> + <p> + “And my pocket-book?” + </p> + <p> + “It is on your dressing-table.” + </p> + <p> + “Have any of my things been looked at?” + </p> + <p> + “Only so far as was necessary to discover your identity,” the doctor + assured him. “Don’t talk too much. The nurse is bringing you some beef + tea.” + </p> + <p> + “When,” Mr. Dunster enquired, “shall I be able to continue my journey?” + </p> + <p> + “That depends upon many things,” the doctor replied. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster drank his beef tea and felt considerably stronger. His head + still ached, but his memory was returning. + </p> + <p> + “There was a young man in the carriage with me,” he asked presently. “Mr. + Gerald something or other I think he said his name was?” + </p> + <p> + “Fentolin,” the doctor said. “He is unhurt. This is his relative’s house + to which you have been brought.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster lay for a time with knitted brows. Once more the name of + Fentolin seemed somehow familiar to him, seemed somehow to bring with it + to his memory a note of warning. He looked around the room fretfully. He + looked into the nurse’s face, which he disliked exceedingly, and he looked + at the doctor, whom he was beginning to detest. + </p> + <p> + “Whose house exactly is this?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “This is St. David’s Hall—the home of Mr. Miles Fentolin,” the + doctor told him. “The young gentleman with whom you were travelling is his + nephew.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I send a telegram?” Mr. Dunster asked, a little abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt,” the doctor replied. “Mr. Fentolin desired me to ask you + if there was any one whom you would like to apprise of your safety.” + </p> + <p> + Again the man upon the bed lay quite still, with knitted brows. There was + surely something familiar about that name. Was it his fevered fancy or was + there also something a little sinister? + </p> + <p> + The nurse, who had glided from the room, came back presently with some + telegraph forms. Mr. Dunster held out his hand for them and then + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Can you tell me any date, Doctor, upon which I can rely upon leaving + here?” + </p> + <p> + “You will probably be well enough to travel on the third day from now,” + the doctor assured him. + </p> + <p> + “The third day,” Mr. Dunster muttered. “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + He wrote out three telegrams and passed them over. + </p> + <p> + “One,” he said, “is to New York, one to The Hague, and one to London. + There was plenty of money in my pocket. Perhaps you will find it and pay + for these.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything more,” the doctor asked, “that can be done for your + comfort?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing at present,” Mr. Dunster replied. “My head aches now, but I think + that I shall want to leave before three days are up. Are you the doctor in + the neighbourhood?” + </p> + <p> + Sarson shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I am physician to Mr. Fentolin’s household,” he answered quietly. “I live + here. Mr. Fentolin is himself somewhat of an invalid and requires constant + medical attention.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster contemplated the speaker steadfastly. + </p> + <p> + “You will forgive me,” he said. “I am an American and I am used to plain + speech. I am quite unused to being attended by strange doctors. I + understand that you are not in general practice now. Might I ask if you + are fully qualified?” + </p> + <p> + “I am an M.D. of London,” the doctor replied. “You can make yourself quite + easy as to my qualifications. It would not suit Mr. Fentolin’s purpose to + entrust himself to the care of any one without a reputation.” + </p> + <p> + He left the room, and Mr. Dunster closed his eyes. His slumbers, however, + were not altogether peaceful ones. All the time there seemed to be a + hammering inside his head, and from somewhere back in his obscured memory + the name of Fentolin seemed to be continually asserting itself. From + somewhere or other, the amazing sense which sometimes gives warning of + danger to men of adventure, seemed to have opened its feelers. He rested + because he was exhausted, but even in his sleep he was ill at ease. + </p> + <p> + The doctor, with the telegrams in his hand, made his way down a splendid + staircase, past the long picture gallery where masterpieces of Van Dyck + and Rubens frowned and leered down upon him; descended the final stretch + of broad oak stairs, crossed the hall, and entered his master’s rooms. Mr. + Fentolin was sitting before the open window, an easel in front of him, a + palette in his left hand, painting with deft, swift touches. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he exclaimed, without looking around, “it is my friend the doctor, + my friend Sarson, M.D. of London, L.R.C.P. and all the rest of it. He + brings with him the odour of the sick room. For a moment or two, just for + a moment, dear friend, do not disturb me. Do not bring any alien thoughts + into my brain. I am absorbed, you see—absorbed. It is a strange + problem of colour, this.” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for several moments, glancing repeatedly out of the window + and back to his canvas, painting all the time with swift and delicate + precision. + </p> + <p> + “Meekins, who stands behind my chair,” Mr. Fentolin continued, “even + Meekins is entranced. He has a soul, my friend Sarson, although you might + not think it. He, too, sees sometimes the colour in the skies, the glitter + upon the sands, the clear, sweet purity of those long stretches of virgin + water. Meekins, I believe, has a soul, only he likes better to see these + things grow under his master’s touch than to wander about and solve their + riddles for himself.” + </p> + <p> + The man remained perfectly immovable. Not a feature twitched. Yet it was a + fact that, although he stood where Mr. Fentolin could not possibly observe + him, he never removed his gaze from the canvas. + </p> + <p> + “You see, my medical friend, that there has been a great tide in the + night, following upon the flood? Even our small landmarks are shifted. + Soon, in my little carriage, I shall ride down to the Tower. I shall sit + there, and I shall watch the sea. I think that this evening, with the turn + of the tide, the spray may reach even to my windows there. I shall paint + again. There is always something fresh in the sea, you know—always + something fresh in the sea. Like a human face—angry or pleased, + sullen or joyful. Some people like to paint the sea at its calmest and + most beautiful. Some people like to see happy faces around them. It is not + every one who appreciates the other things. It is not quite like that with + me, eh, Sarson?” + </p> + <p> + His hand fell to his side. Momentarily he had finished his work. He turned + around and eyed the doctor, who stood in taciturn silence. + </p> + <p> + “Answer. Answer me,” he insisted. + </p> + <p> + The doctor’s gloomy face seemed darker still. + </p> + <p> + “You have spoken the truth, Mr. Fentolin,” he admitted. “You are not one + of the vulgar herd who love to consort with pleasure and happiness. You + are one of those who understand the beauty of unhappiness—in + others,” he added, with faint emphasis. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled. His face became almost like the face of one of those + angels of the great Italian master. + </p> + <p> + “How well you know me!” he murmured. “My humble effort, Doctor—how + do you like it?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor bent over the canvas. + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about art,” he said, a little roughly. “Your work seems to + me clever—a little grotesque, perhaps; a little straining after the + hard, plain things which threaten. Nothing of the idealist in your work, + Mr. Fentolin.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin studied the canvas himself for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “A clever man, Sarson,” he remarked coolly, “but no courtier. Never mind, + my work pleases me. It gives me a passing sensation of happiness. Now, + what about our patient?” + </p> + <p> + “He recovers,” the doctor pronounced. “From my short examination, I should + say that he had the constitution of an ox. I have told him that he will be + up in three days. As a matter of fact, he will be able, if he wants to, to + walk out of the house to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “We cannot spare him quite so soon,” he declared. “We must avail ourselves + of this wonderful chance afforded us by my brilliant young nephew. We must + keep him with us for a little time. What is it that you have in your + hands, Doctor? Telegrams, I think. Let me look at them.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor held them out. Mr. Fentolin took them eagerly between his thin, + delicate fingers. Suddenly his face darkened, and became like the face of + a spoilt and angry child. + </p> + <p> + “Cipher!” he exclaimed furiously. “A cipher which he knows so well as to + remember it, too! Never mind, it will be easy to decode. It will amuse me + during the afternoon. Very good, Sarson. I will take charge of these.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not wish anything dispatched?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing at present,” Mr. Fentolin sighed. “It will be well, I think, for + the poor man to remain undisturbed by any communications from his friends. + Is he restless at all?” + </p> + <p> + “He wants to get on with his journey.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see,” Mr. Fentolin remarked. “Now feel my pulse, Sarson. How am + I this morning?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor held the thin wrist for a moment between his fingers, and let + it go. + </p> + <p> + “In perfect health, as usual,” he announced grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you cannot be sure!” Mr. Fentolin protested. “My tongue, if you + please.” + </p> + <p> + He put it out. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent!” + </p> + <p> + “We must make quite certain,” Mr. Fentolin continued. “There are so many + people who would miss me. My place in the world would not be easily filed. + Undo my waistcoat, Sarson. Feel my heart, please. Feel carefully. I can + see the end of your stethoscope in your pocket. Don’t scamp it. I fancied + this morning, when I was lying here alone, that there was something almost + like a palpitation—a quicker beat. Be very careful, Sarson. Now.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor made his examination with impassive face. Then he stepped back. + </p> + <p> + “There is no change in your condition, Mr. Fentolin,” he announced. “The + palpitation you spoke of is a mistake. You are in perfect health.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” he said, “I will now amuse myself by a gentle ride down to the + Tower. You are entirely satisfied, Sarson? You are keeping nothing back + from me?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor looked at him with grim, impassive face. “There is nothing to + keep back,” he declared. “You have the constitution of a cowboy. There is + no reason why you should not live for another thirty years.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sighed, as though a weight had been removed from his heart. + </p> + <p> + “I will now,” he decided, reaching forward for the handle of his carriage, + “go down to the Tower. It is just possible that a few days’ seclusion + might be good for our guest.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor turned silently away. There was no one there to see his + expression as he walked towards the door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + The two men who were supping together in the grillroom at the Cafe Milan + were talking with a seriousness which seemed a little out of keeping with + the rose-shaded lamps and the swaying music of the band from the distant + restaurant. Their conversation had started some hours before in the club + smoking-room and had continued intermittently throughout the evening. It + had received a further stimulus when Richard Hamel, who had bought an + Evening Standard on their way from the theatre a few minutes ago, came + across a certain paragraph in it which he read aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Hanged if I understand things over here, nowadays, Reggie!” he declared, + laying the paper down. “Here’s another Englishman imprisoned in Germany—this + time at a place no one ever heard of before. I won’t try to pronounce it. + What does it all mean? It’s all very well to shrug your shoulders, but + when there are eighteen arrests within one week on a charge of espionage, + there must be something up.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time Reginald Kinsley seemed inclined to discuss the subject + seriously. He drew the paper towards him and read the little paragraph, + word by word. Then he gave some further order to an attentive maitre + d’hotel and glanced around to be sure that they were not overheard. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Dick, old chap,” he said, “you are just back from abroad and + you are not quite in the hang of things yet. Let me ask you a plain + question. What do you think of us all?” + </p> + <p> + “Think of you?” Hamel repeated, a little doubtfully. “Do you mean + personally?” + </p> + <p> + “Take it any way you like,” Kinsley replied. “Look at me. Nine years ago + we played cricket in the same eleven. I don’t look much like cricket now, + do I?” + </p> + <p> + Hamel looked at his companion thoughtfully. For a man who was doubtless + still young, Kinsley had certainly an aged appearance. The hair about his + temples was grey; there were lines about his mouth and forehead. He had + the air of one who lived in an atmosphere of anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “To me,” Hamel declared frankly, “you look worried. If I hadn’t heard so + much of the success of your political career and all the rest of it, I + should have thought that things were going badly with you.” + </p> + <p> + “They’ve gone well enough with me personally,” Kinsley admitted, “but I’m + only one of many. Politics isn’t the game it was. The Foreign Office + especially is ageing its men fast these few years. We’ve been going + through hell, Hamel, and we are up against it now, hard up against it.” + </p> + <p> + The slight smile passed from the lips of Hamel’s sunburnt, good-natured + face. He himself seemed to become infected with something of his + companion’s anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “There’s nothing seriously wrong, is there, Reggie?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Dick,” said Kinsley, with a sigh, “I am afraid there is. It’s very seldom + I talk as plainly as this to any one but you are just the person one can + unburden oneself to a little; and to tell you the truth, it’s rather a + relief. As you say, these eighteen arrests in one week do mean something. + Half of the Englishmen who have been arrested are, to my certain + knowledge, connected with our Secret Service, and they have been arrested, + in many cases, where there are no fortifications worth speaking of within + fifty miles, on one pretext or another. The fact of the matter is that + things are going on in Germany, just at the present moment, the knowledge + of which is of vital interest to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Then these arrests,” Hamel remarked, “are really bona fide?” + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt,” his companion agreed. “I only wonder there have not + been more. I am telling you what is a pretty open secret when I tell you + that there is a conference due to be held this week at some place or + another on the continent—I don’t know where, myself—which will + have a very important bearing upon our future. We know just as much as + that and not much more.” + </p> + <p> + “A conference between whom?” Hamel asked. + </p> + <p> + Kinsley dropped his voice almost to a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “We know,” he replied, “that a very great man from Russia, a greater still + from France, a minister from Austria, a statesman from Italy, and an envoy + from Japan, have been invited to meet a German minister whose name I will + not mention, even to you. The subject of their proposed discussion has + never been breathed. One can only suspect. When I tell you that no one + from this country was invited to the conference, I think you will be able, + broadly speaking, to divine its purpose. The clouds have been gathering + for a good many years, and we have only buried our heads a little deeper + in the sands. We have had our chances and wilfully chucked them away. + National Service or three more army corps four years ago would have + brought us an alliance which would have meant absolute safety for + twenty-one years. You know what happened. We have lived through many + rumours and escaped, more narrowly than most people realise, a great many + dangers, but there is every indication this time that the end is really + coming.” + </p> + <p> + “And what will the end be?” Hamel enquired eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Kinsley shrugged his shoulders and paused while their glasses were filled + with wine. + </p> + <p> + “It will be in the nature of a diplomatic coup,” he said presently. “Of + that much I feel sure. England will be forced into such a position that + she will have no alternative left but to declare war. That, of course, + will be the end of us. With our ridiculously small army and absolutely no + sane scheme for home defence, we shall lose all that we have worth + fighting for—our colonies—without being able to strike a blow. + The thing is so ridiculously obvious. It has been admitted time after time + by every sea lord and every commander-in-chief. We have listened to it, + and that’s all. Our fleet is needed under present conditions to protect + our own shores. There isn’t a single battleship which could be safely + spared. Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Egypt, India, must take care of + themselves. I wonder when a nation of the world ever played fast and loose + with great possessions as we have done!” + </p> + <p> + “This is a nice sort of thing to hear almost one’s first night in + England,” Hamel remarked a little gloomily. “Tell me some more about this + conference. Are you sure that your information is reliable?” + </p> + <p> + “Our information is miserably scanty,” Kinsley admitted. “Curiously + enough, the man who must know most about the whole thing is an Englishman, + one of the most curious mortals in the British Empire. A spy of his + succeeded in learning more than any of our people, and without being + arrested, too.” + </p> + <p> + “And who is this singular person?” Hamel asked. + </p> + <p> + “A man of whom you, I suppose, never heard,” Kinsley replied. “His name is + Fentolin—Miles Fentolin—and he lives somewhere down in + Norfolk. He is one of the strangest characters that ever lived, stranger + than any effort of fiction I ever met with. He was in the Foreign Office + once, and every one was predicting for him a brilliant career. Then there + was an accident—let me see, it must have been some six or seven + years ago—and he had to have both his legs amputated. No one knows + exactly how the accident happened, and there was always a certain amount + of mystery connected with it. Since then he has buried himself in the + country. I don’t think, in fact, that he ever moves outside his place; but + somehow or other he has managed to keep in touch with all the political + movements of the day.” + </p> + <p> + “Fentolin,” Hamel repeated softly to himself. “Tell me, whereabouts does + he live?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite a wonderful place in Norfolk, I believe, somewhere near the sea. + I’ve forgotten the name, for the moment. He has had wireless telegraphy + installed; he has a telegraph office in the house, half-a-dozen private + wires, and they say that he spends an immense amount of money keeping in + touch with foreign politics. His excuse is that he speculates largely, as + I dare say he does; but just lately,” Kinsley went on more slowly, “he has + been an object of anxiety to all of us. It was he who sent the first agent + out to Germany, to try and discover at least where this conference was to + be held. His man returned in safety, and he has one over there now who has + not been arrested. We seem to have lost nearly all of ours.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say that this man Fentolin actually possesses information + which the Government hasn’t as to the intentions of foreign Powers?” Hamel + asked. + </p> + <p> + Kinsley nodded. There was a slight flush upon his pallid cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “He not only has it, but he doesn’t mean to part with it. A few hundred + years ago, when the rulers of this country were men with blood in their + veins, he’d have been given just one chance to tell all he knew, and hung + as a traitor if he hesitated. We don’t do that sort of thing nowadays. We + rather go in for preserving traitors. We permit them even in our own House + of Commons. However, I don’t want to depress you and play the alarmist so + soon after your return to London. I dare say the old country’ll muddle + along through our time.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be foolish,” Hamel begged. “There’s no other subject of + conversation could interest me half as much. Have you formed any idea + yourself as to the nature of this conference?” + </p> + <p> + “We all have an idea,” Kinsley replied grimly; “India for Russia; a large + slice of China for Japan, with probably Australia thrown in; + Alsace-Lorraine for France’s neutrality. There’s bribery for you. What’s + to become of poor England then? Our friends are only human, after all, and + it’s merely a question of handing over to them sufficient spoil. They must + consider themselves first: that’s the first duty of their politicians + towards their country.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to say,” Hamel asked, “that you seriously believe that a + conference is on the point of being held at which France and Russia are to + be invited to consider suggestions like this?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid there’s no doubt about it,” Kinsley declared. “Their + ambassadors in London profess to know nothing. That, of course, is their + reasonable attitude, but there’s no doubt whatever that the conference has + been planned. I should say that to-night we are nearer war, if we can + summon enough spirit to fight, than we have been since Fashoda.” + </p> + <p> + “Queer if I have returned just in time for the scrap,” Hamel remarked + thoughtfully. “I was in the Militia once, so I expect I can get a job, if + there’s any fighting.” + </p> + <p> + “I can get you a better job than fighting—one you can start on + to-morrow, too,” Kinsley announced abruptly, “that is if you really want + to help?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do,” Hamel insisted. “I’m on for anything.” + </p> + <p> + “You say that you are entirely your own master for the next six months?” + </p> + <p> + “Or as much longer as I like,” Hamel assented. “No plans at all, except + that I might drift round to the Norfolk coast and look up some of the + places where the governor used to paint. There’s a queer little house—St. + David’s Tower, I believe they call it—which really belongs to me. It + was given to my father, or rather he bought it, from a man who I think + must have been some relative of your friend. I feel sure the name was + Fentolin.” + </p> + <p> + Reginald Kinsley set down his wine-glass. + </p> + <p> + “Is your St. David’s Tower anywhere near a place called Salthouse?” he + asked reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the name of the village,” Hamel admitted. “My father used to spend + quite a lot of time in those parts, and painted at least a dozen pictures + down there.” + </p> + <p> + “This is a coincidence,” Reginald Kinsley declared, lighting a cigarette. + “I think, if I were you, Dick, I’d go down and claim my property.” + </p> + <p> + “Tired of me already?” Hamel asked, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Reginald Kinsley knocked the ash from his cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t that. The fact is, that job I was speaking to you about was + simply this. We want some one to go down to Salthouse—not exactly as + a spy, you know, but some one who has his wits about him. We are all of us + very curious about this man Fentolin. There are no end of rumours which I + won’t mention to you, for they might only put you off the scent. But the + man seems to be always intriguing. It wouldn’t matter so much if he were + our friend, or if he were simply a financier, but to tell you the truth, + we have cause to suspect him.” + </p> + <p> + “But he’s an Englishman, surely?” Hamel asked. “The Fentolin who was my + father’s friend was just a very wealthy Norfolk squire—one of the + best, from all I have heard.” + </p> + <p> + “Miles Fentolin is an Englishman,” Kinsley admitted. “It is true, too, + that he comes of a very ancient Norfolk family. It doesn’t do, however, to + build too much upon that. From all I can learn of him, he is a sort of + Puck, a professional mischief-maker. I don’t suppose there’s anything an + outsider could find out which would be really useful to us, but all the + same, if I had the time, I should certainly go down to Norfolk myself.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation drifted away for a while. Mutual acquaintances entered, + there were several introductions, and it was not until the two found + themselves together in Kinsley’s rooms for a few minutes before parting + that they were alone again. Hamel returned then once more to the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Reggie,” he said, “if you think it would be of the slightest use, I’ll go + down to Salthouse to-morrow. I am rather keen on going there, anyway. I am + absolutely fed up with life here already.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s just what I want you to do,” Kinsley said. “I am afraid Fentolin is + a little too clever for you to get on the right side of him, but if you + could only get an idea as to what his game is down there, it would be a + great help. You see, the fellow can’t have gone into all this sort of + thing blindfold. We’ve lost several very useful agents abroad and two from + New York who’ve gone into his pay. There must be a method in it somewhere. + If it really ends with his financial operations—why, all right. + That’s very likely what it’ll come to, but we should like to know. The + merest hint would be useful.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do my best,” Hamel promised. “In any case, it will be just the few + days’ holiday I was looking forward to.” + </p> + <p> + Kinsley helped himself to whisky and soda and turned towards his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s luck to you, Dick! Take care of yourself. All sorts of things may + happen, you know. Old man Fentolin may take a fancy to you and tell you + secrets that any statesman in Europe would be glad to hear. He may tell + you why this conference is being held and what the result will be. You may + be the first to hear of our coming fall. Well, here’s to you, anyway! Drop + me a line, if you’ve anything to report.” + </p> + <p> + “Cheero!” Hamel answered, as he set down his empty tumbler. “Astonishing + how keen I feel about this little adventure. I’m perfectly sick of the + humdrum life I have been leading the last week, and you do sort of take + one back to the Arabian Nights, you know, Reggie. I am never quite sure + whether to take you seriously or not.” + </p> + <p> + Kinsley smiled as he held his friend’s hand for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Dick,” he said earnestly, “if only you’d believe it, the adventures in + the Arabian Nights were as nothing compared with the present-day drama of + foreign politics. You see, we’ve learned to conceal things nowadays—to + smooth them over, to play the part of ordinary citizens to the world while + we tug at the underhand levers in our secret moments. Good night! Good + luck!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + Richard Hamel, although he certainly had not the appearance of a person + afflicted with nerves, gave a slight start. For the last half-hour, during + which time the train had made no stop, he had been alone in his + compartment. Yet, to his surprise, he was suddenly aware that the seat + opposite to him had been noiselessly taken by a girl whose eyes, also, + were fixed with curious intentness upon the broad expanse of marshland and + sands across which the train was slowly making its way. Hamel had spent a + great many years abroad, and his first impulse was to speak with the + unexpected stranger. He forgot for a moment that he was in England, + travelling in a first-class carriage, and pointed with his left hand + towards the sea. + </p> + <p> + “Queer country this, isn’t it?” he remarked pleasantly. “Do you know, I + never heard you come in. It gave me quite a start when I found that I had + a fellow-passenger.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a certain amount of still surprise, a look which he + returned just as steadfastly, because even in those few seconds he was + conscious of that strange selective interest, certainly unaccounted for by + his own impressions of her appearance. She seemed to him, at that first + glance, very far indeed from being good-looking, according to any of the + standards by which he had measured good looks. She was thin, too thin for + his taste, and she carried herself with an aloofness to which he was + unaccustomed. Her cheeks were quite pale, her hair of a soft shade of + brown, her eyes grey and sad. She gave him altogether an impression of + colourlessness, and he had been living in a land where colour and vitality + meant much. Her speech, too, in its very restraint, fell strangely upon + his ears. + </p> + <p> + “I have been travelling in an uncomfortable compartment,” she observed. “I + happened to notice, when passing along the corridor, that yours was empty. + In any case, I am getting out at the next station.” + </p> + <p> + “So am I,” he replied, still cheerfully. “I suppose the next station is + St. David’s?” + </p> + <p> + She made no answer, but so far as her expression counted for anything at + all, she was a little surprised. Her eyes considered him for a moment. + Hamel was tall, well over six feet, powerfully made, with good features, + clear eyes, and complexion unusually sunburnt. He wore a flannel collar of + unfamiliar shape, and his clothes, although they were neat enough, were of + a pattern and cut obviously designed to afford the maximum of ease and + comfort with the minimum regard to appearance. He wore, too, very thick + boots, and his hands gave one the impression that they were seldom gloved. + His voice was pleasant, and he had the easy self-confidence of a person + sure of himself in the world. She put him down as a colonial—perhaps + an American—but his rank in life mystified her. + </p> + <p> + “This seems the queerest stretch of country,” he went on; “long spits of + sand jutting right out into the sea, dikes and creeks—miles and + miles of them. Now, I wonder, is it low tide or high? Low, I should think, + because of the sea-shine on the sand there.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “The tide,” she told him, “is almost at its lowest.” + </p> + <p> + “You live in this neighbourhood, perhaps?” he enquired. + </p> + <p> + “I do,” she assented. + </p> + <p> + “Sort of country one might get very fond of,” he ventured. + </p> + <p> + She glanced at him from the depths of her grey eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” she rejoined coldly. “For my part, I hate it.” + </p> + <p> + He was surprised at the unexpected emphasis of her tone—the first + time, indeed, that she had shown any signs of interest in the + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Kind of dull I suppose you find it,” he remarked pensively, looking out + across the waste of lavender-grown marshes, sand hummocks piled with + seaweed, and a far distant line of pebbled shore. “And yet, I don’t know. + I have lived by the sea a good deal, and however monotonous it may seem at + first, there’s always plenty of change, really. Tide and wind do such + wonderful work.” + </p> + <p> + She, too, was looking out now towards the sea. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it isn’t exactly that,” she said quietly. “I am quite willing to + admit what all the tourists and chance visitors call the fascination of + these places. I happen to dislike them, that is all. Perhaps it is because + I live here, because I see them day by day; perhaps because the sight of + them and the thought of them have become woven into my life.” + </p> + <p> + She was talking half to herself. For a moment, even the knowledge of his + presence had escaped her. Hamel, however, did not realise that fact. He + welcomed her confidence as a sign of relaxation from the frigidity of her + earlier demeanour. + </p> + <p> + “That seems hard,” he observed sympathetically. “It seems odd to hear you + talk like that, too. Your life, surely, ought to be pleasant enough.” + </p> + <p> + She looked away from the sea into his face. Although the genuine interest + which she saw there and the kindly expression of his eyes disarmed + annoyance, she still stiffened slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Why ought it?” + </p> + <p> + The question was a little bewildering. + </p> + <p> + “Why, because you are young and a girl,” he replied. “It’s natural to be + cheerful, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it?” she answered listlessly. “I cannot tell. I have not had much + experience.” + </p> + <p> + “How old are you?” he asked bluntly. + </p> + <p> + This time it certainly seemed as though her reply would contain some + rebuke for his curiosity. She glanced once more into his face, however, + and the instinctive desire to administer that well-deserved snub passed + away. He was so obviously interested, his question was asked so naturally, + that its spice of impertinence was as though it had not existed. + </p> + <p> + “I am twenty-one,” she told him. + </p> + <p> + “And how long have you lived here?” + </p> + <p> + “Since I left boarding-school, four years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere near where I am going to bury myself for a time, I wonder?” he + went on. + </p> + <p> + “That depends,” she replied. “Our only neighbours are the Lorneybrookes of + Market Burnham. Are you going there?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got a little shanty of my own,” he explained, “quite close to St. + David’s Station. I’ve never even seen it yet.” + </p> + <p> + She vouchsafed some slight show of curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Where is this shanty, as you call it?” she asked him. + </p> + <p> + “I really haven’t the faintest idea,” he replied. “I am looking for it + now. All I can tell you is that it stands just out of reach of the full + tides, on a piece of rock, dead on the beach and about a mile from the + station. It was built originally for a coastguard station and meant to + hold a lifeboat, but they found they could never launch the lifeboat when + they had it, so the man to whom all the foreshore and most of the land + around here belongs—a Mr. Fentolin, I believe—sold it to my + father. I expect the place has tumbled to pieces by this time, but I + thought I’d have a look at it.” + </p> + <p> + She was gazing at him steadfastly now, with parted lips. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Richard Hamel.” + </p> + <p> + “Hamel.” + </p> + <p> + She repeated it lingeringly. It seemed quite unfamiliar. + </p> + <p> + “Was your father a great friend of Mr. Fentolin’s, then?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I believe so, in a sort of way,” he answered. “My father was Hamel the + artist, you know. They made him an R.A. some time before he died. He used + to come out here and live in a tent. Then Mr. Fentolin let him use this + place and finally sold it to him. My father used often to speak to me + about it before he died.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she enquired, “I do not know much about these matters, but have + you any papers to prove that it was sold to your father and that you have + the right to occupy it now when you choose?” + </p> + <p> + He smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I have,” he assured her. “As a matter of fact, as none of us + have been here for so long, I thought I’d better bring the title-deed, or + whatever they call it, along with me. It’s with the rest of my traps at + Norwich. Oh, the place belongs to me, right enough!” he went on, smiling. + “Don’t tell me that any one’s pulled it down, or that it’s disappeared + from the face of the earth?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “it still remains there. When we are round the next curve, + I think I can show it to you. But every one has forgotten, I think, that + it doesn’t belong to Mr. Fentolin still. He uses it himself very often.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at her questioner quite steadfastly, quite quietly, + speechlessly. A curious uneasiness crept into his thoughts. There were + mysterious things in her face. He knew from that moment that she, too, + directly or indirectly, was concerned with those strange happenings at + which Kinsley had hinted. He knew that there were things which she was + keeping from him now. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin uses one of the rooms as a studio. He likes to paint there + and be near the sea,” she explained. “But for the rest, I do not know. I + never go near the place.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he remarked, after a few moments of silence, “that I shall + be a little unpopular with Mr. Fentolin. Perhaps I ought to have written + first, but then, of course, I had no idea that any one was making use of + the place.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand,” she said, “how you can possibly expect to come down + like this and live there, without any preparation.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “You haven’t any servants nor any furniture nor things to cook with.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I am an old campaigner,” he assured her. “I meant to pick up a few + oddments in the village. I don’t suppose I shall stay very long, anyhow, + but I thought I’d like to have a look at the place. By-the-by, what sort + of a man is Mr. Fentolin?” + </p> + <p> + Again there was that curious expression in her eyes, an expression almost + of secret terror, this time not wholly concealed. He could have sworn that + her hands were cold. + </p> + <p> + “He met with an accident many years ago,” she said slowly. “Both his legs + were amputated. He spends his life in a little carriage which he wheels + about himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” Hamel exclaimed, with a strong man’s ready sympathy for + suffering. “That is just as much as I have heard about him. Is he a decent + sort of fellow in other ways? I suppose, anyhow, if he has really taken a + fancy to my little shanty, I shall have to give it up.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as it seemed to him, for the first time real life leaped into her + face. She leaned towards him. Her tone was half commanding, half + imploring, her manner entirely confidential. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t!” she begged. “It is yours. Claim it. Live in it. Do anything you + like with it, but take it away from Mr. Fentolin!” + </p> + <p> + Hamel was speechless. He sat a little forward, a hand on either knee, his + mouth ungracefully open, an expression of blank and utter bewilderment in + his face. For the first time he began to have vague doubts concerning this + young lady. Everything about her had been so strange: her quiet entrance + into the carriage, her unusual manner of talking, and finally this last + passionate, inexplicable appeal. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he said at last, “I don’t quite understand. You say the + poor fellow has taken a fancy to the place and likes being there. Well, it + isn’t much of a catch for me, anyway. I’m rather a wanderer, and I dare + say I shan’t be back in these parts again for years. Why shouldn’t I let + him have it if he wants it? It’s no loss to me. I’m not a painter, you + know, like my father.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed on the point of making a further appeal. Her lips, even, were + parted, her head a little thrown back. And then she stopped. She said + nothing. The silence lasted so long that he became almost embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “You will forgive me if I am a little dense, won’t you?” he begged. “To + tell you the truth,” he went on, smiling, “I’ve got a sort of feeling that + I’d like to do anything you ask me. Now won’t you just explain a little + more clearly what you mean, and I’ll blow up the old place sky high, if + it’s any pleasure to you.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed suddenly to have reverted to her former self—the cold and + colourless young woman who had first taken the seat opposite to his. + </p> + <p> + “Mine was a very foolish request,” she admitted quietly. “I am sorry that + I ever made it. It was just an impulse, because the little building we + were speaking of has been connected with one or two very disagreeable + episodes. Nevertheless, it was foolish of me. How long did you think of + staying there—that is,” she added, with a faint smile, “providing + that you find it possible to prove your claim and take up possession?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just for a week or so,” he answered lightly, “and as to regaining + possession of it,” he went on, a slightly pugnacious instinct stirring + him, “I don’t imagine that there’ll be any difficulty about that.” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Not that I want to make myself disagreeable,” he continued, “but the + Tower is mine, right enough, even if I have let it remain unoccupied for + some time.” + </p> + <p> + She let down the window—a task in which he hastened to assist her. A + rush of salt, cold air swept into the compartment. He sniffed it eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + She stretched out a long arm and pointed. Away in the distance, on the + summit of a line of pebbled shore, standing, as it seemed, sheer over the + sea, was a little black speck. + </p> + <p> + “That,” she said, “is the Tower.” + </p> + <p> + He changed his position and leaned out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s a queer little place,” he remarked. “It doesn’t look worth + quarrelling over, does it?” + </p> + <p> + “And that,” she went on, directing his attention to the hill, “is Mr. + Fentolin’s home, St. David’s Hall.” + </p> + <p> + For several moments he made no remark at all. There was something + curiously impressive in that sudden sweep up from the sea-line; the + strange, miniature mountain standing in the middle of the marshes, with + its tree-crowned background; and the long, weather-beaten front of the + house turned bravely to the sea. + </p> + <p> + “I never saw anything like it,” he declared. “Why, it’s barely a quarter + of a mile from the sea, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “A little more than that. It is a strangely situated abode, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful!” he agreed, with emphasis. “I must study the geological + formation of that hill,” he continued, with interest. “Why, it looks + almost like an island now.” + </p> + <p> + “That is because of the floods,” she told him. “Even at high tide the + creeks never reach so far as the back there. All the water you see + stretching away inland is flood water—the result of the storm, I + suppose. This is where you get out,” she concluded, rising to her feet. + </p> + <p> + She turned away with the slightest nod. A maid was already awaiting her at + the door of the compartment. Hamel was suddenly conscious of the fact that + he disliked her going immensely. + </p> + <p> + “We shall, perhaps, meet again during the next few days,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + She half turned her head. Her expression was scarcely encouraging. + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” she said, “that you will not be disappointed in your quarters.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel followed her slowly on to the platform, saw her escorted to a very + handsome motor-car by an obsequious station-master, and watched the former + disappear down the stretch of straight road which led to the hill. Then, + with a stick in one hand, and the handbag which was his sole luggage in + the other, he left the station and turned seaward. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin, surrounded by his satellites, was seated in his chair before + the writing-table. There were present in the room most of the people + important to him in his somewhat singular life. A few feet away, in + characteristic attitude, stood Meekins. Doctor Sarson, with his hands + behind him, was looking out of the window. At the further end of the table + stood a confidential telegraph clerk, who was just departing with a little + sheaf of messages. By his side, with a notebook in her hand, stood Mr. + Fentolin’s private secretary—a white-haired woman, with a strangely + transparent skin and light brown eyes, dressed in somber black, a woman + who might have been of any age from thirty to fifty. Behind her was a + middle-aged man whose position in the household no one was quite sure + about—a clean-shaven man whose name was Ryan, and who might very + well have been once an actor or a clergyman. In the background stood + Henderson, the perfect butler. + </p> + <p> + “It is perhaps opportune,” Mr. Fentolin said quietly, “that you all whom I + trust should be present here together. I wish you to understand one thing. + You have, I believe, in my employ learned the gift of silence. It is to be + exercised with regard to a certain visitor brought here by my nephew, a + visitor whom I regret to say is now lying seriously ill.” + </p> + <p> + There was absolute silence. Doctor Sarson alone turned from the window as + though about to speak, but met Mr. Fentolin’s eye and at once resumed his + position. + </p> + <p> + “I rely upon you all,” Mr. Fentolin continued softly. “Henderson, you, + perhaps, have the most difficult task, for you have the servants to + control. Nevertheless, I rely upon you, also. If one word of this + visitor’s presence here leaks out even so far as the village, out they go, + every one of them. I will not have a servant in the place who does not + respect my wishes. You can give any reason you like for my orders. It is a + whim. I have whims, and I choose to pay for them. You are all better paid + than any man breathing could pay you. In return I ask only for your + implicit obedience.” + </p> + <p> + He stretched out his hand and took a cigarette from a curiously carved + ivory box which stood by his side. He tapped it gently upon the table and + looked up. + </p> + <p> + “I think, sir,” Henderson said respectfully, “that I can answer for the + servants. Being mostly foreigners, they see little or nothing of the + village people.” + </p> + <p> + No one else made any remark. It was strange to see how dominated they all + were by that queer little fragment of humanity, whose head scarcely + reached a foot above the table before which he sat. They departed + silently, almost abjectly, dismissed with a single wave of the hand. Mr. + Fentolin beckoned his secretary to remain. She came a little nearer. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Lucy,” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + She seated herself a few feet away from him. Mr. Fentolin watched her for + several moments. He himself had his back to the light. The woman, on the + other hand, was facing it. The windows were high, and the curtains were + drawn back to their fullest extent. A cold stream of northern light fell + upon her face. Mr. Fentolin gazed at her and nodded his head slightly. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lucy,” he declared, “you are wonderful—a perfect cameo, a + gem. To look at you now, with your delightful white hair and your flawless + skin, one would never believe that you had ever spoken a single angry + word, that you had ever felt the blood flow through your veins, or that + your eyes had ever looked upon the gentle things of life.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, still without speech. The immobility of her face was + indeed a marvellous thing. Mr. Fentolin’s expression darkened. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes,” he murmured softly, “I think that if I had strong fingers—really + strong fingers, you know, Lucy—I should want to take you by the + throat and hold you tighter and tighter, until your breath came fast, and + your eyes came out from their shadows.” + </p> + <p> + She turned over a few pages of her notebook. To all appearance she had not + heard a word. + </p> + <p> + “To-day,” she announced, “is the fourth of April. Shall I send out the + various checks to those men in Paris, New York, Frankfort, St. Petersburg, + and Tokio?” + </p> + <p> + “You can send the checks,” he told her. “Be sure that you draw them, as + usual, upon the Credit Lyonaise and in the name you know of. Say to + Lebonaitre of Paris that you consider his last reports faulty. No mention + was made of Monsieur C’s visit to the Russian Embassy, or of the supper + party given to the Baron von Erlstein by a certain Russian gentleman. Warn + him, if you please, that reports with such omissions are useless to me.” + </p> + <p> + She wrote a few words in her book. + </p> + <p> + “You made a note of that?” + </p> + <p> + She raised her head. + </p> + <p> + “I do not make mistakes,” she said. + </p> + <p> + His eyebrows were drawn together. This was his work, he told himself, this + magnificent physical subjection. Yet his inability to stir her sometimes + maddened him. + </p> + <p> + “You know who is in this house?” he asked. “You know the name of my + unknown guest?” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing,” she replied. “His presence does not interest me.” + </p> + <p> + “Supposing I desire you to know?” he persisted, leaning a little forward. + “Supposing I tell you that it is your duty to know?” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” she said, “I should tell you that I believe him to be the special + envoy from New York to The Hague, or whatever place on the Continent this + coming conference is to be held at.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, woman!” Mr. Fentolin answered sharply. “Right! It is the special + envoy. He has his mandate with him. I have them both—the man and his + mandate. Can you guess what I am going to do with them?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not difficult,” she replied. “Your methods are scarcely original. + His mandate to the flames, and his body to the sea!” + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyes as she spoke and looked over Mr. Fentolin’s shoulder, + across the marshland to the grey stretch of ocean. Her eyes became fixed. + It was not possible to say that they held any expression, and yet one felt + that she saw beneath the grey waves, even to the rocks and caverns below. + </p> + <p> + “It does not terrify you, then,” he asked curiously, “to think that a man + under this roof is about to die?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should it?” she retorted. “Death does not frighten me—my own or + anybody else’s. Does it frighten you?” + </p> + <p> + His face was suddenly livid, his eyes full of fierce anger. His lips + twitched. He struck the table before him. + </p> + <p> + “Beast of a woman!” he shouted. “You ghoul! How dare you! How dare you—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped short. He passed his hand across his forehead. All the time the + woman remained unmoved. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” he muttered, his voice still shaking a little, “that I + believe sometimes I am afraid of you? How would you like to see me there, + eh, down at the bottom of that hungry sea? You watch sometimes so fixedly. + You’d miss me, wouldn’t you? I am a good master, you know. I pay well. + You’ve been with me a good many years. You were a different sort of woman + when you first came.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she admitted, “I was a different sort of woman.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t remember those days, I suppose,” he went on, “the days when you + had brown hair, when you used to carry roses about and sing to yourself + while you beat your work out of that wretched typewriter?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, “I do not remember those days. They do not belong to + me. It is some other woman you are thinking of.” + </p> + <p> + Their eyes met. Mr. Fentolin turned away first. He struck the bell at his + elbow. She rose at once. + </p> + <p> + “Be off!” he ordered. “When you look at me like that, you send shivers + through me! You’ll have to go; I can see you’ll have to go. I can’t keep + you any longer. You are the only person on the face of the earth who dares + to say things to me which make me think, the only person who doesn’t + shrink at the sound of my voice. You’ll have to go. Send Sarson to me at + once. You’ve upset me!” + </p> + <p> + She listened to his words in expressionless silence. When he had finished, + carrying her book in her hand, she very quietly moved towards the door. He + watched her, leaning a little forward in his chair, his lips parted, his + eyes threatening. She walked with steady, even footsteps. She carried + herself with almost machine-like erectness; her skirts were noiseless. She + had the trick of turning the handle of the door in perfect silence. He + heard her calm voice in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor Sarson is to go to Mr. Fentolin.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sat quite still, feeling his own pulse. + </p> + <p> + “That woman,” he muttered to himself, “that—woman—some day I + shouldn’t be surprised if she really—” + </p> + <p> + He paused. The doctor had entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “I am upset, Sarson,” he declared. “Come and feel my pulse quickly. That + woman has upset me.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Price?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Price, d—n it! Lucy—yes!” + </p> + <p> + “It seems unlike her,” the doctor remarked. “I have never heard her utter + a useless syllable in my life.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin held out his wrist. + </p> + <p> + “It’s what she doesn’t say,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + The doctor produced his watch. In less than a minute he put it away. + </p> + <p> + “This is quite unnecessary,” he pronounced. “Your pulse is wonderful.” + </p> + <p> + “Not hurried? No signs of palpitation?” + </p> + <p> + “You have seven or eight footmen, all young men,” Doctor Sarson replied + drily. “I will wager that there isn’t one of them has a pulse so vigorous + as yours.