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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1699-0.txt b/1699-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4aac6db --- /dev/null +++ b/1699-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10519 @@ +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 + +Posting Date: November 23, 2008 [EBook #1699] +Release Date: April, 1999 +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 + + + + + +THE VANISHED MESSENGER + +By E. Phillips Oppenheim + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +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. + +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. + +The inspector watched them curiously. “Lost his way, I should think,” he +observed. + +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.” + +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. + +“Can I speak to you for a moment, sir?” + +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. + +“Are you Mr. John P. Dunster?” the youth asked. + +“I carry my visiting-card in my hand, sir,” the other replied, swinging +his dressing-case around. “My name is John P. Dunster.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“They are very strict in this country, I know.” + +Mr. Dunster agreed, without change of expression. “Please go on.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +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. + +“You are particularly anxious to cross to-night?” he asked. + +“I am,” the youth admitted emphatically. “I never ought to have risked +missing the train. I am due at The Hague to-morrow.” + +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. + +“What is the nature of your pressing business at The Hague?” he asked. + +The youth hesitated. + +“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.” + +“A golf tournament at The Hague!” Mr. Dunster repeated, in a slightly +altered tone. “What is your name?” + +“Gerald Fentolin.” + +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: + + 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. + +Mr. Dunster folded up the newspaper and replaced it in his pocket. He +turned towards the young man. + +“So you’re a golfer, are you?” + +“I play a bit,” was the somewhat indifferent reply. + +Mr. Dunster turned to another part of the paper and pointed to the great +black head-lines. + +“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.” + +“Getting ready for what?” + +“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.” + +The young man’s lack of interest was curious. + +“I am not in the army,” he said. “It really doesn’t affect me.” + +Mr. Dunster stared at him. + +“You’ll forgive my curiosity,” he said, “but say, is there nothing you +could get into and fight if this thing came along?” + +“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--” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +The station-master looked the curiosity which he did not actually +express in words. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +The inspector shook his head. + +“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.” + +The young man paused to light a cigarette. + +“If he’s an American, I suppose that accounts for it,” he observed. “He +must be in a precious hurry to get somewhere, though.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Dunster nodded. + +“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!” + +They were about to start when Mr. Dunster once more let down the window. + +“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!” + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +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. + +“There will be some floods out to-morrow,” he remarked. + +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. + +“Very likely,” was his sole reply. + +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. + +“May as well try to get a nap,” he yawned. “There won’t be much chance +on the steamer, if it blows like this.” + +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. + +“What is the matter?” Mr. Dunster demanded. “Why are we waiting here?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“Why are we travelling like this?” he asked impatiently. “We shall never +catch the boat.” + +“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.” + +Mr. Dunster frowned. For the first time he showed some signs of +uneasiness. + +“Perhaps,” he muttered, half to himself, “a motor-car would have been +better.” + +“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.” + +“There appears to be a chance,” Mr. Dunster remarked drily, “that you +will have to scratch for your competition to-morrow.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“What are we going to do, then?” Mr. Dunster demanded. + +“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.” + +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. + +“If I cannot get to Harwich,” he asked, “is there any possibility of +keeping straight on and reaching Yarmouth?” + +The guard hesitated. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“How far did you wish to go, sir?” the guard enquired. + +“To Yarmouth,” Mr. Dunster replied firmly. “If there are bridges down, +and communication with Harwich is blocked, Yarmouth would suit me better +than anywhere.” + +The guard shook his head. + +“I couldn’t go on that way, sir, without instructions.” + +“Is there a telegraph office at this station?” Mr. Dunster inquired. + +“We can speak anywhere on the line,” the guard replied. + +“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.” + +The guard hesitated. + +“It’s a goodish way from here to Norwich,” he observed, “and for all we +know--” + +“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.” + +The guard raised his hat and departed without another word. + +“It will probably suit you better,” Mr. Dunster continued, turning to +his companion, “to leave me at Ipswich and join the mail.” + +The latter shook his head. + +“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!” + +“You live in this part of the world, then?” Mr. Dunster asked. + +The young man assented. Again there was a certain amount of hesitation +in his manner. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +They relapsed once more into silence. Presently the guard reappeared. + +“Instructions to take you on to Yarmouth, if possible, sir,” he +announced, “and to collect the mileage at our destination.” + +“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. + +“Have you any idea where we are?” Mr. Dunster asked once. + +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. + +“I don’t think we are far from Norwich. We passed Forncett, anyhow, some +time ago.” + +“Still raining?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“Off the rails!” the boy cried, springing to his feet. “Hold on tightly, +sir. I’d keep away from the window.” + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +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!” + +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. + +“My God!” he exclaimed. “Any one alive here?” + +“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.” + +The porter caught hold of a piece of the wreckage with which to steady +himself. + +“Your train ran right into three feet of water,” he answered. “The rails +had gone--torn up. The telegraph line’s down.” + +“Why didn’t you stop the train?” + +“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?” + +“One gentleman travelling with me,” Gerald answered. “We’d better try to +get him out. What about the guard and engine-driver?” + +“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.” + +“Where are we?” + +“A few hundred yards from Wymondham. Let’s have a look for the other +gentleman.” + +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. + +“He’s alive all right,” the porter remarked. “There’s a doctor on the +way. Let’s cover him up quick and wait.” + +“Can’t we carry him to shelter of some sort?” Gerald proposed. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Perhaps there’s a flask somewhere in this dressing-case,” Gerald said. +“Lend me a knife.” + +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. + +“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?” + +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. + +“You’re about done yourself, sir,” he remarked. “Hold up.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“I am all right,” he declared. “Let’s look after him.” + +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. + +“It’s all right now, sir!” he exclaimed. “They’ve brought blankets and a +stretcher and brandy. Here’s a doctor, sir.” + +A powerful-looking man, hatless, and wrapped in a great ulster, moved +towards them. + +“How many are there of you?” he asked, as he bent over Mr. Dunster. + +“Only we two,” Gerald replied. “Is my friend badly hurt?” + +“Concussion,” the doctor announced. “We’ll take him to the village. What +about you, young man? Your face is bleeding, I see.” + +“Just a cut,” Gerald faltered; “nothing else.” + +“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.” + +They all staggered along, Gerald still clutching the dressing-case, +and supported on the other side by an excited and somewhat incoherent +villager. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +He glanced at the cut on Gerald’s forehead, noted the access of colour +in his cheeks, and nodded. + +“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.” + +He departed, and many of the villagers with him. The landlady sat down +and began to weep. + +“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!” + +“Judgment of the fiddlesticks!” her husband growled. “Can’t you light +the fire, woman? What’s the good of sitting there whining?” + +“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!” + +Her husband scoffed. He was dressed only in his shirt and trousers, his +hair rough, his braces hanging down behind. + +“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.” + +“The Lord only knows!” she cried, wringing her hands. + +“Can I hire a motor-car from anywhere near?” Gerald asked. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“How far off is the garage?” he asked. + +“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.” + +Gerald felt in his pocket and produced a sovereign. + +“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.” + +“It’s sound common sense,” the woman declared. “Be off with you, +Richard.” + +The man was looking at the coin covetously, but his wife pushed him +away. + +“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.” + +“I’ll be wet through,” the man muttered. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +Gerald shivered ever so slightly. He drank the milk, however. He felt +that he might need his strength. + +“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.” + +Gerald shook his head with an affectation of weariness. + +“I don’t know,” he replied. “I don’t remember anything about it. We were +hours late, I think.” + +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. + +“Sakes alive!” the woman muttered, as she looked down. “What does he +carry a thing like that for--in a peaceful country, too!” + +“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.” + +He stooped down and withdrew it from the unconscious man’s pocket. He +started as he discovered that it was loaded in every chamber. + +“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.” + +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. + +“This ‘ere is Mr. Martin’s chaffer,” he announced. “You can tell him +what you want yerself.” + +Gerald turned almost eagerly towards the newcomer. + +“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?” + +The chauffeur looked doubtful. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“I’m on,” the young man agreed shortly. “It’s an open car, you know.” + +“It doesn’t matter,” Gerald replied. “I can stick it in front with you, +and we can cover--him up in the tonneau.” + +“You’ll wait until the doctor comes back?” the landlord asked. + +“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?” + +“It don’t seem right, somehow,” the man complained doggedly. “The +doctor didn’t say anything about having him moved.” + +“You get the car,” Gerald ordered the young man. “I’ll take the whole +responsibility.” + +The chauffeur silently left the room. Gerald put a couple of sovereigns +upon the mantelpiece. + +“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.” + +The woman pocketed the two sovereigns. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“Are you used to prayer, young sir?” the woman asked. + +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. + +“The Lord have mercy on this man, a sinner!” + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +“My advice to you, sir, is to chuck it!” + +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. + +“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.” + +“The doctor said he would remain in exactly the same condition for +twenty-four hours,” Gerald declared. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Only seven miles,” the chauffeur repeated more cheerfully. “That’s +something, anyway.” + +“And all downhill.” + +“Towards the sea, then?” + +“Straight to the sea,” Gerald told him. “The place we are making for is +St. David’s Hall, near Salthouse.” + +The chauffeur seemed a little startled. + +“Why, that’s Squire Fentolin’s house!” + +Gerald nodded. + +“That is where we are going. You follow this road almost straight +ahead.” + +The chauffeur slipped in the clutch. + +“Oh, I know the way now, sir, right enough!” he exclaimed. “There’s +Salthouse marsh to cross, though. I don’t know about that.” + +“We shall manage that all right,” Gerald declared. “We’ve more light +now, too.” + +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. + +“I don’t like the look of the marsh,” he grumbled. “Can’t see the road +at all. However, here goes.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“My God!” he exclaimed. “Here’s more trouble!” + +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. + +“There’s St. David’s Hall,” he said, “on the other side of the hill. The +road seems all right.” + +“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.” + +His hand was already upon the reverse lever, but Gerald gripped it. + +“Look here,” he protested, “we haven’t come all this way to turn back. +You don’t look like a coward.” + +“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.” + +“Naturally,” Gerald answered calmly, “but remember this. I am +responsible for your car--not you. Mr. Fentolin is my uncle.” + +The chauffeur nodded shortly. + +“You’re Mr. Gerald Fentolin, aren’t you, sir?” he remarked. “I thought I +recognised you.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +The chauffeur moved his head backwards. + +“How about him?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“If the engine gets stopped,” he said, “I don’t know how we shall get +out of this.” + +They emerged on the other side. For some time they had a clear run. Then +suddenly the driver clapped on his brakes. + +“My God!” he cried. “We can’t get through that!” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“We’re cut off!” the chauffeur exclaimed. “What a fool I was to try +this! There’s the tide coming in as well!” + +Gerald sat down in his place. + +“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.” + +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. + +“It’s getting deeper,” the man declared. “It’s within an inch or two of +the bonnet now. Hold on.” + +A wave broke almost over them but the engine continued its beat. + +“If we stop now,” he gasped, “we’re done!” + +The engine began to knock. + +“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.” + +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. + +“I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, tugging hard. “It’s a stone.” + +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. + +“We’ve done it, all right!” he cried. “Don’t you see? It’s getting lower +all the time.” + +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. + +“We’re safe!” he almost sobbed. “There’s the road, straight ahead and +round to the right. There’s no more water anywhere near.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“It’s all right,” Gerald cried. “Let us through quickly, Foulds. We’ve a +gentleman in behind who’s ill.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“The master is awake,” Henderson, the butler, remarked, dropping his +voice a little. + +Gerald nodded. + +“I will go to him at once,” he said. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +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. + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin nodded approvingly. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +Mr. Fentolin spread out his hands. + +“Could one avoid the knowledge of it?” he asked. “Such a sight has never +been seen.” + +“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.” + +“An accident?” Mr. Fentolin exclaimed. + +Gerald nodded. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin sat quite silent. His eyes blinked once or twice, and there +was a curious curve about his lips. + +“You have done well, my boy,” he pronounced slowly. “Your scheme of +bringing him here sounds a little primitive, but success justifies +everything.” + +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. + +“Meekins,” Mr. Fentolin said, “a visitor has arrived. Do you happen to +have noticed what luggage he brought?” + +“There is one small dressing-case, sir,” the man replied; “nothing else +that I have seen.” + +“That is all we brought,” Gerald interposed. + +“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.” + +Meekins closed the door and departed. Mr. Fentolin turned back towards +his nephew. + +“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?” + +“Tired, perhaps,” Gerald answered shortly. “We were many hours in the +car. I have had no sleep.” + +Mr. Fentolin’s face was full of kindly sympathy. + +“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.” + +“I’ll go directly,” Gerald promised. “Can I speak to you for one moment +first?” + +“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?” + +“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?” + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +“A terrible reflection, my dear boy,” he admitted softly, “but, alas! +the finger of probability points that way.” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin was shocked. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin leaned a little forward in his chair. + +“Gerald!” he said softly. + +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. + +“Gerald!” Mr. Fentolin repeated. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Gerald rose to his feet. + +“What are you going to do about it?” he asked abruptly. “Do you want any +one in from the telegraph room?” + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head slowly. + +“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.” + +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. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +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: + +“Where am I?” + +She felt his forehead, altered a bandage for a moment, and took his +wrist between her fingers. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Please tell me where I am?” he begged. + +“You have been in a railway accident,” the doctor told him, “and you +were brought here afterwards.” + +“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?” + +“It is here by the side of your bed.” + +“And my pocket-book?” + +“It is on your dressing-table.” + +“Have any of my things been looked at?” + +“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.” + +“When,” Mr. Dunster enquired, “shall I be able to continue my journey?” + +“That depends upon many things,” the doctor replied. + +Mr. Dunster drank his beef tea and felt considerably stronger. His head +still ached, but his memory was returning. + +“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?” + +“Fentolin,” the doctor said. “He is unhurt. This is his relative’s house +to which you have been brought.” + +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. + +“Whose house exactly is this?” he demanded. + +“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.” + +“Can I send a telegram?” Mr. Dunster asked, a little abruptly. + +“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.” + +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? + +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. + +“Can you tell me any date, Doctor, upon which I can rely upon leaving +here?” + +“You will probably be well enough to travel on the third day from now,” + the doctor assured him. + +“The third day,” Mr. Dunster muttered. “Very well.” + +He wrote out three telegrams and passed them over. + +“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.” + +“Is there anything more,” the doctor asked, “that can be done for your +comfort?” + +“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?” + +Sarson shook his head. + +“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.” + +Mr. Dunster contemplated the speaker steadfastly. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +His hand fell to his side. Momentarily he had finished his work. He +turned around and eyed the doctor, who stood in taciturn silence. + +“Answer. Answer me,” he insisted. + +The doctor’s gloomy face seemed darker still. + +“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. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. His face became almost like the face of one of +those angels of the great Italian master. + +“How well you know me!” he murmured. “My humble effort, Doctor--how do +you like it?” + +The doctor bent over the canvas. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin studied the canvas himself for a moment. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“You do not wish anything dispatched?” + +“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?” + +“He wants to get on with his journey.” + +“We shall see,” Mr. Fentolin remarked. “Now feel my pulse, Sarson. How +am I this morning?” + +The doctor held the thin wrist for a moment between his fingers, and let +it go. + +“In perfect health, as usual,” he announced grimly. + +“Ah, but you cannot be sure!” Mr. Fentolin protested. “My tongue, if you +please.” + +He put it out. + +“Excellent!” + +“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.” + +The doctor made his examination with impassive face. Then he stepped +back. + +“There is no change in your condition, Mr. Fentolin,” he announced. “The +palpitation you spoke of is a mistake. You are in perfect health.” + +Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + +“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?” + +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.” + +Mr. Fentolin sighed, as though a weight had been removed from his heart. + +“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.” + +The doctor turned silently away. There was no one there to see his +expression as he walked towards the door. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“Think of you?” Hamel repeated, a little doubtfully. “Do you mean +personally?” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“There’s nothing seriously wrong, is there, Reggie?” he asked. + +“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.” + +“Then these arrests,” Hamel remarked, “are really bona fide?” + +“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.” + +“A conference between whom?” Hamel asked. + +Kinsley dropped his voice almost to a whisper. + +“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.” + +“And what will the end be?” Hamel enquired eagerly. + +Kinsley shrugged his shoulders and paused while their glasses were +filled with wine. + +“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!” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“And who is this singular person?” Hamel asked. + +“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.” + +“Fentolin,” Hamel repeated softly to himself. “Tell me, whereabouts does +he live?” + +“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.” + +“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. + +Kinsley nodded. There was a slight flush upon his pallid cheeks. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“Of course I do,” Hamel insisted. “I’m on for anything.” + +“You say that you are entirely