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin leaned a little back in his chair. An expression of + satisfaction crept over his face. + </p> + <p> + “You reassure me, my dear Sarson. That is excellent. What of our patient?” + </p> + <p> + “There is no change.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” Mr. Fentolin sighed, “that we shall have trouble with him. + These strong people always give trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be just the same in the long run,” the doctor remarked, shrugging + his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin held up his finger. + </p> + <p> + “Listen! A motor-car, I believe?” + </p> + <p> + “It is Miss Fentolin who is just arriving,” the doctor announced. “I saw + the car coming as I crossed the hall.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin nodded gently. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” he replied. “Indeed? So my dear niece has returned. Open the + door, friend Sarson. Open the door, if you please. She will be anxious to + see me. We must summon her.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin raised to his lips the little gold whistle which hung from + his neck and blew it. He seemed to devote very little effort to the + operation, yet the strength of the note was wonderful. As the echoes died + away, he let it fall by his side and waited with a pleased smile upon his + lips. In a few seconds there was the hurried flutter of skirts and the + sound of footsteps. The girl who had just completed her railway journey + entered, followed by her brother. They were both a little out of breath, + they both approached the chair without a smile, the girl in advance, with + a certain expression of apprehension in her eyes. Mr. Fentolin sighed. He + appeared to notice these things and regret them. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” he said, holding out his hands, “my dear Esther, welcome home + again! I heard the car outside. I am grieved that you did not at once + hurry to my side.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not been in the house two minutes,” Esther replied, “and I haven’t + seen mother yet. Forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + She had come to a standstill a few yards away. She moved now very slowly + towards the chair, with the air of one fulfilling a hateful task. The + fingers which accepted his hands were extended almost hesitatingly. He + drew her closer to him and held her there. + </p> + <p> + “Your mother, my dear Esther, is, I regret to say, suffering from a slight + indisposition,” he remarked. “She has been confined to her room for the + last few days. Just a trifling affair of the nerves; nothing more, Doctor + Sarson assures me. But my dear child,” he went on, “your fingers are as + cold as ice. You look at me so strangely, too. Alas! you have not the + affectionate disposition of your dear mother. One would scarcely believe + that we have been parted for more than a week.” + </p> + <p> + “For more than a week,” she repeated, under her breath. + </p> + <p> + “Stoop down, my dear. I must kiss your forehead—there! Now bring up + a chair to my side. You seem frightened—alarmed. Have you ill news + for me?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no news,” she answered, gradually recovering herself. + </p> + <p> + “The gaieties of London, I fear,” he protested gently, “have proved a + little unsettling.” + </p> + <p> + “There were no gaieties for me,” the girl replied bitterly. “Mrs. Sargent + obeyed your orders very faithfully. I was not allowed to move out except + with her.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear child, you would not go about London unchaperoned!” + </p> + <p> + “There is a difference,” she retorted, “between a chaperon and a jailer.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sighed. He shook his head slowly. He seemed pained. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure that you repay my care as it deserves, Esther,” he + declared. “There is something in your deportment which disappoints me. + Never mind, your brother has made some atonement. I entrusted him with a + little mission in which I am glad to say that he has been brilliantly + successful.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say that I am glad to hear it,” Esther replied quietly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sat back in his chair. His long fingers played nervously + together, he looked at her gravely. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child,” he exclaimed, in a tone of pained surprise, “your + attitude distresses me!” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot help it. I have told you what I think about Gerald and the life + he is compelled to live here. I don’t mind so much for myself, but for him + I think it is abominable.” + </p> + <p> + “The same as ever,” Mr. Fentolin sighed. “I fear that this little change + has done you no good, dear niece.” + </p> + <p> + “Change!” she echoed. “It was only a change of prisons.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin shook his head slowly—a distressful gesture. Yet all + the time he had somehow the air of a man secretly gratified. + </p> + <p> + “You are beginning to depress me,” he announced. “I think that you can go + away. No, stop for just one moment. Stand there in the light. Dear me, how + unfortunate! Who would have thought that so beautiful a mother could have + so plain a daughter!” + </p> + <p> + She stood quite still before him, her hands crossed in front of her, + something of the look of the nun from whom the power of suffering has gone + in her still, cold face and steadfast eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Not a touch of colour,” he continued meditatively, “a figure straight as + my walking-stick. What a pity! And all the taste, nowadays, they tell me, + is in the other direction. The lank damsels have gone completely out. We + buried them with Oscar Wilde. Run along, my dear child. You do not amuse + me. You can take Gerald with you, if you will. I have nothing to say to + Gerald just now. He is in my good books. Is there anything I can do for + you, Gerald? Your allowance, for instance—a trifling increase or an + advance? I am in a generous humour.” + </p> + <p> + “Then grant me what I begged for the other day,” the boy answered quickly. + “Let me go to Sandhurst. I could enter my name next week for the + examinations, and I could pass to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin tapped the table thoughtfully with his forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “A little ungrateful, my dear boy,” he declared, “a little ungrateful + that, I think. Your confidence in yourself pleases me, though. You think + you could pass your examinations?” + </p> + <p> + “I did a set of papers last week,” the boy replied. “On the given + percentages I came out twelfth or better. Mr. Brown assured me that I + could go in for them at any moment. He promised to write you about it + before he left.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin nodded gently. + </p> + <p> + “Now I come to think of it, I did have a letter from Mr. Brown,” he + remarked. “Rather an impertinence for a tutor, I thought it. He devoted + three pages towards impressing upon me the necessity of your adopting some + sort of a career.” + </p> + <p> + “He wrote because he thought it was his duty,” the boy said doggedly. + </p> + <p> + “So you want to be a soldier,” Mr. Fentolin continued musingly. “Well, + well, why not? Our picture galleries are full of them. There has been a + Fentolin in every great battle for the last five hundred years. Sailors, + too—plenty of them—and just a few diplomatists. Brave fellows! + Not one, I fancy,” he added, “like me—not one condemned to pass + their days in a perambulator. You are a fine fellow, Gerald—a + regular Fentolin. Getting on for six feet, aren’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Six feet two, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “A very fine fellow,” Mr. Fentolin repeated. “I am not so sure about the + army, Gerald. You see, there are some people who say, like your American + friend, that we are even now almost on the brink of war.” + </p> + <p> + “All the more reason for me to hurry,” the boy begged. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin closed his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t!” he insisted. “Have you ever stopped to think what war means—the + war you speak of so lightly? The suffering, the misery of it! All the + pageantry and music and heroism in front; and behind, a blackened world, a + trail of writhing corpses, a world of weeping women for whom the sun shall + never rise again. Ugh! An ugly thing war, Gerald. I am not sure that you + are not better at home here. Why not practise golf a little more + assiduously? I see from the local paper that you are still playing at two + handicap. Now with your physique, I should have thought you would have + been a scratch player long before now.” + </p> + <p> + “I play cricket, sir,” the boy reminded him, a little impatiently, “and, + after all, there are other things in the world besides games.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin’s long finger shot suddenly out. He was leaning a little from + his chair. His expression of gentle immobility had passed away. His face + was stern, almost stony. + </p> + <p> + “You have spoken the truth, Gerald,” he said. “There are other things in + the world besides games. There is the real, the tragical side of life, the + duties one takes up, the obligations of honour. You have not forgotten, + young man, the burden you carry?” + </p> + <p> + The boy was paler, but he had drawn himself to his full height. + </p> + <p> + “I have not forgotten, sir,” he answered bitterly. “Do I show any signs of + forgetting? Haven’t I done your bidding year by year? Aren’t I here now to + do it?” + </p> + <p> + “Then do it!” Mr. Fentolin retorted sharply. “When I am ready for you to + leave here, you shall leave. Until then, you are mine. Remember that. Ah! + this is Doctor Sarson who comes, I believe. That must mean that it is five + o’clock. Come in, Doctor. I am not engaged. You see, I am alone with my + dear niece and nephew. We have been having a little pleasant + conversation.” + </p> + <p> + Doctor Sarson bowed to Esther, who scarcely glanced at him. He remained in + the background, quietly waiting. + </p> + <p> + “A very delightful little conversation,” Mr. Fentolin concluded. “I have + been congratulating my nephew, Doctor, upon his wisdom in preferring the + quiet country life down here to the wearisome routine of a profession. He + escapes the embarrassing choice of a career by preferring to devote his + life to my comfort. I shall not forget it. I shall not be ungrateful. I + may have my faults, but I am not ungrateful. Run away now, both of you. + Dear children you are, but one wearies, you know, of everything. I am + going out. You see, the twilight is coming. The tide is changing. I am + going down to meet the sea.” + </p> + <p> + His little carriage moved towards the door. The brother and sister passed + out. Esther led Gerald into the great dining-room, and from there, through + the open windows, out on to the terrace. She gripped his shoulder and + pointed down to the Tower. + </p> + <p> + “Something,” she whispered in his ear, “is going to happen there.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + The little station at which Hamel alighted was like an oasis in the middle + of a flat stretch of sand and marsh. It consisted only of a few raised + planks and a rude shelter—built, indeed, for the convenience of St. + David’s Hall alone, for the nearest village was two miles away. The + station-master, on his return from escorting the young lady to her car, + stared at this other passenger in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Which way to the sea?” Hamel asked. + </p> + <p> + The man pointed to the white gates of the crossing. + </p> + <p> + “You can take any of those paths you like, sir,” he said. “If you want to + get to Salthouse, though, you should have got out at the next station.” + </p> + <p> + “This will do for me,” Hamel replied cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “Be careful of the dikes,” the station-master advised him. “Some of them + are pretty deep.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel nodded, and passing through the white gates, made his way by a + raised cattle track towards the sea. On either side of him flowed a narrow + dike filled with salt-water. Beyond stretched the flat marshland, its + mossy turf leavened with cracks and creeks of all widths, filled also with + sea-slime and sea-water. A slight grey mist rested upon the more distant + parts of the wilderness which he was crossing, a mist which seemed to be + blown in from the sea in little puffs, resting for a time upon the earth, + and then drifting up and fading away like soap bubbles. + </p> + <p> + More than once where the dikes had overflown he was compelled to change + his course, but he arrived at last at the little ridge of pebbled beach + bordering the sea. Straight ahead of him now was that strange-looking + building towards which he had all the time been directing his footsteps. + As he approached it, his forehead slightly contracted. There was ample + confirmation before him of the truth of his fellow-passenger’s words. The + place, left to itself for so many years, without any attention from its + actual owner, was neither deserted nor in ruins. Its solid grey stone + walls were sea-stained and a trifle worn, but the arched wooden doors + leading into the lifeboat shelter, which occupied one side of the + building, had been newly painted, and in the front the window was hung + with a curtain, now closely drawn, of some dark red material. The lock + from the door had been removed altogether, and in its place was the + aperture for a Yale latch-key. The last note of modernity was supplied by + the telephone wire attached to the roof of the lifeboat shelter. He walked + all round the building, seeking in vain for some other means of ingress. + Then he stood for a few moments in front of the curtained window. He was a + man of somewhat determined disposition, and he found himself vaguely + irritated by the liberties which had been taken with his property. He + hammered gently upon the framework with his fist, and the windows opened + readily inwards, pushing back the curtain with them. He drew himself up on + to the sill, and, squeezing himself through the opening, landed on his + feet and looked around him, a little breathless. + </p> + <p> + He found himself in a simply furnished man’s sitting-room. An easel was + standing close to the window. There were reams of drawing paper and + several unfinished sketches leaning against the wall. There was a small + oak table in the middle of the room; against the wall stood an exquisite + chiffonier, on which were resting some cut-glass decanters and goblets. + There was a Turkey carpet upon the floor which matched the curtains, but + to his surprise there was not a single chair of any sort to be seen. The + walls had been distempered and were hung with one or two engravings which, + although he was no judge, he was quite sure were good. He wandered into + the back room, where he found a stove, a tea-service upon a deal table, + and several other cooking utensils, all spotlessly clean and of the most + expensive description. The walls here were plainly whitewashed, and the + floor was of hard stone. He then tried the door on the left, which led + into the larger portion of the building—the shed in which the + lifeboat had once been kept. Not only was the door locked, but he saw at + once that the lock was modern, and the door itself was secured with heavy + iron clamps. He returned to the sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + “The girl with the grey eyes was right enough,” he remarked to himself. + “Mr. Fentolin has been making himself very much at home with my property.” + </p> + <p> + He withdrew the curtains, noticing, to his surprise, the heavy shutters + which their folds had partly concealed. Then he made his way out along the + passage to the front door, which from the inside he was able to open + easily enough. Leaving it carefully ajar, he went out with the intention + of making an examination of the outside of the place. Instead, however, he + paused at the corner of the building with his face turned landwards. + Exactly fronting him now, about three-quarters of a mile away, on the + summit of that strange hill which stood out like a gigantic rock in the + wilderness, was St. David’s Hall. He looked at it steadily and with + increasing admiration. Its long, red brick front with its masses of + clustering chimneys, a little bare and weather-beaten, impressed him with + a sense of dignity due as much to the purity of its architecture as the + singularity of its situation. Behind—a wonderfully effective + background—were the steep gardens from which, even in this uncertain + light, he caught faint glimpses of colouring subdued from brilliancy by + the twilight. These were encircled by a brick wall of great height, the + whole of the southern portion of which was enclosed with glass. From the + fragment of rock upon which he had seated himself, to the raised stone + terrace in front of the house, was an absolutely straight path, + beautifully kept like an avenue, with white posts on either side, and + built up to a considerable height above the broad tidal way which ran for + some distance by its side. It had almost the appearance of a racing track, + and its state of preservation in the midst of the wilderness was little + short of remarkable. + </p> + <p> + “This,” Hamel said to himself, as he slowly produced a pipe from his + pocket and began to fill it with tobacco from a battered silver box, “is a + queer fix. Looks rather like the inn for me!” + </p> + <p> + “And who might you be, gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + He turned abruptly around towards his unseen questioner. A woman was + standing by the side of the rock upon which he was sitting, a woman from + the village, apparently, who must have come with noiseless footsteps along + the sandy way. She was dressed in rusty black, and in place of a hat she + wore a black woolen scarf tied around her head and underneath her chin. + Her face was lined, her hair of a deep brown plentifully besprinkled with + grey. She had a curious habit of moving her lips, even when she was not + speaking. She stood there smiling at him, but there was something about + that smile and about her look which puzzled him. + </p> + <p> + “I am just a visitor,” he replied. “Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I saw you come out of the Tower,” she said, speaking with a strong local + accent and yet with a certain unusual correctness, “in at the window and + out of the door. You’re a brave man.” + </p> + <p> + “Why brave?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She turned her head very slowly towards St. David’s Hall. A gleam of + sunshine had caught one of the windows, which shone like fire. She pointed + toward it with her head. + </p> + <p> + “He’s looking at you,” she muttered. “He don’t like strangers poking + around here, that I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “And who is he?” Hamel enquired. + </p> + <p> + “Squire Fentolin,” she answered, dropping her voice a little. “He’s a very + kind-hearted gentleman, Squire Fentolin, but he don’t like strangers + hanging around.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am not exactly a stranger, you see,” Hamel remarked. “My father + used to stay for months at a time in that little shanty there and paint + pictures. It’s a good many years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I mind him,” the woman said slowly. “His name was Hamel.” + </p> + <p> + “I am his son,” Hamel announced. + </p> + <p> + She pointed to the Hall. “Does he know that you are here?” + </p> + <p> + Hamel shook his head. “Not yet. I have been abroad for so long.” + </p> + <p> + She suddenly relapsed into her curious habit. Her lips moved, but no words + came. She had turned her head a little and was facing the sea. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” Hamel asked gently, “why do you come out here alone, so far + from the village?” + </p> + <p> + She pointed with her finger to where the waves were breaking in a thin + line of white, about fifty yards from the beach. + </p> + <p> + “It’s the cemetery, that,” she said, “the village cemetery, you know. I + have three buried there: George, the eldest; James, the middle one; and + David, the youngest. Three of them—that’s why I come. I can’t put + flowers on their graves, but I can sit and watch and look through the sea, + down among the rocks where their bodies are, and wonder.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel looked at her curiously. Her voice had grown lower and lower. + </p> + <p> + “It’s what you land folks don’t believe, perhaps,” she went on, “but it’s + true. It’s only us who live near the sea who understand it. I am not an + ignorant body, either. I was schoolmistress here before I married David + Cox. They thought I’d done wrong to marry a fisherman, but I bore him + brave sons, and I lived the life a woman craves for. No, I am not + ignorant. I have fancies, perhaps—the Lord be praised for them!—and + I tell you it’s true. You look at a spot in the sea and you see nothing—a + gleam of blue, a fleck of white foam, one day; a gleam of green with a + black line, another; and a grey little sob, the next, perhaps. But you go + on looking. You look day by day and hour by hour, and the chasms of the + sea will open, and their voices will come to you. Listen!” + </p> + <p> + She clutched his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn’t you hear that?” she half whispered. + </p> + <p> + “‘The light!’ It was David’s voice! ‘The light!’” Hamel was speechless. + The woman’s face was suddenly strangely transformed. Her mood, however, + swiftly changed. She turned once more towards the hall. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll know him soon,” she went on, “the kindest man in these parts, they + say. It’s not much that he gives away, but he’s a kind heart. You see that + great post at the entrance to the river there?” she went on, pointing to + it. “He had that set up and a lamp hung from there. Fentolin’s light, they + call it. It was to save men’s lives. It was burning, they say, the night I + lost my lads. Fentolin’s light!” + </p> + <p> + “They were wrecked?” he asked her gently. + </p> + <p> + “Wrecked,” she answered. “Bad steering it must have been. James would + steer, and they say that he drank a bit. Bad steering! Yes, you’ll meet + Squire Fentolin before long. He’s queer to look at—a small body but + a great, kind heart. A miserable life, his, but it will be made up to him. + It will be made up to him!” + </p> + <p> + She turned away. Her lips were moving all the time. She walked about a + dozen steps, and then she returned. + </p> + <p> + “You’re Hamel’s son, the painter,” she said. “You’ll be welcome down here. + He’ll have you to stay at the Hall—a brave place. Don’t let him be + too kind to you. Sometimes kindness hurts.” + </p> + <p> + She passed on, walking with a curious, shambling gait, and soon she + disappeared on her way to the village. Hamel watched her for a moment and + then turned his head towards St. David’s Hall. He felt somehow that her + abrupt departure was due to something which she had seen in that + direction. He rose to his feet. His instinct had been a true one. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + From where Hamel stood a queer object came strangely into sight. Below the + terrace of St. David’s Hall—from a spot, in fact, at the base of the + solid wall—it seemed as though a gate had been opened, and there + came towards him what he at first took to be a tricycle. As it came + nearer, it presented even a weirder appearance. Mr. Fentolin, in a black + cape and black skull cap, sat a little forward in his electric carriage, + with his hand upon the guiding lever. His head came scarcely above the + back of the little vehicle, his hands and body were motionless. He seemed + to be progressing without the slightest effort, personal or mechanical, as + though he rode, in deed, in some ghostly vehicle. From the same place in + the wall had issued, a moment or two later, a man upon a bicycle, who was + also coming towards him. Hamel was scarcely conscious of this secondary + figure. His eyes were fixed upon the strange personage now rapidly + approaching him. There was something which seemed scarcely human in that + shrunken fragment of body, the pale face with its waving white hair, the + strange expression with which he was being regarded. The little vehicle + came to a standstill only a few feet away. Mr. Fentolin leaned forward. + His features had lost their delicately benevolent aspect; his words were + minatory. + </p> + <p> + “I am under the impression, sir,” he said, “that I saw you with my glasses + from the window attempting to force an entrance into that building.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I not only tried but I succeeded,” he remarked. “I got in through the + window.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin’s eyes glittered for a moment. Hamel, who had resumed his + place upon the rock close at hand, had been mixed up during his lifetime + in many wild escapades. Yet at that moment he had a sudden feeling that + there were dangers in life which as yet he had not faced. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask for your explanation or your excuse?” + </p> + <p> + “You can call it an explanation or an excuse, whichever you like,” Hamel + replied steadily, “but the fact is that this little building, which some + one else seems to have appropriated, is mine. If I had not been a + good-natured person, I should be engaged, at the present moment, in + turning out its furniture on to the beach.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” Mr. Fentolin asked suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Hamel—Richard Hamel.” + </p> + <p> + For several moments there was silence. Mr. Fentolin was still leaning + forward in his strange little vehicle. The colour seemed to have left even + his lips. The hard glitter in his eyes had given place to an expression + almost like fear. He looked at Richard Hamel as though he were some + strange sea-monster come up from underneath the sands. + </p> + <p> + “Richard Hamel,” he repeated. “Do you mean that you are the son of Hamel, + the R.A., who used to be in these parts so often? He was my brother’s + friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I am his son.” + </p> + <p> + “But his son was killed in the San Francisco earthquake. I saw his name in + all the lists. It was copied into the local papers here.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel knocked the ashes from his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “I take a lot of killing,” he observed. “I was in that earthquake, right + enough, and in the hospital afterwards, but it was a man named Hamel of + Philadelphia who died.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sat quite motionless for several moments. He seemed, if + possible, to have shrunken into something smaller still. A few yards + behind, Meekins had alighted from his bicycle and was standing waiting. + </p> + <p> + “So you are Richard Hamel,” Mr. Fentolin said at last very softly. + “Welcome back to England, Richard Hamel! I knew your father slightly, + although we were never very friendly.” + </p> + <p> + He stretched out his hand from underneath the coverlet of his little + vehicle—a hand with long, white fingers, slim and white and shapely + as a woman’s. A single ring with a dull green stone was on his fourth + finger. Hamel shook hands with him as he would have shaken hands with a + woman. Afterwards he rubbed his fingers slowly together. There was + something about the touch which worried him. + </p> + <p> + “You have been making use of this little shanty, haven’t you?” he asked + bluntly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin nodded. He was apparently beginning to recover himself. + </p> + <p> + “You must remember,” he explained suavely, “that it was built by my + grandfather, and that we have had rights over the whole of the foreshore + here from time immemorial. I know quite well that my brother gave it to + your father—or rather he sold it to him for a nominal sum. I must + tell you that it was a most complicated transaction. He had the greatest + difficulty in getting any lawyer to draft the deed of sale. There were so + many ancient rights and privileges which it was impossible to deal with. + Even now there are grave doubts as to the validity of the transaction. + When nothing was heard of you, and we all concluded that you were dead, I + ventured to take back what I honestly believed to be my own. Owing,” he + continued slowly, “to my unfortunate affliction, I am obliged to depend + for interest in my life upon various hobbies. This little place, queerly + enough, has become one of them. I have furnished it, in a way; installed + the telephone to the house, connected it with my electric plant, and I + come down here when I want to be quite alone, and paint. I watch the sea—such + a sea sometimes, such storms, such colour! You notice that ridge of sand + out yonder? It forms a sort of natural breakwater. Even on the calmest day + you can trace that white line of foam.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a strange coast,” Hamel admitted. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin pointed with his forefinger northwards. + </p> + <p> + “Somewhere about there,” he indicated, “is the entrance to the tidal river + which flows up to the village of St. David’s yonder. You see?” + </p> + <p> + His finger traced its course until it came to a certain point near the + beach, where a tall black pillar stood, surmounted by a globe. + </p> + <p> + “I have had a light fixed there for the benefit of the fishermen,” he + said, “a light which I work from my own dynamo. Between where we are + sitting now and there—only a little way out to sea—is a jagged + cluster of cruel rocks. You can see them if you care to swim out in calm + weather. Fishermen who tried to come in by night were often trapped there + and, in a rough sea, drowned. That is why I had that pillar of light + built. On stormy nights it shows the exact entrance to the water + causeway.” + </p> + <p> + “Very kind of you indeed,” Hamel remarked, “very benevolent.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sighed. + </p> + <p> + “So few people have any real feeling for sailors,” he continued. “The + fishermen around here are certainly rather a casual class. Do you know + that there is scarcely one of them who can swim? There isn’t one of them + who isn’t too lazy to learn even the simplest stroke. My brother used to + say—dear Gerald—that it served them right if they were + drowned. I have never been able to feel like that, Mr. Hamel. Life is such + a wonderful thing. One night,” he went on, dropping his voice and leaning + a little forward in his carriage—“it was just before, or was it just + after I had fixed that light—I was down here one dark winter night. + There was a great north wind and a huge sea running. It was as black as + pitch, but I heard a boat making for St. David’s causeway strike on those + rocks just hidden in front there. I heard those fishermen shriek as they + went under. I heard their shouts for help, I heard their death cries. Very + terrible, Mr. Hamel! Very terrible!” + </p> + <p> + Hamel looked at the speaker curiously. Mr. Fentolin seemed absorbed in his + subject. He had spoken with relish, as one who loves the things he speaks + about. Quite unaccountably, Hamel found himself shivering. + </p> + <p> + “It was their mother,” Mr. Fentolin continued, leaning again a little + forward in his chair, “their mother whom I saw pass along the beach just + now—a widow, too, poor thing. She comes here often—a morbid + taste. She spoke to you, I think?” + </p> + <p> + “She spoke to me strangely,” Hamel admitted. “She gave me the impression + of a woman whose brain had been turned with grief.” + </p> + <p> + “Too true,” Mr. Fentolin sighed. “The poor creature! I offered her a small + pension, but she would have none of it. A superior woman in her way once, + filled now with queer fancies,” he went on, eyeing Hamel steadily,—“the + very strangest fancies. She spends her life prowling about here. No one in + the village even knows how she lives. Did she speak of me, by-the-by?” + </p> + <p> + “She spoke of you as being a very kind-hearted man.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sighed. + </p> + <p> + “The poor creature! Well, well, let us revert to the object of your coming + here. Do you really wish to occupy this little shanty, Mr. Hamel?” + </p> + <p> + “That was my idea,” Hamel confessed. “I only came back from Mexico last + month, and I very soon got fed up with life in town. I am going abroad + again next year. Till then, I am rather at a loose end. My father was + always very keen indeed about this place, and very anxious that I should + come and stay here for a little time, so I made up my mind to run down. + I’ve got some things waiting at Norwich. I thought I might hire a woman to + look after me and spend a few weeks here. They tell me that the early + spring is almost the best time for this coast.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin nodded slowly. He moistened his lips for a moment. One might + have imagined that he was anxious. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hamel,” he said softly, “you are quite right. It is the best time to + visit this coast. But why make a hermit of yourself? You are a family + friend. Come and stay with us at the Hall for as long as you like. It will + give me the utmost pleasure to welcome you there,” he went on earnestly, + “and as for this little place, of what use is it to you? Let me buy it + from you. You are a man of the world, I can see. You may be rich, yet + money has a definite value. To me it has none. That little place, as it + stands, is probably worth—say a hundred pounds. Your father gave, if + I remember rightly, a five pound note for it. I will give you a thousand + for it sooner than be disturbed.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel frowned slightly. + </p> + <p> + “I could not possibly think,” he said, “of selling what was practically a + gift to my father. You are welcome to occupy the place during my absence + in any way you wish. On the other hand, I do not think that I care to part + with it altogether, and I should really like to spend just a day or so + here. I am used to roughing it under all sorts of conditions—much + more used to roughing it than I am to staying at country houses.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin leaned a little out of his carriage. He reached the younger + man’s shoulder with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Mr. Hamel,” he pleaded, “don’t make up your mind too suddenly. Am I a + little spoilt, I wonder? Well, you see what sort of a creature I am. I + have to go through life as best I may, and people are kind to me. It is + very seldom I am crossed. It is quite astonishing how often people let me + have my own way. Do not make up your mind too suddenly. I have a niece and + a nephew whom you must meet. There are some treasures, too, at St. David’s + Hall. Look at it. There isn’t another house quite like it in England. It + is worth looking over.” + </p> + <p> + “It is most impressive,” Hamel agreed, “and wonderfully beautiful. It + seems odd,” he added, with a laugh, “that you should care about this + little shanty here, with all the beautiful rooms you must have of your + own.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s Naboth’s vineyard,” Mr. Fentolin groaned. “Now, Mr. Hamel, you are + going to be gracious, aren’t you? Let us leave the question of your little + habitation here alone for the present. Come back with me. My niece shall + give you some tea, and you shall choose your room from forty. You can + sleep in a haunted chamber, or a historical chamber, in Queen Elizabeth’s + room, a Victorian chamber, or a Louis Quinze room. All my people have + spent their substance in furniture. Don’t look at your bag. Clothes are + unnecessary. I can supply you with everything. Or, if you prefer it, I can + send a fast car into Norwich for your own things. Come and be my guest, + please.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel hesitated. He had not the slightest desire to go to St. David’s + Hall, and though he strove to ignore it, he was conscious of an aversion + of which he was heartily ashamed for this strange fragment of humanity. On + the other hand, his mission, the actual mission which had brought him down + to these parts, could certainly best be served by an entree into the Hall + itself—and there was the girl, whom he felt sure belonged there. He + had never for a moment been able to dismiss her from his thoughts. Her + still, cold face, the delicate perfection of her clothes and figure, the + grey eyes which had rested upon his so curiously, haunted him. He was + desperately anxious to see her again. If he refused this invitation, if he + rejected Mr. Fentolin’s proffered friendship, it would be all the more + difficult. + </p> + <p> + “You are really very kind,” he began hesitatingly—. + </p> + <p> + “It is settled,” Mr. Fentolin interrupted, “settled. Meekins, you can ride + back again. I shall not paint to-day. Mr. Hamel, you will walk by my side, + will you not? I can run my little machine quite slowly. You see, I have an + electric battery. It needs charging often, but I have a dynamo of my own. + You never saw a vehicle like this in all your travellings, did you?” + </p> + <p> + Hamel shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “An electrical bath-chair,” Mr. Fentolin continued. “Practice has made me + remarkably skilful in its manipulation. You see, I can steer to an inch.” + </p> + <p> + He was already turning around. Hamel rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “You are really very kind,” he said. “I should like to come up and see the + Hall, at any rate, but in the meantime, as we are here, could I just look + over the inside of this little place? I found the large shed where the + lifeboat used to be kept, locked up.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin was manoeuvring his carriage. His back was towards Hamel. + </p> + <p> + “By all means,” he declared. “We will go in together. I have had the + entrance widened so that I can ride straight into the sitting-room. But + wait.” + </p> + <p> + He paused suddenly. He felt in all his pockets. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” he exclaimed, “I find that I have left the keys! We will come + down a little later, if you do not mind, Mr. Hamel. Or to-morrow, perhaps. + You will not mind? It is very careless of me, but seeing you about the + place and imagining that you were an intruder, made me angry, and I + started off in a hurry. Now walk by my side up to the house, please, and + talk to me. It is so interesting for me to meet men,” he went on, as they + started along the straight path, “who do things in life; who go to foreign + countries, meet strange people, and have new experiences. I have been a + good many years like this, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a great affliction,” Hamel murmured sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “In my youth I was an athlete,” Mr. Fentolin continued. “I played cricket + for the Varsity and for my county. I hunted, too, and shot. I did all the + things a man loves to do. I might still shoot, they tell me, but my + strength has ebbed away. I am too weak to lift a gun, too weak even to + handle a fishing-rod. I have just a few hobbies in life which keep me + alive. Are you a politician, Mr. Hamel?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least,” Hamel replied. “I have been out of England too long to + keep in touch with politics.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” Mr. Fentolin agreed. “It amuses me to follow the course of + events. I have a good many friends in London and abroad who are kind to + me, who keep me informed, send me odd bits of information not available + for every one, and it amuses me to put these things together in my mind + and to try and play the prophet. I was in the Foreign Office once, you + know. I take up my paper every morning, and it is one of my chief + interests to see how near my own speculations come to the truth. Just now + for example, there are strange things doing on the Continent.” + </p> + <p> + “In America,” Hamel remarked, “they affect to look upon England as a + doomed Power.” + </p> + <p> + “Not altogether supine yet,” Mr. Fentolin observed, “yet even this last + generation has seen weakening. We have lost so much self-reliance. Perhaps + it is having these grown-up children who we think can take care of us—Canada + and Australia, and the others. However, we will not talk of politics. It + bores you, I can see. We will try and find some other subject. Now tell + me, don’t you think this is ingenious?” + </p> + <p> + They had reached the foot of the hill upon which the Hall was situated. In + front of them, underneath the terrace, was a little iron gate, held open + now by Meekins, who had gone on ahead and dismounted from his bicycle. + </p> + <p> + “I have a subterranean way from here into the Hall,” Mr. Fentolin + explained. “Come with me. You will only have to stoop a little, and it may + amuse you. You need not be afraid. There are electric lights every ten + yards. I turn them on with this switch—see.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin touched a button in the wall, and the place was at once + brilliantly illuminated. A little row of lights from the ceiling and the + walls stretched away as far as one could see. They passed through the iron + gates, which shut behind them with a click. Stooping a little, Hamel was + still able to walk by the side of the man in the chair. They traversed + about a hundred yards of subterranean way. Here and there a fungus hung + down from the wall, otherwise it was beautifully kept and dry. By and by, + with a little turn, they came to an incline and another iron gate, held + open for them by a footman. Mr. Fentolin sped up the last few feet into + the great hall, which seemed more imposing than ever by reason of this + unexpected entrance. Hamel, blinking a little, stepped to his side. + </p> + <p> + “Welcome!” Mr. Fentolin cried gaily. “Welcome, my friend Mr. Hamel, to St. + David’s Hall!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + During the next half-hour, Hamel was introduced to luxuries to which, in a + general way, he was entirely unaccustomed. One man-servant was busy + preparing his bath in a room leading out of his sleeping apartment, while + another brought him a choice of evening clothes and superintended his + disrobing. Hamel, always observant, studied his surroundings with keen + interest. He found himself in a queerly mixed atmosphere of luxurious + modernity and stately antiquity. His four-poster, the huge couch at the + foot of his bed, and all the furniture about the room, was of the Queen + Anne period. The bathroom which communicated with his apartment was the + latest triumph of the plumber’s art—a room with floor and walls of + white tiles, the bath itself a little sunken and twice the ordinary size. + He dispensed so far as he could with the services of the men and + descended, as soon as he was dressed, into the hall. Meekins was waiting + at the bottom of the stairs, dressed now in somber black. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin will be glad if you will step into his room, sir,” he + announced, leading the way. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin was seated in his chair, reading the Times in a corner of his + library. Shaped blocks had been placed behind and in front of the wheels + of his little vehicle, to prevent it from moving. A shaded reading-lamp + stood on the table by his side. He did not at once look up, and Hamel + glanced around with genuine admiration. The shelves which lined the walls + and the winged cases which protruded into the room were filled with books. + There was a large oak table with beautifully carved legs, piled with all + sorts of modern reviews and magazines. A log fire was burning in the big + oaken grate. The perfume from a great bowl of lavender seemed to mingle + curiously yet pleasantly with the half musty odour of the old + leather-bound volumes. The massive chimneypiece was of black oak, and + above it were carved the arms of the House of Fentolin. The walls were + oak-panelled to the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “Refreshed, I hope, by your bath and change, my dear visitor?” the head of + the house remarked, as he laid down his paper. “Draw a chair up here and + join me in a glass of vermouth. You need not be afraid of it. It comes to + me from the maker as a special favour.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel accepted a quaintly-cut wine-glass full of the amber liquid. Mr. + Fentolin sipped his with the air of a connoisseur. + </p> + <p> + “This,” he continued, “is one of our informal days. There is no one in the + house save my sister-in-law, niece, and nephew, and a poor invalid + gentleman who, I am sorry to say, is confined to his bed. My sister-in-law + is also, I regret to say, indisposed. She desired me to present her + excuses to you and say how greatly she is looking forward to making your + acquaintance during the next few days.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel bowed. + </p> + <p> + “It is very kind of Mrs. Fentolin,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “On these occasions,” Mr. Fentolin continued, “we do not make use of a + drawing-room. My niece will come in here presently. You are looking at my + books, I see. Are you, by any chance, a bibliophile? I have a case of + manuscripts here which might interest you.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Only in the abstract, I fear,” he answered. “I have scarcely opened a + serious book since I was at Oxford.” + </p> + <p> + “What was your year?” Mr. Fentolin asked. + </p> + <p> + “Fourteen years ago I left Magdalen,” Hamel replied. “I had made up my + mind to be an engineer, and I went over to the Boston Institute of + Technology.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin nodded appreciatively. + </p> + <p> + “A magnificent profession,” he murmured. “A healthy one, too, I should + judge from your appearance. You are a strong man, Mr. Hamel.” + </p> + <p> + “I have had reason to be,” Hamel rejoined. “During nearly the whole of the + time I have been abroad, I have been practically pioneering. Building + railways in the far West, with gangs of Chinese and Italians and + Hungarians and scarcely a foreman who isn’t terrified of his job, isn’t + exactly drawing-room work.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going back there?” Mr. Fentolin asked, with interest. + </p> + <p> + Hamel shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I have no plans,” he declared. “I have been fortunate enough, or shall I + some day say unfortunate enough, I wonder, to have inherited a large + legacy.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t ever doubt your good fortune,” he said earnestly. “The longer I + live—and in my limited way I do see a good deal of life—the + more I appreciate the fact that there isn’t anything in this world that + compares with the power of money. I distrust a poor man. He may mean to be + honest, but he is at all times subject to temptation. Ah! here is my + niece.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin turned towards the door. Hamel rose at once to his feet. His + surmise, then, had been correct. She was coming towards them very quietly. + In her soft grey dinner-gown, her brown hair smoothly brushed back, a + pearl necklace around her long, delicate neck, she seemed to him a very + exquisite embodiment of those memories which he had been carrying about + throughout the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Mr. Hamel,” his host said, “is a member of my family who has been a + deserter for a short time. This is Mr. Richard Hamel, Esther; my niece, + Miss Esther Fentolin.” + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand with the faintest possible smile, which might have + been of greeting or recognition. + </p> + <p> + “I travelled for some distance in the train with Mr. Hamel this afternoon, + I think,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” Mr. Fentolin exclaimed. “Dear me, that is very interesting—very + interesting, indeed! Mr. Hamel, I am sure, did not tell you of his + destination?” + </p> + <p> + He watched them keenly. Hamel, though he scarcely understood, was quick to + appreciate the possible significance of that tentative question. + </p> + <p> + “We did not exchange confidences,” he observed. “Miss Fentolin only + changed into my carriage during the last few minutes of her journey. + Besides,” he continued, “to tell you the truth, my ideas as to my + destination were a little hazy. To come and look for some queer sort of + building by the side of the sea, which has been unoccupied for a dozen + years or so, scarcely seems a reasonable quest, does it?” + </p> + <p> + “Scarcely, indeed,” Mr. Fentolin assented. “You may thank me, Mr. Hamel, + for the fact that the place is not in ruins. My blatant trespassing has + saved you from that, at least. After dinner we must talk further about the + Tower. To tell you the truth, I have grown accustomed to the use of the + little place.” + </p> + <p> + The sound of the dinner gong boomed through the house. A moment later + Gerald entered, followed by a butler announcing dinner. + </p> + <p> + “The only remaining member of my family,” Mr. Fentolin remarked, + indicating his nephew. “Gerald, you will be pleased, I know, to meet Mr. + Hamel. Mr. Hamel has been a great traveller. Long before you can remember, + his father used to paint wonderful pictures of this coast.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald shook hands with his visitor. His face, for a moment, lighted up. + He was looking pale, though, and singularly sullen and dejected. + </p> + <p> + “There are two of your father’s pictures in the modern side of the gallery + up-stairs,” he remarked, a little diffidently. “They are great favourites + with everybody here.” + </p> + <p> + They all went in to dinner together. Meekins, who had appeared silently, + had glided unnoticed behind his master’s chair and wheeled it across the + hall. + </p> + <p> + “A partie carree to-night,” Mr. Fentolin declared. “I have a resident + doctor here, a very delightful person, who often dines with us, but + to-night I thought not. Five is an awkward number. I want to get to know + you better, Mr. Hamel, and quickly. I want you, too, to make friends with + my niece and nephew. Mr. Hamel’s father,” he went on, addressing the two + latter, “and your father were great friends. By-the-by, have I told you + both exactly why Mr. Hamel is a guest here to-night—why he came to + these parts at all? No? Listen, then. He came to take possession of the + Tower. The worst of it is that it belongs to him, too. His father bought + it from your father more years ago than we should care to talk about. I + have really been a trespasser all this time.” + </p> + <p> + They took their places at a small round table in the middle of the + dining-room. The shaded lights thrown downwards upon the table seemed to + leave most of the rest of the apartment in semi-darkness. The gloomy faces + of the men and women whose pictures hung upon the walls were almost + invisible. The servants themselves, standing a little outside the halo of + light, were like shadows passing swiftly and noiselessly back and forth. + At the far end of the room was an organ, and to the left a little balcony, + built out as though for an orchestra. Hamel looked about him almost in + wonderment. There was something curiously impressive in the size of the + apartment and its emptiness. + </p> + <p> + “A trespasser,” Mr. Fentolin continued, as he took up the menu and + criticised it through his horn-rimmed eyeglass, “that is what I have been, + without a doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “But for your interest and consequent trespass,” Hamel remarked, “I should + probably have found the roof off and the whole place in ruins.” + </p> + <p> + “Instead of which you found the door locked against you,” Mr. Fentolin + pointed out. “Well, we shall see. I might, at any rate, have lost the + opportunity of entertaining you here this evening. I am particularly glad + to have an opportunity of making you known to my niece and nephew. I think + you will agree with me that here are two young people who are highly to be + commended. I cannot offer them a cheerful life here. There is little + society, no gaiety, no sort of excitement. Yet they never leave me. They + seem to have no other interest in life but to be always at my beck and + call. A case, Mr. Hamel, of really touching devotion. If anything could + reconcile me to my miserable condition, it would be the kindness and + consideration of those by whom I am surrounded.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel murmured a few words of cordial agreement. Yet he found himself, in + a sense, embarrassed. Gerald was looking down upon his plate and his face + was hidden. Esther’s features had suddenly become stony and + expressionless. Hamel felt instinctively that something was wrong. + </p> + <p> + “There are compensations,” Mr. Fentolin continued, with the air of one + enjoying speech, “which find their way into even the gloomiest of lives. + As I lie on my back, hour after hour, I feel all the more conscious of + this. The world is a school of compensations, Mr. Hamel. The interests—the + mental interests, I mean—of unfortunate people like myself, come to + possess in time a peculiar significance and to yield a peculiar pleasure. + I have hobbies, Mr. Hamel. I frankly admit it. Without my hobbies, I + shudder to think what might become of me. I might become a selfish, cruel, + misanthropical person. Hobbies are indeed a great thing.” + </p> + <p> + The brother and sister sat still in stony silence. Hamel, looking across + the little table with its glittering load of cut glass and silver and + scarlet flowers, caught something in Esther’s eyes, so rarely expressive + of any emotion whatever, which puzzled him. He looked swiftly back at his + host. Mr. Fentolin’s face, at that moment, was like a beautiful cameo. His + expression was one of gentle benevolence. + </p> + <p> + “Let me be quite frank with you,” Mr. Fentolin murmured. “My occupation of + the Tower is one of these hobbies. I love to sit there within a few yards + of the sea and watch the tide come in. I catch something of the spirit, I + think, which caught your father, Mr. Hamel, and kept him a prisoner here. + In my small way I, too, paint while I am down there, paint and dream. + These things may not appeal to you, but you must remember that there are + few things left to me in life, and that those, therefore, which I can make + use of, are dear to me. Gerald, you are silent to-night. How is it that + you say nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “I am tired, sir,” the boy answered quietly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin nodded gravely. + </p> + <p> + “It is inexcusable of me,” he declared smoothly, “to have forgotten even + for a moment. My nephew, Mr. Hamel,” he went on, “had quite an exciting + experience last night—or rather a series of experiences. He was + first of all in a railway accident, and then, for the sake of a poor + fellow who was with him and who was badly hurt, he motored back here in + the grey hours of the morning and ran, they tell me, considerable risk of + being drowned on the marshes. A very wonderful and praiseworthy adventure, + I consider it. I trust that our friend up-stairs, when he recovers, will + be properly grateful.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald rose to his feet precipitately. The service of dinner was almost + concluded, and he muttered something which sounded like an excuse. Mr. + Fentolin, however, stretched out his hand and motioned him to resume his + seat. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Gerald!” he exclaimed reprovingly. “You would leave us so + abruptly? Before your sister, too! What will Mr. Hamel think of our + country ways? Pray resume your seat.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the boy stood quite still, then he slowly subsided into his + chair. Mr. Fentolin passed around a decanter of wine which had been placed + upon the table by the butler. The servants had now left the room. + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse my nephew, if you please, Mr. Hamel,” he begged. “Gerald + has a boy’s curious aversion to praise in any form. I am looking forward + to hearing your verdict upon my port. The collection of wine and pictures + was a hobby of my grandfather’s, for which we, his descendants, can never + be sufficiently grateful.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel praised his wine, as indeed he had every reason to, but for a few + moments the smooth conversation of his host fell upon deaf ears. He looked + from the boy’s face, pale and wrinkled as though with some sort of + suppressed pain, to the girl’s still, stony expression. This was indeed a + house of mysteries! There was something here incomprehensible, some thing + about the relations of these three and their knowledge of one another, + utterly baffling. It was the queerest household, surely, into which any + stranger had ever been precipitated. + </p> + <p> + “The planting of trees and the laying down of port are two virtues in our + ancestors which have never been properly appreciated,” Mr. Fentolin + continued. “Let us, at any rate, free ourselves from the reproach of + ingratitude so far as regards my grandfather—Gerald Fentolin—to + whom I believe we are indebted for this wine. We will drink—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin broke off in the middle of his sentence. The august calm of + the great house had been suddenly broken. From up-stairs came the tumult + of raised voices, the slamming of a door, the falling of something heavy + upon the floor. Mr. Fentolin listened with a grim change in his + expression. His smile had departed, his lower lip was thrust out, his + eyebrows met. He raised the little whistle which hung from his chain. At + that moment, however, the door was opened. Doctor Sarson appeared. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to disturb you, Mr. Fentolin,” he said, “but our patient is + becoming a little difficult. The concussion has left him, as I feared it + might, in a state of nervous excitability. He insists upon an interview + with you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin backed his little chair from the table. The doctor came over + and laid his hand upon the handle. + </p> + <p> + “You will, I am sure, excuse me for a few moments, Mr. Hamel,” his host + begged. “My niece and nephew will do their best to entertain you. Now, + Sarson, I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin glided across the dim, empty spaces of the splendid + apartment, followed by the doctor; a ghostly little procession it seemed. + The door was closed behind them. For a few moments a curious silence + ensued. Gerald remained tense and apparently suffering from some sort of + suppressed emotion. Esther for the first time moved in her place. She + leaned towards Hamel. Her lips were slowly parted, her eyes sought the + door as though in terror. Her voice, although save for themselves there + was no one else in the whole of that great apartment, had sunk to the + lowest of whispers. + </p> + <p> + “Are you a brave man, Mr. Hamel?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He was staggered but he answered her promptly. + </p> + <p> + “I believe so.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t give up the Tower—just yet. That is what—he has brought + you here for. He wants you to give it up and go back. Don’t!” + </p> + <p> + The earnestness of her words was unmistakable. Hamel felt the thrill of + coming events. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t ask me,” she begged. “Only if you are brave, if you have feeling + for others, keep the Tower, if it be for only a week. Hush!” + </p> + <p> + The door had been noiselessly opened. The doctor appeared and advanced to + the table with a grave little bow. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin,” he said, “has been kind enough to suggest that I take a + glass of wine with you. My presence is not needed up-stairs. Mr. Hamel,” + he added, “I am glad, sir, to make your acquaintance. I have for a long + time been a great admirer of your father’s work.” + </p> + <p> + He took his place at the head of the table and, filling his glass, bowed + towards Hamel. Once more Gerald and his sister relapsed almost + automatically into an indifferent and cultivated silence. Hamel found + civility towards the newcomer difficult. Unconsciously his attitude became + that of the other two. He resented the intrusion. He found himself + regarding the advent of Doctor Sarson as possessing some secondary + significance. It was almost as though Mr. Fentolin preferred not to leave + him alone with his niece and nephew. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, his voice, when he spoke, was clear and firm. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin, on leaving the dining-room, steered his chair with great + precision through the open, wrought-iron doors of a small lift at the + further end of the hall, which Doctor Sarson, who stepped in with him, + promptly directed to the second floor. Here they made their way to the + room in which Mr. Dunster was lying. Doctor Sarson opened the door and + looked in. Almost immediately he stood at one side, out of sight of Mr. + Dunster, and nodded to Mr. Fentolin. + </p> + <p> + “If there is any trouble,” he whispered, “send for me. I am better away, + for the present. My presence only excites him.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin nodded. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” he said. “Go down into the dining-room. I am not sure + about that fellow Hamel, and Gerald is in a queer temper. Stay with them. + See that they are not alone.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor silently withdrew, and Mr. Fentolin promptly glided past him + into the room. Mr. John P. Dunster, in his night clothes, was sitting on + the side of the bed. Standing within a few feet of him, watching him all + the time with the subtle intentness of a cat watching a mouse, stood + Meekins. Mr. Dunster’s head was still bound, although the bandage had + slipped a little, apparently in some struggle. His face was chalklike, and + he was breathing quickly. + </p> + <p> + “So you’ve come at last!” he exclaimed, a little truculently. “Are you Mr. + Fentolin?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin gravely admitted his identity. His eyes rested upon his guest + with an air of tender interest. His face was almost beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “You are the owner of this house—I am underneath your roof—is + that so?” + </p> + <p> + “This is certainly St. David’s Hall,” Mr. Fentolin replied. “It really + appears as though your conclusions were correct.” + </p> + <p> + “Then will you tell me why I am kept a prisoner here?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin’s expression was for a moment clouded. He seemed hurt. + </p> + <p> + “A prisoner,” he repeated softly. “My dear Mr. Dunster, you have surely + forgotten the circumstances which procured for me the pleasure of this + visit; the condition in which you arrived here—only, after all, a + very few hours ago?” + </p> + <p> + “The circumstances,” Mr. Dunster declared drily, “are to me still + inexplicable. At Liverpool Street Station I was accosted by a young man + who informed me that his name was Gerald Fentolin, and that he was on his + way to The Hague to play in a golf tournament. His story seemed entirely + probable, and I permitted him a seat in the special train I had chartered + for Harwich. There was an accident and I received this blow to my head—only + a trifling affair, after all. I come to my senses to find myself here. I + do not know exactly what part of the world you call this, but from the + fact that I can see the sea from my window, it must be some considerable + distance from the scene of the accident. I find that my dressing-case has + been opened, my pocket-book examined, and I am apparently a prisoner. I + ask you, Mr. Fentolin, for an explanation.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” he said, “my dear Mr. Dunster, I believe I may have the + pleasure of calling you—your conclusions seem to me just a little + melodramatic. My nephew—Gerald Fentolin—did what I consider + the natural thing, under the circumstances. You had been courteous to him, + and he repaid the obligation to the best of his ability. The accident to + your train happened in a dreary part of the country, some thirty miles + from here. My nephew adopted a course which I think, under the + circumstances, was the natural and hospitable one. He brought you to his + home. There was no hospital or town of any importance nearer.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” Mr. Dunster decided. “I will accept your version of the + affair. I will, then, up to this point acknowledge myself your debtor. But + will you tell me why my dressing-case has been opened, my clothes removed, + and a pocket-book containing papers of great importance to me has been + tampered with?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mr. Dunster,” his host repelled calmly, “you surely cannot + imagine that you are among thieves! Your dressing-case was opened and the + contents of your pocket-book inspected with a view to ascertaining your + address, or the names of some friends with whom we might communicate.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to understand that they are to be restored to me, then?” Mr. Dunster + demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt, yes!” Mr. Fentolin assured him. “You, however, are not + fit for anything, at the present moment, but to return to your bed, from + which I understand you rose rather suddenly a few minutes ago.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary,” Mr. Dunster insisted, “I am feeling absolutely well + enough to travel. I have an appointment on the Continent of great + importance, as you may judge by the fact that at Liverpool Street I + chartered a special train. I trust that nothing in my manner may have + given you offence, but I am anxious to get through with the business which + brought me over to this side of the water. I have sent for you to ask that + my pocket-book, dressing-case, and clothes be at once restored to me, and + that I be provided with the means of continuing my journey without a + moment’s further delay.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin shook his head very gently, very regretfully, but also + firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dunster,” he pleaded, “do be reasonable. Think of all you have been + through. I can quite sympathise with you in your impatience, but I am + forced to tell you that the doctor who has been attending you since the + moment you were brought into this house has absolutely forbidden anything + of the sort.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster seemed, for a moment, to struggle for composure. + </p> + <p> + “I am an American citizen,” he declared. “I am willing to listen to the + advice of any physician, but so long as I take the risk, I am not bound to + follow it. + </p> + <p> + “In the present case I decline to follow it. I ask for facilities to leave + this house at once.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sighed. + </p> + <p> + “In your own interests,” he said calmly, “they will not be granted to + you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster had spoken all the time like a man struggling to preserve his + self-control. There were signs now that his will was ceasing to serve him. + His eyes flashed fire, his voice was raised. + </p> + <p> + “Will not be granted to me?” he repeated. “Do you mean to say, then, that + I am to be kept here against my will?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin made no immediate reply. With the delicate fingers of his + right hand he pushed back the hair from his forehead. He looked at his + questioner soothingly, as one might look at a spoiled child. + </p> + <p> + “Against my will?” Mr. Dunster repeated, raising his voice still higher. + “Mr. Fentolin, if the truth must be told, I have heard of you before and + been warned against you. I decline to accept any longer the hospitality of + your roof. I insist upon leaving it. If you will not provide me with any + means of doing so, I will walk.” + </p> + <p> + He made a motion as though to rise from the bed. Meekins’ hand very gently + closed upon his arm. One could judge that the grip was like a grip of + iron. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” Mr. Fentolin said, “this is really very unreasonable of you! If + you have heard of me, Mr. Dunster, you ought to understand that + notwithstanding my unfortunate physical trouble, I am a person of + consequence and position in this county. I am a magistrate, ex-high + sheriff, and a great land-owner here. I think I may say without boasting + that I represent one of the most ancient families in this country. Why, + therefore, should you treat me as though it were to my interest to + inveigle you under my roof and keep you there for some guilty purpose? + Cannot you understand that it is for your own good I hesitate to part with + you?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand nothing of the sort,” Mr. Dunster exclaimed angrily. “Let us + bring this nonsense to an end. I want my clothes, and if you won’t lend me + a car or a trap, I’ll walk to the nearest railway station.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite sure,” he said, “that you are not in a position to travel. + Even in the dining-room just now I heard a disturbance for which I was + told that you were responsible.” + </p> + <p> + “I simply insisted upon having my clothes,” Mr. Dunster explained. “Your + servant refused to fetch them. Perhaps I lost my temper. If so, I am + sorry. I am not used to being thwarted.” + </p> + <p> + “A few days’ rest—” Mr. Fentolin began. + </p> + <p> + “A few days’ rest be hanged!” Mr. Dunster interrupted fiercely. “Listen, + Mr. Fentolin,” he added, with the air of one making a last effort to + preserve his temper, “the mission with which I am charged is one of + greater importance than you can imagine. So much depends upon it that my + own life, if that is in danger, would be a mere trifle in comparison with + the issues involved. If I am not allowed to continue upon my journey at + once, the consequences may be more serious than I can tell you, to you and + yours, to your own country. There!—I am telling you a great deal, + but I want you to understand that I am in earnest. I have a mission which + I must perform, and which I must perform quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very mysterious,” Mr. Fentolin murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I will leave nothing to chance,” Mr. Dunster continued. “Send this man + who seems to have constituted himself my jailer out of earshot, and I will + tell you even more.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin turned to Meekins. + </p> + <p> + “You can leave the room for a moment,” he ordered. “Wait upon the + threshold.” + </p> + <p> + Meekins very unwillingly turned to obey. + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse me, sir,” he objected doubtfully, “but I am not at all + sure that he is safe.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled faintly. + </p> + <p> + “You need have no fear, Meekins,” he declared. “I am quite sure that you + are mistaken. I think that Mr. Dunster is incapable of any act of violence + towards a person in my unfortunate position. I am willing to trust myself + with him—perfectly willing, Meekins.” + </p> + <p> + Meekins, with ponderous footsteps, left the room and closed the door + behind him. Mr. Fentolin leaned a little forward in his chair. It seemed + as though he were on springs. The fingers of his right hand had + disappeared in the pocket of his black velvet dinner-coat. He was + certainly prepared for all emergencies. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Dunster,” he said softly, “you can speak to me without reserve.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster dropped his voice. His tone became one of fierce eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he exclaimed, “I don’t think you ought to force me to give + myself away like this, but, after all, you are an Englishman, with a stake + in your country, and I presume you don’t want her to take a back seat for + the next few generations. Listen here. It’s to save your country that I + want to get to The Hague without a second’s delay. I tell you that if I + don’t get there, if the message I convey doesn’t reach its destination, + you may find an agreement signed between certain Powers which will mean + the greatest diplomatic humiliation which Great Britain has ever known. + Aye, and more than that!” Mr. Dunster continued. “It may be that the bogey + you’ve been setting before yourself for all these years may trot out into + life, and you may find St. David’s Hall a barrack for German soldiers + before many months have passed.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin shook his head in gentle disbelief. + </p> + <p> + “You are speaking to one,” he declared, “who knows more of the political + situation than you imagine. In my younger days I was in the Foreign + Office. Since my unfortunate accident I have preserved the keenest + interest in politics. I tell you frankly that I do not believe you. As the + Powers are grouped at present, I do not believe in the possibility of a + successful invasion of this country.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” Mr. Dunster replied eagerly, “but the grouping of the + Powers as it has existed during the last few years is on the eve of a + great change. I cannot take you wholly into my confidence. I can only give + you my word of honour as a friend to your country that the message I carry + is her only salvation. Having told you as much as that, I do not think I + am asking too much if I ask you for my clothes and dressing-case, and for + the fastest motor-car you can furnish me with. I guess I can get from here + to Yarmouth, and from there I can charter something which will take me to + the other side.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin raised the little gold whistle to his lips and blew it very + softly. Meekins at once entered, closing the door behind him. He moved + silently to the side of the man who had risen now from the bed, and who + was standing with his hand grasping the post and his eyes fixed upon Mr. + Fentolin, as though awaiting his answer. + </p> + <p> + “Our conversation,” the latter said calmly, “has reached a point, Mr. + Dunster, at which I think we may leave it for the moment. You have told me + some very surprising things. I perceive that you are a more interesting + visitor even than I had thought.” + </p> + <p> + He raised his left hand, and Meekins, who seemed to have been waiting for + some signal of the sort, suddenly, with a movement of his knee and right + arm, flung Dunster back upon the bed. The man opened his mouth to shout, + but already, with lightning-like dexterity, his assailant had inserted a + gag between his teeth. Treating his struggles as the struggles of a baby, + Meekins next proceeded to secure his wrists with handcuffs. He then held + his feet together while he quietly wound a coil of cord around them. Mr. + Fentolin watched the proceedings from his chair with an air of pleased and + critical interest. + </p> + <p> + “Very well done, Meekins—very neatly done, indeed!” he exclaimed. + “As I was saying, Mr. Dunster,” he continued, turning his chair, “our + conversation has reached a point at which I think we may safely leave it + for a time. We will discuss these matters again. Your pretext of a + political mission is, of course, an absurd one, but fortunately you have + fallen into good hands. Take good care of Mr. Dunster, Meekins. I can see + that he is a very important personage. We must be careful not to lose + sight of him.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin steered his chair to the door, opened it, and passed out. On + the landing he blew his whistle; the lift almost immediately ascended. A + moment or two later he glided into the dining-room. The three men were + still seated around the table. A decanter of wine, almost empty, was + before Doctor Sarson, whose pallid cheeks, however, were as yet unflushed. + </p> + <p> + “At last, my dear guest,” Mr. Fentolin exclaimed, turning to Hamel, “I am + able to return to you. If you will drink no more wine, let us have our + coffee in the library, you and I. I want to talk to you about the Tower.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin led the way to a delightful little corner of his library, + where before the open grate, recently piled with hissing logs, an easy + chair had been drawn. He wheeled himself up to the other side of the + hearthrug and leaned back with a little air of exhaustion. The butler, who + seemed to have appeared unsummoned from somewhere among the shadows, + served coffee and poured some old brandy into large and wonderfully thin + glasses. + </p> + <p> + “Why my house should be turned into an asylum to gratify the hospitable + instincts of my young nephew, I cannot imagine,” Mr. Fentolin grumbled. “A + most extraordinary person, our visitor, I can assure you. Quite violent, + too, he was at first.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you had any outside advice about his condition?” Hamel inquired. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin glanced across those few feet of space and looked at Hamel + with swift suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” he asked. “Doctor Sarson is fully qualified, and the case + seems to present no unusual characteristics.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel sipped his brandy thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know why I suggested it,” he admitted. “I only thought that an + outside doctor might help you to get rid of the fellow.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” he said, “the matter is of no real consequence. Doctor Sarson + assures me that we shall be able to send him on his way very shortly. In + the meantime, Mr. Hamel, what about the Tower?” + </p> + <p> + “What about it?” Hamel asked, selecting a cigar from the box which had + been pushed to his side. “I am sure I haven’t any wish to inconvenience + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be quite frank,” Mr. Fentolin declared. “I do not dispute your + right for a moment. On the other hand, my few hours daily down there have + become a habit with me. I do not wish to give them up. Stay here with us, + Mr. Hamel. You will be doing us a great kindness. My nephew and niece have + too little congenial society. Make up your mind to give us a fortnight of + your time, and I can assure you that we will do our best to make yours a + pleasant stay.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel was a little taken aback. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin,” he said, “I couldn’t think of accepting your hospitality + to such an extent. My idea in coming here was simply to fulfil an old + promise to my father and to rough it at the Tower for a week or so, and + when that was over, I don’t suppose I should ever be likely to come back + again. You had better let me carry out that plan, and afterwards the place + shall be entirely at your disposal.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t quite understand,” Mr. Fentolin persisted, a little irritably. + “I sit there every morning. I want, for instance, to be there to-morrow + morning, and the next morning, and the morning afterwards, to finish a + little seascape I have commenced. Nowhere else will do. Call it a whim or + what you will I have begun the picture, and I want to finish it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can sit there all right,” Hamel assured him. “I shall be out + playing golf or fishing. I shall do nothing but sleep there.” + </p> + <p> + “And very uncomfortable you will be,” Mr. Fentolin pointed out. “You have + no servant, I understand, and there is no one in the village fit to look + after you. Think of my thirty-nine empty rooms, my books here, my gardens, + my motor-cars, my young people, entirely at your service. You can have a + suite to yourself. You can disappear when you like. To all effects and + purposes you will be the master of St. David’s Hall. Be reasonable. Don’t + you think, now, that you can spend a fortnight more pleasantly under such + circumstances than by playing the misanthrope down at the Tower?” + </p> + <p> + “Please don’t think,” Hamel begged, “that I don’t appreciate your + hospitality. I should feel uncomfortable, however, if I paid you a visit + of the length you have suggested. Come, I don’t see,” he added, “why my + occupation of the Tower should interfere with you. I should be away from + it by about nine or ten o’clock every morning. I should probably only + sleep there. Can’t you accept the use of it all the rest of the time? I + can assure you that you will be welcome to come and go as though it were + entirely your own.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin had lit a cigarette and was watching the blue smoke curl + upwards to the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “You’re an obstinate man, Mr. Hamel,” he sighed, “but I suppose you must + have your own way. By-the-by, you would only need to use the up-stairs + room and the sitting-room. You will not need the outhouse—rather + more than an outhouse, though isn’t it? I mean the shed which leads out + from the kitchen, where the lifeboat used to be kept?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think I shall need that,” Hamel admitted, a little hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “To tell you the truth,” Mr. Fentolin continued, “among my other hobbies I + have done a little inventing. I work sometimes at a model there. It is + foolish, perhaps, but I wish no one to see it. Do you mind if I keep the + keys of the place?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least,” Hamel replied. “Tell me, what direction do your + inventions take, Mr. Fentolin?” + </p> + <p> + “Before you go,” Mr. Fentolin promised, “I will show you my little model + at work. Until then we will not talk of it. Now come, be frank with me. + Shall we exchange ideas for a little time? Will you talk of books? They + are my daily friends. I have thousands of them, beloved companions on + every side. Or will you talk of politics or travel? Or would you rather be + frivolous with my niece and nephew? That, I think, is Esther playing.” + </p> + <p> + “To be quite frank,” Hamel declared bluntly, “I should like to talk to + your niece.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled as though amused. His amusement, however, was + perfectly good-natured. + </p> + <p> + “If you will open this door,” he said, “you will see another one exactly + opposite to you. That is the drawing-room. You will find Esther there. + Before you go, will you pass me the Quarterly Review? Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel crossed the hall, opened the door of the room to which he had been + directed, and made his way towards the piano. Esther was there, playing + softly to herself with eyes half closed. He came and stood by her side, + and she stopped abruptly. Her eyes questioned him. Then her fingers stole + once more over the keys, more softly still. + </p> + <p> + “I have just left your uncle,” Hamel said. “He told me that I might come + in here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “He was very hospitable,” Hamel continued. “He wanted me to remain here as + a guest and not go to the Tower at all.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to the Tower,” he said. “I am going there to-morrow or the day + after.” + </p> + <p> + The music swelled beneath her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “For how long?” + </p> + <p> + “For a week or so. I am just giving your uncle time to clear out his + belongings. I am leaving him the outhouse.” + </p> + <p> + “He asked you to leave him that?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “You are not going in there at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all.” + </p> + <p> + Again she played a little more loudly for a few moments. Then the music + died away once more. + </p> + <p> + “What reason did he give for keeping possession of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Another hobby,” Hamel replied. “He is an inventor, it seems. He has the + model of something there; he would not tell me what.” + </p> + <p> + She shivered a little, and her music drifted away. She bent over the keys, + her face hidden from him. + </p> + <p> + “You will not go away just yet?” she asked softly. “You are going to stay + for a few days, at any rate?” + </p> + <p> + “Without a doubt,” he assured her. “I am altogether my own master.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + He leaned with his elbow against the top of the piano, looking down at + her. Since dinnertime she had fastened a large red rose in the front of + her gown. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that this is all rather mysterious?” he said calmly. + </p> + <p> + “What is mysterious?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “The atmosphere of the place: your uncle’s queer aversion to my having the + Tower; your visitor up-stairs, who fights with the servants while we are + at dinner; your uncle himself, whose will seems to be law not only to you + but to your brother, who must be of age, I should think, and who seems to + have plenty of spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “We live here, both of us,” she told him. “He is our guardian.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” Hamel replied, “and yet, it may have been my fancy, of + course, but at dinnertime I seemed to get a queer impression.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell it me?” she insisted, her fingers breaking suddenly into a livelier + melody. “Tell it me at once? You were there all the time. I could see you + watching. Tell me what you thought?” + </p> + <p> + She had turned her head now, and her eyes were fixed upon his. They were + large and soft, capable, he knew, of infinite expression. Yet at that + moment the light that shone from them was simply one of fear, half + curious, half shrinking. + </p> + <p> + “My impression,” he said, “was that both of you disliked and feared Mr. + Fentolin, yet for some reason or other that you were his abject slaves.” + </p> + <p> + Her fingers seemed suddenly inspired with diabolical strength and energy. + Strange chords crashed and broke beneath them. She played some unfamiliar + music with tense and fierce energy. Suddenly she paused and rose to her + feet. + </p> + <p> + “Come out on to the terrace,” she invited. “You are not afraid of cold?” + </p> + <p> + He followed her without a word. She opened the French windows, and they + stepped out on to the long, broad stone promenade. The night was dark, and + there was little to be seen. The light was burning at the entrance to the + waterway; a few lights were twinkling from the village. The soft moaning + of the sea was distinctly audible. She moved to the edge of the + palisading. He followed her closely. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Mr. Hamel,” she said. “I think that I am more afraid of + him than any woman ever was of any man in this world.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you live here?” he protested. “You must have other relations + to whom you could go. And your brother—why doesn’t he do something—go + into one of the professions? He could surely leave easily enough?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you a secret,” she answered calmly. “Perhaps it will help you + to understand. You know my uncle’s condition. You know that it was the + result of an accident?” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard so,” he replied gravely. + </p> + <p> + She clutched at his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Side by side they walked the entire length of the terrace. When they + reached the corner, they were met with a fierce gust of wind. She battled + along, and he followed her. They were looking inland now. There were no + lights visible—nothing but dark, chaotic emptiness. From somewhere + below him he could hear the wind in the tree-tops. + </p> + <p> + “This way,” she directed. “Be careful.” + </p> + <p> + They walked to the very edge of the palisading. It was scarcely more than + a couple of feet high. She pointed downwards. + </p> + <p> + “Can you see?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + By degrees his eyes faintly penetrated the darkness. It was as though they + were looking down a precipice. The descent was perfectly sheer for nearly + a hundred feet. At the bottom were the pine trees. + </p> + <p> + “Come here again in the morning,” she whispered. “You will see then. I + brought you here to show you the place. It was here that the accident + happened.” + </p> + <p> + “What accident?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin’s,” she continued. “It was here that he went over. He was + picked up with both his legs broken. They never thought that he would + live.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel shivered a little. As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he + saw more distinctly than ever the sheer fall, the tops of the bending + trees below. + </p> + <p> + “What a horrible thing!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “It was more horrible than you know,” she continued, dropping her voice a + little, almost whispering in his ear. “I do not know why I tell you this—you, + a stranger—but if I do not tell some one, I think that the memory of + it will drive me mad. It was no accident at all. Mr. Fentolin was thrown + over!” + </p> + <p> + “By whom?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She clung to his arm for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, don’t ask me!” she begged. “No one knows. My uncle gave out, as soon + as he was conscious, that it was an accident.” + </p> + <p> + “That, at any rate, was fine of him,” Hamel declared. + </p> + <p> + She shivered. + </p> + <p> + “He was proud, at least, of our family name. Whatever credit he deserves + for it, he must have. It was owing to that accident that we became his + slaves: nothing but that—his absolute slaves, to wait upon him, if + he would, hand and foot. You see, he has never been able to marry. His + life was, of course, ruined. So the burden came to us. We took it up, + little thinking what was in store for us. Five years ago we came here to + live. Gerald wanted to go into the army; I wanted to travel with my + mother. Gerald has done all the work secretly, but he has never been + allowed to pass his examinations. I have never left England except to + spend two years at the strictest boarding-school in Paris, to which I was + taken and fetched away by one of his creatures. We live here, with the + shadow of this thing always with us. We are his puppets. If we hesitate to + do his bidding, he reminds us. So far, we have been his creatures, body + and soul. Whether it will go on, I cannot say—oh, I cannot say! It + is bad for us, but—there is mother, too. He makes her life a perfect + hell!” + </p> + <p> + A roar of wind came booming once more across the marshes, bending the + trees which grew so thickly beneath them and which ascended precipitately + to the back of the house. The French windows behind rattled. She looked + around nervously. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid of him all the time,” she murmured. “He seems to overhear + everything—he or his creatures. Listen!” + </p> + <p> + They were silent for several moments. He whispered in her ear so closely + that through the darkness he could, see the fire in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are telling me half,” he said. “Tell me everything. Who threw your + uncle over the parapet?” + </p> + <p> + She stood by his side, motionless and trembling. + </p> + <p> + “It was the passion of a moment,” she said at last, speaking hoarsely. “I + cannot tell you. Listen! Listen!” + </p> + <p> + “There is no one near,” Hamel assured her. “It is the wind which shakes + the windows. I wish that you would tell me everything. I would like to be + your friend. Believe me, I have that desire, really. There are so many + things which I do not understand. That it is dull here for you, of course, + is natural, but there is something more than that. You seem always to fear + something. Your uncle is a selfish man, naturally, although to look at him + he seems to have the disposition of an angel. But beyond that, is there + anything of which you are afraid? You seem all the time to live in fear.” + </p> + <p> + She suddenly clutched his hand. There was nothing of affection in her + touch, and yet he felt a thrill of delight. + </p> + <p> + “There are strange things which happen here,” she whispered, “things which + neither Gerald nor I understand. Yet they terrify us. I think that very + soon the end will come. Neither of us can stand it very much longer. We + have no friends. Somehow or other, he seems to manage to keep us always + isolated.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not go away from here,” Hamel said firmly, “at present. Mind, I + am not at all sure that, living this solitary life as you do, you have not + become a little over-nervous; that you have not exaggerated the fear of + some things. To me your uncle seems merely quixotic and egregiously + selfish. However that may be, I am going to remain.” She clutched once + more at his arm, her finger was upraised. They listened together. From + somewhere behind them came the clear, low wailing of a violin. + </p> + <p> + “It is Mr. Fentolin,” she whispered. “Please come in; let us go in at + once. He only plays when he is excited. I am afraid! Oh, I am afraid that + something is going to happen!” + </p> + <p> + She was already round the corner and on her way to the main terrace. He + followed her closely. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + “Let us follow the example of all great golfers,” Hamel said. “Let us for + this morning, at any rate, imagine that your whole world is encompassed + within these eighteen holes. We have been sent here in a moment of good + humour by your tyrant uncle. The sun shines, and the wind is from the + west. Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “That is all very well for you,” she retorted, smiling, “but I have topped + my drive.” + </p> + <p> + “Purely an incident,” he assured her. “The vicissitudes of the game do not + enter into the question. I have driven a ball far above my usual form, but + I am not gloating over it. I prefer to remember only that I am going to + spend the next two hours with you.” + </p> + <p> + She played her shot, and they walked for a little way together. She was + suddenly silent. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” she said finally, just a little gravely, “I am not at all + used to speeches of this sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you ought to be,” he declared. “Nothing but the lonely life you have + been living has kept you from hearing them continually.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed a little at the impotence of her rebuff and paused for a + moment to make her next shot. Hamel, standing a little on one side, + watched her appraisingly. Her short, grey tweed skirt was obviously the + handiwork of an accomplished tailor. Her grey stockings and suede shoes + were immaculate and showed a care for her appearance which pleased him. + Her swing, too, revealed a grace, the grace of long arms and a supple + body, at which previously he had only guessed. The sunshine seemed to have + brought out a copper tinge from her abundant brown hair. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” he remarked, “I think I am beginning to like your uncle. + Great idea of his, sending us off here directly after breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Her face darkened for a moment, and he realised his error. The same + thought, indeed, had been in both their minds. Mr. Fentolin’s courteous + suggestion had been offered to them almost in the shape of a command. It + was scarcely possible to escape from the reflection that he had desired to + rid himself of their presence for the morning. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he went on, “I knew that these links were good—quite + famous, aren’t they?” + </p> + <p> + “I have played on so few others,” she told him. “I learned my golf here + with King, the professional.” + </p> + <p> + He took off his cap and handed it to his caddy. He himself was beginning + already to look younger. The long blue waves came rippling up the creeks. + The salt wind, soft with sunshine, blew in their faces. The marshes on the + landward side were mauve with lavender blossom. In the distance, the + red-tiled cottages nestled deep among a background of green trees and + rising fields. + </p> + <p> + “This indeed is a land of peace,” he declared. “If I hadn’t to give you + quite so many strokes, I should be really enjoying myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t play like a man who has been living abroad for a great many + years,” she remarked. “Tell me about some of the places you have visited?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let us talk seriously,” he begged. “I’ll tell you of them but let + it be later on. This morning I feel that the spring air is getting into my + head. I have an absurd desire to talk nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “So far,” she admitted, “you haven’t been altogether unsuccessful.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are alluding,” he replied, “to the personal remarks I was + emboldened to make on my way here, I can only say that they were excused + by their truthfulness.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not at all sure that you have known me long enough to tell me what + colours suit me,” she demurred. + </p> + <p> + “Then what will you say,” he enquired, “if I admire the angle of that + quill in your hat?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t do it,” she laughed. “If you continue like this, I may have to go + home.” + </p> + <p> + “You have sent the car away,” he reminded her cheerfully. “You would + simply have to sit upon the balcony and reflect upon your wasted morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I decline to talk upon the putting green,” she said. “It puts me off. If + you will stand perfectly quiet and say nothing, I will play the like.” + </p> + <p> + They moved off presently to the next teeing ground. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe this nonsense is good for our golf,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “It is immensely good for us as human beings,” he protested. + </p> + <p> + They had played the ninth hole and turned for home. On their right now was + a shimmering stretch of wet sand and a thin line of sea, in the distance. + The tide, receding, had left little islands of virgin sand, grass tufted, + the home of countless sea-gulls. A brown-sailed fishing boat was racing + for the narrow entrance to the tidal way. + </p> + <p> + “I am beginning to understand what there is about this coast which + fascinated my father so,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Are you?” she answered gravely. “Years ago I used to love it, but not + now.” + </p> + <p> + He tried to change the subject, but the gloom had settled upon her face + once more. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know what it is like,” she went on, as they walked side by side + after their balls, “to live day and night in fear, with no one to talk to—no + one, that is to say, who is not under the same shadow. Even the voices of + the wind and the sea, and the screaming of the birds, seem to bring always + an evil message. There is nothing kindly or hopeful even in the sunshine. + At night, when the tide comes thundering in as it does so often at this + time of the year, one is afraid. There is so much to make one afraid!” + </p> + <p> + She had turned pale again, notwithstanding the sunshine and the freshening + wind. He laid his hand lightly upon her arm. She suffered his touch + without appearing to notice it. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you mustn’t talk like that!” he pleaded. “Do you know what you make + me feel like?” + </p> + <p> + She came back from the world of her own unhappy imaginings. + </p> + <p> + “Really, I forgot myself,” she declared, with a little smile. “Never mind, + it does one good sometimes. One up, are you? Henceforth, then, golf—all + the rigour of the game, mind.” + </p> + <p> + He fell in with her mood, and their conversation touched only upon the + game. On the last green he suffered defeat and acknowledged it with a + little grimace. + </p> + <p> + “If I might say so, Miss Fentolin,” he protested, “you are a little too + good for your handicap. I used to play a very reasonable scratch myself, + but I can’t give you the strokes.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless your long absence abroad,” she began slowly, “has affected your + game.” + </p> + <p> + “I was round in eighty-one,” he grumbled. + </p> + <p> + “You must have travelled in many countries,” she continued, “where golf + was an impossibility.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” he admitted. “Let us stay and have lunch and try again.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head with a little sigh of regret. + </p> + <p> + “You see, the car is waiting,” she pointed out. “We are expected home. I + shan’t be a minute putting my clubs away.” + </p> + <p> + They sped swiftly along the level road towards St. David’s Hall. Far in + the distance they saw it, built upon that strange hill, with the sunlight + flashing in its windows. He looked at it long and curiously. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said, “that yours is the most extraordinarily situated house + I have ever seen. Fancy a gigantic mound like that in the midst of an + absolutely flat marsh.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “There is no other house quite like it in England,” she said. “I suppose + it is really a wonderful place. Have you looked at the pictures?” + </p> + <p> + “Not carefully,” he told her. + </p> + <p> + “You must before you leave,” she insisted. “Mr. Fentolin is a great judge, + and so was his father.” + </p> + <p> + Their road curved a little to the sea, and at its last bend they were + close to the pebbly ridge on which the Tower was built. He touched the + electric bell and stopped the car. + </p> + <p> + “Do let us walk along and have a look at my queer possession once more,” + he begged. “Luncheon, you told me, is not till half-past one, and it is a + quarter to now.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated for a moment and then assented. They left the car and walked + along the little track, bordered with white posts, which led on to the + ridge. To their right was the village, separated from them only by one + level stretch of meadowland; in the background, the hall. They turned + along the raised dike just inside the pebbly beach, and she showed her + companion the narrow waterway up to the village. At its entrance was a + tall iron upright, with a ladder attached and a great lamp at the top. + </p> + <p> + “That is to show them the way in at night, isn’t it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she told him. “Mr. Fentolin had it placed there. And yet,” she went + on, “curiously enough, since it was erected, there have been more wrecks + than ever.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn’t seem a dangerous beach,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + She pointed to a spot about fifty yards from the Tower. It was the spot to + which the woman whom he had met on the day of his arrival had pointed. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t see them,” she said; “they are always out of sight, even when + the tide is at the lowest—but there are some hideous sunken rocks + there. ‘The Daggers,’ they call them. One or two fishing boats have been + lost on them, trying to make the village. When Mr. Fentolin put up the + lamp, every one thought that it would be quite safe to try and get in at + night. This winter, though, there have been three wrecks which no one + could understand. It must be something in the currents, or a sort of + optical illusion, because in the last shipwreck one man was saved, and he + swore that at the time they struck the rock, they were headed straight for + the light.” + </p> + <p> + They had reached the Tower now. Hamel became a little absorbed. They + walked around it, and he tried the front door. He found, as he had + expected, that it opened readily. He looked around him for several + moments. + </p> + <p> + “Your uncle has been here this morning,” he remarked quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Very likely.” + </p> + <p> + “That outhouse,” he continued, “must be quite a large place. Have you any + idea what it is he works upon there?” + </p> + <p> + “None,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + He looked around him once more. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin has been preparing for my coming,” he observed. “I see that + he has moved a few of his personal things.” + </p> + <p> + She made no reply, only she shivered a little as she stepped back into the + sunshine. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe you like my little domicile,” he remarked, as they + started off homeward. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t,” she admitted curtly. + </p> + <p> + “In the train,” he reminded her, “you seemed rather to discourage my + coming here. Yet last night, after dinner—” + </p> + <p> + “I was wrong,” she interrupted. “I should have said nothing, and yet I + couldn’t help it. I don’t suppose it will make any difference.” + </p> + <p> + “Make any difference to what?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you,” she confessed. “Only I have a strange antipathy to + the place. I don’t like it. My uncle sometimes shuts himself up here for + quite a long time. We have an idea, Gerald and I, that things happen here + sometimes which no one knows of. When he comes back, he is moody and + ill-tempered, or else half mad with excitement. He isn’t always the + amiable creature whom you have met. He has the face of an angel, but there + are times—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don’t let’s talk about him,” Hamel begged, as her voice faltered. + “Now that I am going to stay in the neighbourhood for a few days, you must + please remember that it is partly your responsibility. You are not going + to shut yourself up, are you? You’ll come and play golf again?” + </p> + <p> + “If he will let me,” she promised. + </p> + <p> + “I think he will let you, right enough,” Hamel observed. “Between you and + me, I rather think he hates having me down at the Tower at all. He will + encourage anything that takes me away, even as far as the Golf Club.” + </p> + <p> + They were approaching the Hall now. She was looking once more as she had + looked last night. She had lost her colour, her walk was no longer + buoyant. She had the air of a prisoner who, after a brief spell of + liberty, enters once more the place of his confinement. Gerald came out to + meet them as they climbed the stone steps which led on to the terrace. He + glanced behind as he greeted them, and then almost stealthily took a + telegram from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “This came for you,” he remarked, handing it to Hamel. “I met the boy + bringing it out of the office.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel tore it open, with a word of thanks. Gerald stood in front of him as + he read. + </p> + <p> + “If you wouldn’t mind putting it away at once,” he asked, a little + uncomfortably. “You see, the telegraph office is in the place, and my + uncle has a queer rule that every telegram is brought to him before it is + delivered.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel did not speak for a moment. He was looking at the few words scrawled + across the pink sheet with a heavy black pencil: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Make every enquiry in your neighbourhood + for an American, John P. Dunster, entrusted + with message of great importance, addressed to + Von Dusenberg, The Hague. Is believed to + have been in railway accident near Wymondham + and to have been taken from inn by young man + in motor-car. Suggest that he is being + improperly detained.” + </pre> + <p> + Hamel crumpled up the telegram and thrust it into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “By-the-by,” he asked, as they ascended the steps, “what did you say the + name of this poor fellow was who is lying ill up-stairs?” + </p> + <p> + Gerald hesitated for a moment. Then he answered as though a species of + recklessness had seized him. + </p> + <p> + “He called himself Mr. John P. Dunster.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin, having succeeded in getting rid of his niece and his + somewhat embarrassing guest for at least two hours, was seated in his + study, planning out a somewhat strenuous morning, when his privacy was + invaded by Doctor Sarson. + </p> + <p> + “Our guest,” the latter announced, in his usual cold and measured tones, + “has sent me to request that you will favour him with an interview.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin laid his pen deliberately down. + </p> + <p> + “So soon,” he murmured. “Very well, Sarson, I am at his service. Say that + I will come at once.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin lost no time in paying this suggested visit. Mr. John P. + Dunster, shaved and clothed, was seated in an easy-chair drawn up to the + window of his room, smoking what he was forced to confess was a very + excellent cigar. He turned his head as the door opened, and Mr. Fentolin + waved his hand pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” he declared, “this is most agreeable. I had an idea, Mr. + Dunster, that I should find you a reasonable person. Men of your eminence + in their profession usually are.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster looked at the speaker curiously. + </p> + <p> + “And what might my profession be, Mr. Fentolin?” he asked. “You seem to + know a great deal about me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” Mr. Fentolin admitted. “I do know a great deal.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster knocked the ash from his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “I have been the hearer of several important + communications from my side of the Atlantic to England and to the + Continent, and I have always known that there was a certain amount of risk + in the business. Once I had an exceedingly narrow shave,” he continued + reminiscently, “but this is the first time I have ever been dead up + against it, and I don’t mind confessing that you’ve fairly got me puzzled. + Who the mischief are you, Mr. Fentolin, and what are you interfering + about?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled queerly. + </p> + <p> + “I am what you see,” he replied. “I am one of those unfortunate human + beings who, by reason of their physical misfortunes, are cut off from the + world of actual life. I have been compelled to seek distraction in strange + quarters. I have wealth—great wealth I suppose I should say; an + inordinate curiosity, a talent for intrigue. As to the direction in which + I carry on my intrigues, or even as to the direct interests which I study, + that is a matter, Mr. Dunster, upon which I shall not gratify your + curiosity nor anybody else’s. But, you see, I am admitting freely that it + does interest me to interfere in great affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “But how on earth did you get to know about me,” Mr. Dunster asked, “and + my errand? You couldn’t possibly have got me here in an ordinary way. It + was an entire fluke.” + </p> + <p> + “There, you speak with some show of reason. I have a nephew whom you have + met, who is devoted to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gerald Fentolin,” Mr. Dunster remarked drily. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” Mr. Fentolin declared. “Well, I admit frankly the truth of + what you say. Your—shall we say capture, was by way of being a + gigantic fluke. My nephew’s instructions simply were to travel down by the + train to Harwich with you, to endeavour to make your acquaintance, to + follow you on to your destination, and, if any chance to do so occurred, + to relieve you of your pocket-book. That, however, I never ventured to + expect. What really happened was, as you have yourself suggested, almost + in the nature of a miracle. My nephew showed himself to be possessed of + gifts which were a revelation to me. He not only succeeded in travelling + with you by the special train, but after its wreck he was clever enough to + bring you here, instead of delivering you over to the mercies of a village + doctor. I really cannot find words to express my appreciation of my + nephew’s conduct.” + </p> + <p> + “I could,” Mr. Dunster muttered, “very easily!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps our points of view might differ.” + </p> + <p> + “We have spent a very agreeable few minutes in explanations,” Mr. Dunster + continued. “Would it be asking too much if I now suggest that we remove + the buttons from our foils?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” Mr. Fentolin assented smoothly. “Your first question to + yourself, under these circumstances, would naturally be: ‘What does Mr. + Fentolin want with me?’ I will answer that question for you. All that I + ask—it is really very little—is the word agreed upon.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster held his cigar a little way off and looked steadfastly at his + host for a moment. “So you have interpreted my cipher?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin spread out the palms of his hands in a delicate gesture. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mr. Dunster,” he said, “one of the simplest, I think, that was + ever strung together. I am somewhat of an authority upon ciphers.” + </p> + <p> + “I gather,” Mr. Dunster went on, although his cigar was burning itself + out, “that you have broken the seal of my dispatches?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin closed his eyes as though he had heard a discord. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing so clumsy as that, I hope,” he murmured gently. “I will not + insult a person of your experience and intelligence by enumerating the + various ways in which the seal of a dispatch may be liquefied. It is quite + true that I have read with much pleasure the letter which you are carrying + from a certain group of very distinguished men to a certain person now in + The Hague. The letter, however, is replaced in its envelope; the seal is + still there. You need have no fears whatever concerning it. All that I + require is that one word from you.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I give you that one word?” Mr. Dunster asked. + </p> + <p> + “If you give it me, as I think you will,” Mr. Fentolin replied suavely, “I + shall then telegraph to my agent, or rather I should say to a dear friend + of mine who lives at The Hague, and that single word will be cabled by him + from The Hague to New York.” + </p> + <p> + “And in that case,” Mr. Dunster enquired, “what would become of me?” + </p> + <p> + “You would give us the great pleasure of your company here for a very + brief visit,” Mr. Fentolin answered. “We should, I can assure you, do our + very best to entertain you.” + </p> + <p> + “And the dispatch which I am carrying to The Hague?” + </p> + <p> + “Would remain here with you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster knocked the ash from his cigar. Without being a man of great + parts, he was a shrewd person, possessed of an abundant stock of common + sense. He applied himself, for a few moments, to a consideration of this + affair, without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Mr. Fentolin,” he said at last, “you must really forgive me, but I + can’t see what you’re driving at. You are an Englishman, are you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I am an Englishman,” Mr. Fentolin confessed “or rather,” he added, with + ghastly humour, “I am half an Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + “You are, I am sure,” Mr. Dunster continued, “a person of intelligence, a + well-read person, a person of perceptions. Surely you can see and + appreciate the danger with which your country is threatened?” + </p> + <p> + “With regard to political affairs,” Mr. Fentolin admitted, “I consider + myself unusually well posted—in fact, the study of the diplomatic + methods of the various great Powers is rather a hobby of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet,” Mr. Dunster persisted, “you do not wish this letter delivered to + that little conference in The Hague, which you must be aware is now + sitting practically to determine the fate of your nation?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish,” Mr. Fentolin replied, “I do not intend, that that letter + shall be delivered. Why do you worry about my point of view? I may have a + dozen reasons. I may believe that it will be good for my country to suffer + a little chastisement.” + </p> + <p> + “Or you may,” Mr. Dunster suggested, glancing keenly at his host, “be the + paid agent of some foreign Power.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “My means,” he pointed out, “should place me above such suspicion. My + income, I really believe, is rather more than fifty thousand pounds a + year. I should not enter into these adventures, which naturally are not + entirely dissociated from a certain amount of risk, for the purposes of + financial gain.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster was still mystified. + </p> + <p> + “Granted that you do so from pure love of adventure,” he declared, “I + still cannot see why you should range yourself on the side of your + country’s enemies. + </p> + <p> + “In time,” Mr. Fentolin observed, “even that may become clear to you. At + present, well—just that word, if you please?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he decided, “I do not think so. I cannot make up my mind to tell you + that word.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin gave no sign of annoyance or even disappointment. He simply + sighed. His eyes were full of a gentle sympathy, his face indicated a + certain amount of concern. + </p> + <p> + “You distress me,” he declared. “Perhaps it is my fault. I have not made + myself sufficiently clear. The knowledge of that word is a necessity to + me. Without it I cannot complete my plans. Without it I very much fear, + dear Mr. Dunster, that your sojourn among us may be longer than you have + any idea of.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster laughed a little derisively. + </p> + <p> + “We’ve passed those days,” he remarked. “I’ve done my best to enter into + the humour of this situation, but there are limits. You can’t keep + prisoners in English country houses, nowadays. There are a dozen ways of + communicating with the outside world, and when that’s once done, it seems + to me that the position of Squire Fentolin of St. David’s Hall might be a + little peculiar.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled, very slightly, still very blandly. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my stalwart friend, I fear that you are by nature an optimist! I am + not a betting man, but I am prepared to bet you a hundred pounds to one + that you have made your last communication with the outside world until I + say the word.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster was obviously plentifully supplied with either courage or + bravado, for he only laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Then you had better make up your mind at once, Mr. Fentolin, how soon + that word is to be spoken, or you may lose your money,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sat very quietly in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “You mean, then,” he asked, “that you do not intend to humour me in this + little matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not intend,” Mr. Dunster assured him, “to part with that word to you + or to any one else in the the world. When my message has been presented to + the person to whom it has been addressed, when my trust is discharged, + then and then only shall I send that cablegram. That moment can only + arrive at the end of my journey.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin leaned now a little forward in his chair. His face was still + smooth and expressionless, but there was a queer sort of meaning in his + words. + </p> + <p> + “The end of your journey,” he said grimly, “may be nearer than you think.” + </p> + <p> + “If I am not heard of in The Hague to-morrow at the latest,” Mr. Dunster + pointed out, “remember that before many more hours have passed, I shall be + searched for, even to the far corners of the earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me assure you,” Mr. Fentolin promised serenely, “that though your + friends search for you up in the skies or down in the bowels of the earth, + they will not find you. My hiding-places are not as other people’s.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster beat lightly with his square, blunt forefinger upon the table + which stood by his side. + </p> + <p> + “That’s not the sort of talk I understand,” he declared curtly. “Let us + understand one another, if we can. What is to happen to me, if I refuse to + give you that word?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin held his hand in front of his eyes, as though to shut out + some unwelcome vision. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” he exclaimed, “how unpleasant! Why should you force me to + disclose my plans? Be content, dear Mr. Dunster, with the knowledge of + this one fact: we cannot part with you. I have thought it over from every + point of view, and I have come to that conclusion; always presuming,” he + went on, “that the knowledge of that little word of which we have spoken + remains in its secret chamber of your memory.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster smoked in silence for a few minutes. + </p> + <p> + “I am very comfortable here,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “You delight me,” Mr. Fentolin murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Your cook,” Mr. Dunster continued, “has won my heartfelt appreciation. + Your cigars and wines are fit for any nobleman. Perhaps, after all, this + little rest is good for me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin listened attentively. + </p> + <p> + “Do not forget,” he said, “that there is always a limit fixed, whether it + be one day, two days, or three days.” + </p> + <p> + “A limit to your complacence, I presume?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin assented. + </p> + <p> + “Obviously, then,” Mr. Dunster concluded, “you wish those who sent me to + believe that my message has been delivered. Yet there I must confess that + you puzzle me. What I cannot see is, to put it bluntly, where you come in. + Any one of the countries represented at this little conference would only + be the gainers by the miscarriage of my message, which is, without doubt, + so far as they are concerned, of a distasteful nature. Your own country + alone could be the sufferer. Now what interest in the world, then, is + there left—what interest in the world can you possibly represent—which + can be the gainer by your present action?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin’s eyes grew suddenly a little brighter. There was a light + upon his face strange to witness. + </p> + <p> + “The power which is to be the gainer,” he said quietly, “is the power + encompassed by these walls.” + </p> + <p> + He touched his chest; his long, slim fingers were folded upon it. + </p> + <p> + “When I meet a man whom I like,” he continued softly, “I take him into my + confidence. Picture me, if you will, as a kind of Puck. Haven’t you heard + that with the decay of the body comes sometimes a malignant growth in the + brain; a Caliban-like desire for evil to fall upon the world; a desire to + escape from the loneliness of suffering, the isolation of black misery?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. John P. Dunster let his cigar burn out. He looked steadfastly at this + strange little figure whose chair had imperceptibly moved a little nearer + to his. + </p> + <p> + “You know what the withholding of this message you carry may mean,” Mr. + Fentolin proceeded. “You come here, bearing to Europe the word of a great + people, a people whose voice is powerful enough even to still the + gathering furies. I have read your ciphered message. It is what I feared. + It is my will, mine—Miles Fentolin’s—that that message be not + delivered.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” Mr. Dunster muttered under his breath, “whether you are in + earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “In your heart,” Mr. Fentolin told him, “you know that I am. I can see the + truth in your face. Now, for the first time, you begin to understand.” + </p> + <p> + “To a certain extent,” Mr. Dunster admitted. “Where I am still in the + dark, however, is why you should expect that I should become your + confederate. It is true that by holding me up and obstructing my message, + you may bring about the evil you seek, but unless that word is cabled back + to New York, and my senders believe that my message has been delivered, + there can be no certainty. What has been trusted to me as the safest means + of transmission, might, in an emergency, be committed to a cable.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent reasoning,” Fentolin agreed. “For the very reasons you name + that word will be given.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster’s face was momentarily troubled. There was something in the + still, cold emphasis of this man’s voice which made him shiver. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” Mr. Fentolin went on, “that I spend a great fortune buying + the secrets of the world, that I live from day to day with the risk of + ignominious detection always hovering about me—do you think that I + do this and am yet unprepared to run the final risks of life and death? + Have you ever talked with a murderer, Mr. Dunster? Has curiosity ever + taken you within the walls of Sing Sing? Have you sat within the cell of a + doomed man and felt the thrill of his touch, of his close presence? Well, + I will not ask you those questions. I will simply tell you that you are + talking to one now.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster had forgotten his extinct cigar. He found it difficult to + remove his eyes from Mr. Fentolin’s face. He was half fascinated, half + stirred with a vague, mysterious fear. Underneath these wild words ran + always that hard note of truth. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to be in earnest,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” Mr. Fentolin assured him quietly. “I have more than once been + instrumental in bringing about the death of those who have crossed my + purposes. I plead guilty to the weakness of Nero. Suffering and death are + things of joy to me. There!” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure,” Mr. Dunster said slowly, “that I ought not to wring your + neck.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled. His chair receded an inch or two. There was never a + time when his expression had seemed more seraphic. + </p> + <p> + “There is no emergency of that sort,” he remarked, “for which I am not + prepared.” + </p> + <p> + His little revolver gleamed for a minute beneath his cuff. He backed his + chair slowly and with wonderful skill towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “We will fix the period of your probation, Mr. Dunster, at—say, + twenty-four hours,” he decided. “Please make yourself until then entirely + at home. My cook, my cellar, my cigar cabinets, are at your disposal. If + some happy impulse,” he concluded, “should show you the only reasonable + course by dinnertime, it would give me the utmost pleasure to have you + join us at that meal. I can promise you a cheque beneath your plate which + even you might think worth considering, wine in your glass which kings + might sigh for, cigars by your side which even your Mr. Pierpont Morgan + could not buy. Au revoir!” + </p> + <p> + The door opened and closed. Mr. Dunster sat staring into the open space + like a man still a little dazed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + The beautiful but somewhat austere front of St. David’s Hall seemed, in a + sense, transformed, as Hamel and his companion climbed the worn grey steps + which led on to the broad sweep of terrace. Evidently visitors had + recently arrived. A dark, rather good-looking woman, with pleasant round + face and a ceaseless flow of conversation, was chattering away to Mr. + Fentolin. By her side stood another woman who was a stranger to Hamel—thin, + still elegant, with tired, worn face, and the shadow of something in her + eyes which reminded him at once of Esther. She wore a large picture hat + and carried a little Pomeranian dog under her arm. In the background, an + insignificant-looking man with grey side-whiskers and spectacles was + beaming upon everybody. Mr. Fentolin waved his hand and beckoned to Hamel + and Esther as they somewhat hesitatingly approached. + </p> + <p> + “This is one of my fortunate mornings, you see, Esther!” he exclaimed, + smiling. “Lady Saxthorpe has brought her husband over to lunch. Lady + Saxthorpe,” he added, turning to the woman at his side, “let me present to + you the son of one of the first men to realise the elusive beauty of our + coast. This is Mr. Hamel, son of Peter Hamel, R.A.—the Countess of + Saxthorpe.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Saxthorpe, who had been engaged in greeting Esther, held out her hand + and smiled good-humouredly at Hamel. + </p> + <p> + “I know your father’s work quite well,” she declared, “and I don’t wonder + that you have made a pilgrimage here. They tell me that he painted + nineteen pictures—pictures of importance, that is to say—within + this little area of ten miles. Do you paint, Mr. Hamel?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” Hamel answered. + </p> + <p> + “Our friend Hamel,” Mr. Fentolin intervened, “woos other and sterner + muses. He fights nature in distant countries, spans her gorges with iron + bridges, stems the fury of her rivers, and carries to the boundary of the + world that little twin line of metal which brings men like ants to the + work-heaps of the universe. My dear Florence,” he added, suddenly turning + to the woman at his other side, “for the moment I had forgotten. You have + not met our guest yet. Hamel, this is my sister-in-law, Mrs. Seymour + Fentolin.” + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand to him, unnaturally thin and white, covered with + jewels. Again he saw something in her eyes which stirred him vaguely. + </p> + <p> + “It is so nice that you are able to spend a few days with us, Mr. Hamel,” + she said quietly. “I am sorry that I have been too indisposed to make your + acquaintance earlier.” + </p> + <p> + “And,” Mr. Fentolin continued, “you must know my young friend here, too. + Mr. Hamel—Lord Saxthorpe.” + </p> + <p> + The latter shook hands heartily with the young man. + </p> + <p> + “I knew your father quite well,” he announced. “Queer thing, he used to + hang out for months at a time at that little shanty on the beach there. + Hardest work in the world to get him away. He came over to dine with us + once or twice, but we saw scarcely anything of him. I hope his son will + not prove so obdurate.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” Hamel murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hamel came into these parts to claim his father’s property,” Mr. + Fentolin said. “However, I have persuaded him to spend a day or two up + here before he transforms himself into a misanthrope. What of his golf, + Esther, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hamel plays very well, indeed,” the girl replied. + </p> + <p> + “Your niece was too good for me,” Hamel confessed. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled. + </p> + <p> + “The politeness of this younger generation,” he remarked, “keeps the truth + sometimes hidden from us. I perceive that I shall not be told who won. + Lady Saxthorpe, you are fortunate indeed in the morning you have chosen + for your visit. There is no sun in the world like an April sun, and no + corner of the earth where it shines with such effect as here. Look + steadily to the eastward of that second dike and you will see the pink + light upon the sands, which baffled every one until our friend Hamel came + and caught it on his canvas.” + </p> + <p> + “I do see it,” Lady Saxthorpe murmured. “What eyes you have, Mr. Fentolin! + What perception for colour!” + </p> + <p> + “Dear lady,” Mr. Fentolin said, “I am one of those who benefit by the law + of compensations. On a morning like this I can spend hours merely feasting + my eyes upon this prospect, and I can find, if not happiness, the next + best thing. The world is full of beautiful places, but the strange part of + it is that beauty has countless phases, and each phase differs in some + subtle and unexplainable manner from all others. Look with me fixedly, + dear Lady Saxthorpe. Look, indeed, with more than your eyes. Look at that + flush of wild lavender, where it fades into the sands on one side, and + strikes the emerald green of that wet seamoss on the other. Look at the + liquid blue of that tongue of sea which creeps along its bed through the + yellow sands, through the dark meadowland, which creeps and oozes and + widens till in an hour’s time it will have become a river. Look at my sand + islands, virgin from the foot of man, the home of sea-gulls, the islands + of a day. There may be other and more beautiful places. There is none + quite like this.” + </p> + <p> + “I pity you no longer,” Lady Saxthorpe asserted fervently. “The eyes of + the artist are a finer possession than the limbs of the athlete.” + </p> + <p> + The butler announced luncheon, and they all trooped in. Hamel found + himself next to Lady Saxthorpe. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Mr. Fentolin has been so kind,” she confided to him as they took + their places. “I came in fear and trembling to ask for a very small cheque + for my dear brother’s diocese. My brother is a colonial bishop, you know. + Can you imagine what Mr. Fentolin has given me?” + </p> + <p> + Hamel wondered politely. Lady Saxthorpe continued with an air of triumph. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand pounds! Just fancy that—a thousand pounds! And some + people say he is so difficult,” she went on, dropping her voice. “Mrs. + Hungerford came all the way over from Norwich to beg for the infirmary + there, and he gave her nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “What was his excuse?” Hamel asked. + </p> + <p> + “I think he told her that it was against his principles to give to + hospitals,” Lady Saxthorpe replied. “He thinks that they should be + supported out of the rates.” + </p> + <p> + “Some people have queer ideas of charity,” Hamel remarked. “Now I am + afraid that if I had been Mr. Fentolin, I would have given the thousand + pounds willingly to a hospital, but not a penny to a mission.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin looked suddenly down the table. He was some distance away, + but his hearing was wonderful. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear Hamel,” he said, “believe me, missions are very wonderful + things. It is only from a very careful study of their results that I have + brought myself to be a considerable supporter of those where I have some + personal knowledge of the organisation. Hospitals, on the other hand, + provide for the poor what they ought to be able to provide for themselves. + The one thing to avoid in the giving away of money is pauperisation. What + do you think, Florence?” + </p> + <p> + His sister-in-law, who was seated at the other end of the table, looked + across at him with a bright but stereotyped smile. + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you, of course, Miles. I always agree with you. Mr. Fentolin + has the knack of being right about most things,” she continued, turning to + Lord Saxthorpe. “His judgment is really wonderful.” + </p> + <p> + “Wish we could get him to come and sit on the bench sometimes, then,” Lord + Saxthorpe remarked heartily. “Our neighbours in this part of the world are + not overburdened with brains. By-the-by,” he went on, “that reminds me. + You haven’t got such a thing as a mysterious invalid in the house, have + you?” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s rather curious silence. Mr. Fentolin was sitting like + a carved figure, with a glass of wine half raised to his lips. Gerald had + broken off in the middle of a sentence and was staring at Lord Saxthorpe. + Esther was sitting perfectly still, her face grave and calm, her eyes + alone full of fear. Lord Saxthorpe was not an observant man and he + continued, quite unconscious of the sensation which his question had + aroused. + </p> + <p> + “Sounds a silly thing to ask you, doesn’t it? They’re all full of it at + Wells, though. I sat on the bench this morning and went into the + police-station for a moment first. Seems they’ve got a long dispatch from + Scotland Yard about a missing man who is supposed to be in this part of + the world. He came down in a special train on Tuesday night—the + night of the great flood—and his train was wrecked at Wymondham. + After that he was taken on by some one in a motor-car. Colonel Renshaw + wanted me to allude to the matter from the bench, but it seemed to me that + it was an affair entirely for the police.” + </p> + <p> + As though suddenly realising the unexpected interest which his words had + caused, Lord Saxthorpe brought his sentence to a conclusion and glanced + enquiringly around the table. + </p> + <p> + “A man could scarcely disappear in a civilised neighbourhood like this,” + Mr. Fentolin remarked quietly, “but there is a certain amount of + coincidence about your question. May I ask whether it was altogether a + haphazard one?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely,” Lord Saxthorpe declared. “The idea seems to be that the + fellow was brought to one of the houses in the neighbourhood, and we were + all rather chaffing one another this morning about it. Inspector Yardley—the + stout fellow with the beard, you know—was just starting off in his + dog-cart to make enquiries round the neighbourhood. If any one in fiction + wants a type of the ridiculous detective, there he is, ready-made.” + </p> + <p> + “The coincidence of your question,” Mr. Fentolin said smoothly, “is + certainly a strange one. The mysterious stranger is within our gates.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Saxthorpe, who had been out of the conversation for far too long, + laid down her knife and fork. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mr. Fentolin!” she exclaimed. “My dear Mrs. Fentolin! This is + really most exciting! Do tell us all about it at once. I thought that the + man was supposed to have been decoyed away in a motor-car. Do you know his + name and all about him?” + </p> + <p> + “There are a few minor points,” Mr. Fentolin murmured, “such as his + religious convictions and his size in boots, which I could not swear + about, but so far as regards his name and his occupation, I think I can + gratify your curiosity. He is a Mr. John P. Dunster, and he appears to be + the representative of an American firm of bankers, on his way to Germany + to conclude a loan.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless my soul!” Lord Saxthorpe exclaimed wonderingly. “The fellow is + actually here under this roof! But who brought him? How did he find his + way?” + </p> + <p> + “Better ask Gerald,” Mr. Fentolin replied. “He is the abductor. It seems + that they both missed the train from Liverpool Street, and Mr. Dunster + invited Gerald to travel down in his special train. Very kind of him, but + might have been very unlucky for Gerald. As you know, they got smashed up + at Wymondham, and Gerald, feeling in a way responsible for him, brought + him on here; quite properly, I think. Sarson has been looking after him, + but I am afraid he has slight concussion of the brain.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall remember this all my life,” Lord Saxthorpe declared solemnly, “as + one of the most singular coincidences which has ever come within my + personal knowledge. Perhaps after lunch, Mr. Fentolin, you will let some + of your people telephone to the police-station at Wells? There really is + an important enquiry respecting this man. I should not be surprised,” he + added, dropping his voice a little for the benefit of the servants, “to + find that Scotland Yard needed him on their own account.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” Mr. Fentolin remarked, “he is quite safe, for Sarson tells + me there is no chance of his being able to travel, at any rate for + twenty-four hours.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Saxthorpe shivered. + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t you afraid to have him in the house?” she asked, “a man who is + really and actually wanted by Scotland Yard? When one considers that + nothing ever happens here except an occasional shipwreck in the winter and + a flower-show in the summer, it does sound positively thrilling. I wonder + what he has done.” + </p> + <p> + They discussed the subject of Mr. Dunster’s possible iniquities. + Meanwhile, a young man carrying his hat in his hand had slipped in past + the servants and was leaning over Mr. Fentolin’s chair. He laid two or + three sheets of paper upon the table and waited while his employer glanced + them through and dismissed him with a little nod. + </p> + <p> + “My wireless has been busy this morning,” Mr. Fentolin remarked. “We seem + to have collected about forty messages from different battleships and + cruisers. There must be a whole squadron barely thirty miles out.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t really think,” Lady Saxthorpe asked, “that there is any fear of + war, do you, Mr. Fentolin?” + </p> + <p> + He answered her with a certain amount of gravity. “Who can tell? The + papers this morning were bad. This conference at The Hague is still + unexplained. France’s attitude in the matter is especially mysterious.” + </p> + <p> + “I am a strong supporter of Lord Roberts,” Lord Saxthorpe said, “and I + believe in the vital necessity of some scheme for national service. At the + same time, I find it hard to believe that a successful invasion of this + country is within the bounds of possibility.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite agree with you, Lord Saxthorpe,” Mr. Fentolin declared smoothly. + “All the same, this Hague Conference is a most mysterious affair. The + papers this morning are ominously silent about the fleet. From the tangle + of messages we have picked up, I should say, without a doubt, that some + form of mobilisation is going on in the North Sea. If Lady Saxthorpe + thinks it warm enough, shall we take our coffee upon the terrace?” + </p> + <p> + “The terrace, by all means,” her ladyship assented, rising from her place. + “What a wonderful man you are, Mr. Fentolin, with your wireless + telegraphy, and your telegraph office in the house, and telephones. Does + it really amuse you to be so modern?” + </p> + <p> + “To a certain extent, yes,” Mr. Fentolin sighed, as he guided his chair + along the hall. “When my misfortune first came, I used to speculate a good + deal upon the Stock Exchange. That was really the reason I went in for all + these modern appliances.” + </p> + <p> + “And now?” she asked. “What use do you make of them now?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled quietly. He looked out sea-ward, beyond the sky-line, + from whence had come to him, through the clouds, that tangle of messages. + </p> + <p> + “I like to feel,” he said, “that the turning wheel of life is not + altogether out of earshot. I like to dabble just a little in the knowledge + of these things.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Saxthorpe came strolling up to them. + </p> + <p> + “You won’t forget to telephone about this guest of yours?” he asked + fussily. + </p> + <p> + “It is already done,” Mr. Fentolin assured him. “My dear sister, why so + silent?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fentolin turned slowly towards him. She, too, had been standing with + her eyes fixed upon the distant sea-line. Her face seemed suddenly to have + aged, her forced vivacity to have departed. Her little Pomeranian rubbed + against her feet in vain. Yet at the sound of Mr. Fentolin’s voice, she + seemed to come back to herself as though by magic. + </p> + <p> + “I was looking where you were looking,” she declared lightly, “just trying + to see a little way beyond. So silly, isn’t it? Chow-Chow, you bad little + dog, come and you shall have your dinner.” + </p> + <p> + She strolled off, humming a tune to herself. Lord Saxthorpe watched her + with a shadow upon his plain, good-humoured face. + </p> + <p> + “Somehow or other,” he remarked quietly, “Mrs. Fentolin never seems to + have got over the loss of her husband, does she? How long is it since he + died?” + </p> + <p> + “Eight years,” Mr. Fentolin replied. “It was just six months after my own + accident.” + </p> + <p> + “I am losing a great deal of sympathy for you, Mr. Fentolin,” Lady + Saxthorpe confessed, coming over to his side. “You have so many resources, + there is so much in life which you can do. You paint, as we all know, + exquisitely. They tell me that you play the violin like a master. You have + unlimited time for reading, and they say that you are one of the greatest + living authorities upon the politics of Europe. Your morning paper must + bring you so much that is interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” Mr. Fentolin admitted, “that I have compensations which no + one can guess at, compensations which appeal to me more as time steals on. + And yet—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “And yet?” Lady Saxthorpe repeated interrogatively. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin was watching Gerald drive golf balls from the lawn beneath. + He pointed downwards. + </p> + <p> + “I was like that when I was his age,” he said quietly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin remained upon the terrace long after the departure of his + guests. He had found a sunny corner out of the wind, and he sat there with + a telescope by his side and a budget of newspapers upon his knee. On some + pretext or another he had detained all the others of the household so that + they formed a little court around him. Even Hamel, who had said something + about a walk, had been induced to stop by an appealing glance from Esther. + Mr. Fentolin was in one of his most loquacious moods. For some reason or + other, the visit of the Saxthorpes seemed to have excited him. He talked + continually, with the briefest pauses. Every now and then he gazed + steadily across the marshes through his telescope. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Saxthorpe,” he remarked, “has, I must confess, greatly excited my + curiosity as to the identity of our visitor. Such a harmless-looking + person, he seems, to be causing such a commotion. Gerald, don’t you feel + your responsibility in the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I do!” Gerald replied, with unexpected grimness. “I feel my + responsibility deeply.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin, who was holding the telescope to his eye, touched Hamel on + the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “My young friend,” he said, “your eyes are better than mine. You see the + road there? Look along it, between the white posts, as far as you can. + What do you make of that black speck?” + </p> + <p> + Hamel held the telescope to his eye and steadied it upon the little tripod + stand. + </p> + <p> + “It looks like a horse and trap,” he announced. “Good!” Mr. Fentolin + declared. “It seemed so to me, but I was not sure. My eyes are weak this + afternoon. How many people are in the trap?” + </p> + <p> + “Two,” Hamel answered. “I can see them distinctly now. One man is driving, + another is sitting by his side. They are coming this way.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin blew his whistle. Meekins appeared almost directly. His + master whispered a word in his ear. The man at once departed. + </p> + <p> + “Let me make use of your eyes once more,” Mr. Fentolin begged. “About + these two men in the trap, Mr. Hamel. Is one of them, by any chance, + wearing a uniform?” + </p> + <p> + “They both are,” Hamel replied. “The man who is driving is wearing a + peaked hat. He looks like a police inspector. The man by his side is an + ordinary policeman.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + </p> + <p> + “It is very interesting,” he said. “Let us hope that we shall not see an + arrest under my roof. I should feel it a reflection upon my hospitality. I + trust, I sincerely trust, that this visit does not bode any harm to Mr. + John P. Dunster.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald rose impatiently to his feet and swung across the terrace. Mr. + Fentolin, however, called him back. + </p> + <p> + “Gerald,” he advised, “better not go away. The inspector may desire to ask + you questions. You will have nothing to conceal. It was a natural and + delightful impulse of yours to bring the man who had befriended you, and + who was your companion in that disaster, straight to your own home for + treatment and care. It was an admirable impulse, my boy. You have nothing + to be ashamed of.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell him, too—” Gerald began. + </p> + <p> + “Be careful, Gerald.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin’s words seemed to be charged with a swift, rapier-like note. + The boy broke off in his speech. He looked at Hamel and was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” Mrs. Fentolin murmured, “I am sure there is no need for us to + talk about this poor man as though anybody had done anything wrong in + having him here. This, I suppose, must be the Inspector Yardley whom Lord + Saxthorpe spoke of.” + </p> + <p> + “A very intelligent-looking officer, I am sure,” Mr. Fentolin remarked. + “Gerald, go and meet him, if you please. I should like to speak to him out + here.” + </p> + <p> + The dog-cart had drawn up at the front door, and the inspector had already + alighted. Gerald intervened as he was in the act of questioning the + butler. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin would like to speak to you, inspector,” he said, “if you + will come this way.” + </p> + <p> + The inspector followed Gerald and saluted the little group solemnly. Mr. + Fentolin held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You got my telephone message, inspector?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “We have not received any message that I know of, sir,” the inspector + replied. “I have come over here in accordance with instructions received + from headquarters—in fact from Scotland Yard.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” Mr. Fentolin assented. “You’ve come over, I presume, to make + enquiries concerning Mr. John P. Dunster?” + </p> + <p> + “That is the name of the gentleman, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I only understood to-day from my friend Lord Saxthorpe,” Mr. Fentolin + continued, “that Mr. Dunster was being enquired about as though he had + disappeared. My nephew brought him here after the railway accident at + Wymondham, since when he has been under the care of my own physician. I + trust that you have nothing serious against him?” + </p> + <p> + “My first duty, sir,” the inspector pronounced, “is to see the gentleman + in question.” + </p> + <p> + “By all means,” Mr. Fentolin agreed. “Gerald, will you take the inspector + up to Mr. Dunster’s rooms? Or stop, I will go myself.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin started his chair and beckoned the inspector to follow him. + Meekins, who was waiting inside the hall, escorted them by means of the + lift to the second floor. They made their way to Mr. Dunster’s room. Mr. + Fentolin knocked softly at the door. It was opened by the nurse. + </p> + <p> + “How is the patient?” Mr. Fentolin enquired. + </p> + <p> + Doctor Sarson appeared from the interior of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Still unconscious,” he reported. “Otherwise, the symptoms are favourable. + He is quite unfit,” the doctor added, looking steadily at the inspector, + “to be removed or questioned.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no idea of anything of the sort,” Mr. Fentolin explained. “It is + Inspector Yardley’s duty to satisfy himself that Mr. Dunster is here. It + is necessary for the inspector to see your patient, so that he can make + his report at headquarters.” + </p> + <p> + Doctor Sarson bowed. + </p> + <p> + “That is quite simple, sir,” he said. “Please step in.” + </p> + <p> + They all entered the room, which was large and handsomely furnished. + Through the open windows came a gentle current of fresh air. Mr. Dunster + lay in the midst of all the luxury of fine linen sheets and embroidered + pillow-cases. The inspector looked at him stolidly. + </p> + <p> + “Is he asleep?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The doctor shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “It is the third day of his concussion,” he whispered. “He is still + unconscious. He will remain in the same condition for another two days. + After that he will begin to recover.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin touched the inspector on the arm. + </p> + <p> + “You see his clothing at the foot of the bed,” he pointed out. “His linen + is marked with his name. That is his dressing-case with his name painted + on it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite satisfied, sir,” the inspector announced. “I will not intrude + any further.” + </p> + <p> + They left the room. Mr. Fentolin himself escorted the inspector into the + library and ordered whisky and cigars. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know whether I am unreasonably curious,” Mr. Fentolin remarked, + “but is it really true that you have had enquiries from Scotland Yard + about the poor fellow up-stairs?” + </p> + <p> + “We had a very important enquiry indeed, sir,” the inspector replied. “I + have instructions to telegraph all I have been able to discover, + immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon my putting it plainly,” Mr. Fentolin asked, “but is our friend a + criminal?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t go so far as that, sir,” the inspector answered. “I know of no + charge against him. I don’t know that I have the right to say so much,” he + added, sipping his whisky and soda, “but putting two and two together, I + should rather come to the conclusion that he was a person of some + political importance.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a criminal at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Not as I know of,” the inspector assented. “That isn’t the way I read the + enquiries at all.” + </p> + <p> + “You relieve me,” Mr. Fentolin declared. “Now what about his possessions?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s a man coming down shortly from Scotland Yard,” the inspector + announced, a little gloomily. “My orders were to touch nothing, but to + locate him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you’ve succeeded so far,” Mr. Fentolin remarked. “Here he is, and + here I think he will stay until some days after your friend from Scotland + Yard can get here.” + </p> + <p> + “It does seem so, indeed,” the inspector agreed. “To me he looks terrible + ill. But there’s one thing sure, he’s having all the care and attention + that’s possible. And now, sir, I’ll not intrude further upon your time. + I’ll just make my report, and you’ll probably have a visit from the + Scotland Yard man sometime within the next few days.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin escorted the inspector to his dog-cart, shook hands with him, + and watched him drive off. Only Mrs. Seymour Fentolin remained upon the + terrace. He glided over to her side. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Florence,” he asked, “where are the others?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hamel and Esther have gone for a walk,” she answered. “Gerald has + disappeared somewhere. Has anything—is everything all right?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” Mr. Fentolin replied easily. “All that the inspector desired + was to see Mr. Dunster. He has seen him. The poor fellow was unfortunately + unconscious, but our friend will at least be able to report that he was in + good hands and well cared for.” + </p> + <p> + “Unconscious,” Mrs. Fentolin repeated. “I thought that he was better.” + </p> + <p> + “One is always subject to those slight relapses in an affair of + concussion,” Mr. Fentolin explained. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fentolin laid down her work and leaned a little towards her + brother-in-law. Her hand rested upon his. Her voice had fallen to a + whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Miles,” she said, “forgive me, but are you sure that you are not getting + a little out of your depth? Remember that there are some risks which are + not worth while.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true,” he answered. “And there are some risks, my dear Florence, + which are worth every drop of blood in a man’s body, and every breath of + life. The peace of Europe turns upon that man up-stairs. It is worth + taking a little risk for, worth a little danger. I have made my plans, and + I mean to carry them through. Tell me, when I was up-stairs, this fellow + Hamel—was he talking confidentially to Gerald?” + </p> + <p> + “Not particularly.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure that I trust him,” Mr. Fentolin continued. “He had a + telegram yesterday from a man in the Foreign Office, a telegram which I + did not see. He took the trouble to walk three miles to send the reply to + it from another office.” + </p> + <p> + “But after all,” Mrs. Fentolin protested, “you know who he is. You know + that he is Peter Hamel’s son. He had a definite purpose in coming here.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Quite true,” he admitted. “But for that, Mr. Hamel would have found a + little trouble before now. As it is, he must be watched. If any one comes + between me and the things for which I am scheming to-day, they will risk + death.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fentolin sighed. She was watching the figures of Esther and Hamel far + away in the distance, picking their way across the last strip of marshland + which lay between them and the sea. + </p> + <p> + “Miles,” she said earnestly, “you take advice from no one. You will go + your own way, I know. And yet, it seems to me that life holds so many + compensations for you without your taking these terrible risks. I am not + thinking of any one else. I am not pleading to you for the sake of any one + else. I am thinking only of yourself. I have had a sort of feeling ever + since this man was brought into the house, that trouble would come of it. + To me the trouble seems to be gathering even now.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin laughed softly, a little contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “Presentiments,” he scoffed, “are the excuses of cowards. Don’t be afraid, + Florence. Remember always that I look ahead. Do you think that I could + stay here contented with what you call my compensations—my art, the + study of beautiful things, the calm epicureanism of the sedate and simple + life? You know very well that I could not do that. The craving for other + things is in my heart and blood. The excitement which I cannot have in one + way, I must find in another, and I think that before many nights have + passed, I shall lie on my pillow and hear the guns roar, hear the + footsteps of the great armies of the world moving into battle. It is for + that I live, Florence.” + </p> + <p> + She took up her knitting again. Her eyes were fixed upon the sky-line. + Twice she opened her lips, but twice no words came. + </p> + <p> + “You understand?” he whispered. “You begin to understand, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him only for a moment and back at her work. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + In the middle of that night Hamel sat up in bed, awakened with a sudden + start by some sound, only the faintest echo of which remained in his + consciousness. His nerves were tingling with a sense of excitement. He sat + up in bed and listened. Suddenly it came again—a long, low moan of + pain, stifled at the end as though repressed by some outside agency. He + leaped from his bed, hurried on a few clothes, and stepped out on to the + landing. The cry had seemed to him to come from the further end of the + long corridor—in the direction, indeed, of the room where Mr. + Dunster lay. He made his way there, walking on tiptoe, although his feet + fell noiselessly upon the thick carpet. A single light was burning from a + bracket in the wall, insufficient to illuminate the empty spaces, but + enough to keep him from stumbling. The corridor towards the south end + gradually widened, terminating in a splendid high window with stained + glass, a broad seat, and a table. On the right, the end room was Mr. + Dunster’s apartment, and on the left a flight of stairs led to the floor + above. Hamel stood quite still, listening. There was a light in the room, + as he could see from under the door, but there was no sound of any one + moving. Hamel listened intently, every sense strained. Then the sound of a + stair creaking behind diverted his attention. He looked quickly around. + Gerald was descending. The boy’s face was white, and his eyes were filled + with fear. Hamel stepped softly back from the door and met him at the foot + of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear that cry?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + Gerald nodded. + </p> + <p> + “It woke me up. What do you suppose it was?” Hamel shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Some one in pain,” he replied. “I don’t understand it. It came from this + room.” + </p> + <p> + “You know who sleeps there?” Gerald asked hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + Hamel nodded. + </p> + <p> + “A man with concussion of the brain doesn’t cry out like that. Besides, + did you hear the end of it? It sounded as though some one were choking + him. Hush!” + </p> + <p> + They had spoken only in bated breath, but the door of the room before + which they were standing was suddenly opened. Meekins stood there, fully + dressed, his dark, heavy face full of somber warning. He started a little + as he saw the two whispering together. Gerald addressed him almost + apologetically. + </p> + <p> + “We both heard the same sound, Meekins. Is any one ill? It sounded like + some one in pain.” + </p> + <p> + The man hesitated. Then from behind his shoulder came Mr. Fentolin’s + still, soft voice. There was a little click, and Meekins, as though + obeying an unseen gesture, stepped back. Mr. Fentolin glided on to the + threshold. He was still dressed. He propelled his chair a few yards down + the corridor and beckoned them to approach. + </p> + <p> + “I am so sorry,” he said softly, “that you should have been disturbed, Mr. + Hamel. We have been a little anxious about our mysterious guest. Doctor + Sarson fetched me an hour ago. He discovered that it was necessary to + perform a very slight operation, merely the extraction of a splinter of + wood. It is all over now, and I think that he will do very well.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding this very plausible explanation, Hamel was conscious of + the remains of an uneasiness which he scarcely knew how to put into words. + </p> + <p> + “It was a most distressing cry,” he observed doubtfully, “a cry of fear as + well as of pain.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” Mr. Fentolin remarked compassionately. “I am afraid that + for a moment or two he must have suffered acutely. Doctor Sarson is very + clever, however, and there is no doubt that what he did was for the best. + His opinion is that by to-morrow morning there will be a marvellous + change. Good night, Mr. Hamel. I am quite sure that you will not be + disturbed again.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel neither felt nor showed any disposition to depart. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin,” he said, “I hope that you will not think that I am + officious or in any way abusing your hospitality, but I cannot help + suggesting that as Dr. Sarson is purely your household physician, the + relatives of this man Dunster might be better satisfied if some second + opinion were called in. Might I suggest that you telephone to Norwich for + a surgeon?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin showed no signs of displeasure. He was silent for a moment, + as though considering the matter. + </p> + <p> + “I am not at all sure, Mr. Hamel, that you are not right,” he admitted + frankly. “I believe that the case is quite a simple one, but on the other + hand it would perhaps be more satisfactory to have an outside opinion. If + Mr. Dunster is not conscious in the morning, we will telephone to the + Norwich Infirmary.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it would be advisable,” Hamel agreed. + </p> + <p> + “Good night!” Mr. Fentolin said once more. “I am sorry that your rest has + been disturbed.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel, however, still refused to take the hint. His eyes were fixed upon + that closed door. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin,” he asked, “have you any objection to my seeing Mr. + Dunster?” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s intense silence. A sudden light had burned in Mr. + Fentolin’s eyes. His fingers gripped the side of his chair. Yet when he + spoke there were no signs of anger in his tone. It was a marvellous effort + of self-control. + </p> + <p> + “There is no reason, Mr. Hamel,” he said, “why your curiosity should not + be gratified. Knock softly at the door, Gerald.” + </p> + <p> + The boy obeyed. In a moment or two Doctor Sarson appeared on the + threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Our guest, Mr. Hamel,” Mr. Fentolin explained in a whisper, “has been + awakened by this poor fellow’s cry. He would like to see him for a + moment.” + </p> + <p> + Doctor Sarson opened the door. They all passed in on tiptoe. The doctor + led the way towards the bed upon which Mr. Dunster was lying, quite still. + His head was bandaged, and his eyes closed. His face was ghastly. Gerald + gave vent to a little muttered exclamation. Mr. Fentolin turned to him + quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Gerald!” + </p> + <p> + The boy stood still, trembling, speechless. Mr. Fentolin’s eyes were + riveted upon him. The doctor was standing, still and dark, a motionless + image. + </p> + <p> + “Is he asleep?” Hamel asked. + </p> + <p> + “He is under the influence of a mild anaesthetic,” Doctor Sarson + explained. “He is doing very well. His case is quite simple. By to-morrow + morning he will be able to sit up and walk about if he wishes to.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel looked steadily at the figure upon the bed. Mr. Dunster’s breathing + was regular, and his eyes were closed, but his colour was ghastly. + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t look like getting up for a good many days to come,” Hamel + observed. + </p> + <p> + The doctor led the way towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “The man has a fine constitution,” he said. “I feel sure that if you wish + you will be able to talk to him to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + They separated outside in the passage. Mr. Fentolin bade his guest a + somewhat restrained good night, and Gerald mounted the staircase to his + room. Hamel, however, had scarcely reached his door before Gerald + reappeared. He had descended the stair-case at the other end of the + corridor. He stood for a moment looking down the passage. The doors were + all closed. Even the light had been extinguished. + </p> + <p> + “May I come in for a moment, please?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + Hamel nodded. + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure! Come in and have a cigarette if you will. I shan’t feel + like sleep for some time.” + </p> + <p> + They entered the room, and Gerald threw himself into an easy-chair near + the window. Hamel wheeled up another chair and produced a box of + cigarettes. + </p> + <p> + “Queer thing your dropping across that fellow in the way you did,” he + remarked. “Just shows how one may disappear from the world altogether, and + no one be a bit the wiser.” + </p> + <p> + The boy was sitting with folded arms. His expression was one of deep + gloom. + </p> + <p> + “I only wish I’d never brought him here,” he muttered. “I ought to have + known better.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t he as well off here as anywhere else?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that he is?” Gerald demanded, looking across at Hamel. + </p> + <p> + There was a brief silence. + </p> + <p> + “We can scarcely do your uncle the injustice,” Hamel remarked, “of + imagining that he can possibly have any reason or any desire to deal with + that man except as a guest.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really believe that?” Gerald asked. + </p> + <p> + Hamel rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, young man,” he said, “this is getting serious. You and I are + at cross-purposes. If you like, you shall have the truth from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “I was warned about your uncle before I came down into this part of the + world,” Hamel continued quietly. “I was told that he is a dangerous + conspirator, a man who sticks at nothing to gain his ends, a person + altogether out of place in these days. It sounds melodramatic, but I had + it straight from a friend. Since I have been here, I have had a telegram—you + brought it to me yourself—asking for information about this man + Dunster. It was I who wired to London that he was here. It was through me + that Scotland Yard communicated with the police station at Wells, through + me that a man is to be sent down from London. I didn’t come here as a spy—don’t + think that; I was coming here, anyhow. On the other hand, I believe that + your uncle is playing a dangerous game. I am going to have Mr. John P. + Dunster put in charge of a Norwich physician to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” the boy murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” Hamel continued, “what are you doing in this business, + anyway? You are old enough to know your own mind and to go your own way.” + </p> + <p> + “You say that because you don’t know,” Gerald declared bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “In a sense I don’t,” Hamel admitted, “and yet your sister hinted to me + only this afternoon that you and she—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know what she told you!” the boy interrupted. “We’ve worn the + chains for the last eight years. They are breaking her. They’ve broken my + mother. Sometimes I think they are breaking me. But, you know, there comes + a time—there comes a time when one can’t go on. I’ve seen some + strange things here, some that I’ve half understood, some that I haven’t + understood at all. I’ve closed my eyes. I’ve kept my promise. I’ve done + his bidding, where ever it has led me. But you know there is a time—there + is a limit to all things. I can’t go on. I spied on this man Dunster. I + brought him here. It is I who am responsible for anything that may happen + to him. It’s the last time!” + </p> + <p> + Gerald’s face was white with pain. Hamel laid his hand upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “My boy,” he said, “there are worse things in the world than breaking a + promise. When you gave it, the conditions which were existing at the time + made it, perhaps, a right and reasonable undertaking, but sometimes the + whole of the conditions under which a promise was given, change. Then one + must have courage enough to be false even to one’s word.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you talked to my sister like that?” Gerald asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “I have and I will again,” Hamel declared. “To-morrow morning I leave this + house, but before I go I mean to have the affair of this man Dunster + cleared up. Your uncle will be very angry with me, without a doubt. I + don’t care. But I do want you to trust me, if you will, and your sister. I + should like to be your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “God knows we need one!” the boy said simply. “Good night!” + </p> + <p> + Once more the house was quiet. Hamel pushed his window wide open and + looked out into the night. The air was absolutely still, there was no + wind. The only sound was the falling of the low waves upon the stony beach + and the faint scrunching of the pebbles drawn back by the ebb. He looked + along the row of windows, all dark and silent now. A rush of pleasant + fancies suddenly chased away the grim depression of the last few minutes. + Out of all this sordidness and mystery there remained at least something + in life for him to do. A certain aimlessness of purpose which had troubled + him during the last few months had disappeared. He had found an object in + life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + “To-day,” Hamel declared, as he stood at the sideboard the following + morning at breakfast-time and helped himself to bacon and eggs, “I am + positively going to begin reading. I have a case full of books down at the + Tower which I haven’t unpacked yet.” + </p> + <p> + Esther made a little grimace. + </p> + <p> + “Look at the sunshine,” she said. “There isn’t a breath of wind, either. I + think to-day that I could play from the men’s tees.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel sighed as he returned to his place. + </p> + <p> + “My good intentions are already half dissipated,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “How can we attack the other half?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Gerald, who was also on his way to the sideboard, suddenly stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” he exclaimed, looking out of the window. “Who’s going away this + morning, I wonder? There’s the Rolls-Royce at the door.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel, too, rose once more to his feet. The two exchanged swift glances. + Moved by a common thought, they both started for the door, only to find it + suddenly opened before them. Mr. Fentolin glided into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle!” Gerald exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin glanced keenly around the room. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, everybody,” he said. “My appearance at this hour of the + morning naturally surprises you. As a matter of fact, I have been up for + quite a long time. Esther dear, give me some coffee, will you, and be sure + that it is hot. If any of you want to say good-by to Mr. John P. Dunster, + you’d better hurry out.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that he is going?” Hamel asked incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “He is going,” Mr. Fentolin admitted. “I wash my hands of the man. He has + given us an infinite amount of trouble, has monopolised Doctor Sarson when + he ought to have been attending upon me—a little more hot milk, if + you please, Esther—and now, although he really is not fit to leave + his room, he insists upon hurrying off to keep an appointment somewhere on + the Continent. The little operation we spoke of last night was successful, + as Doctor Sarson prophesied, and Mr. Dunster was quite conscious and able + to sit up early this morning. We telephoned at six o’clock to Norwich for + a surgeon, who is now on his way over here, but he will not wait even to + see him. What can you do with a man so obstinate!” + </p> + <p> + Neither Hamel nor Gerald had resumed their places. The former, after a + moment’s hesitation, turned towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said, “that I should like to see the last of Mr. Dunster.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray do,” Mr. Fentolin begged. “I have said good-by to him myself, and + all that I hope is that next time you offer a wayfarer the hospitality of + St. David’s Hall, Gerald, he may be a more tractable person. This morning + I shall give myself a treat. I shall eat an old-fashioned English + breakfast. Close the door after you, if you please, Gerald.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel, with Gerald by his side, hurried out into the hall. Just as they + crossed the threshold they saw Mr. Dunster, wrapped from head to foot in + his long ulster, a soft hat upon his head and one of Mr. Fentolin’s cigars + in his mouth, step from the bottom stair into the hall and make his way + with somewhat uncertain footsteps towards the front door. Doctor Sarson + walked on one side, and Meekins held him by the arm. He glanced towards + Gerald and his companion and waved the hand which held his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “So long, my young friend!” he exclaimed. “You see, I’ve got them to let + me make a start. Next time we go about the country in a saloon car + together, I hope we’ll have better luck. Say, but I’m groggy about the + knees!” + </p> + <p> + “You’d better save your breath,” Doctor Sarson advised him grimly. “You + haven’t any to spare now, and you’ll want more than you have before you + get to the end of your journey. Carefully down the steps, mind.” + </p> + <p> + They helped him into the car. Hamel and Gerald stood under the great stone + portico, watching. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m jiggered!” the boy exclaimed, under his breath. + </p> + <p> + Hamel was watching the proceedings with a puzzled frown. To his surprise, + neither Doctor Sarson nor Meekins were accompanying the departing man. + </p> + <p> + “He’s off, right enough,” Hamel declared, as the car glided away. “Do you + understand it? I don’t.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald did not speak for several moments. His eyes were still fixed upon + the back of the disappearing car. Then he turned towards Hamel. + </p> + <p> + “There isn’t much,” he said softly, “that Mr. Fentolin doesn’t know. If + that detective was really on his way here, there wasn’t any chance of + keeping Mr. Dunster to himself. You see, the whole story is common + property. And yet, there’s something about the affair that bothers me.” + </p> + <p> + “And me,” Hamel admitted, watching the car until it became a speck in the + distance. + </p> + <p> + “He was fairly well cornered,” Gerald concluded, as they made their way + back to the dining-room, “but it isn’t like him to let go of anything so + easily.” + </p> + <p> + “So you’ve seen the last of our guest,” Mr. Fentolin remarked, as Hamel + and Gerald re-entered the dining-room. “A queer fellow—almost a new + type to me. Dogged and industrious, I should think. He hadn’t the least + right to travel, you know, and I think so long as we had taken the trouble + to telephone to Norwich, he might have waited to see the physician. Sarson + was very angry about it, but what can you do with these fellows who are + never ill? They scarcely know what physical disability means. Well, Mr. + Hamel, and how are you going to amuse yourself to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “I had thought of commencing some reading I brought with me,” Hamel + replied, “but Miss Esther has challenged me to another game of golf.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent!” Mr. Fentolin declared. “It is very kind of you indeed, Mr. + Hamel. It is always a matter of regret for me that society in these parts + is so restricted. My nephew and niece have little opportunity for enjoying + themselves. Play golf with Mr. Hamel, by all means, my dear child,” he + continued, turning to his niece. “Make the most of this glorious spring + weather. And what about you, Gerald? What are you doing to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t made up my mind yet, sir,” the boy replied. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Always that lack of initiative,” he remarked. “A lack of initiative is + one of your worst faults, I am afraid, dear Gerald.” + </p> + <p> + The boy looked up quickly. For a moment it seemed as though he were about + to make a fierce reply. He met Mr. Fentolin’s steady gaze, however, and + the words died away upon his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I rather thought,” he said, “of going into Norwich, if you could spare + me. Captain Holt has asked me to lunch at the Barracks.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin shook his head gently. + </p> + <p> + “It is most unfortunate,” he declared. “I have a commission for you later + in the day.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald continued his breakfast in silence. He bent over his plate so that + his face was almost invisible. Mr. Fentolin was peeling a peach. A servant + entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant Godfrey, sir,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + They all looked up. A trim, clean-shaven, hard-featured young man in naval + uniform was standing upon the threshold. He bowed to Esther. + </p> + <p> + “Very sorry to intrude, sir, at this hour of the morning,” he said + briskly. “Lieutenant Godfrey, my name. I am flag lieutenant of the + Britannia. You can’t see her, but she’s not fifty miles off at this + minute. I landed at Sheringham this morning, hired a car and made the best + of my way here. Message from the Admiral, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled genially. + </p> + <p> + “We are delighted to see you, Lieutenant Godfrey,” he said. “Have some + breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very good, sir,” the officer answered. “Business first. I’ll + breakfast afterwards, with pleasure, if I may. The Admiral’s compliments, + and he would take it as a favour if you would haul down your wireless for + a few days.” + </p> + <p> + “Haul down my wireless,” Mr. Fentolin repeated slowly. + </p> + <p> + “We are doing a lot of manoeuvring within range of you, and likely to do a + bit more,” the young man explained. “You are catching up our messages all + the time. Of course, we know they’re quite safe with you, but things get + about. As yours is only a private installation, we’d like you, if you + don’t mind, sir, to shut up shop for a few days.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin seemed puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear sir,” he protested, “we are not at war, are we?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” the young officer replied, “but God knows when we shall be! We + are under sealed orders, anyway, and we don’t want any risk of our plans + leaking out. That’s why we want your wireless disconnected.” + </p> + <p> + “You need say no more,” Mr. Fentolin assured him. “The matter is already + arranged. Esther, let me present Lieutenant Godfrey—my niece, Miss + Fentolin; Mr. Gerald Fentolin, my nephew; Mr. Hamel, a guest. See that + Lieutenant Godfrey has some breakfast, Gerald. I will go myself and see my + Marconi operator.” + </p> + <p> + “Awfully good of you, sir,” the young man declared, “and I am sure we are + very sorry to trouble you. In a week or two’s time you can go into + business again as much as you like. It’s only while we are fiddling around + here that the Admiral’s jumpy about things. May my man have a cup of + coffee, sir? I’d like to be on the way back in a quarter of an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin halted his chair by the side of the bell, and rang it. + </p> + <p> + “Pray make use of my house as your own, sir,” he said gravely. “From what + you leave unsaid, I gather that things are more serious than the papers + would have us believe. Under those circumstances, I need not assure you + that any help we can render is entirely yours.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin left the room. Lieutenant Godfrey was already attacking his + breakfast. Gerald leaned towards him eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Is there really going to be war?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Ask those chaps at The Hague,” Lieutenant Godfrey answered. “Doing their + best to freeze us out, or something. All I know is, if there’s going to be + fighting, we are ready for them. By-the-by, what have you got wireless + telegraphy for here, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a fad of my uncle’s,” Gerald replied. “Since his accident he amuses + himself in all sorts of queer ways.” + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Godfrey nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” he said. “I heard he was a cripple, or something of the + sort. Forgive my asking, but—you people are English, aren’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Rather!” Gerald answered. “The Fentolins have lived here for hundreds of + years. Why do you ask that?” + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Godfrey hesitated. He looked, for the moment, scarcely at his + ease. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t know,” he replied. “The old man was very anxious I should + find out. You see, a lot of information seems to have got over on the + other side, and we couldn’t think where it had leaked out, except through + your wireless. However, that isn’t likely, of course, unless you’ve got + one of these beastly Germans in your receiving-room. Now if I can borrow a + cigarette, a cigar, or a pipe of tobacco—any mortal thing to smoke—I’ll + be off, if I may. The old man turned me out at an unearthly hour this + morning, and in Sheringham all the shops were closed. Steady on, young + fellow,” he laughed, as Gerald filled his pockets with cigarettes. “Well, + here’s good morning to you, Miss Fentolin. Good morning, sir. How long + ought it to take me to get to Sheringham?” + </p> + <p> + “About forty minutes,” Gerald told him, “if your car’s any good at all.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t much,” was the somewhat dubious reply. “However, we’ll shove + along. You in the Service?” he enquired, as they walked down the hall + together. + </p> + <p> + “Hope I shall be before long,” Gerald answered. “I’m going into the army, + though.” + </p> + <p> + “Have to hurry up, won’t you?” + </p> + <p> + Gerald sighed. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a little difficult for me. Here’s your car. Good luck to you!” + </p> + <p> + “My excuses to Mr. Fentolin,” Lieutenant Godfrey shouted, “and many + thanks.” + </p> + <p> + He jumped into the automobile and was soon on his way back. Gerald watched + him until he was nearly out of sight. On the knoll, two of the wireless + operators were already at work. Mr. Fentolin sat in his chair below, + watching. The blue sparks were flashing. A message was just being + delivered. Presently Mr. Fentolin turned his chair, and with Meekins by + his side, made his way back to the house. He passed along the hall and + into his study. Gerald, who was on his way to the dining-room, heard the + ring of the telephone bell and the call for the trunk special line. He + hesitated for a moment. Then he made his way slowly down towards the study + and stood outside the door, listening. In a moment he heard Mr. Fentolin’s + clear voice, very low yet very penetrating. + </p> + <p> + “The Mediterranean Fleet will be forty-seven hours before it comes + together,” was the message he heard. “The Channel Fleet will manoeuvre off + Sheerness, waiting for it. The North Sea Fleet is seventeen units under + nominal strength.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald turned the handle of the door slowly and entered. Mr. Fentolin was + just replacing the receiver on its stand. He looked up at his nephew, and + his eyebrows came together. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by this?” he demanded. “Don’t you know that I allow no + one in here when I am telephoning on the private wire?” + </p> + <p> + Gerald closed the door behind him and summoned up all his courage. + </p> + <p> + “It is because I have heard what you were saying over the telephone that I + am here,” he declared. “I want to know to whom you were sending that + message which you have intercepted outside.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sat for a moment in his chair with immovable face. Then he + pointed to the door, which Gerald had left open behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Close that door, Gerald.” + </p> + <p> + The boy obeyed. Mr. Fentolin waited until he had turned around again. + </p> + <p> + “Come and stand over here by the side of the table,” he directed. + </p> + <p> + Gerald came without hesitation. He stood before his uncle with folded + arms. There was something else besides sullenness in his face this + morning, something which Mr. Fentolin was quick to recognise. + </p> + <p> + “I do not quite understand the nature of your question, Gerald,” Mr. + Fentolin began. “It is unlike you. You do not seem yourself. Is there + anything in particular the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Only this,” Gerald answered firmly. “I don’t understand why this naval + fellow should come here and ask you to close up your wireless because + secrets have been leaking out, and a few moments afterwards you should be + picking up a message and telephoning to London information which was + surely meant to be private. That’s all. I’ve come to ask you about it.” + </p> + <p> + “You heard the message, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I did.” + </p> + <p> + “You listened—at the keyhole?” + </p> + <p> + “I listened outside,” Gerald assented doggedly. “I am glad I listened. Do + you mind answering my question?” + </p> + <p> + “Do I mind!” Mr. Fentolin repeated softly. “Really, Gerald, your + politeness, your consideration, your good manners, astound me. I am + positively deprived of the power of speech.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll wait here till it comes to you again, then,” the boy declared + bluntly. “I’ve waited on you hand and foot, done dirty work for you, put + up with your ill-humours and your tyranny, and never grumbled. But there + is a limit! You’ve made a poor sort of creature of me, but even the worm + turns, you know. When it comes to giving away secrets about the movements + of our navy at a time when we are almost at war, I strike.” + </p> + <p> + “Melodramatic, almost dramatic, but, alas! so inaccurate,” Mr. Fentolin + sighed. “Is this a fit of the heroics, boy, or what has come over you? + Have you by any chance—forgotten?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin’s voice seemed suddenly to have grown in volume. His eyes + dilated, he himself seemed to have grown in size. Gerald stepped a little + back. He was trembling, but his expression had not changed. + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven’t forgotten. There’s a great debt we are doing our best to + pay, but there’s such a thing as asking too much, there’s such a thing as + drawing the cords to snapping point. I’m speaking for Esther and mother as + well as myself. We have been your slaves; in a way I suppose we are + willing to go on being your slaves. It’s the burden that Fate has placed + around our necks, and we’ll go through with it. All I want to point out is + that there are limits, and it seems to me that we are up against them + now.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin nodded. He had the air of a man who wishes to be reasonable. + </p> + <p> + “You are very young, my boy,” he said, “very young indeed. Perhaps that is + my fault for not having let you see more of the world. You have got some + very queer ideas into your head. A little too much novel reading lately, + eh? I might treat you differently. I might laugh at you and send you out + of the room. I won’t. I’ll tell you what you ask. I’ll explain what you + find so mysterious. The person to whom I have been speaking is my + stockbroker.” + </p> + <p> + “Your stockbroker!” Gerald exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bayliss,” he continued, “of the firm of Bayliss, Hundercombe & + Dunn, Throgmorton Court. Mr. Bayliss is a man of keen perceptions. He + understands exactly the effect of certain classes of news upon the market. + The message which I have just sent to him is practically common property. + It will be in the Daily Mail to-morrow morning. The only thing is that I + have sent it to him just a few minutes sooner than any one else can get + it. There is a good deal of value in that, Gerald. I do not mind telling + you that I have made a large fortune through studying the political + situation and securing advance information upon matters of this sort. That + fortune some day will probably be yours. It will be you who will benefit. + Meanwhile, I am enriching myself and doing no one any harm.” + </p> + <p> + “But how do you know,” Gerald persisted, “that this message would ever + have found its way to the Press? It was simply a message from one + battleship to another. It was not intended to be picked up on land. There + is no other installation but ours that could have picked it up. Besides, + it was in code. I know that you have the code, but the others haven’t.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin yawned slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Ingenious, my dear Gerald, but inaccurate. You do not know that the + message was in code, and in any case it was liable to be picked up by any + steamer within the circle. You really do treat me, my boy, rather as + though I were a weird, mischief-making person with a talent for intrigue + and crime of every sort. Look at your suspicions last night. I believe + that you and Mr. Hamel had quite made up your minds that I meant evil + things for Mr. John P. Dunster. Well, I had my chance. You saw him + depart.” + </p> + <p> + “What about his papers?” + </p> + <p> + “I will admit,” Mr. Fentolin replied, “that I read his papers. They were + of no great consequence, however, and he has taken them away with him. Mr. + Dunster, as a matter of fact, turned out to be rather a mare’s-nest. Now, + come, since you are here, finish everything you have to say to me. I am + not angry. I am willing to listen quite reasonably.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can’t!” he declared bitterly. “You always get the best of it. I’ll + only ask you one more question. Are you having the wireless hauled down?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin pointed out of the window. Gerald followed his finger. Three + men were at work upon the towering spars. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” Mr. Fentolin continued tolerantly, “that I am keeping my word + to Lieutenant Godfrey. You are suffering from a little too much + imagination, I am afraid. It is really quite a good fault. By-the-by, how + do you get on with our friend Mr. Hamel?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” the boy replied. “I haven’t seen much of him.” + </p> + <p> + “He and Esther are together a great deal, eh?” Mr. Fentolin asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + “They seem to be quite friendly.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t Mr. Hamel, by any chance, who has been putting these ideas into + your head?” + </p> + <p> + “No one has been putting any ideas into my head,” Gerald answered hotly. + “It’s simply what I’ve seen and overheard. It’s simply what I feel around, + the whole atmosphere of the place, the whole atmosphere you seem to create + around you with these brutes Sarson and Meekins; and those white-faced, + smooth-tongued Marconi men of yours, who can’t talk decent English; and + the post-office man, who can’t look you in the face; and Miss Price, who + looks as though she were one of the creatures, too, of your torture + chamber. That’s all.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin waited until he had finished. Then he waved him away. + </p> + <p> + “Go and take a long walk, Gerald,” he advised. “Fresh air is what you + need, fresh air and a little vigorous exercise. Run along now and send + Miss Price to me.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald overtook Hamel upon the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “By this time,” the latter remarked, “I suppose that our friend Mr. + Dunster is upon the sea.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald nodded silently. They passed along the corridor. The door of the + room which Mr. Dunster had occupied was ajar. As though by common consent, + they both stopped and looked in. The windows were all wide open, the bed + freshly made. The nurse was busy collecting some medicine bottles and + fragments of lint. She looked at them in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dunster has left, sir,” she told them. + </p> + <p> + “We saw him go,” Gerald replied. + </p> + <p> + “Rather a quick recovery, wasn’t it, nurse?” Hamel asked. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t a recovery at all, sir,” the woman declared sharply. “He’d no + right to have been taken away. It’s my opinion Doctor Sarson ought to be + ashamed of himself to have permitted it.” + </p> + <p> + “They couldn’t exactly make a prison of the place, could they?” Hamel + pointed out. “The man, after all, was only a guest.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s as it may be, sir,” the nurse replied. “All the same, those that + won’t obey their doctors aren’t fit to be allowed about alone. That’s the + way I look at it.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fentolin was passing along the corridor as they issued from the room. + She started a little as she saw them. + </p> + <p> + “What have you two been doing in there?” she asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + “We were just passing,” Hamel explained. “We stopped for a moment to speak + to the nurse.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dunster has gone,” she said. “You saw him go, Gerald. You saw him, + too, didn’t you, Mr. Hamel?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly did,” Hamel admitted. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fentolin pointed to the great north window near which they were + standing, through which the clear sunlight streamed a little pitilessly + upon her worn face and mass of dyed hair. + </p> + <p> + “You ought neither of you to be indoors for a minute on a morning like + this,” she declared. “Esther is waiting for you in the car, I think, Mr. + Hamel.” + </p> + <p> + Gerald passed on up the stairs to his room, but Hamel lingered. A curious + impulse of pity towards his hostess stirred him. The morning sunlight + seemed to have suddenly revealed the tragedy of her life. She stood there, + a tired, worn woman, with the burden heavy upon her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Why not come out with Miss Fentolin and me?” he suggested. “We could + lunch at the Golf Club, out on the balcony. I wish you would. Can’t you + manage it?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you very much,” she said. “Mr. Fentolin does not like to be left.” + </p> + <p> + Something in the finality of her words seemed to him curiously eloquent of + her state of mind. She did not move on. She seemed, indeed, to have the + air of one anxious to say more. In that ruthless light, the advantages of + her elegant clothes and graceful carriage were suddenly stripped away from + her. She was the abject wreck of a beautiful woman, wizened, prematurely + aged. Nothing remained but the eyes, which seemed somehow to have their + message for him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin is a little peculiar, you know,” she went on, her voice + shaking slightly with the effort she was making to keep it low. “He allows + Esther so little liberty, she sees so few young people of her own age. I + do not know why he allows you to be with her so much. Be careful, Mr. + Hamel.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice seemed suddenly to vibrate with a curious note of suppressed + fear. Almost as she finished her speech, she passed on. Her little gesture + bade him remain silent. As she went up the stairs, she began to hum scraps + of a little French air. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + Hamel sliced his ball at the ninth, and after waiting for a few minutes + patiently, Esther came to help him look for it. He was standing down on + the sands, a little apart from the two caddies who were beating out + various tufts of long grass. + </p> + <p> + “Where did it go?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you help look for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Searching for balls,” he insisted, “is a caddy’s occupation. Both the + caddies are now busy. Let us sit down here. These sand hummocks are + delightful. It is perfectly sheltered, and the sun is in our faces. Golf + is an overrated pastime. Let us sit and watch that little streak of blue + find its way up between the white posts.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “We shall lose our place.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no one behind.” + </p> + <p> + She sank on to the little knoll of sand to which he had pointed, with a + resigned sigh. + </p> + <p> + “You really are a queer person,” she declared. “You have been playing golf + this morning as though your very life depended upon it. You have scarcely + missed a shot or spoken a word. And now, all of a sudden, you want to sit + on a sand hummock and watch the tide.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been silent,” he told her, “because I have been thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be truthful,” she remarked, “but you wouldn’t call it polite, + would you?” + </p> + <p> + “The subject of my thoughts is my excuse. I have been thinking of you.” + </p> + <p> + For a single moment her eyes seemed to have caught something of that + sympathetic light with which he was regarding her. Then she looked away. + </p> + <p> + “Was it my mashie shots you were worrying about?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “It was not,” he replied simply. “It was you—you yourself.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed, not altogether naturally. + </p> + <p> + “How flattering!” she murmured. “By-the-by, you are rather a downright + person, aren’t you, Mr. Hamel?” + </p> + <p> + “So much so,” he admitted, “that I am going to tell you one or two things + now. I am going to be very frank indeed.” + </p> + <p> + She sat suddenly quite still. Her face was turned from him, but for the + first time since he had known her there was a slight undertone of colour + in her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “A week ago,” he said, “I hadn’t the faintest idea of coming into Norfolk. + I knew about this little shanty of my father’s, but I had forgotten all + about it. I came as the result of a conversation I had with a friend who + is in the Foreign Office.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with startled eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she asked quickly. “You are Mr. Hamel, aren’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” he replied. “Not only am I Richard Hamel, mining engineer, + but I really have all that reading to do I have spoken about, and I really + was looking for a quiet spot to do it in. It is true that I had this part + of the world in my mind, but I do not think that I should ever have really + decided to come here if it had not been for my friend in London. He was + very interested indeed directly I mentioned St. David’s Tower. Would you + like to know what he told me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Go on, please.” + </p> + <p> + “He told me a little of the history of your uncle, Mr. Fentolin, and what + he did not tell me at the time, he has since supplemented. I suppose,” he + added, hesitatingly, “that you yourself—” + </p> + <p> + “Please go on. Please speak as though I knew nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” Hamel continued, “he told me that your uncle was at one time + in the Foreign Office himself. He seemed to have a most brilliant career + before him when suddenly there was a terrible scandal. A political secret—I + don’t know what it was—had leaked out. There were rumours that it + had been acquired for a large sum of money by a foreign Power. Mr. + Fentolin retired to Norfolk, pending an investigation. It was just as that + time that he met with his terrible accident, and the matter was dropped.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, please,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “My friend went on to say that during the last few years Mr. Fentolin has + once again become an object of some suspicion to the head of our Secret + Service Department. For a long time they have known that he was employing + agents abroad, and that he was showing the liveliest interest in + underground politics. They believed that it was a mere hobby, born of his + useless condition, a taste ministered to, without doubt, by the occupation + of his earlier life. Once or twice lately they have had reason to change + their minds. You know, I dare say, in what a terribly disturbed state + European affairs are just now. Well, my friend had an idea that Mr. + Fentolin was showing an extraordinary amount of interest in a certain + conference which we understand is to take place at The Hague. He begged me + to come down, and to watch your uncle while I was down here, and report to + him anything that seemed to me noteworthy. Since then I have had a message + from him concerning the American whom you entertained—Mr. John P. + Dunster. It appears that he was the bearer of very important dispatches + for the Continent.” + </p> + <p> + “But he has gone,” she said quickly. “Nothing happened to him, after all. + He went away without a word of complaint. We all saw him.” + </p> + <p> + “That is quite true,” Hamel admitted. “Mr. Dunster has certainly gone. It + is rather a coincidence, however, that he should have taken his departure + just as the enquiries concerning his whereabouts had reached such a stage + that it had become quite impossible to keep him concealed any longer.” + </p> + <p> + She turned a little in her place and looked at him steadfastly. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hamel,” she said, “tell me—what of your mission? You have had + an opportunity of studying my uncle. You have even lived under his roof. + Tell me what you think.” + </p> + <p> + His face was troubled. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Fentolin,” he said, “I will tell you frankly that up to now I have + not succeeded in solving the problem of your uncle’s character. To me + personally he has been most courteous. He lives apparently a studious and + an unselfish life. I have heard him even spoken of as a philanthropist. + And yet you three—you, your mother, and your brother, who are + nearest to him, who live in his house and under his protection, have the + air of passing your days in mortal fear of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hamel,” she exclaimed nervously, “you don’t believe that! He is + always very kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Apparently,” Hamel observed drily. “And yet you must remember that you, + too, are afraid of him. I need not remind you of our conversations, but + there the truth is. You praise his virtues and his charities, you pity + him, and yet you go about with a load of fear, and—forgive me—of + secret terror in your heart, you and Gerald, too. As for your mother—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t!” she interrupted suddenly. “Why do you bring me here to talk like + this? You cannot alter things. Nothing can be altered.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t it!” he replied. “Well, I will tell you the real reason of my + having brought you here and of my having made this confession. I brought + you here because I could not bear to go on living, if not under your roof, + at any rate in the neighbourhood, without telling you the truth. Now you + know it. I am here to watch Mr. Fentolin. I am going on watching him. You + can put him on his guard, if you like; I shan’t complain. Or you can—” + </p> + <p> + He paused so long that she looked at him. He moved a little closer to her, + his fingers suddenly gripped her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Or you can marry me and come away from it all,” he concluded quietly. + “Forgive me, please—I mean it.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the startled light in her eyes was followed by a delicious + softness. Her lips were parted, she leaned a little towards him. Then + suddenly she seemed to remember. She rose with swift alertness to her + feet. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she said, “that we had better play golf.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have asked you to marry me,” he protested, as he scrambled up. + </p> + <p> + “Your caddy has found your ball a long time ago,” she pointed out, walking + swiftly on ahead. + </p> + <p> + He played his shot and caught her up. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Fentolin—Esther,” he pleaded eagerly, “do you think that I am + not in earnest? Because I am. I mean it. Even if I have only known you for + a few days, it has been enough. I think that I knew it was coming from the + moment that you stepped into my railway carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “You knew that what was coming?” she asked, raising her eyes suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “That I should care for you.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the first time you’ve told me,” she reminded him, with a queer + little smile. “Oh, forgive me, please! I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t + want to have you tell me so. It’s all too ridiculous and impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it? And why?” + </p> + <p> + “I have only known you for three days.” + </p> + <p> + “We can make up for that.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t—care about you. I have never thought of any one in that + way. It is absurd,” she went on. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have to, sometime or other,” he declared. “I’ll take you + travelling with me, show you the world, new worlds, unnamed rivers, + untrodden mountains. Or do you want to go and see where the little brown + people live among the mimosa and the cherry blossoms? I’ll take you so far + away that this place and this life will seem like a dream.” + </p> + <p> + Her breath caught a little. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t, please,” she begged. “You know very well—or rather you don’t + know, perhaps, but I must tell you—that I couldn’t. I am here, tied + and bound, and I can’t escape.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! dear, don’t believe it,” he went on earnestly. “There isn’t any bond + so strong that I won’t break it for you, no knot I won’t untie, if you + give me the right.” + </p> + <p> + They were climbing slowly on to the tee. He stepped forward and pulled her + up. Her hand was cold. Her eyes were raised to his, very softly yet almost + pleadingly. + </p> + <p> + “Please don’t say anything more,” she begged. “I can’t—quite bear it + just now. You know, you must remember—there is my mother. Do you + think that I could leave her to struggle alone?” + </p> + <p> + His caddy, who had teed the ball, and who had regarded the proceedings + with a moderately tolerant air, felt called upon at last to interfere. + </p> + <p> + “We’d best get on,” he remarked, pointing to two figures in the distance, + “or they’ll say we’ve cut in.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel smote his ball far and true. On a more moderate scale she followed + his example. They descended the steps together. + </p> + <p> + “Love-making isn’t going to spoil our golf,” he whispered, smiling, as he + touched her fingers once more. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him almost shyly. + </p> + <p> + “Is this love-making?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + They walked together from the eighteenth green towards the club-house. A + curious silence seemed suddenly to have enveloped them. Hamel was + conscious of a strange exhilaration, a queer upheaval of ideas, an + excitement which nothing in his previous life had yet been able to yield + him. The wonder of it amazed him, kept him silent. It was not until they + reached the steps, indeed, that he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “On our way home—” he began. + </p> + <p> + She seemed suddenly to have stiffened. He looked at her, surprised. She + was standing quite still, her hand gripping the post, her eyes fixed upon + the waiting motor-car. The delicate softness had gone from her face. Once + more that look of partly veiled suffering was there, suffering mingled + with fear. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” she whispered, under her breath. “Look! It is Mr. Fentolin! He has + come for us himself; he is there in the car.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin, a strange little figure lying back among the cushions of the + great Daimler, raised his hat and waved it to them. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, children,” he cried. “You see, I am here to fetch you myself. + The sunshine has tempted me. What a heavenly morning! Come and sit by my + side, Esther, and fight your battle all over again. That is one of the + joys of golf, isn’t it?” he asked, turning to Hamel. “You need not be + afraid of boring me. To-day is one of my bright days. I suppose that it is + the sunshine and the warm wind. On the way here we passed some fields. I + could swear that I smelt violets. Where are you going, Esther?” + </p> + <p> + “To take my clubs to my locker and pay my caddy,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hamel will do that for you,” Mr. Fentolin declared. “Come and take + your seat by my side, and let us wait for him. I am tired of being alone.” + </p> + <p> + She gave up her clubs reluctantly. All the life seemed to have gone from + her face. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t mother come with you?” she asked simply. + </p> + <p> + “To tell you the truth, dear Esther,” he answered, “when I started, I had + a fancy to be alone. I think—in fact I am sure—that your + mother wanted to come. The sunshine, too, was tempting her. Perhaps it was + selfish of me not to bring her, but then, there is a great deal to be + forgiven me, isn’t there, Esther?” + </p> + <p> + “A great deal,” she echoed, looking steadily ahead of her. + </p> + <p> + “I came,” he went on, “because it occurred to me that, after all, I had my + duties as your guardian, dear Esther. I am not sure that we can permit + flirtations, you know. Let me see, how old are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-one,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “In a magazine I was reading the other day,” he continued, “I was + interested to observe that the modern idea as regards marriage is a + changed one. A woman, they say, should not marry until she is twenty-seven + or twenty-eight—a very excellent idea. I think we agree, do we not, + on that, Esther?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” she replied. “I have never thought about the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” he went on, “we will make up our minds to agree. Twenty-seven or + twenty-eight, let us say. A very excellent age! A girl should know her own + mind by then. And meanwhile, dear Esther, would it be wise, I wonder, to + see a little less of our friend Mr. Hamel? He leaves us to-day, I think. + He is very obstinate about that. If he were staying still in the house, + well, it might be different. But if he persists in leaving us, you will + not forget, dear, that association with a guest is one thing; association + with a young man living out of the house is another. A great deal less of + Mr. Hamel I think that we must see.” + </p> + <p> + She made no reply whatever. Hamel was coming now towards them. + </p> + <p> + “Really a very personable young man,” Mr. Fentolin remarked, studying him + through his eyeglass. “Is it my fancy, I wonder, as an observant person, + or is he just a little—just a little taken with you, Esther? A pity + if it is so—a great pity.” + </p> + <p> + She said nothing, but her hand which rested upon the rug was trembling a + little. + </p> + <p> + “If you have an opportunity,” Mr. Fentolin suggested, dropping his voice, + “you might very delicately, you know—girls are so clever at that + sort of thing—convey my views to Mr. Hamel as regards his leaving us and + its effect upon your companionship. You understand me, I am sure?” + </p> + <p> + For the first time she turned her head towards him. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” she said, “that you have some particular reason for not + wishing Mr. Hamel to leave St. David’s Hall.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled benignly. + </p> + <p> + “You do my hospitable impulses full justice, dear Esther,” he declared. + “Sometimes I think that you understand me almost as well as your dear + mother. If, by any chance, Mr. Hamel should change his mind as to taking + up his residence at the Tower, I think you would not find me in any sense + of the word an obdurate or exacting guardian. Come along, Mr. Hamel. That + seat opposite to us is quite comfortable. You see, I resign myself to the + inevitable. I have come to fetch golfers home to luncheon, and I compose + myself to listen. Which of you will begin the epic of missed putts and + brassey shots which failed by a foot to carry?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + Hamel sat alone upon the terrace, his afternoon coffee on a small table in + front of him. His eyes were fixed upon a black speck at the end of the + level roadway which led to the Tower. Only a few minutes before, Mr. + Fentolin, in his little carriage, had shot out from the passage beneath + the terrace, on his way to the Tower. Behind him came Meekins, bending + over his bicycle. Hamel watched them both with thoughtful eyes. There were + several little incidents in connection with their expedition which he + scarcely understood. + </p> + <p> + Then there came at last the sound for which he had been listening, the + rustle of a skirt along the terraced way. Hamel turned quickly around, + half rising to his feet, and concealing his disappointment with + difficulty. It was Mrs. Seymour Fentolin who stood there, a little dog + under each arm; a large hat, gay with flowers, upon her head. She wore + patent shoes with high heels, and white silk stockings. She had, indeed, + the air of being dressed for luncheon at a fashionable restaurant. As she + stooped to set the dogs down, a strong waft of perfume was shaken from her + clothes. + </p> + <p> + “Are you entirely deserted, Mr. Hamel?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” he replied. “Miss Esther went, I think, to look for you. My host,” + he added, pointing to the black speck in the distance, “begged me to defer + my occupation of the Tower for an hour or so, and has gone down there to + collect some of his trifles.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes followed his outstretched hand. She seemed to him to shiver for a + moment. + </p> + <p> + “You really mean, then, that you are going to leave us?” she asked, + accepting the chair which he had drawn up close to his. + </p> + <p> + He smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I scarcely came on a visit to St. David’s Hall, did I?” he reminded + her. “It has been delightfully hospitable of Mr. Fentolin to have insisted + upon my staying on here for these few days, but I could not possibly + inflict myself upon you all for an unlimited period.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fentolin sat quite still for a time. In absolute repose, if one could + forget her mass of unnaturally golden hair, the forced and constant smile, + the too liberal use of rouge and powder, the nervous motions of her head, + it was easily to be realised that there were still neglected attractions + about her face and figure. Only, in these moments of repose, an intense + and ageing weariness seemed to have crept into her eyes and face. It was + as though she had dropped the mask of incessant gaiety and permitted a + glimpse of her real self to steal to the surface. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hamel,” she said quietly, “I dare say that even during these few days + you have realised that Mr. Fentolin is a very peculiar man.” + </p> + <p> + “I have certainly observed—eccentricities,” Hamel assented. + </p> + <p> + “My life, and the lives of my two children,” she went on, “is devoted to + the task of ministering to his happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t that rather a heavy sacrifice?” he asked. Mrs. Seymour Fentolin + looked down the long, narrow way along which Mr. Fentolin had passed. He + was out of sight now, inside the Tower. Somehow or other, the thought + seemed to give her courage and dignity. She spoke differently, without + nervousness or hurry. + </p> + <p> + “To you, Mr. Hamel,” she said, “it may seem so. We who make it know of its + necessity.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed his head. It was not a subject for him to discuss with her. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin has whims,” she went on, “violent whims. We all try to + humour him. He has his own ideas about Gerald’s bringing up. I do not + agree with them, but we submit. Esther, too, suffers, perhaps to a less + extent. As for me,”—her voice broke a little—“Mr. Fentolin + likes people around him who are always cheerful. He prefers even a certain + style—of dress. I, too, have to do my little share.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel’s face grew darker. + </p> + <p> + “Has it ever occurred to you,” he demanded, “that Mr. Fentolin is a + tyrant?” + </p> + <p> + She closed her eyes for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “There are reasons,” she declared, “why I cannot discuss that with you. He + has these strong fancies, and it is our task in life to humour them. He + has one now with regard to the Tower, with regard to you. You are, of + course, your own master. You can do as you choose, and you will do as you + choose. Neither I nor my children have any claim upon your consideration. + But, Mr. Hamel, you have been so kind that I feel moved to tell you this. + It would make it very much easier for all of us if you would give up this + scheme of yours, if you would stay on here instead of going to reside at + the Tower.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel threw away his cigarette. He was deeply interested. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Fentolin,” he said, “I am glad to have you speak so plainly. Let me + answer you in the same spirit. I am leaving this house mainly because I + have conceived certain suspicions with regard to Mr. Fentolin. I do not + like him, I do not trust him, I do not believe in him. Therefore, I mean + to remove myself from the burden of his hospitality. There are reasons,” + he went on, “why I do not wish to leave the neighbourhood altogether. + There are certain investigations which I wish to make. That is why I have + decided to go to the Tower.” + </p> + <p> + “Miles was right, then!” she cried suddenly. “You are here to spy upon + him!” + </p> + <p> + He turned towards her swiftly. + </p> + <p> + “To spy upon him, Mrs. Fentolin? For what reason? Why? Is he a criminal, + then?” + </p> + <p> + She opened her lips and closed them again. There was a slight frown upon + her forehead. It was obvious that the word had unintentionally escaped + her. + </p> + <p> + “I only know what it is that he called you, what he suspects you of + being,” she explained. “Mr. Fentolin is very clever, and he is generally + at work upon something. We do not enquire into the purpose of his labours. + The only thing I know is that he suspects you of wanting to steal one of + his secrets.” + </p> + <p> + “Secrets? But what secrets has he?” Hamel demanded. “Is he an inventor?” + </p> + <p> + “You ask me idle questions,” she sighed. “We have gone, perhaps, a little + further than I intended. I came to plead with you for all our sakes, if I + could, to make things more comfortable by remaining here instead of + insisting upon your claim to the Tower.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Fentolin,” Hamel said firmly. “I like to do what I can to please and + benefit my friends, especially those who have been kind to me. I will be + quite frank with you. There is nothing you could ask me which I would not + do for your daughter’s sake—if I were convinced that it was for her + good.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Seymour Fentolin seemed to be trembling a little. Her hands were + crossed upon her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “You have known her for so short a time,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + Hamel smiled confidently. + </p> + <p> + “I will not weary you,” he said, “with the usual trite remarks. I will + simply tell you that the time has been long enough. I love your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fentolin sat quite still. Only in her eyes, fixed steadily seawards, + there was the light of something new, as though some new thought was + stirring in her brain. Her lips moved, although the sound which came was + almost inaudible. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” she murmured, as though arguing with some unseen critic of her + thoughts. “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a rich man,” Hamel went on, “but I am fairly well off. I could + afford to be married at once, and I should like—” + </p> + <p> + She turned suddenly upon him and gripped his wrist. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” she interrupted, “you are a traveller, are you not? You have + been to distant countries, where white people go seldom; inaccessible + countries, where even the arm of the law seldom reaches. Couldn’t you take + her away there, take her right away, travel so fast that nothing could + catch you, and hide—hide for a little time?” + </p> + <p> + Hamel stared at his companion, for a moment, blankly. Her attitude was so + unexpected, her questioning so fierce. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mrs. Fentolin,” he began—. + </p> + <p> + She suddenly relaxed her grip of his arm. Something of the old + hopelessness was settling down upon her face. Her hands fell into her lap. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she interrupted, “I forgot! I mustn’t talk like that. She, too, is + part of the sacrifice.” + </p> + <p> + “Part of the sacrifice,” Hamel repeated, frowning. “Is she, indeed! I + don’t know what sacrifice you mean, but Esther is the girl whom sooner or + later, somehow or other, I am going to make my wife, and when she is my + wife, I shall see to it that she isn’t afraid of Miles Fentolin or of any + other man breathing.” + </p> + <p> + A gleam of hopefulness shone through the stony misery of the woman’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Does Esther care?” she asked softly. + </p> + <p> + “How can I tell? I can only hope so. If she doesn’t yet, she shall some + day. I suppose,” he added, with a sigh, “it is rather too soon yet to + expect that she should. If it is necessary, I can wait.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fentolin’s eyes were once more fixed upon the Tower. The sun had + caught the top of the telephone wire and played around it till it seemed + like a long, thin shaft of silver. + </p> + <p> + “If you go down there,” she said, “Esther will not be allowed to see you + at all. Mr. Fentolin has decided to take it as a personal affront. You + will be ostracised from here.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I?” he answered. “Well, it won’t be for long, at any rate. And as + to not seeing Esther, you must remember that I come from outside this + little domain, and I see nothing more in Mr. Fentolin than a bad-tempered, + mischievous, tyrannical old invalid, who is fortunately prevented by his + infirmities from doing as much mischief as he might. I am not afraid of + your brother-in-law, or of the bully he takes about with him, and I am + going to see your daughter somehow or other, and I am going to marry her + before very long.” + </p> + <p> + She thrust out her hand suddenly and grasped his. The fingers were very + thin, almost bony, and covered with rings. Their grip was feverish and he + felt them tremble. + </p> + <p> + “You are a brave man, Mr. Hamel,” she declared speaking in a low, quick + undertone. “Perhaps you are right. The shadow isn’t over your head. You + haven’t lived in the terror of it. You may find a way. God grant it!” + </p> + <p> + She wrung his fingers and rose to her feet. Her voice suddenly changed + into another key. Hamel knew instinctively that she wished him to + understand that their conversation was over. + </p> + <p> + “Chow-Chow,” she cried, “come along, dear, we must have our walk. Come + along, Koto; come along, little dogs.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel strolled down the terrace steps and wandered for a time in the + gardens behind the house. Here, in the shelter of the great building, he + found himself suddenly in an atmosphere of springtime. There were beds of + crocuses and hyacinths, fragrant clumps of violets, borders of snowdrops, + masses of primroses and early anemones. He slowly climbed one or two steep + paths until he reached a sort of plateau, level with the top of the house. + The flowers here grew more sparsely, the track of the salt wind lay like a + withering band across the flower-beds. The garden below was like a little + oasis of colour and perfume. Arrived at the bordering red brick wall, he + turned around and looked along the narrow road which led to the sea. There + was no sign of Mr. Fentolin’s return. Then to his left he saw a gate open + and heard the clamour of dogs. Esther appeared, walking swiftly towards + the little stretch of road which led to the village. He hurried after her. + </p> + <p> + “Unsociable person!” he exclaimed, as he caught her up. “Didn’t you know + that I was longing for a walk?” + </p> + <p> + “How should I read your thoughts?” she answered. “Besides, a few minutes + ago I saw you on the terrace, talking to mother. I am only going as far as + the village.” + </p> + <p> + “May I come?” he asked. “I have business there myself.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “There are nine cottages, three farmhouses, and a general shop in St. + David’s,” she remarked. “Also about fifteen fishermen’s cottages dotted + about the marsh. Your business, I presume, is with the general shop?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head, falling into step with her. + </p> + <p> + “What I want,” he explained, “is to find a woman to come in and look after + me at the Tower. Your servant who valets me has given me two names.” + </p> + <p> + Something of the lightness faded from her face. + </p> + <p> + “So you have quite made up your mind to leave us?” she asked slowly. + “Mother wasn’t able to persuade you to stay?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “She was very kind,” he said, “but there are really grave reasons why I + feel that I must not accept Mr. Fentolin’s hospitality any longer. I had,” + he went on, “a very interesting talk with your mother.” + </p> + <p> + She turned quickly towards him. The slightest possible tinge of additional + colour was in her cheeks. She was walking on the top of a green bank, with + the wind blowing her skirts around her. The turn of her head was a little + diffident, almost shy. Her eyes were asking him questions. At that moment + she seemed to him, with her slim body, her gently parted lips and soft, + tremulous eyes, almost like a child. He drew a little nearer to her. + </p> + <p> + “I told your mother,” he continued, “all that I have told you, and more. I + told her, dear, that I cared for you, that I wanted you to be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + She was caught in a little gust of wind. Both her hands went up to her + hat; her face was hidden. She stepped down from the bank. + </p> + <p> + “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he demanded. “It was the truth.” + </p> + <p> + He stooped forward, intent upon looking into her face. The mystic softness + was still in her eyes, but her general expression was inscrutable. It + seemed to him that there was fear there. + </p> + <p> + “What did mother say?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing discouraging,” he replied. “I don’t think she minded at all. I + have decided, if you give me permission, to go and talk to Mr. Fentolin + this evening.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head very emphatically. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t!” she implored. “Don’t! Don’t give him another whip to lash us + with. Keep silent. Let me just have the memory for a few days all to + myself.” + </p> + <p> + Her words came to him like numb things. There was little expression in + them, and yet he felt that somehow they meant so much. + </p> + <p> + “Esther dear,” he said, “I shall do just as you ask me. At the same time, + please listen. I think that you are all absurdly frightened of Mr. + Fentolin. Living here alone with him, you have all grown under his + dominance to an unreasonable extent. Because of his horrible infirmity, + you have let yourselves become his slaves. There are limits to this sort + of thing, Esther. I come here as a stranger, and I see nothing more in Mr. + Fentolin than a very selfish, irritable, domineering, and capricious old + man. Humour him, by all means. I am willing to do the same myself. But + when it comes to the great things in life, neither he nor any living + person is going to keep from me the woman I love.” + </p> + <p> + She walked by his side in silence. Her breath was coming a little quicker, + her fingers lay passive in his. Then for a moment he felt the grip of them + almost burn into his flesh. Still she said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I want your permission, dear,” he went on, “to go to him. I suppose he + calls himself your guardian. If he says no, you are of age. I just want + you to believe that I am strong enough to put my arms around you and to + carry you away to my own world and keep you there, although an army of Mr. + Fentolin’s creatures followed us.” + </p> + <p> + She turned, and he saw the great transformation. Her face was brilliant, + her eyes shone with wonderful things. + </p> + <p> + “Please,” she begged, “will you say or do nothing at all for a little + time, until I tell you when? I want just a few days’ peace. You have said + such beautiful things to me that I want them to lie there in my thoughts, + in my heart, undisturbed, for just a little time. You see, we are at the + village now. I am going to call at this third cottage. While I am inside, + you can go and make what enquiries you like. Come and knock at the door + for me when you are ready.” + </p> + <p> + “And we will walk back together?” + </p> + <p> + “We will walk back together,” she promised him. + </p> + <p> + “I will take you home another way. I will take you over what they call the + Common, and come down behind the Hall into the gardens.” + </p> + <p> + She dismissed him with a little smile. He strolled along the village + street and plunged into the mysterious recesses of the one tiny shop. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + Hamel met Kinsley shortly before one o’clock the following afternoon, in + the lounge of the Royal Hotel at Norwich. + </p> + <p> + “You got my wire, then?” the latter asked, as he held out his hand. “I had + it sent by special messenger from Wells.” + </p> + <p> + “It arrived directly after breakfast,” Hamel replied. “It wasn’t the + easiest matter to get here, even then, for there are only about two trains + a day, and I didn’t want to borrow a car from Mr. Fentolin.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” Kinsley agreed. “I wanted you to come absolutely on your + own. Let’s get into the coffee-room and have some lunch now. I want to + catch the afternoon train back to town.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say that you’ve come all the way down here to talk to me + for half an hour or so?” Hamel demanded, as they took their places at a + table. + </p> + <p> + “All the way from town,” Kinsley assented, “and up to the eyes in work we + are, too. Dick, what do you think of Miles Fentolin?” + </p> + <p> + “Hanged if I know!” Hamel answered, with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing definite to tell us, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “What about Mr. John P. Dunster?” + </p> + <p> + “He left yesterday morning,” Hamel said. “I saw him go. He looked very + shaky. I understood that Mr. Fentolin sent him to Yarmouth.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Mr. Fentolin know that there was an enquiry on foot about this man’s + disappearance?” Kinsley asked. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. I heard Lord Saxthorpe tell him that the police had received + orders to scour the country for him, and that they were coming to St. + David’s Hall.” + </p> + <p> + Kinsley, for a moment, was singularly and eloquently profane. + </p> + <p> + “That’s why Mr. Fentolin let him go, then. If Saxthorpe had only held his + tongue, or if those infernal police hadn’t got chattering with the + magistrates, we might have made a coup. As it is, the game’s up. Mr. + Dunster left for Yarmouth, you say, yesterday morning?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw him go myself. He looked very shaky and ill, but he was able to + smoke a big cigar and walk down-stairs leaning on the doctor’s arm.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t doubt,” Kinsley remarked, “but that you saw what you say you saw. + At the same time, you may be surprised to hear that Mr. Dunster has + disappeared again.” + </p> + <p> + “Disappeared again?” Hamel muttered. + </p> + <p> + “It looks very much,” Kinsley continued, “as though your friend Miles + Fentolin has been playing with him like a cat with a mouse. He has been + obliged to turn him out of one hiding-place, and he has simply transferred + him to another.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel looked doubtful. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dunster left quite alone in the car,” he said. “He was on his guard + too, for Mr. Fentolin and he had had words. I really can’t see how it was + possible for him to have got into any more trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he, then?” Kinsley demanded. “Come, I will let you a little + further into our confidence. We have reason to believe that he carries + with him a written message which is practically the only chance we have of + avoiding disaster during the next few days. That written message is + addressed to the delegates at The Hague, who are now sitting. Nothing had + been heard of Dunster or the document he carries. No word has come from + him of any sort since he left St. David’s Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you tried to trace him from there?” Hamel asked. + </p> + <p> + “Trace him?” Kinsley repeated. “By heavens, you don’t seem to understand, + Dick, the immense, the extraordinary importance of this man to us! The + cleverest detective in England spent yesterday under your nose at St. + David’s Hall. There are a dozen others working upon the job as hard as + they can. All the reports confirm what you say—that Dunster left St. + David’s Hall at half-past nine yesterday morning, and he certainly arrived + in Yarmouth at a little before twelve. From there he seems, however, to + have completely disappeared. The car went back to St. David’s Hall empty; + the man only stayed long enough in Yarmouth, in fact, to have his dinner. + We cannot find a single smack owner who was approached in any way for the + hire of a boat. Yarmouth has been ransacked in vain. He certainly has not + arrived at The Hague or we should have heard news at once. As a last + resource, I ran down here to see you on the chance of your having picked + up any information.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to know a good deal more than I do, already,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of Mr. Fentolin? You have stayed in his house. You have + had an opportunity of studying him.” + </p> + <p> + “So far as my impressions go,” Hamel replied, “everything which you have + suggested might very well be true. I think that either out of sheer love of + mischief, or from some subtler motive, he is capable of anything. Every + one in the place, except one poor woman, seems to look upon him as a sort + of supernatural being. He gives money away to worthless people with both + hands. Yet I share your opinion of him. I believe that he is a creature + without conscience or morals. I have sat at his table and shivered when he + has smiled.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you staying at St. David’s Hall now?” + </p> + <p> + “I left yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you now, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I am at St. David’s Tower—the little place I told you of that + belonged to my father—but I don’t know whether I shall be able to + stop there. Mr. Fentolin, for some reason or other, very much resented my + leaving the Hall and was very annoyed at my insisting upon claiming the + Tower. When I went down to the village to get some one to come up and look + after me, there wasn’t a woman there who would come. It didn’t matter what + I offered, they were all the same. They all muttered some excuse or other, + and seemed only anxious to show me out. At the village shop they seemed to + hate to serve me with anything. It was all I could do to get a packet of + tobacco yesterday afternoon. You would really think that I was the most + unpopular person who ever lived, and it can only be because of Mr. + Fentolin’s influence.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin evidently doesn’t like to have you in the locality,” Kinsley + remarked thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “He was all right so long as I was at St. David’s Hall,” Hamel observed. + </p> + <p> + “What’s this little place like—St. David’s Tower, you call it?” + Kinsley asked. + </p> + <p> + “Just a little stone building actually on the beach,” Hamel explained. + “There is a large shed which Mr. Fentolin keeps locked up, and the + habitable portion consists just of a bedroom and sitting-room. From what I + can see, Mr. Fentolin has been making a sort of hobby of the place. There + is telephonic communication with the house, and he seems to have used the + sitting-room as a sort of studio. He paints sea pictures and really paints + them very well.” + </p> + <p> + A man came into the coffee-room, made some enquiry of the waiter and went + out again. Hamel stared at him in a puzzled manner. For the moment he + could only remember that the face was familiar. Then he suddenly gave vent + to a little exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Any one would think that I had been followed,” he remarked. “The man who + has just looked into the room is one of Mr. Fentolin’s parasites or + bodyguards, or whatever you call them.” + </p> + <p> + “You probably have,” Kinsley agreed. “What post does he hold in the + household?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea,” Hamel replied. “I saw him the first day I arrived and + not since. Sort of secretary, I should think.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a queer-looking fellow, anyway,” Kinsley muttered. “Look out, Dick. + Here he comes back again.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ryan approached the table a little diffidently. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will forgive the liberty, sir,” he said to Hamel. “You + remember me, I trust—Mr. Ryan. I am the librarian at St. David’s + Hall.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I’d seen you there.” + </p> + <p> + “I was wondering,” the man continued, “whether you had a car of Mr. + Fentolin’s in Norwich to-day, and if so, whether I might beg a seat back + in case you were returning before the five o’clock train? I came in early + this morning to go through some manuscripts at a second-hand bookseller’s + here, and I have unfortunately missed the train back.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I came in by train myself, or I would have given you a lift back, with + pleasure,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ryan expressed his thanks briefly and left the room. Kinsley watched + him from over the top of a newspaper. + </p> + <p> + “So that is one of Mr. Fentolin’s creatures, too,” he remarked. “Keeping + his eye on you in Norwich, eh? Tell me, Dick, by-the-by, how do you get on + with the rest of Mr. Fentolin’s household, and exactly of whom does it + consist?” + </p> + <p> + “There is his sister-in-law,” Hamel replied, “Mrs. Seymour Fentolin. She + is a strange, tired-looking woman who seems to stand in mortal fear of Mr. + Fentolin. She is always overdressed and never natural, but it seems to me + that nearly everything she does is done to suit his whims, or at his + instigation.” + </p> + <p> + Kinsley nodded thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I remember Seymour Fentolin,” he said; “a really fine fellow he was. + Well, who else?” + </p> + <p> + “Just the nephew and niece. The boy is half sullen, half discontented, yet + he, too, seems to obey his uncle blindly. The three of them seem to be his + slaves. It’s a thing you can’t live in the house without noticing.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to be a cheerful sort of household,” Kinsley observed. “You read + the papers, I suppose, Dick?” he asked, after a moment’s pause. + </p> + <p> + “On and off, the last few days. I seem to have been busy doing all sorts + of things.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll tell you something,” Kinsley continued. “The whole of our + available fleet is engaged in carrying out what they call a demonstration + in the North Sea. They have patrol boats out in every direction, and only + the short distance wireless signals are being used. Everything, of course, + is in code, yet we know this for a fact: a good deal of private + information passing between the Admiral and his commanders was known in + Germany three hours after the signals themselves had been given. It is + suspected—more than suspected, in fact—that these messages + were picked up by Mr. Fentolin’s wireless installation.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t suppose he could help receiving them,” Hamel remarked. + </p> + <p> + “He could help decoding them and sending them through to Germany, though,” + Kinsley retorted grimly. “The worst of it is, he has a private telephone + wire in his house to London. If he isn’t up to mischief, what does he need + all these things for—private telegraph line, private telephone, + private wireless? We have given the postmaster a hint to have the + telegraph office moved down into the village, but I don’t know that that + will help us much.” + </p> + <p> + “So far as regards the wireless,” Hamel said, “I rather believe that it is + temporarily dismantled. We had a sailor-man over, the morning before + yesterday, to complain of his messages having been picked up. Mr. Fentolin + promised at once to put his installation out of work for a time.” + </p> + <p> + “He has done plenty of mischief with it already,” Kinsley groaned. + “However, it was Dunster I came down to make enquiries about. I couldn’t + help hoping that you might have been able to put us on the right track.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing beyond what I have told you.” + </p> + <p> + “How did he look when he went away?” + </p> + <p> + “Very ill indeed,” Hamel declared. “I afterwards saw the nurse who had + been attending him, and she admitted that he was not fit to travel. I + should say the probabilities are that he is laid up again somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you actually speak to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Just a word or two.” + </p> + <p> + “And you saw him go off in the car?” + </p> + <p> + “Gerald Fentolin and I both saw him and wished him good-by.” + </p> + <p> + Kinsley glanced at the clock and rose to his feet. “Walk down to the + station with me,” he suggested. “I needn’t tell you, I am sure,” he went + on, as they left the hotel a few minutes later, “that if anything does + turn up, or if you get the glimmering of an idea, you’ll let me know? + We’ve a small army looking for the fellow, but it does seem as though he + had disappeared off the face of the earth. If he doesn’t turn up before + the end of the Conference, we are done.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” Hamel asked, after they had walked for some distance in + silence, “exactly why is our fleet demonstrating to such an extent?” + </p> + <p> + “That Conference I have spoken of,” Kinsley replied, “which is being held + at The Hague, is being held, we know, purposely to discuss certain matters + in which we are interested. It is meeting for their discussion without any + invitation having been sent to this country. There is only one reply + possible to such a course. It is there in the North Sea. But unfortunately—” + </p> + <p> + Kinsley paused. His tone and his expression had alike become gloomier. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” Hamel begged. + </p> + <p> + “Our reply, after all, is a miserable affair,” Kinsley concluded. “You + remember the outcry over the withdrawal of our Mediterranean Fleet? Now + you see its sequel. We haven’t a ship worth a snap of the fingers from + Gibraltar to Suez. If France deserts us, it’s good-by to Malta, good-by to + Egypt, good-by to India. It’s the disruption of the British Empire. And + all this,” he wound up, as he paused before taking his seat in the railway + carriage, “all this might even now be avoided if only we could lay our + hands upon the message which that man Dunster was bringing from New York!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + Once more Hamel descended from the little train, and, turning away from + St. David’s Hall, made his way across the marshes, seawards. The sunshine + of the last few days had departed. The twilight was made gloomy by a + floating veil of white mist, which hung about in wet patches. Hamel turned + up his coat collar as he walked and shivered a little. The thought of his + solitary night and uncomfortable surroundings, after all the luxury of St. + David’s Hall, was scarcely inspiring. Yet, on the whole, he was splendidly + cheerful. The glamour of a host of new sensations was upon him. There was + a new love of living in his heart. He forgot the cold east wind which blew + in his face, bringing with it little puffs of damp grey mist. He forgot + the cheerlessness which he was about to face, the lonely night before him. + For the first time in his life a woman reigned in his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + It was not until he actually reached the very side of the Tower that he + came back to earth. As he opened the door, he found a surprise in store + for him. A fire was burning in the sitting-room, smoke was ascending from + the kitchen chimney. The little round table was laid with a white cloth. + There was a faint odour of cooking from the back premises. His lamp was + lit, there were logs hissing and crackling upon the fire. As he stood + there looking wonderingly about him, the door from the back was opened. + Hannah Cox came quietly into the room. + </p> + <p> + “What time would you like your dinner, sir?” she enquired. + </p> + <p> + Hamel stared at her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, are you going to keep house for me, Mrs. Cox?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir. I heard that you had been in the village, looking for + some one. I am sorry that I was away. There is no one else who would come + to you.” + </p> + <p> + “So I discovered,” he remarked, a little grimly. + </p> + <p> + “No one else,” she went on, “would come to you because of Mr. Fentolin. He + does not wish to have you here. They love him so much in the village that + he had only to breathe the word. It was enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you are here,” he reminded her. + </p> + <p> + “I do not count,” she answered. “I am outside all these things.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel gave a little sigh of satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am glad you could come, anyhow. If you have something for dinner, + I should like it in about half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + He climbed the narrow stairs which led to his bedroom. To his surprise, + there were many things there for his comfort which he had forgotten to + order—clean bed-linen, towels, even a curtain upon the window. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get all the linen up-stairs from, Mrs. Cox?” he asked her, + when he descended. “The room was almost empty yesterday, and I forgot + nearly all the things I meant to bring home from Norwich.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Seymour Fentolin sent down a hamper for you,” the woman replied, + “with a message from Mr. Fentolin. He said that nothing among the oddments + left by your father had been preserved, but that you were welcome to + anything you desired, if you would let them know at the Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very kind of both of them,” Hamel said thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + The woman stood still for a moment, looking at him. Then she drew a step + nearer. + </p> + <p> + “Has Mr. Fentolin given you the key of the shed?” she asked, very quietly. + </p> + <p> + Hamel shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “We don’t need the place, do we?” + </p> + <p> + “He did not give you the key?” she persisted. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin said that he had some things in there which he wished to + keep locked up,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + She remained thoughtful for several moments. Then she turned away. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “it was not likely he would not give you that key!” + </p> + <p> + Hamel dined simply but comfortably. Mrs. Cox cleared away the things, + brought him his coffee, and appeared a few minutes later, her shawl + wrapped around her, ready for departure. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be here at seven o’clock in the morning, sir,” she announced. + </p> + <p> + Hamel was a little startled. He withdrew the pip from his mouth and looked + at her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course,” he remarked. “I’d forgotten. There is no place for you + to stay here.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall go back to my brother’s.” she said. + </p> + <p> + Hamel put some money upon the table. + </p> + <p> + “Please get anything that is necessary,” he directed. “I shall leave you + to do the housekeeping for a few days.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall you be staying here long, sir?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “I do not suppose,” she said, “that you will stay for very long. I shall + get only the things that you require from day to day. Good night, sir.” + </p> + <p> + She left the room. Hamel looked after her for a moment with a frown. In + some indescribable way, the woman half impressed, half irritated him. She + had always the air of keeping something in the background. He followed her + out on to the little ridge of beach, a few minutes after she had left. The + mist was still drifting about. Only a few yards away the sea rolled in, + filling the air with dull thunder. The marshland was half obscured. St. + David’s Hall was invisible, but like strangely-hung lanterns in an empty + space he saw the line of lights from the great house gleam through the + obscurity. There was no sound save the sound of the sea. He shivered + slightly. It was like an empty land, this. + </p> + <p> + Then, moved by some instinct of curiosity, he made his way round to the + closed door of the boat-house, only to find it, as he had expected, + locked. He shook it slightly, without result. Then he strolled round to + the back, entered his own little abode by the kitchen, and tried the other + door which led into the boat-house. It was not only locked, but a staple + had been put in, and it was fastened with a padlock of curious design + which he did not remember to have seen there before. Again, half + unconsciously, he listened, and again he found the silence oppressive. He + went back to his room, brought out some of the books which it had been his + intention to study, and sat and read over the fire. + </p> + <p> + At ten o’clock he went to bed. As he threw open his window before + undressing, it seemed to him that he could catch the sound of voices from + the sea. He listened intently. A grey pall hung everywhere. To the left, + with strange indistinctness, almost like something human struggling to + assert itself, came the fitful flash from the light at the entrance to the + tidal way. Once more he strained his ears. This time there was no doubt + about it. He heard the sound of fishermen’s voices. He heard one of them + say distinctly: + </p> + <p> + “Hard aport, Dave lad! That’s Fentolin’s light. Keep her out a bit. + Steady, lad!” + </p> + <p> + Through a rift in the mist, he caught a glimpse of the brown sail of a + fishing-boat, dangerously near the land. He watched it alter its course + slightly and pass on. Then again there was silence. He undressed slowly + and went to bed. + </p> + <p> + Later on he woke with a start and sat up in bed, listening intently, + listening for he knew not what. Except for the backward scream of the + pebbles, dragged down every few seconds by the receding waves, an unbroken + silence seemed to prevail. He struck a match and looked at his watch. It + was exactly three o’clock. He got out of bed. He was a man in perfect + health, ignorant of the meaning of nerves, a man of proved courage. Yet he + was conscious that his pulses were beating with absurd rapidity. A new + feeling seemed to possess him. He could almost have declared that he was + afraid. What sound had awakened him? He had no idea, yet he seemed to have + a distinct and absolute conviction that it had been a real sound and no + dream. He drew aside the curtains and looked out of the window. The mist + now seemed to have become almost a fog, to have closed in upon sea and + land. There was nothing whatever to be seen. As he stood there for a + moment, listening, his face became moist with the drifting vapour. + Suddenly upon the beach he saw what at first he imagined must be an + optical illusion—a long shaft of light, invisible in itself except + that it seemed to slightly change the density of the mist. He threw on an + overcoat over his pyjamas, thrust on his slippers, and taking up his own + electric torch, hastily descended the stairs. He opened the front door and + stepped out on to the beach. He stood in the very place where the light + had seemed to be, and looked inland. There was no sign of any human + person, not a sound except the falling of the sea upon the pebbly beach. + He raised his voice and called out. Somehow or other, speech seemed to be + a relief. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” + </p> + <p> + There was no response. He tried again. + </p> + <p> + “Is any one there?” + </p> + <p> + Still no answer. He watched the veiled light from the harbour appear and + disappear. It threw no shadow of illumination upon the spot to which he + had gazed from his window. One window at St. David’s Hall was illuminated. + The rest of the place was wrapped now in darkness. He walked up to the + boat-house. The door was still locked. There was no sign that any one had + been there. Reluctantly at last he re-entered the Tower and made his way + up-stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Confound that fellow Kinsley!” he muttered, as he threw off his overcoat. + “All his silly suggestions and melodramatic ideas have given me a fit of + nerves. I am going to bed, and I am going to sleep. That couldn’t have + been a light I saw at all. I couldn’t have heard anything. I am going to + sleep.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII + </h2> + <p> + Hamel awoke to find his room filled with sunshine and a soft wind blowing + in through the open window. There was a pleasant odour of coffee floating + up from the kitchen. He looked at his watch—it was past eight + o’clock. The sea was glittering and bespangled with sunlight. He found + among his scanty belongings a bathing suit, and, wrapped in his overcoat, + hurried down-stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Breakfast in half an hour, Mrs. Cox,” he called out. + </p> + <p> + She stood at the door, watching him as he stepped across the pebbles and + plunged in. For a few moments he swam. Then he turned over on his back. + The sunlight was gleaming from every window of St. David’s Hall. He even + fancied that upon the terrace he could see a white-clad figure looking + towards him. He turned over and swam once more. From her place in the + doorway Mrs. Cox called out to him. + </p> + <p> + “Mind the Dagger Rocks, sir!” + </p> + <p> + He waved his hand. The splendid exhilaration of the salt water seemed to + give him unlimited courage. He dived, but the woman’s cry of fear soon + recalled him. Presently he swam to shore and hurried up the beach. Mrs. + Cox, with a sigh of relief, disappeared into the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Those rocks on your nerves again, Mrs. Cox?” he asked, good-humouredly, + as he took his place at the breakfast table a quarter of an hour later. + </p> + <p> + “It’s only us who live here, sir,” she answered, “who know how terrible + they are. There’s one—it comes up like my hand—a long spike. A + boat once struck upon that, and it’s as though it’d been sawn through the + middle.” + </p> + <p> + “I must have a look at them some day,” he declared. “I am going to work + this morning, Mrs. Cox. Lunch at one o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + He took rugs and established himself with a pile of books at the back of a + grassy knoll, sheltered from the wind, with the sea almost at his feet. He + sharpened his pencil and numbered the page of his notebook. Then he looked + up towards the Hall garden and found himself dreaming. The sunshine was + delicious, and a gentle optimism seemed to steal over him. + </p> + <p> + “I am a fool!” he murmured to himself. “I am catching some part of these + people’s folly. Mr. Fentolin is only an ordinary, crotchety invalid with + queer tastes. On the big things he is probably like other men. I shall go + to him this morning.” + </p> + <p> + A sea-gull screamed over his head. Little, brown sailed fishing-boats came + gliding down the harbourway. A pleasant, sensuous joyfulness seemed part + of the spirit of the day. Hamel stretched himself out upon the dry sand. + </p> + <p> + “Work be hanged!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + A soft voice answered him almost in his ear, a voice which was becoming + very familiar. + </p> + <p> + “A most admirable sentiment, my young friend, which you seem to be doing + your best to live up to. Not a line written, I see.” + </p> + <p> + He sat up upon his rug. Mr. Fentolin, in his little carriage, was there by + his side. Behind was the faithful Meekins, with an easel under his arm. + </p> + <p> + “I trust that your first night in your new abode has been a pleasant one?” + Mr. Fentolin asked. + </p> + <p> + “I slept quite well, thanks,” Hamel replied. “Glad to see you’re going to + paint.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin shook his head gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “It is, alas!” he declared, “one of my weaknesses. I can work only in + solitude. I came down on the chance that the fine weather might have + tempted you over to the Golf Club. As it is, I shall return.” + </p> + <p> + “I am awfully sorry,” Hamel said. “Can’t I go out of sight somewhere?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I will not ask your pardon for my absurd humours,” he continued, a little + sadly. “Their existence, however, I cannot deny. I will wait.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems a pity for you to do that,” Hamel remarked. “You see, I might + stay here for some time.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin’s face darkened. He looked at the young man with a sort of + pensive wrath. + </p> + <p> + “If,” the latter went on, “you say ‘yes’ to something I am going to ask + you, I might even stay—in the neighbourhood—for longer still.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sat quite motionless in his chair; his eyes were fixed upon + Hamel. + </p> + <p> + “What is it that you are going to ask me?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I want to marry your niece.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin looked at the young man in mild surprise. + </p> + <p> + “A sudden decision on your part, Mr. Hamel?” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” Hamel assured him. “I have been ten years looking for her.” + </p> + <p> + “And the young lady?” Mr. Fentolin enquired. “What does she say?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe, sir,” Hamel replied, “that she would be willing.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin sighed. + </p> + <p> + “One is forced sometimes,” he remarked regretfully, “to realise the + selfishness of our young people. For many years one devotes oneself to + providing them with all the comforts and luxuries of life. Then, in a + single day, they turn around and give everything they have to give to a + stranger. So you want to marry Esther?” + </p> + <p> + “If you please.” + </p> + <p> + “She has a very moderate fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “She need have none at all,” Hamel replied; “I have enough.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin glanced towards the house. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” he said, “I think you had better go and tell her so; in which + case, I shall be able to paint.” + </p> + <p> + “I have your permission, then?” Hamel asked, rising to his feet eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Negatively,” Mr. Fentolin agreed, “you have. I cannot refuse. Esther is + of age; the thing is reasonable. I do not know whether she will be happy + with you or not. A young man of your disposition who declines to study the + whims of an unfortunate creature like myself is scarcely likely to be + possessed of much sensibility. However, perhaps your views as to a + solitary residence here will change with your engagement to my niece.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel did not reply for a moment. He was trying to ask himself why, even + in the midst of this rush of anticipatory happiness, he should be + conscious of a certain reluctance to leave the Tower—and Mr. + Fentolin. He was looking longingly towards the Hall. Mr. Fentolin waved + him away. + </p> + <p> + “Go and make love,” he ordered, “and leave me alone. We are both in + pursuit of beauty—only our methods differ.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel hesitated no longer but walked up the narrow path with swift, + buoyant footsteps. Everywhere he seemed to be surrounded by the glorious + spring sunshine. It glittered in the little pools and creeks by his side. + It drew a new colour from the dun-coloured marshes, the masses of emerald + seaweed, the shimmering sands. It flashed in the long row of windows of + the Hall. As he drew nearer, he could see the banks of yellow crocuses in + the sloping gardens behind. There were odours of spring in the air. He ran + lightly up the terrace steps. There was an easy-chair drawn into her + favourite corner, and a book upon the table, but no sign of Esther. He + hesitated for a moment, and then, retracing his steps along the terrace, + entered the house by the front door, which stood wide open. There was no + one in the hall, scarcely a sound about the place. A great clock ticked + solemnly from the foot of the stairs. There was not even a servant in + sight. Hamel wandered around, at a loss what to do. He opened the door of + the drawing-room and looked in. It was empty. He turned away, meaning to + ring a bell. On his way across the hall he paused. A curiously suggestive + sound reached him faintly from the end of one of the passages. It was the + click of a typewriter. + </p> + <p> + Hamel stood for a moment perfectly still. He had hurried up to the Hall, + filled with the one selfish joy common to all mankind. He had had no + thought save the thought of seeing Esther. The click of that machine + brought him back to the stern realities of life. He remembered his talk to + Kinsley, his promise. On the hall table he could see from where he was + standing the great headlines which announced the nation’s anxiety. He was + in the house of a suspected spy. The click of the typewriter was an + accompaniment to his thought. He looked around once more and listened. + Then he made his way quietly across the hall and down the long passage, at + the end of which the room which Mr. Fentolin called his workroom was + situated. He turned the handle of the door and entered, closing it + immediately behind him. The woman who was typing paused with her fingers + upon the keys. Her eyes met his coldly, without curiosity. She had paused + in her work, but she took no other notice of his coming. + </p> + <p> + “Has Mr. Fentolin sent you here?” she asked at last. + </p> + <p> + He came over to the typewriter. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin has not sent me,” he said slowly. “I am here on my own + account. I dare say you will think that I am a lunatic to come to you like + this. Nevertheless, please listen to me.” + </p> + <p> + Her fingers left the keys. She laid her hands upon the table in front of + her. He drew a little nearer. She covered over the sheets of paper with + which she was surrounded with a pad of blotting-paper. He pointed suddenly + to them. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you do that?” he demanded. “What is there in your work that you + are afraid I might see?” + </p> + <p> + She answered him without hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “These are private papers of Mr. Fentolin’s. No one has any business to + see them. No one has any business to enter this room. Why are you here?” + </p> + <p> + “I came to the Hall to find Miss Fentolin,” he replied. “I heard the click + of your typewriter. I came to you, I suppose I should say, on impulse.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes rested upon his, filled with a cold and questioning light. + </p> + <p> + “There’s an impression up in London,” Hamel went on, “that Mr. Fentolin + has been interfering by means of his wireless in affairs which don’t + concern him, and giving away valuable information. This man Dunster’s + disappearance is as yet unexplained. I feel myself justified in making + certain investigations, and among the first of them I should like you to + tell me exactly the nature of the work for which Mr. Fentolin finds a + secretary necessary?” + </p> + <p> + She glanced towards the bell. He moved to the edge of the table as though + to intercept her. + </p> + <p> + “In any ordinary case,” he continued, “I would not ask you to betray your + employer’s confidence. As things are, I think I am justified. You are + English, are you not? You realise, I suppose, that the country is on the + brink of war?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him from the depths of her still, lusterless eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You must be a very foolish person,” she remarked, “if you expect to + obtain information in this manner.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I am,” he confessed, “but my folly has brought me to you, and you + can give me the information if you will.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is Mr. Fentolin?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Down at the Tower,” he replied. “I left him there. He sent me up to see + Miss Fentolin. I was looking for her when the click of your typewriter + reminded me of other things.” + </p> + <p> + She turned composedly back to her work. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she said, “that you had better go and find Miss Fentolin.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk nonsense! You can’t think I have risked giving myself away to + you for nothing? I mean to search this room, to read the papers which you + are typing.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced around her a little contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “You are welcome,” she assured him. “Pray proceed.” + </p> + <p> + They exchanged the glances of duelists. Her plain black frock was buttoned + up to her throat. Her colourless face seemed set in exact and + expressionless lines. Her eyes were like windows of glass. He felt only + their scrutiny; nothing of the reason for it, or of the thoughts which + stirred behind in her brain. There was nothing about her attitude which + seemed in any way threatening, yet he had the feeling that in this + interview it was she who possessed the upper hand. + </p> + <p> + “You are a foolish person,” she said calmly. “You are so foolish that you + are not, in all probability, in the slightest degree dangerous. Believe + me, ours is an unequal duel. There is a bell upon this table which has + apparently escaped your notice. I sit with my finger upon the button—so. + I have only to press it, and the servants will be here. I do not wish to + press it. I do not desire that you should be, as you certainly would be, + banished from this house.” + </p> + <p> + He was immensely puzzled. She had not resented his strange intrusion. She + had accepted it, indeed, with curious equanimity. Her forefinger lingered + still over the little ivory knob of the bell attached to her desk. He + shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “You have the advantage of me,” he admitted, a little curtly. “All the + same, I think I could possess myself of those sheets of paper, you know, + before the bell was answered.” + </p> + <p> + “Would it be wise, I wonder, then, to ensure their safety?” she asked + coolly. + </p> + <p> + Her finger pressed the bell. He took a quick step forward. She held out + her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” she ordered. “These sheets will tell you nothing which you do not + know already unless you are a fool. Never mind the bell. That is my + affair. I am sending you away.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned a little towards her. + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn’t be possible to bribe you, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder you haven’t tried that before. No, it would not—not with + money, that is to say.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll tell Mr. Fentolin, I presume?” he asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to tell him,” she replied. “Nothing has happened. + Richards,” she went on, as a servant entered the room, “Mr. Hamel is + looking for Miss Fentolin. Will you see if you can find her?” + </p> + <p> + The man’s expression was full of polite regret. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Fentolin went over to Legh Woods early this morning, sir,” he + announced. “She is staying to lunch with Lady Saxthorpe.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel stood quite still for a moment. Then he turned to the window. In the + far distance he could catch a glimpse of the Tower. Mr. Fentolin’s chair + had disappeared from the walk. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said. “I must have made a mistake. I will hurry back.” + </p> + <p> + There were more questions which he was longing to ask, but the cold + negativeness of her manner chilled him. She sat with her fingers poised + over the keys, waiting for his departure. He turned and left the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin, his carriage drawn up close to the beach, was painting + steadily when Hamel stood once more by his side. His eyes moved only from + the sea to the canvas. He never turned his head. + </p> + <p> + “So your wooing has not prospered, my young friend,” he remarked gently. + “I am sorry. Is there anything I can do?” + </p> + <p> + “Your niece has gone out to lunch,” Hamel replied shortly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin stopped painting. His face was full of concern as he looked + up at Hamel. + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” he exclaimed, “how can I apologise! Of course she has gone + out to lunch. She has gone out to Lady Saxthorpe’s. I remember the subject + being discussed. I myself, in fact, was the instigator of her going. I owe + you a thousand apologies, Mr. Hamel. Let me make what amends are possible + for your useless journey. Dine with us to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind.” + </p> + <p> + “A poor amends,” Mr. Fentolin continued. “A morning like this was made for + lovers. Sunshine and blue sky, a salt breeze flavoured just a little with + that lavender, and a stroll through my spring gardens, where my hyacinths + are like a field of purple and gold, a mantle of jewels upon the brown + earth. Ah, well! One’s thoughts will wander to the beautiful things of + life. There were once women who loved me, Mr. Hamel.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel looked doubtfully at the strange little figure in the chair. Was + this genuine, he wondered, a voluntary outburst, or was it some subtle + attempt to incite sympathy? Mr. Fentolin seemed almost to have read his + thought. + </p> + <p> + “It is not for the sake of your pity that I say this,” he continued. “Mine + is only the passing across the line which age as well as infirmity makes + inevitable. No one in the world who lives to grow old, and who has loved + and felt the fire of it in his veins, can pass that line without sorrow, + or look back without a pang. I am among a great army. Well, well, I shall + paint no more to-day,” he concluded abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your servant?” Hamel asked. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin glanced around him carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “He has wandered away out of sight. He knows well how necessary solitude + is to me if once I take the brush between my fingers—solitude + natural and entire, I mean. If any one is within a dozen yards of me I + know it, even though I cannot see them. Meekins is wandering somewhere the + other side of the Tower.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I call him?” + </p> + <p> + “On no account,” Mr. Fentolin begged. “Presently he will appear, in plenty + of time. There is the morning to be passed—barely eleven o’clock, I + think, now. I shall sit in my chair, and sink a little down, and dream of + these beautiful lights, these rolling, foam-flecked waves, these patches + of blue and shifting green. I can form them in my brain. I can make a + picture there, even though my fingers refuse to move. You are not an + aesthete, I think, Mr. Hamel? The study of beauty does not mean to you + what it did to your father, and my father, and, in a smaller way to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” Hamel confessed. “I believe I feel these things somewhere, + because they bring a queer sense of content with them. I am afraid, + though, that my artistic perceptions are not so keen as some men’s.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin looked at him thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “It is the physical life in your veins—too splendid to permit you + abstract pleasures. Compensations again, you see—compensations. I + wonder what the law is that governs these things. I have forgotten + sometimes,” he went on, “forgotten my own infirmities in the soft + intoxication of a wonderful seascape. Only,” he went on, his face a little + grey, “it is the physical in life which triumphs. There are the hungry + hours which nothing will satisfy.” + </p> + <p> + His head sank, his chin rested upon his chest. He had all the appearance + now of a man who talks in bitter earnest. Yet Hamel wondered. He looked + towards the Tower; there was no sign of Meekins. The sea-gulls went + screaming above their heads. Mr. Fentolin never moved. His eyes seemed + half closed. It was only when Hamel rose to his feet that he looked + swiftly up. + </p> + <p> + “Stay with me, I beg you, Mr. Hamel,” he said. “I am in one of the moods + when solitude, even for a moment, is dangerous. Do you know what I have + sometimes thought to myself?” + </p> + <p> + He pointed to the planked way which led down the steep, pebbly beach to + the sea. + </p> + <p> + “I have sometimes thought,” he went on, “that it would be glorious to find + a friend to stand by my side at the top of the planks, just there, when + the tide was high, and to bid him loose my chair and to steer it myself, + to steer it down the narrow path into the arms of the sea. The first touch + of the salt waves, the last touch of life. Why not? One sleeps without + fear.” + </p> + <p> + He lifted his head suddenly. Meekins had appeared, coming round from the + back of the Tower. Instantly Mr. Fentolin’s whole manner changed. He sat + up in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “It is arranged, then,” he said. “You dine with us to-night. For the other + matters of which you have spoken, well, let them rest in the hands of the + gods. You are not very kind to me. I am not sure whether you would make + Esther a good husband. I am not sure, even, that I like you. You take no + pains to make yourself agreeable. Considering that your father was an + artist, you seem to me rather a dull and uninspired young man. But who can + tell? There may be things stirring beneath that torpid brain of yours of + which no other person knows save yourself.” + </p> + <p> + The concentrated gaze of Mr. Fentolin’s keen eyes was hard to meet, but + Hamel came out of the ordeal without flinching. + </p> + <p> + “At eight o’clock, Mr. Fentolin,” he answered. “I can see that I must try + to earn your better opinion.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel read steadily for the remainder of the morning. It was past one + o’clock when he rose stiffly from his seat among the sand knolls and, + strolling back to the Tower, opened the door and entered. The cloth was + laid for luncheon in the little sitting-room, but there were no signs of + Hannah Cox. He passed on into the kitchen and came to a sudden standstill. + Once more the memory of his own work passed away from him. Once more he + was back again among that queer, clouded tangle of strange suspicions, of + thrilling, half-formed fears, which had assailed him at times ever since + his arrival at St, David’s. He stopped quite short. The words which rose + to his lips died away. He felt the breathless, compelling need for silence + and grew tense in the effort to make no sound. + </p> + <p> + Hannah Cox was kneeling on the stone floor. Her ear was close to the crack + of the door which led into the boat-house. Her face, half turned from it, + was set in a strange, concentrated passion of listening; her lips were + parted, her eyes half closed. She took no more notice of Hamel or his + arrival than if he had been some useless piece of furniture. Every faculty + seemed to be absorbed in that one intense effort of listening. There was + no need of her out-stretched finger. Hamel fell in at once with a mood so + mesmeric. He, too, listened. The small clock which she had brought with + her from the village ticked away upon the mantelpiece. The full sea fell + with placid softness upon the high beach outside. Some slight noise of + cooking came from the stove. Save for these things there was silence. Yet, + for a space of time which Hamel could never have measured, they both + listened. When at last the woman rose to her feet, Hamel, finding words at + last, was surprised to find that his throat was dry. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Mrs. Cox?” he asked. “Why were you listening there?” + </p> + <p> + Her face was absolutely expressionless. She was busying herself now with a + small saucepan, and her back was turned towards him. + </p> + <p> + “I spend my life, sir,” she said, “listening and waiting. One never knows + when the end may come.” + </p> + <p> + “But the boat-house,” Hamel objected. “No one has been in there his + morning, have they?” + </p> + <p> + “Who can tell?” she answered. “He could go anywhere when he chose, or how + he chose—through the keyhole, if he wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “But why listen?” Hamel persisted. “There is nothing in there now but some + odds and ends of machinery.” + </p> + <p> + She turned from the fire and looked at him for a moment. Her eyes were + colourless, her tone unemotional. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe! There’s no harm in listening.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear anything which made you want to listen?” + </p> + <p> + “Who can tell?” she answered. “A woman who lives well-nigh alone, as I + live, in a quiet place, hears things so often that other folk never listen + to. There’s always something in my ears, night or day. Sometimes I am not + sure whether it’s in this world or the other. It was like that with me + just then. It was for that reason I listened. Your luncheon’s ready, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel walked thoughtfully back into his sitting-room. He seated himself + before a spotless cloth and watched Hannah Cox spread out his well-cooked, + cleanly-served meal. + </p> + <p> + “If there’s anything you want, sir,” she said, “I shall hear you at a + word. The kitchen door is open.” + </p> + <p> + “One moment, Mrs. Cox.” + </p> + <p> + She lingered there patiently, with the tray in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “There was some sound,” Hamel continued, “perhaps a real sound, perhaps a + fancy, which made you go down on your knees in the kitchen. Tell me what + it was.” + </p> + <p> + “The sound I always hear, sir,” she answered quietly. “I hear it in the + night, and I hear it when I stand by the sea and look out. I have heard it + for so many years that who can tell whether it comes from this world or + the other—the cry of men who die!” + </p> + <p> + She passed out. Hamel looked after her, for a moment, like a man in a + dream. In his fancy he could see her back again once more in the kitchen, + kneeling on the stone floor,—listening! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX + </h2> + <p> + A cold twilight had fallen upon the land when Hamel left the Tower that + evening and walked briskly along the foot-way to the Hall. Little patches + of mist hung over the creeks, the sky was almost frosty. The lights from + St. David’s Hall shone like cheerful beacons before him. He hastened up + the stone steps, crossed the terrace, and passed into the hall. A servant + conducted him at once to the drawing-room. Mrs. Fentolin, in a pink + evening dress, with a pink ornament in her hair, held out both her hands. + In the background, Mr. Fentolin, in his queerly-cut evening clothes, sat + with folded arms, leaning back in his carriage. He listened grimly to his + sister-in-law as she stood with Hamel’s hands in hers. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mr. Hamel!” she exclaimed. “How perfectly charming of you to come + up and relieve a little our sad loneliness! Delightful, I call it, of you. + I was just saying so to Miles.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel looked around the room. Already his heart was beginning to sink. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Fentolin is well, I hope?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but a very naughty girl,” her mother declared. “I let her go to + Lady Saxthorpe’s to lunch, and now we have had simply the firmest letter + from Lady Saxthorpe. They insist upon keeping Esther to dine and sleep. I + have had to send her evening clothes, but you can’t tell, Mr. Hamel, how I + miss her.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel’s disappointment was a little too obvious to pass unnoticed. There + was a shade of annoyance, too, in his face. Mr. Fentolin smoothly + intervened. + </p> + <p> + “Let us be quite candid with Mr. Hamel, dear Florence,” he begged. “I have + spoken to my sister-in-law and told her the substance of our conversation + this morning,” he proceeded, wheeling his chair nearer to Hamel. “She is + thunderstruck. She wishes to reflect, to consider. Esther chanced to be + away. We have encouraged her absence for a few more hours.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, Mrs. Fentolin,” Hamel said simply, “that you will give her to me. + I am not a rich man, but I am fairly well off. I should be willing to live + exactly where Esther wishes, and I would do my best to make her happy.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fentolin opened her lips once and closed them again. She laughed a + little—a high-pitched, semi-hysterical laugh. The hand which gripped + her fan was straining so that the blue veins stood out almost like + whipcord. + </p> + <p> + “Esther is very young, Mr. Hamel. We must talk this over. You have known + her for such a very short time.” + </p> + <p> + A servant announced dinner, and Hamel offered his arm to his hostess. + </p> + <p> + “Is Gerald away, too?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “We do indeed owe you our apologies,” Mr. Fentolin declared. “Gerald is + spending a couple of days at the Dormy House at Brancaster—a golf + arrangement made some time back.” + </p> + <p> + “He promised to play with me to-morrow,” Hamel remarked thoughtfully. “He + said nothing about going away.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear that like most young men of his age he has little memory,” Mr. + Fentolin sighed. “However, he will be back to-morrow or the next day. I + owe you my apologies, Mr. Hamel, for our lack of young people. We must do + our best to entertain our guest, Florence. You must be at your best, dear. + You must tell him some of those capital stories of yours.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fentolin shivered for a moment. Hamel, as he handed her to her place, + was struck by a strange look which she threw upon him, half furtive, full + of pain. Her hand almost clung to his. She slipped a little, and he held + her tightly. Then he was suddenly conscious that something hard was being + pressed into his palm. He drew his hand away at once. + </p> + <p> + “You seem a little unsteady this evening, my dear Florence,” Mr. Fentolin + remarked, peering across the round table. + </p> + <p> + She eyed him nonchalantly enough. + </p> + <p> + “The floor is slippery,” she said. “I was glad, for a moment, of Mr. + Hamel’s strong hand. Where are those dear puppies? Chow-Chow,” she went + on, “come and sit by your mistress at once.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel’s fingers inside his waistcoat pocket were smoothing out the + crumpled piece of paper which she had passed to him. Soon he had it quite + flat. Mrs. Fentolin, as though freed from some anxiety, chattered away + gaily. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know that I shall apologise to Mr. Hamel at all for the young + people being away,” she declared. “Just fancy what we have saved him from—a + solitary meal served by Hannah Cox! Do you know that they say she is + half-witted, Mr. Hamel?” + </p> + <p> + “So far, she has looked after me very well,” Hamel observed. + </p> + <p> + “Her intellect is defective,” Mr. Fentolin remarked, “on one point only. + The good woman is obsessed by the idea that her husband and sons are still + calling to her from the Dagger Rocks. It is almost pitiful to meet her + wandering about there on a stormy night. The seacoasts are full of these + little village tragedies—real tragedies, too, however insignificant + they may seem to us.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin’s tone was gently sympathetic. He changed the subject a + moment or two later, however. + </p> + <p> + “Nero fiddles to-night,” he said, “while Rome burns. There are hundreds in + our position, yet it certainly seems queer that we should be sitting here + so quietly when the whole country is in such a state of excitement. I see + the press this morning is preaching an immediate declaration of war.” + </p> + <p> + “Against whom?” Mrs. Fentolin asked. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled. + </p> + <p> + “That does seem to be rather the trouble,” he admitted. “Russia, Austria, + Germany, Italy, and France are all assisting at a Conference to which no + English representative has been bidden. In a sense, of course, that is + equivalent to an act of hostility from all these countries towards + England. The question is whether we have or have not a secret + understanding with France, and if so, how far she will be bound by it. + There is a rumour that when Monsieur Deschelles was asked formally whom he + represented, that he replied—‘France and Great Britain.’ There may + be something in it. It is hard to see how any English statesman could have + left unguarded the Mediterranean, with all that it means, trusting simply + to the faith of a country with whom we have no binding agreement. On the + other hand, there is the mobilisation of the fleet. If France is really + faithful, one wonders if there was need for such an extreme step.” + </p> + <p> + “I am out of touch with political affairs,” Hamel declared. “I have been + away from England for so long.” + </p> + <p> + “I, on the other hand,” Mr. Fentolin continued, his eyes glittering a + little, “have made the study of the political situation in Europe my hobby + for years. I have sent to me the leading newspapers of Berlin, Rome, + Paris, St. Petersburg, and Vienna. For two hours every day I read them, + side by side. It is curious sometimes to note the common understanding + which seems to exist between the Powers not bound by any formal alliance. + For years war seemed a very unlikely thing, and now,” he added, leaning + forward in his chair, “I pronounce it almost a certainty.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel looked at his host a little curiously. Mr. Fentolin’s gentleness of + expression seemed to have departed. His face was hard, his eyes agleam. He + had almost the look of a bird of prey. For some reason, the thought of war + seemed to be a joy to him. Perhaps he read something of Hamel’s wonder in + his expression, for with a shrug of the shoulders he dismissed the + subject. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he concluded, “all these things lie on the knees of the gods. I + dare say you wonder, Mr. Hamel, why a poor useless creature like myself + should take the slightest interest in passing events? It is just the + fascination of the looker-on. I want your opinion about that champagne. + Florence dear, you must join us. We will drink to Mr. Hamel’s health. We + will perhaps couple that toast in our minds with the sentiment which I am + sure is not very far from your thoughts, Florence.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel raised his glass and bowed to his host and hostess. He was not + wholly at his ease. It seemed to him that he was being watched with a + queer persistence by both of them. Mrs. Fentolin continued to talk and + laugh with a gaiety which was too obviously forced. Mr. Fentolin posed for + a while as the benevolent listener. He mildly applauded his + sister-in-law’s stories, and encouraged Hamel in the recital of some of + his reminiscences. Suddenly the door was opened. Miss Price appeared. She + walked smoothly across the room and stood by Mr. Fentolin’s side. Stooping + down, she whispered in his ear. He pushed his chair back a little from the + table. His face was dark with anger. + </p> + <p> + “I said not before ten to-night,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + Again she spoke in his ear, so softly that the sound of her voice itself + scarcely travelled even as far as where Hamel was sitting. Mr. Fentolin + looked steadfastly for a moment at his sister-in-law and from her to + Hamel. Then he backed his chair away front the table. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to ask to be excused for three minutes,” he said. “I must + speak upon the telephone. It is a call from some one who declares that + they have important news.” + </p> + <p> + He turned the steering-wheel of his chair, and with Miss Price by his side + passed across the dining-room, out of the Oasis of rose-shaded lights into + the shadows, and through the open door. From there he turned his head + before he disappeared, as though to watch his guest. Mrs. Fentolin was + busy fondling one of her dogs, which she had raised to her lap, and Hamel + was watching her with a tolerant smile. + </p> + <p> + “Koto, you little idiot, why can’t you sit up like your sister? Was its + tail in the way, then! Mr. Hamel,” she whispered under her breath, so + softly that he barely caught the words, although he was only a few feet + away, “don’t look at me. I feel as though we were being watched all the + time. You can destroy that piece of paper in your pocket. All that it says + is ‘Leave here immediately after dinner.’” + </p> + <p> + Hamel sipped his wine in a nonchalant fashion. His fingers had strayed + over the silky coat of the little dog, which she had held out as though + for his inspection. + </p> + <p> + “How can I?” he asked. “What excuse can I make?” + </p> + <p> + “Invent one,” she insisted swiftly. “Leave here before ten o’clock. Don’t + let anything keep you. And destroy that piece of paper in your pocket, if + you can—now.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mrs. Fentolin—” he began. + </p> + <p> + She caught up one of her absurd little pets and held it to her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Meekins is in the doorway,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t argue with me, please. You are in danger you know nothing about. + Pass me the cigarettes.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned back in her chair, smoking quickly. She held one of the dogs on + her knee and talked rubbish to it. Hamel watched her, leaning back in his + carved oak chair, and he found it hard to keep the pity from his eyes. The + woman was playing a part, playing it with desperate and pitiful + earnestness, a part which seemed the more tragical because of the soft + splendour of their surroundings. From the shadowy walls, huge, dimly-seen + pictures hung about them, a strange and yet impressive background. Their + small round dining-table, with its rare cut glass, its perfect + appointments, its bowls of pink roses, was like a spot of wonderful colour + in the great room. Two men servants stood at the sideboard a few yards + away, a triumph of negativeness. The butler, who had been absent for a + moment, stood now silently waiting behind his master’s place. Hamel was + oppressed, during those few minutes of waiting, by a curious sense of + unreality, as though he were taking part in some strange tableau. There + was something unreal about his surroundings and his own presence there; + something unreal in the atmosphere, charged as it seemed to be with some + omen of impending happenings; something unreal in that whispered warning, + those few hoarsely uttered words which had stolen to his hearing across + the clusters of drooping roses; the absurd babble of the woman, who sat + there with tragic things under the powder with which her face was daubed. + </p> + <p> + “Koto must learn to sit upon his tail—like that. No, not another + grape till he sits up. There, then!” + </p> + <p> + She was leaning forward with a grape between her teeth, towards the tiny + animal who was trying in vain to balance his absurdly shaped little body + upon the tablecloth. Hamel, without looking around, knew quite well what + was happening. Soon he heard the click of the chair. Mr. Fentolin was back + in his place. His skin seemed paler and more parchment-like than ever. His + eyes glittered. + </p> + <p> + “It seems,” he announced quietly, as he raised his wine-glass to his lips + with the air of one needing support, “that we entertained an angel + unawares here. This Mr. Dunster is lost for the second time. A very + important personage he turns out to be.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean the American whom Gerald brought home after the accident?” Mrs. + Fentolin asked carelessly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin replied. “He insisted upon continuing his journey before he + was strong enough. I warned him of what might happen. He has evidently + been take ill somewhere. It seems that he was on his way to The Hague.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that he has disappeared altogether this time?” Hamel asked. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No, he has found his way to The Hague safely enough. He is lying there at + a hotel in the city, but he is unconscious. There is some talk about his + having been robbed on the way. At any rate, they are tracing his movements + backwards. We are to be honoured with a visit from one of Scotland Yard’s + detectives, to reconstruct his journey from here. Our quiet little corner + of the world is becoming quite notorious. Florence dear, you are tired. I + can see it in your eyes. Your headache continues, I am sure. We will not + be selfish. Mr. Hamel and I are going to have a long evening in the + library. Let me recommend a phenacetin and bed.” + </p> + <p> + She rose at once to her feet, with a dog under either arm. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take the phenacetin,” she promised, “but I hate going to bed early. + Shall I see you again, I wonder, Mr. Hamel?” + </p> + <p> + “Not this evening, I fear,” he answered. “I am going to ask Mr. Fentolin + to excuse me early.” + </p> + <p> + She passed out of the room. Hamel escorted her as far as the door and then + returned. Mr. Fentolin was sitting quite still in his chair. His eyes were + fixed upon the tablecloth. He looked up quickly as Hamel resumed his seat. + </p> + <p> + “You are not in earnest, I hope, Mr. Hamel,” he said, “when you tell me + that you must leave early? I have been anticipating a long evening. My + library is filled with books on South America which I want to discuss with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Another evening, if you don’t mind,” Hamel begged. “To-night I must ask + you to excuse my hurrying away.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin looked up from underneath his eyelids. His glance was quick + and penetrating. + </p> + <p> + “Why this haste?” + </p> + <p> + Hamel shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “To tell you the truth,” he admitted, “I had an idea while I was reading + an article on cantilever bridges this morning. I want to work it out.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin glanced behind him. The door of the dining-room was closed. + The servants had disappeared. Meekins alone, looking more like a prize + fighter than ever in his somber evening clothes, had taken the place of + the butler behind his master’s chair. + </p> + <p> + “We shall see,” Mr. Fentolin said quietly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin pointed to the little pile of books upon the table, the deep + easy-chair, the green-shaded lamps, the decanter of wine. He had insisted + upon a visit, however brief, to the library. + </p> + <p> + “It is a student’s appeal which I make to you, Mr. Hamel,” he said, with a + whimsical smile. “Here we are in my study, with the door closed, secure + against interruption, a bright fire in the grate, a bowling and + ever-increasing wind outside. Let us go together over the ground of your + last wonderful expedition over the Andes. You will find that I am not + altogether ignorant of your profession, or of those very interesting + geological problems which you spoke of in connection with that marvellous + railway scheme. We will discuss them side by side as sybarites, hang + ourselves around with cigarette smoke, drink wine, and presently coffee. + It is necessary, is it not, for many reasons, that we become better + acquainted? You realise that, I am sure, and you will not persist in + returning to your selfish solitude.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel’s eyes were fixed a little longingly upon some of the volumes with + which the table was covered. + </p> + <p> + “You must not think me ungrateful or churlish, Mr. Fentolin,” he begged. + “I have a habit of keeping promises which I make to myself, and to-night I + have made myself a promise that I will be back at the Tower by ten + o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “You are obdurate?” Mr. Fentolin asked softly. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I am.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin busied himself with the handle of his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” he insisted, “is there any other person save yourself to whom + you have given this mysterious promise?” + </p> + <p> + “No one,” Hamel replied promptly. + </p> + <p> + “I am a person very sensitive to atmosphere,” Mr. Fentolin continued + slowly. “Since the unfortunate visit of this man Dunster, I seem to have + been conscious of a certain suspicion, a little cloud of suspicion under + which I seem to live and move, even among the members of my own household. + My sister-in-law is nervous and hysterical; Gerald has been sullen and + disobedient; Esther has avoided me. And now—well, I find even your + attitude a little difficult to understand. What does it mean, Mr. Hamel?” + </p> + <p> + Hamel shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I am not in the confidence of the different members of your family,” he + answered. “So far as I, personally, am concerned—” + </p> + <p> + “It pleases me sometimes,” Mr. Fentolin interrupted, “to interfere to some + extent in the affairs of the outside world. If I do so, that is my + business. I do it for my own amusement. It is at no time a serious + position which I take up. Have I by any chance, Mr. Hamel, become an + object of suspicion to you?” + </p> + <p> + “There are matters in which you are concerned,” Hamel admitted, “which I + do not understand, but I see no purpose in discussing them.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin wheeled his chair round in a semicircle. He was now between + the door and Hamel. + </p> + <p> + “Weaker mortals than I, Mr. Hamel,” he said calmly, “have wielded before + now the powers of life and death. From my chair I can make the lightnings + bite. Science has done away with the triumph of muscularity. Even as we + are here together at this moment, Mr. Hamel, if we should disagree, it is + I who am the preordained victor.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel saw the glitter in his hand. This was the end, then, of all doubt! + He remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “Suspicions which are, in a sense, absurd,” Mr. Fentolin continued, “have + grown until I find them obtrusive and obnoxious. What have I to do with + Mr. John P. Dunster? I sent him out from my house. If he is lost or ill, + the affair is not mine. Yet one by one those around me are falling away. I + told you an hour ago that Gerald was at Brancaster. It is a lie. He has + left this house, but no soul in it knows his destination.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel started. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that he has run away?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin nodded. + </p> + <p> + “All that I can surmise is that he has followed Dunster,” he proceeded. + “He has an idea that in some way I robbed or injured the man. He has + broken the bond of relationship between us. He has broken his solemn vow. + He has run a grave and terrible risk.” + </p> + <p> + “What of Miss Esther?” Hamel asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + “I have sent her away,” Mr. Fentolin replied, “until we come to a clear + understanding, you and I. You seem to be a harmless enough person, Mr. + Hamel but appearances are sometimes deceptive. It has been suggested to me + that you are a spy.” + </p> + <p> + “By whom?” Hamel demanded. + </p> + <p> + “By those in whom I trust,” Mr. Fentolin told him sternly. “You are a + friend of Reginald Kinsley. You met him in Norwich the other day—secretly. + Kinsley’s chief is a member of the Government. He is one of those who will + find eternal obloquy if The Hague Conference comes to a successful + termination. For some strange reason, I am supposed to have robbed or + harmed the one man in the world whose message might bring to nought that + Conference. Are you here to watch me, Mr. Hamel? Are you one of those who + believe that I am either in the pay of a foreign country, or that my + harmless efforts to interest myself in great things are efforts inimical + to this country; that I am, in short, a traitor?” + </p> + <p> + “You must admit that many of your actions are incomprehensible,” Hamel + replied slowly. “There are things here which I do not understand—which + certainly require explanation.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, why do you make them your business?” Mr. Fentolin persisted. “If + indeed the course which I steer is a harmless one,” he continued, with a + strange new glitter in his eyes, “then you are an impertinent stranger to + whom my doors cannot any longer be open. If you have taken advantage of my + hospitality to spy upon me and my actions, if indeed you have a mission + here, then you can carry it with you down into hell!” + </p> + <p> + “I understand that you are threatening me?” Hamel murmured. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Scarcely that, my young friend. I am not quite the obvious sort of + villain who flourishes revolvers and lures his victims into secret + chambers. These words to you are simply words of warning. I am not like + other men, neither am I used to being crossed. When I am crossed, I am + dangerous. Leave here, if you will, in safety, and mind your own affairs; + but if you show one particle of curiosity as to mine, if you interfere in + matters which concern me and me only, remember that you are encircled by + powers which are entirely ruthless, absolutely omnipotent. You can walk + back to the Tower to-night and remember that there isn’t a step you take + which might not be your last if I willed it, and never a soul the wiser. + There’s a very hungry little mother here who takes her victims and holds + them tight. You can hear her calling to you now. Listen!” + </p> + <p> + He held up his finger. The tide had turned, and through the half-open + window came the low thunder of the waves. + </p> + <p> + “You decline to share my evening,” Mr. Fentolin concluded. “Let it be so. + Go your own way, Hamel, only take care that your way does not cross mine.” + </p> + <p> + He backed his chair slowly and pressed the bell. Hamel felt himself + dismissed. He passed out into the hall. The door of the drawing-room stood + open, and he heard the sound of Mrs. Fentolin’s thin voice singing some + little French song. He hesitated and then stepped in. With one hand she + beckoned him to her, continuing to play all the time. He stepped over to + her side. + </p> + <p> + “I come to make my adieux,” he whispered, with a glance towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “You are leaving, then?” she asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin is in a strange humour,” she went on, a moment later, after + she had struck the final chords of her song. “There are things going on + around us which no one can understand. I think that one of his schemes has + miscarried; he has gone too far. He suspects you; I cannot tell you why or + how. If only you would go away!” + </p> + <p> + “What about Esther?” he asked quietly. + </p> + <p> + “You must leave her,” she cried, with a little catch in her throat. + “Gerald has broken away. Esther and I must carry still the burden.” + </p> + <p> + She motioned him to go. He touched her fingers for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Fentolin,” he said, “I have been a good many years making up my + mind. Now that I have done so, I do not think that any one will keep + Esther from me.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him a little pitifully, a little wistfully. Then, with a + shrug of the shoulders, she turned round to the piano and recommenced to + play. Hamel took his coat and hat from a servant who was waiting in the + hall and passed out into the night. + </p> + <p> + He walked briskly until he reached the Tower. The wind had risen, but + there was still enough light to help him on his way. The little building + was in complete darkness. He opened the door and stepped into the + sitting-room, lit the lamp, and, holding it over his head, went down the + passage and into the kitchen. Then he gave a start. The lamp nearly + slipped from his fingers. Kneeling on the stone floor, in very much the + same attitude as he had found her earlier in the day, Hannah Cox was + crouching patiently by the door which led into the boat-house, her face + expressionless, her ear turned towards the crack. She was still listening. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI + </h2> + <p> + Hamel set down the lamp upon the table. He glanced at the little clock + upon the dresser; it was a quarter past ten. The woman had observed his + entrance, although it seemed in no way to have discomposed her. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the time, Mrs. Cox?” he asked. “You ought to have been home + hours ago. What are you doing there?” + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet. Her expression was one of dogged but patient + humility. + </p> + <p> + “I started for home before nine o’clock, sir,” she told him, “but it was + worse than ever to-night. All the way along by the sea I seemed to hear + their voices, so I came back. I came back to listen. I have been listening + for an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel looked at her with a frown upon his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Cox,” he said, “I wish I could understand what it is that you have + in your mind. Those are not real voices that you hear; you cannot believe + that?” + </p> + <p> + “Not real voices,” she repeated, without the slightest expression in her + tone. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not! And tell me what connection you find between these fancies + of yours and that room? Why do you come and listen here?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” she answered patiently. + </p> + <p> + “You must have some reason,” he persisted. + </p> + <p> + “I have no reason,” she assured him, “only some day I shall see behind + these doors. Afterwards, I shall hear the voices no more.” + </p> + <p> + She was busy tying a shawl around her head. Hamel watched her, still + puzzled. He could not get rid of the idea that there was some method + behind her madness. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me—I have found you listening here before. Have you ever heard + anything suspicious?” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard nothing yet,” she admitted, “nothing that counts.” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he continued, “couldn’t we clear this matter up sensibly? Do you + believe that there is anybody in there? Do you believe the place is being + used in any way for a wrong purpose? If so, we will insist upon having the + keys from Mr. Fentolin. He cannot refuse. The place is mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin would not give you the keys, sir,” she replied. “If he did, + it would be useless.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like me to break the door in?” Hamel asked. + </p> + <p> + “You could not do it, sir,” she told him, “not you nor anybody else. The + door is thicker than my fist, of solid oak. It was a mechanic from New + York who fitted the locks. I have heard it said in the village—Bill + Hamas, the carpenter, declares that there are double doors. The workmen + who were employed here were housed in a tent upon the beach and sent home + the day they finished their job. They were never allowed in the village. + They were foreigners, most of them. They came from nobody knows where, and + when they had finished they disappeared. Why was that, sir? What is there + inside which Mr. Fentolin needs to guard so carefully?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin has invented something,” Hamel explained. “He keeps the + model in there. Inventors are very jealous of their work.” + </p> + <p> + She looked down upon the floor for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be here at seven o’clock in the morning, sir. I will give you + your breakfast at the usual time.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel opened the door for her. + </p> + <p> + “Good night, Mrs. Cox,” he said. “Would you like me to walk a little way + with you? It’s a lonely path to the village, and the dikes are full.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, no, sir,” she replied. “It’s a lonely way, right enough, but + it isn’t loneliness that frightens me. I am less afraid out with the winds + and the darkness than under this roof. If I lose my way and wander all + night upon the marsh, I’ll be safer out there than you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + She passed away, and Hamel watched her disappear into the darkness. Then + he dragged out a bowl of tobacco and filled a pipe. Although he was half + ashamed of himself, he strolled back once more into the kitchen, and, + drawing up a stool, he sat down just where he had discovered Hannah Cox, + sat still and listened. No sound of any sort reached him. He sat there for + ten minutes. Then he scrambled to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “She is mad, of course!” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + He mixed himself a whisky and soda, relit his pipe, which had gone out, + and drew up an easy-chair to the fire which she had left him in the + sitting-room. The wind had increased in violence, and the panes of his + window rattled continually. He yawned and tried to fancy that he was + sleepy. It was useless. He was compelled to admit the truth—that his + nerves were all on edge. In a sense he was afraid. The thought of bed + repelled him. He had not a single impulse towards repose. Outside, the + wind all the time was gathering force. More than once his window was + splashed with the spray carried on by the wind which followed the tide. He + sat quite still and tried to think calmly, tried to piece together in his + mind the sequence of events which had brought him to this part of the + world and which had led to his remaining where he was, an undesired + hanger-on at the threshold of Miles Fentolin. He had the feeling that + to-night he had burned his boats. There was no longer any pretence of + friendliness possible between him and this strange creature. Mr. Fentolin + suspected him, realised that he himself was suspected. But of what? Hamel + moved in his chair restlessly. Sometimes that gathering cloud of suspicion + seemed to him grotesque. Of what real harm could he be capable, this + little autocrat who from his chair seemed to exercise such a malign + influence upon every one with whom he was brought into contact? Hamel + sighed. The riddle was insoluble. With a sudden rush of warmer and more + joyous feelings, he let the subject slip away from him. He closed his eyes + and dreamed for a while. There was a new world before him, joys which only + so short a time ago he had fancied had passed him by. + </p> + <p> + He sat up in his chair with a start. The fire had become merely a handful + of grey ashes, his limbs were numb and stiff. The lamp was flickering out. + He had been dozing, how long he had no idea. Something had awakened him + abruptly. There was a cold draught blowing through the room. He turned his + head, his hands still gripping the sides of his chair. His heart gave a + leap. The outer door was a few inches open, was being held open by some + invisible force. There was some one there, some one on the point of + entering stealthily. Even as he watched, the crack became a little wider. + He sat with his eyes riveted upon that opening space. The unseen hand was + still at work. Every instant he expected to see a face thrust forward. The + sensation of absolute physical fear by which he was oppressed was a + revelation to him. He found himself wishing almost feverishly that he was + armed. The physical strength in which he had trusted seemed to him at that + instant a valueless and impotent thing. There was a splash of spray or + raindrops against the window and through the crack in the door. The lamp + chimney hissed and spluttered and finally the light went out. The room was + in sudden darkness. Hamel sprang then to his feet. Silence had become an + intolerable thing. He felt the close presence of another human being + creeping in upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Who’s there?” he cried. “Who’s there, I say?” + </p> + <p> + There was no direct answer, only the door was pushed a little further + open. He had stepped close to it now. The sweep of the wind was upon his + face, although in the black darkness he could see nothing. And then a + sudden recollection flashed in upon him. From his trousers pocket he + snatched a little electric torch. In an instant his thumb had pressed the + button. He turned it upon the door. The shivering white hand which held it + open was plainly in view. It was the hand of a woman! He stepped swiftly + forward. A dark figure almost fell into his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Fentolin!” he exclaimed, aghast. + </p> + <p> + An hysterical cry, choked and subdued, broke from her lips. He half + carried, half led her to his easy-chair. Suddenly steadied by the presence + of this unlooked-for emergency, he closed the outside door and relit the + lamp with firm fingers. Then he turned to face her, and his amazement at + this strange visit became consternation. + </p> + <p> + She was still in her dinner-gown of black satin, but it was soaked through + with the rain and hung about her like a black shroud. She had lost one + shoe, and there was a great hole in her silk stocking. Her hair was all + disarranged; one of its numerous switches was hanging down over her ear. + The rouge upon her cheeks had run down on to her neck. She sat there, + looking at him out of her hollow eyes like some trapped animal. She was + shaking with fear. It was fear, not faintness, which kept her silent. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, please, what is the matter?” he insisted, speaking as + indifferently as he could. “Tell me at once what has happened?” + </p> + <p> + She pointed to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Lock it!” she implored. + </p> + <p> + He turned down the latch and drew the bolt. The sound seemed to give her a + little courage. Her fingers went to her throat for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Give me some water.” + </p> + <p> + He poured out some soda-water. She drank only a sip and put it down again. + He began to be alarmed. She had the appearance of one who has suddenly + lost her senses. + </p> + <p> + “Please tell me just what has happened?” he begged. “If I can help in any + way, you know I will. But you must tell me. Do you realise that it is + three o’clock? I should have been in bed, only I went to sleep over the + fire here.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” she answered. “It is just the wind that has taken away my + breath. It was a hard struggle to get here. Listen—you are our + friend, Mr. Hamel—Esther’s and mine? Swear that you are our friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my honour, I am,” he assured her. “You should know that.” + </p> + <p> + “For eight years,” she went on, her voice clear enough now, although it + seemed charged with a curious metallic vibration, “for eight years we’ve + borne it, all three of us, slaves, bound hand and foot, lashed with his + tongue, driven along the path of his desires. We have seen evil things. We + have been on the point of rebellion, and he’s come a little nearer and + he’s pointed back. He has taken me by the hand, and I have walked by the + side of his chair, loathing it, loathing myself, out on to the terrace and + down below, just where it happened. You know what happened there, Mr. + Hamel?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean where Mr. Fentolin met with his accident.” + </p> + <p> + “It was no accident!” she cried, glancing for a moment around her. “It was + no accident! It was my husband who took him up and threw him over the + terrace, down below; my husband who tried to kill him; Esther’s father—Gerald’s + father! Miles was in the Foreign Office then, and he did something + disgraceful. He sold a secret to Austria. He was always a great gambler, + and he was in debt. Seymour found out about it. He followed him down here. + They met upon the terrace. I—I saw it!” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “No one has known the truth,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “No one has ever known,” she assented, “and our broken lives have been the + price. It was Miles himself who made the bargain. We—we can’t go on, + Mr. Hamel.” + </p> + <p> + “I begin to understand,” Hamel said softly. “You suffer everything from + Miles Fentolin because he kept the secret. Very well, that belongs to the + past. Something has happened, something to-night, which has brought you + here. Tell me about it?” + </p> + <p> + Once more her voice began to shake. + </p> + <p> + “We’ve seen—terrible things—horrible things,” she faltered. + “We’ve held our peace. Perhaps it’s been nearly as bad before, but we’ve + closed our eyes; we haven’t wanted to know. Now—we can’t help it. + Mr. Hamel, Esther isn’t at Lord Saxthorpe’s. She never went there. They + didn’t ask her. And Dunster—the man Dunster—” + </p> + <p> + “Where is Esther?” Hamel interrupted suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Locked up away from you, locked up because she rebelled!” + </p> + <p> + “And Dunster?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. Her eyes were filled with horror. + </p> + <p> + “But he left the Hall—I saw him!” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t Dunster. It was the man Miles makes use of—Ryan, the + librarian. He was once an actor.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is Dunster, then?” Hamel asked quickly. “What has become of him?” + </p> + <p> + She opened her lips and closed them again, struggled to speak and failed. + She sat there, breathing quickly, but silent. The power of speech had + gone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII + </h2> + <p> + Hamel, for the next few minutes, forgot everything else in his efforts to + restore to consciousness his unexpected visitor. He rebuilt the fire, + heated some water upon his spirit lamp, and forced some hot drink between + the lips of the woman who was now almost in a state of collapse. Then he + wrapped her round in his own ulster and drew her closer to the fire. He + tried during those few moments to put away the memory of all that she had + told him. Gradually she began to recover. She opened her eyes and drew a + little sigh. She made no effort at speech, however. She simply lay and + looked at him like some wounded animal. He came over to her side and + chafed one of her cold hands. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said at last, “you begin to look more like yourself now. You + are quite safe in here, and, for Esther’s sake as well as your own, you + know that I am your friend.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded, and her fingers gently pressed his. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Now let us see where we are,” he continued. “Tell me exactly why you + risked so much by leaving St. David’s Hall to-night and coming down here. + Isn’t there any chance that he might find out?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” she answered. “It was Lucy Price who sent me. She came to + my room just as I was undressing.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucy Price,” he repeated. “The secretary?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! She told me that she had meant to come to you herself. She sent me + instead. She thought it best. This man Dunster is being kept alive because + there is something Miles wants him to tell him, and he won’t. But + to-night, if he is still alive, if he won’t tell, they mean to make away + with him. They are afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Price told you this?” Hamel asked gravely. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fentolin nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! She said so. She knows—she knows everything. She has been like + the rest of us. She, too, has suffered. She, too, has reached the breaking + point. She loved him before the accident. She has been his slave ever + since. Listen!” + </p> + <p> + She suddenly clutched his arm. They were both silent. There was nothing to + be heard but the wind. She leaned a little closer to him. + </p> + <p> + “Lucy Price sent me here to-night because she was afraid that it was + to-night they meant to take him from his hiding-place and kill him. The + police have left off searching for Mr. Dunster in Yarmouth and at The + Hague. There is a detective in the neighbourhood and another one on his + way here. They are afraid to keep him alive any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Where was Mr. Fentolin when you left?” Hamel asked. + </p> + <p> + “I asked Lucy Price that,” she replied. “When she came to my room, there + were no signs of his leaving. She told me to come and tell you everything. + Do you know where Mr. Dunster is?” + </p> + <p> + Hamel shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Within a few yards of here,” she went on. “He is in the boat-house, the + place where Miles told you he kept a model of his invention. They brought + him here the night before they put his clothes on Ryan and sent him off + disguised as Mr. Dunster, in the car to Yarmouth.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel started up, but she clutched at his arm and pulled him back. “No,” + she cried, “you can’t break in! There are double doors and a wonderful + lock. The boat-house is yours; the building is yours. In the morning you + must demand the keys—if he does not come to-night!” + </p> + <p> + “And how are we to know,” Hamel asked, “if he comes to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Go outside,” she whispered. “Look towards St. David’s Hall and tell me + how many lights you can see.” + </p> + <p> + He drew back the bolt, unlatched the door, and stepped out into the + darkness. The wind and the driving rain beat against his face. A cloud of + spray enveloped and soaked him. Like lamps hung in the sky, the lights of + St. David’s Hall shone out through the black gulf. He counted them + carefully; then he stepped back. + </p> + <p> + “There are seven,” he told her, closing the door with an effort. + </p> + <p> + She counted upon her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “I must come and see,” she muttered. “I must be sure. Help me.” + </p> + <p> + He lifted her to her feet, and they staggered out together. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” she went on, gripping his arm. “You see that row of lights? If + anything happens, if Mr. Fentolin leaves the Hall to-night to come down + here, a light will appear on the left in the far corner. We must watch for + that light. We must watch—” + </p> + <p> + The words, whispered hoarsely into his ear, suddenly died away. Even as + they stood there, far away from the other lights, another one shone + suddenly out in the spot towards which she had pointed, and continued to + burn steadily. He felt the woman who was clinging to his arm become + suddenly a dead weight. + </p> + <p> + “She was right!” Mrs. Fentolin moaned. “He is coming down to-night! He is + preparing to leave now; perhaps he has already started! What shall we do? + What shall we do?” + </p> + <p> + Hamel was conscious of a gathering sense of excitement. He, too, looked at + the signal which was flashing out its message towards them. Then he + gripped his companion’s arm and almost carried her back into the + sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said firmly, “you can do nothing further. You have done + your part and done it well. Stay where you are and wait. The rest belongs + to me.” + </p> + <p> + “But what can you do?” she demanded, her voice shaking with fear. “Meekins + will come with him, and Doctor Sarson, unless he is here already. What can + you do against them? Meekins can break any ordinary man’s back, and Mr. + Fentolin will have a revolver.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel threw another log on to the fire and drew her chair closer to it. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind about,” he declared cheerfully. “Mr. Fentolin is too clever to + attempt violence, except as a last resource. He knows that I have friends + in London who would need some explanation of my disappearance. Stay here + and wait.” + </p> + <p> + She recognised the note of authority in his tone, and she bowed her head. + Then she looked up at him; she was a changed woman. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I have done ill to drag you into our troubles, Mr. Hamel,” she + said, “and yet, I believe in you. I believe that you really care for + Esther. If you can help us now, it will be for your happiness, too. You + are a man. God bless you!” + </p> + <p> + Hamel groped his way round the side of the Tower and took up a position at + the extreme corner of the landward side of the building, within a yard of + the closed doors. The light far out upon the left was still gleaming + brightly, but two of the others in a line with it had disappeared. He + flattened himself against the wall and waited, listening intently, his + eyes straining through the darkness. Yet they were almost upon him before + he had the slightest indication of their presence. A single gleam of light + in the path, come and gone like a flash, the gleam of an electric torch + directed momentarily towards the road, was his first indication that they + were near. A moment or two later he heard the strange click, click of the + little engine attached to Mr. Fentolin’s chair. Hamel set his teeth and + stepped a few inches further back. The darkness was so intense that they + were actually within a yard or so of him before he could even dimly + discern their shapes. There were three of them—Mr. Fentolin in his + chair, Doctor Sarson, and Meekins. They paused for a moment while the + latter produced a key. Hamel distinctly heard a slow, soft whisper from + Doctor Sarson. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I go round to the front and see that he is in bed?” + </p> + <p> + “No need,” Mr. Fentolin replied calmly. “It is nearly four o’clock. Better + not to risk the sound of your footsteps upon the pebbles. Now!” + </p> + <p> + The door swung noiselessly open. The darkness was so complete that even + though Hamel could have touched them with an outstretched hand, their + shapes were invisible. Hamel, who had formed no definite plans, had no + time to hesitate. As the last one disappeared through the door, he, too, + slipped in. He turned abruptly to the left and, holding his breath, stood + against the wall. The door closed behind them. The gleam of the electric + light flashed across the stone floor and rested for a moment upon a + trap-door, which Meekins had already stooped to lift. It fell back + noiselessly upon rubber studs, and Meekins immediately slipped through it + a ladder, on either side of which was a grooved stretch of board, + evidently fashioned to allow Mr. Fentolin’s carriage to pass down. Hamel + held his breath. The moment for him was critical. If the light flashed + once in his direction, he must be discovered. Both Meekins and Doctor + Sarson, however, were intent upon the task of steering Mr. Fentolin’s + little carriage down below. They placed the wheels in the two grooves, and + Meekins secured the carriage with a rope which he let run through his + fingers. As soon as the little vehicle had apparently reached the bottom, + he turned, thrust the electric torch in his pocket, and stepped lightly + down the ladder. Doctor Sarson followed his example. They disappeared in + perfect silence and left the door open. Presently a gleam of light came + travelling up, from which Hamel knew that they had lit a lamp below. Very + softly he crept across the floor, threw himself upon his stomach and + peered down. Below him was a room, or rather a cellar, parts of which + seemed to have been cut out of the solid rock. Immediately underneath was + a plain iron bedstead, on which was lying stretched the figure of a man. + In those first few moments Hamel failed altogether to recognise Mr. + Dunster. He was thin and white, and he seemed to have shrunken; his face, + with its coarse growth of beard, seemed like the face of an old man. Yet + the eyes were open, eyes dull and heavy as though with pain. So far no + word had been spoken, but at that moment Mr. Fentolin broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “My dear guest,” he said, “I bring you our most sincere apologies. It has + gone very much against the grain, I can assure you, to have neglected you + for so long a time. It is entirely the fault of the very troublesome young + man who occupies the other portion of this building. In the daytime his + presence makes it exceedingly difficult for us to offer you those little + attentions which you might naturally expect.” + </p> + <p> + The man upon the bed neither moved nor changed his position in any way. + Nor did he speak. All power of initiative seemed to have deserted him. He + lay quite still, his eyes fixed upon Mr. Fentolin. + </p> + <p> + “There comes a time,” the latter continued, “when every one of us is + confronted with what might be described as the crisis of our lives. Yours + has come, my guest, at precisely this moment. It is, if my watch tells me + the truth, five and twenty minutes to four. It is the last day of April. + The year you know. You have exactly one minute to decide whether you will + live a short time longer, or whether you will on this last day of April, + and before—say, a quarter to four, make that little journey the + nature of which you and I have discussed more than once.” + </p> + <p> + Still the man upon the bed made no movement nor any reply. Mr. Fentolin + sighed and beckoned to Doctor Sarson. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” he whispered, “that that wonderful drug of yours, Doctor, + has been even a little too far-reaching in its results. It has kept our + friend so quiet that he has lost even the power of speech, perhaps even + the desire to speak. A little restorative, I think—just a few + drops.” + </p> + <p> + Doctor Sarson nodded silently. He drew from his pocket a little phial and + poured into a wine-glass which stood on a table by the side of the bed, + half a dozen drops of some ruby-coloured liquid, to which he added a + tablespoonful of water. Then he leaned once more over the bed and poured + the contents of the glass between the lips of the semi-conscious man. + </p> + <p> + “Give him two minutes,” he said calmly. “He will be able to speak then.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin nodded and leaned back in his chair. He glanced around the + room a little critically. There was a thick carpet upon the floor, a sofa + piled with cushions in one corner, and several other articles of + furniture. The walls, however, were uncovered and were stained with damp. + A great pink fungus stood out within a few inches of the bed, a grim + mixture of exquisite colouring and loathsome imperfections. The atmosphere + was fetid. Meekins suddenly struck a match and lit some grains of powder + in a saucer. A curious odour of incense stole through the place. Mr. + Fentolin nodded appreciatively. + </p> + <p> + “That is better,” he declared. “Really, the atmosphere here is positively + unpleasant. I am ashamed to think that our guest has had to put up with it + so long. And yet,” he went on, “I think we must call it his own fault. I + trust that he will no longer be obstinate.” + </p> + <p> + The effect of the restorative began to show itself. The man on the bed + moved restlessly. His eyes were no longer altogether expressionless. He + was staring at Mr. Fentolin as one looks at some horrible vision. Mr. + Fentolin smiled pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Now you are looking more like your old self, my dear Mr. Dunster,” he + remarked. “I don’t think that I need repeat what I said when I first came, + need I? You have just to utter that one word, and your little visit to us + will be at an end.” + </p> + <p> + The man looked around at all of them. He raised himself a little on his + elbow. For the first time, Hamel, crouching above, recognised any likeness + to Mr. John P. Dunster. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll see you in hell first!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin’s face momentarily darkened. He moved a little nearer to the + man upon the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Dunster,” he said, “I am in grim earnest. Never mind arguments. Never + mind why I am on the other side. They are restless about you in America. + Unless I can cable that word to-morrow morning, they’ll communicate direct + with The Hague, and I shall have had my trouble for nothing. It is not my + custom to put up with failure. Therefore, let me tell you that no single + one of my threats has been exaggerated. My patience has reached its + breaking point. Give me that word, or before four o’clock strikes, you + will find yourself in a new chamber, among the corpses of those misguided + fishermen, mariners of ancient days, and a few others. It’s only a matter + of fifty yards out to the great sea pit below the Dagger Rocks—I’ve + spoken to you about it before, haven’t I? So surely as I speak to you of + it at this moment.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin’s speech came to an abrupt termination. A convulsive movement + of Meekins’, an expression of blank amazement on the part of Doctor + Sarson, had suddenly checked the words upon his lips. He turned his head + quickly in the direction towards which they had been gazing, towards which + in fact, at that moment, Meekins, with a low cry, had made a fruitless + spring. The ladder down which they had descended was slowly disappearing. + Meekins, with a jump, missed the last rung by only a few inches. Some + unseen hand was drawing it up. Already the last few feet were vanishing in + mid-air. Mr. Fentolin sat quite quiet and still. He looked through the + trap-door and saw Hamel. + </p> + <p> + “Most ingenious and, I must confess, most successful, my young friend!” he + exclaimed pleasantly. “When you have made the ladder quite secure, perhaps + you will be so good as to discuss this little matter with us?” + </p> + <p> + There was no immediate reply. The eyes of all four men were turned now + upon that empty space through which the ladder had finally disappeared. + Mr. Fentolin’s fingers disappeared within the pocket of his coat. + Something very bright was glistening in his hand when he withdrew it. + </p> + <p> + “Come and parley with us, Mr. Hamel,” he begged. “You will not find us + unreasonable.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel’s voice came back in reply, but Hamel himself kept well away from + the opening. + </p> + <p> + “The conditions,” he said, “are unpropitious. A little time for reflection + will do you no harm.” + </p> + <p> + The trap-doors were suddenly closed. Mr. Fentolin’s face, as he looked up, + became diabolic. + </p> + <p> + “We are trapped!” he muttered; “caught like rats in a hole!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + A gleam of day was in the sky as Hamel, with Mrs. Fentolin by his side, + passed along the path which led from the Tower to St. David’s Hall. Lights + were still burning from its windows; the outline of the building itself + was faintly defined against the sky. Behind him, across the sea, was that + one straight line of grey merging into silver. The rain had ceased and the + wind had dropped. On either side of them stretched the brimming creeks. + </p> + <p> + “Can we get into the house without waking any one?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Quite easily,” she assured him. “The front door is never barred.” + </p> + <p> + She walked by his side, swiftly and with surprising vigour. In the still, + grey light, her face was more ghastly than ever, but there was a new + firmness about her mouth, a new decision in her tone. They reached the + Hall without further speech, and she led the way to a small door on the + eastern side, through which they entered noiselessly and passed along a + little passage out into the hall. A couple of lights were still burning. + The place seemed full of shadows. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do now?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I want to ring up London on the telephone,” he replied. “I know that + there is a detective either in the neighbourhood or on his way here, but I + shall tell my friend that he had better come down himself.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to release Esther,” she said. “She is locked in her room. The + telephone is in the study. I will come down there to you.” + </p> + <p> + She passed silently up the broad staircase. Hamel groped his way across + the hall into the library. He turned on the small electric reading-lamp + and drew up a chair to the side of the telephone. Even as he lifted the + receiver to his ear, he looked around him half apprehensively. It seemed + as though every moment he would hear the click of Mr. Fentolin’s chair. + </p> + <p> + He got the exchange at Norwich without difficulty, and a few minutes later + a sleepy reply came from the number he had rung up in London. It was + Kinsley’s servant who answered. + </p> + <p> + “I want to speak to Mr. Kinsley at once upon most important business,” + Hamel announced. + </p> + <p> + “Very sorry, sir,” the man repelled. “Mr. Kinsley left town last night for + the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Where has he gone?” Hamel demanded quickly. “You can tell me. You know + who I am; I am Mr. Hamel.” + </p> + <p> + “Into Norfolk somewhere, sir. He went with several other gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that Bullen?” Hamel asked. + </p> + <p> + The man admitted the fact. + </p> + <p> + “Can you tell me if any of the people with whom Mr. Kinsley left London + were connected with the police?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + The man hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I believe so, sir,” he admitted. “The gentlemen started in a motor-car + and were going to drive all night.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel laid down the receiver. At any rate, he would not be left long with + this responsibility upon him. He walked out into the hall. The house was + still wrapped in deep silence. Then, from somewhere above him, coming down + the stairs, he heard the rustle of a woman’s gown. He looked up, and saw + Miss Price, fully dressed, coming slowly towards him. She held up her + finger and led the way back into the library. She was dressed as neatly as + ever, but there was a queer light in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen Mrs. Seymour Fentolin,” she said. “She tells me that you have + left Mr. Fentolin and the others in the subterranean room of the Tower.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel nodded. + </p> + <p> + “They have Dunster down there,” he told her. “I followed them in; it + seemed the best thing to do. I have a friend from London who is on his way + down here now with some detective officers, to enquire into the matter of + Dunster’s disappearance.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to leave them where they are until these people arrive?” + she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I think so,” he replied, after a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t seem to + have had time to consider even what to do. The opportunity came, and I + embraced it. There they are, and they won’t dare to do any further harm to + Dunster now. Mrs. Fentolin was down in my room, and I thought it best to + bring her back first before I even parleyed with them again.” + </p> + <p> + “You must be careful,” she advised slowly. “The man Dunster has been + drugged, he has lost some of his will; he may have lost some of his mental + balance. Mr. Fentolin is clever. He will find a dozen ways to wriggle out + of any charge that can be brought against him. You know what he has really + done?” + </p> + <p> + “I can guess.” + </p> + <p> + “He has kept back a document signed by the twelve men in America who + control the whole of Wall Street, who control practically the money + markets of the world. That document is a warning to Germany that they will + have no war against England. Owing to Mr. Fentolin, it has not been + delivered, and the Conference is sitting now. War may be declared at any + moment.” + </p> + <p> + “But as a matter of common sense,” Hamel asked, “why does Mr. Fentolin + desire war?” + </p> + <p> + “You do not understand Mr. Fentolin,” she told him quietly. “He is not + like other men. There are some who live almost entirely for the sake of + making others happy, who find joy in seeing people content and satisfied. + Mr. Fentolin is the reverse of this. He has but one craving in life: to + see pain in others. To see a human being suffer is to him a debauch of + happiness. A war which laid this country waste would fill him with a + delight which you could never understand. There are no normal human beings + like this. It is a disease in the man, a disease which came upon him after + his accident.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you have all been his slaves,” Hamel said curiously. + </p> + <p> + “We have all been his slaves,” she admitted, “for different reasons. + Before his accident came, Mr. Fentolin was my master and the only man in + the world for me. After his accident, I think my feelings for him, if + anything, grew stronger. I became his slave. I sold my conscience, my + self-respect, everything in life worth having, to bring a smile to his + lips, to help him through a single moment of his misery. And just lately + the reaction has come. He has played with me just as he would sit and pull + the legs out of a spider to watch its agony. I have been one of his + favourite amusements. And even now, if he came into this room I think that + I should be helpless. I should probably fall at his feet and pray for + forgiveness.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel looked at her wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “I have come down to warn you,” she went on. “It is possible that this is + the beginning of the end, that his wonderful fortune will desert him, that + his star has gone down. But remember that he has the brains and courage of + genius. You think that you have him in a trap. Don’t be surprised, when + you go back, to find that he has turned the tables upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” Hamel declared. “I looked all round the place. There isn’t a + window or opening anywhere. The trap-door is in the middle of the ceiling + and it is fifteen feet from the floor. It shuts with a spring.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be as you say,” she observed. “It may be that he is safe. + Remember, though, if you go near him, that he is desperate.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where Miss Fentolin is?” he interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “She is with her mother,” the woman replied, impatiently. “She is coming + down. Tell me, what are you going to do with Mr. Fentolin? Nothing else + matters.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a friend,” Hamel answered, “who will see to that.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are relying upon the law,” she said, “I think you will find that + the law cannot touch him. Mr. Dunster was brought to the house in a + perfectly natural manner. He was certainly injured, and injured in a + railway accident. Doctor Sarson is a fully qualified surgeon, and he will + declare that Mr. Dunster was unfit to travel. If necessary, they will have + destroyed the man’s intelligence. If you think that you have him broken, + let me warn you that you may be disappointed. Let me, if I may, give you + one word of advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Please do,” Hamel begged. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him coldly. Her tone was still free from any sort of + emotion. + </p> + <p> + “You have taken up some sort of position here,” she continued, “as a + friend of Mrs. Seymour Fentolin, a friend of the family. Don’t let them + come back under the yoke. You know the secret of their bondage?” + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” he admitted. + </p> + <p> + “They have been his slaves because their absolute obedience to his will + was one of the conditions of his secrecy. He has drawn the cords too + tight. Better let the truth be known, if needs be, than have their three + lives broken. Don’t let them go back under his governance. For me, I + cannot tell. If he comes back, as he will come back, I may become his + slave again, but let them break away. Listen—that is Mrs. Fentolin.” + </p> + <p> + She left him. Hamel followed her out into the hall. Esther and her mother + were already at the foot of the stairs. He drew them into the study. + Esther gave him her hands, but she was trembling in every limb. + </p> + <p> + “I am terrified!” she whispered. “Every moment I think I can hear the + click of that awful carriage. He will come back; I am sure he will come + back!” + </p> + <p> + “He may,” Hamel answered sturdily, “but never to make you people his + slaves again. You have done enough. You have earned your freedom.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree,” Mrs. Fentolin said firmly. “We have gone on from sacrifice to + sacrifice, until it has become a habit with us to consider him the master + of our bodies and our souls. To-day, Esther, we have reached the breaking + point. Not even for the sake of that message from the other side of the + grave, not even to preserve his honour and his memory, can we do more.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel held up his finger. He opened the French windows, and they followed + him out on to the terrace. The grey dawn had broken now over the sea. + There were gleams of fitful sunshine on the marshes. Some distance away a + large motor-car was coming rapidly along the road. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV + </h2> + <p> + Mr. John P. Dunster, lying flat upon his little bed, watched with dilated + eyes the disappearance of the ladder. Then he laughed. It was a queer + sound—broken, spasmodic, devoid of any of the ordinary elements of + humor—and yet it was a laugh. Mr. Fentolin turned his head towards + his prisoner and nodded thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “What a constitution, my friend!” he exclaimed, without any trace of + disturbance in his voice. “And what a sense of humour! Strange that a + trifling circumstance like this should affect it. Meekins, burn some more + of the powder. The atmosphere down here may be salubrious, but I am + unaccustomed to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” Mr. Dunster said in a hollow tone, “you will have some + opportunity now of discovering with me what it is like.” + </p> + <p> + “That, too, is just possible,” Mr. Fentolin admitted, blowing out a little + volume of smoke from a cigarette which he had just lit, “but one never + knows. We have friends, and our position, although, I must admit, a little + ridiculous, is easily remedied. But how that mischief-making Mr. Hamel + could have found his way into the boat-house does, I must confess, perplex + me.” + </p> + <p> + “He must have been hanging around and followed us in when we came,” + Meekins muttered. “Somehow, I fancied I felt some one near.” + </p> + <p> + “Our young friend,” Mr. Fentolin continued, “has, without doubt, an + obvious turn of mind. He will send for his acquaintance in the Foreign + Office; they will haul out Mr. Dunster here, and he will have a belated + opportunity of delivering his message at The Hague.” + </p> + <p> + “You aren’t going to murder me first, then?” Mr. Dunster grunted. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled at him benignly. + </p> + <p> + “My dear and valued guest,” he protested, “why so forbidding an idea? Let + me assure you from the bottom of my heart that any bodily harm to you is + the most unlikely thing in the world. You see, though you might not think + it,” he went on, “I love life. That is why I keep a doctor always by my + side. That is why I insist upon his making a complete study of my + constitution and treating me in every respect as though I were indeed an + invalid. I am really only fifty-nine years old. It is my intention to live + until I am eighty-nine. An offence against the law of the nature you + indicate might interfere materially with my intentions.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster struggled for a moment for breath. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said, “that’s all right, but do you suppose you won’t be + punished for what you’ve done to me? You laid a deliberate plot to bring + me to St. David’s Hall; you’ve kept me locked up, dosed me with drugs, + brought me down here at the dead of night, kept me a prisoner in a + dungeon. Do you think you can do that for nothing? Do you think you won’t + have to suffer for it?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin smiled. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mr. Dunster,” he reminded him, “you were in a railway accident, + you know; there is no possible doubt about that. And the wound in your + head is still there, in a very dangerous place. Men who have been in + railway accidents, and who have a gaping wound very close to their brain, + are subject to delusions. I have simply done my best to play the Good + Samaritan. Your clothes and papers are all untouched. If my eminent + physician had pronounced you ready to travel a week ago, you would + certainly have been allowed to depart a week ago. Any interference in your + movements has been entirely in the interests of your health.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster tried to sit up but found himself unable. + </p> + <p> + “So you think they won’t believe my story, eh?” he muttered. “Well, we + shall see.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin thoughtfully contemplated the burning end of his cigarette + for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “If I believed,” he said, “that there was any chance of your statements + being accepted, I am afraid I should be compelled, in all our interests, + to ask Doctor Sarson to pursue just a step further that experiment into + the anatomy of your brain with which he has already trifled.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster’s face was suddenly ghastly. His reserve of strength seemed to + ebb away. The memory of some horrible moment seemed to hold him in its + clutches. + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake, leave me alone!” he moaned. “Let me get away, that’s all; + let me crawl away!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Mr. Fentolin murmured. “That sounds much more reasonable. When you + talk like that, my friend, I feel indeed that there is hope for you. Let + us abandon this subject for the present. Have you solved the puzzle yet?” + he asked Meekins. + </p> + <p> + Meekins was standing below the closed trap-door. He had already dragged up + a wooden case underneath and was piling it with various articles of + furniture. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, sir,” he replied. “When I have made this steadier, I am just + going to see what pressure I can bring to bear on the trap-door.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard the bolts go,” Doctor Sarson remarked uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” Mr. Fentolin declared, “it will indeed be an interesting + test of our friend Meekins’ boasted strength. Meekins holds his place—a + very desirable place, too—chiefly for two reasons: first his + discretion and secondly his muscles. He has never before had a real + opportunity of testing the latter. We shall see.” + </p> + <p> + Doctor Sarson came slowly and gravely to the bedside. He looked down upon + his patient. Mr. Dunster shivered. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure, sir,” he said very softly, “that Mr. Dunster, in his + present state of mind, is a very safe person to be allowed his freedom. It + is true that we have kept him here for his own sake, because of his fits + of mental wandering. Our statements, however, may be doubted. An apparent + return to sanity on his part may lend colour to his accusations, + especially if permanent. Perhaps it would be as well to pursue that + investigation a shade further. A touch more to the left and I do not think + that Mr. Dunster will remember much in this world likely to affect us.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster’s face was like marble. There were beads of perspiration upon + his forehead, his eyes were filled with reminiscent horror. Mr. Fentolin + bent over him with genuine interest. + </p> + <p> + “What a picture he would make!” he murmured. “What a drama! Do you know, I + am half inclined to agree with you, Sarson. The only trouble is that you + have not your instruments here.” + </p> + <p> + “I could improvise something that would do the trick,” the doctor said + thoughtfully. “It really isn’t a complicated affair. It seems to me that + his story may gain credence from the very fact of our being discovered in + this extraordinary place. To have moved him here was a mistake, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so,” Mr. Fentolin admitted, with a sigh. “It was our young friend + Mr. Hamel who was responsible for it. I fancied him arriving with a search + warrant at any moment. We will bear in mind your suggestion for a few + minutes. Let us watch Meekins. This promises to be interesting.” + </p> + <p> + By dint of piling together all the furniture in the place, the man was now + able to reach the trap-door. He pressed upon it vigorously without even + bending the wood. Mr. Fentolin smiled pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Meekins,” he said, “look at me.” + </p> + <p> + The man turned and faced his master. His aspect of dogged civility had + never been more apparent. + </p> + <p> + “Now listen,” Mr. Fentolin went on. “I want to remind you of certain + things, Meekins. We are among friends here—no secrecy, you + understand, or anything of that sort. You need not be afraid! You know how + you came to me? You remember that little affair of Anna Jayes in + Hartlepool?” + </p> + <p> + The face of the man was filled with terror. He began to tremble where he + stood. Mr. Fentolin played for a moment with his collar, as though he + found it tight. + </p> + <p> + “Such a chance it was, my dear Meekins,” Mr. Fentolin continued + cheerfully, “which brought me that little scrap of knowledge concerning + you. It has bought me through all these years a good deal of faithful + service. I am not ungrateful, believe me. I intend to retain you for my + body-servant and to keep my lips sealed, for a great many years to come. + Now remember what I have said. When we leave this place, that little + episode will steal back into a far corner of my mind. I shall, in short, + forget it. If we are caught here and inconvenience follows, well, I cannot + say. Do your best, Meekins. Do a little better than your best. You have + the reputation of being a strong man. Let us see you justify it.” + </p> + <p> + The man took a long breath and returned to his task. His shoulders and + arms were upon the door. He began to strain. He grew red in the face; the + veins across his forehead stood out, blue, like tightly-drawn string. His + complexion became purple. Through his open mouth his breath came in short + pants. With every muscle of his body and neck he strained and strained. + The woodwork gave a little, but it never even cracked. With a sob he + suddenly almost collapsed. Mr. Fentolin looked at him, frowning. + </p> + <p> + “Very good—very good, Meekins,” he said, “but not quite good enough. + You are a trifle out of practice, perhaps. Take your breath, take time. + Remember that you have another chance. I am not angry with you, Meekins. I + know there are many enterprises upon which one does not succeed the first + time. Get your breath; there is no hurry. Next time you try, see that you + succeed. It is very important, Meekins, for you as well as for us, that + you succeed.” + </p> + <p> + The man turned doggedly back to his task. The eyes of the three men + watched him—Mr. Dunster on the bed; Doctor Sarson, pale and gloomy, + with something of fear in his dark eyes; and Mr. Fentolin himself, whose + expression seemed to be one of purely benevolent and encouraging interest. + Once more the face of the man became almost unrecognisable. There was a + great crack, the trap-door had shifted. Meekins, with a little cry, reeled + and sank backwards. Mr. Fentolin clapped his hands lightly. + </p> + <p> + “Really, Meekins,” he declared, “I do not know when I have enjoyed any + performance so much. I feel as if I were back in the days of the Roman + gladiators. I can see that you mean to succeed. You will succeed. You do + not mean to end your days amid objectionable surroundings.” + </p> + <p> + With the air of a man temporarily mad, Meekins went back to his task. He + was sobbing to himself now. His clothes had burst away from him. Suddenly + there was a crash, the hinges of the trap-door had parted. With the blood + streaming from a wound in his forehead, Meekins staggered back to his + feet. Mr. Fentolin nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent!” he pronounced. “Really excellent. With a little assistance + from our friend Meekins, you, I am sure, Sarson, will now be able to climb + up and let down the steps.” + </p> + <p> + Doctor Sarson stood by Mr. Fentolin’s chair, and together they looked up + through the fragments of the trap-door. Meekins was still breathing + heavily. Suddenly they heard the sound of a sharp report, as of a door + above being slammed. + </p> + <p> + “Some one was in the boat-house when I broke the trap-door,” Meekins + muttered. “I heard them moving about.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin frowned. + </p> + <p> + “Then let us hurry,” he said. “Sarson, what about your patient?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster was lying upon his side, watching them. The doctor went over + to the bedside and felt his pulse and head. + </p> + <p> + “He will do for twelve hours,” he pronounced. “If you think that other + little operation—” + </p> + <p> + He broke off and looked at Mr. Fentolin meaningly. The man on the bed + shrank back, his eyes lit with horror. Mr. Fentolin smiled pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “I fear,” he said, “that we must not stay for that just now. A little + later on, perhaps, if it becomes necessary. Let us first attend to the + business on hand.” + </p> + <p> + Meekins once more clambered on to the little heap of furniture. The doctor + stood by his side for a moment. Then, with an effort, he was hoisted up + until he could catch hold of the floor of the outhouse. Meekins gave one + push, and he disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Any one up there?” Mr. Fentolin enquired, a shade of anxiety in his tone. + </p> + <p> + “No one,” the doctor reported. + </p> + <p> + “Has anything been disturbed?” + </p> + <p> + Doctor Sarson was some little time before he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “some one seems to have been rummaging about.” + </p> + <p> + “Send down the steps quickly,” Mr. Fentolin ordered. “I am beginning to + find the atmosphere here unpleasant.” + </p> + <p> + There was a brief silence. Then they heard the sound of the ladder being + dragged across the floor, and a moment or two later it was carefully + lowered and placed in position. Mr. Fentolin passed the rope through the + front of his carriage and was drawn up. From his bed Mr. Dunster watched + them go. It was hard to tell whether he was relieved or disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “Who has been in here?” Mr. Fentolin demanded, as he looked around the + place. + </p> + <p> + There was no reply. A grey twilight was struggling now through the high, + dust-covered windows. Meekins, who had gone on towards the door, suddenly + called out: + </p> + <p> + “Some one has taken away the key! The door is locked on the other side!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin’s frown was malign even for him. + </p> + <p> + “Our dear friend, Mr. Hamel, I suppose,” he muttered. “Another little debt + we shall owe him! Try the other door.” + </p> + <p> + Meekins moved towards the partition. Suddenly he paused. Mr. Fentolin’s + hand was outstretched; he, too, was listening. Above the low thunder of + the sea came another sound, a sound which at that moment they none of them + probably understood. There was the steady crashing of feet upon the + pebbles, a low murmur of voices. Mr. Fentolin for the first time showed + symptoms of fear. + </p> + <p> + “Try the other door quickly,” he directed. + </p> + <p> + Meekins came back, shaking his head. Outside, the noise seemed to be + increasing. The door was suddenly thrown open. Hannah Cox stood outside in + her plain black dress, her hair wind-tossed, her eyes aflame. She held the + key in her fingers, and she looked in upon them. Her lips seemed to move, + but she said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “My good woman,” Mr. Fentolin exclaimed, frowning, “are you the person who + removed that key?” + </p> + <p> + She laid her hand upon his chair. She took no notice of the other two. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she said, “there is something here I want you to listen to. Come!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin, arrived outside on the stone front of the boat-house, + pointed the wheel of his chair towards the Hall. Hannah Cox, who kept by + his side, however, drew it gently towards the beach. + </p> + <p> + “Down here,” she directed softly. “Bring your chair down the plank-way, + close to the water’s edge.” + </p> + <p> + “My good woman,” Mr. Fentolin exclaimed furiously, “I am not in the humour + for this sort of thing! Lock up, Sarson, at once; I am in a hurry to get + back.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will come just this little way,” she continued, speaking without + any change of tone. “You see, the others are waiting, too. I have been + down to the village and fetched them up.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin followed her outstretched finger and gave a sudden start. + Standing at the edge of the sea were a dozen or twenty fishermen. They + were all muttering together and looking at the top of the boat-house. As + he realised the direction of their gaze, Mr. Fentolin’s face underwent a + strange transformation. He seemed to shrink in his chair. He was ghastly + pale even to the lips. Slowly he turned his head. From a place in the roof + of the boat-house a tall support had appeared. On the top was a swinging + globe. + </p> + <p> + “What have you to do with that?” he asked in a low tone. + </p> + <p> + “I found it,” she answered. “I felt that it was there. I have brought them + up with me to see it. I think that they want to ask you some questions. + But first, come and listen.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin shook her off. He looked around for Meekins. + </p> + <p> + “Meekins, stand by my chair,” he ordered sharply. “Turn round; I wish to + go to the Hall. Drive this woman away.” + </p> + <p> + Meekins came hurrying up, but almost at the same moment half a dozen of + the brown jerseyed fishermen detached themselves from the others. They + formed a little bodyguard around the bath-chair. + </p> + <p> + “What is the meaning of this?” Mr. Fentolin demanded, his voice shrill + with anger. “Didn’t you hear what I said? This woman annoys me. Send her + away.” + </p> + <p> + Not one of the fishermen answered a word or made the slightest movement to + obey him. One of them, a grey-bearded veteran, drew the chair a little + further down the planked way across the pebbles. Hannah Cox kept close to + its side. They came to a standstill only a few yards from where the waves + were breaking. She lifted her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” she cried. “Listen!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin turned helplessly around. The little group of fishermen had + closed in upon Sarson and Meekins. The woman’s hand was upon his shoulder; + she pointed seaward to where a hissing line of white foam marked the spot + where the topmost of the rocks were visible. + </p> + <p> + “You wondered why I have spent so much of my time out here,” she said + quietly. “Now you will know. If you listen as I am listening, as I have + listened for so many weary hours, so many weary years, you will hear them + calling to me, David and John and Stephen. ‘The light!’ Do you hear what + they are crying? ‘The light! Fentolin’s light!’ Look!” + </p> + <p> + She forced him to look once more at the top of the boat-house. + </p> + <p> + “They were right!” she proclaimed, her voice gaining in strength and + intensity. “They were neither drunk nor reckless. They steered as straight + as human hand could guide a tiller, for Fentolin’s light! And there they + are, calling and calling at the bottom of the sea—my three boys and + my man. Do you know for whom they call?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Fentolin shrank back in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Take this woman away!” he ordered the fishermen. “Do you hear? Take her + away; she is mad!” + </p> + <p> + They looked towards him, but not one of them moved. Mr. Fentolin raised + his whistle to his lips, and blew it. + </p> + <p> + “Meekins!” he cried. “Where are you, Meekins?” + </p> + <p> + He turned his head and saw at once that Meekins was powerless. Five or six + of the fishermen had gathered around him. There were at least thirty of + them about, sinewy, powerful men. The only person who moved towards Mr. + Fentolin’s carriage was Jacob, the coast guardsman. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fentolin, sir,” he said, “the lads have got your bully safe. It’s a + year and more that Hannah Cox has been about the village with some story + about two lights on a stormy night. It’s true what she says—that her + man and boys lie drowned. There’s William Green, besides, and a nephew of + my own—John Kallender. And Philip Green—he was saved. He swore + by all that was holy that he steered straight for the light when his boat + struck, and that as he swam for shore, five minutes later, he saw the + light reappear in another place. It’s a strange story. What have you to + say, sir, about that?” + </p> + <p> + He pointed straight to the wire-encircled globe which towered on its + slender support above the boat-house. Mr. Fentolin looked at it and looked + back at the coast guardsman. The brain of a Machiavelli could scarcely + have invented a plausible reply. + </p> + <p> + “The light was never lit there,” he said. “It was simply to help me in + some electrical experiments.” + </p> + <p> + Then, for the first time in their lives, those who were looking on saw Mr. + Fentolin apart from his carriage. Without any haste but with amazing + strength, Hannah Cox leaned over, and, with her arms around his middle, + lifted him sheer up into the air. She carried him, clasped in her arms, a + weird, struggling object, to the clumsy boat that lay always at the top of + the beach. She dropped him into the bottom, took her seat, and unshipped + the oars. For one moment the coast guardsman hesitated; then he obeyed her + look. He gave the boat a push which sent it grinding down the pebbles into + the sea. The woman began to work at the oars. Every now and then she + looked over her shoulder at that thin line of white surf which they were + all the time approaching. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing, woman?” Mr. Fentolin demanded hoarsely. “Listen! It + was an accident that your people were drowned. I’ll give you an annuity. + I’ll make you rich for life—rich! Do you understand what that + means?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye!” she answered, looking down upon him as he lay doubled up at the + bottom of the boat. “I know what it means to be rich—better than + you, maybe. Not to let the gold and silver pieces fall through your + fingers, or to live in a great house and be waited upon by servants who + desert you in the hour of need. That isn’t being rich. It’s rich to feel + the touch of the one you love, to see the faces around of those you’ve + given birth to, to move on through the days and nights towards the end, + with them around; not to know the chill loneliness of an empty life. I am + a poor woman, Mr. Fentolin, and it’s your hand that made me so, and not + all the miracles that the Bible ever told of can make me rich again.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a fool!” he shrieked. “You can buy forgetfulness! The memory of + everything passes.” + </p> + <p> + “I may be a fool,” she retorted grimly, “and you the wise man; but this + day we’ll both know the truth.” + </p> + <p> + There was a little murmur from the shore, where the fishermen stood in a + long line. + </p> + <p> + “Bring him back, missus,” Jacob called out. “You’ve scared him enough. + Bring him back. We’ll leave him to the law.” + </p> + <p> + They were close to the line of surf now; they had passed it, indeed, a + little on the left, and the boat was drifting. She stood up, straight and + stern, and her face, as she looked towards the land, was lit with the fire + of the prophetess. + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” she cried, “we’ll leave him to the law—to the law of God!” + </p> + <p> + Then they saw her stoop down, and once more with that almost superhuman + strength which seemed to belong to her for those few moments, she lifted + the strange object who lay cowering there, high above her head. From the + shore they realised what was going to happen, and a great shout arose. She + stood on the side of the boat and jumped, holding her burden tightly in + her arms. So they went down and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Half a dozen of the younger fishermen were in the water even before the + grim spectacle was ended; another ran for a boat that was moored a little + way down the beach. But from the first the search was useless. Only Jacob, + who was a person afflicted with many superstitions, wiped the sweat from + his forehead as he leaned over the bow of his boat and looked down into + that fathomless space. + </p> + <p> + “I heard her singing, her or her wraith,” he swore afterwards. “I’ll never + forget the moment I looked down and down, and the water seemed to grow + clearer, and I saw her walking there at the bottom among the rocks, with + him over her back, singing as she went, looking everywhere for George and + the boys!” + </p> + <p> + But if indeed his eyes were touched with fire at that moment, no one else + in the world saw anything more of Miles Fentolin. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI + </h2> + <p> + Mr. John P. Dunster removed the cigar from his teeth and gazed at the long + white ash with the air of a connoisseur. He was stretched in a long chair, + high up in the terraced gardens behind the Hall. At his feet were golden + mats of yellow crocuses; long borders of hyacinths—pink and purple; + beds of violets; a great lilac tree, with patches of blossom here and + there forcing their way into a sunlit world. The sea was blue; the + sheltered air where they sat was warm and perfumed. Mr. Dunster, who was + occupying the position of a favoured guest, was feeling very much at home. + </p> + <p> + “There is one thing,” he remarked meditatively, “which I can’t help + thinking about you Britishers. You may deserve it or you may not, but you + do have the most almighty luck.” + </p> + <p> + “Sheer envy,” Hamel murmured. “We escape from our tight corners by + forethought.” + </p> + <p> + “Not on your life, sir,” Mr. Dunster declared vigorously. “A year or less + ago you got a North Sea scare, and on the strength of a merely honourable + understanding with your neighbour, you risk your country’s very existence + for the sake of adding half a dozen battleships to your North Sea + Squadron. The day the last of those battleships passed through the Straits + of Gibraltar, this little Conference was plotted. I tell you they meant to + make history there. + </p> + <p> + “There was enough for everybody—India for Russia, a time-honoured + dream, but why not? Alsace-Lorraine and perhaps Egypt, for France; + Australia for Japan; China and South Africa for Germany. Why not? You may + laugh at it on paper but I say again—why not?” + </p> + <p> + “It didn’t quite come off, sir,” Gerald observed. + </p> + <p> + “It didn’t,” Mr. Dunster admitted, “partly owing to you. There were only + two things needed: France to consider her own big interests and to ignore + an entente from which she gains nothing that was not assured to her under + the new agreement, and the money. Strange,” Mr. Dunster continued, “how + people forget that factor, and yet the man who was responsible for The + Hague Conference knew it. We in the States are right outside all these + little jealousies and wrangles that bring Europe, every now and then, + right up to the gates of war, but I’m hanged if there is one of you dare + pass through those gates without a hand on our money markets. It’s a new + word in history, that little document, news of which Mr. Gerald here took + to The Hague, the word of the money kings of the world. There is something + that almost nips your breath in the idea that a dozen men, descended from + the Lord knows whom, stopped a war which would have altered the whole face + of history.” + </p> + <p> + “There was never any proof,” Hamel remarked, “that France would not have + remained staunch to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely not,” Mr. Dunster agreed, “but, on the other hand, your + country had never the right to put such a burden upon her honour. Remember + that side by side with those other considerations, a great statesman’s + first duty is to the people over whom he watches, not to study the + interests of other lands. However, it’s finished. The Hague Conference is + broken up. The official organs of the world allude to it, if at all, as an + unimportant gathering called together to discuss certain frontier + questions with which England had nothing to do. But the memory of it will + live. A good cold douche for you people, I should say, and I hope you’ll + take warning by it. Whatever the attitude of America as a nation may be to + these matters, the American people don’t want to see the old country in + trouble. Gee whiz! What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + There was a little cry from all of them. Only Hamel stood without sign of + surprise, gazing downward with grim, set face. A dull roar, like the + booming of a gun, flashes of fire, and a column of smoke—and all + that was left of St. David’s Tower was one tottering wall and a scattered + mass of masonry. + </p> + <p> + “I had an idea,” Hamel said quietly, “that St. David’s Tower was going to + spoil the landscape for a good many years. My property, you know, and + there’s the end of it. I am sick of seeing people for the last few days + come down and take photographs of it for every little rag that goes to + press.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunster pointed out to the line of surf beyond. “If only some hand,” + he remarked, “could plant dynamite below that streak of white, so that the + sea could disgorge its dead! They tell me there’s a Spanish galleon there, + and a Dutch warship, besides a score or more of fishing-boats.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fentolin shivered a little. She drew her cloak around her. Gerald, + who had been watching her, sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he exclaimed, “we chose the gardens for our last afternoon here, + to be out of the way of these places! We’ll go round the hill.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Fentolin shook her head once more. Her face had recovered its + serenity. She looked downward gravely but with no sign of fear. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to terrify us there, Gerald,” she declared. “The sea has + gathered, and the sea will hold its own.” + </p> + <p> + Hamel held out his hand to Esther. + </p> + <p> + “I have destroyed the only house in the world which I possess,” he said. + “Come and look for violets with me in the spinney, and let us talk of the + houses we are going to build, and the dreams we shall dream in them.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Vanished Messenger, by E. 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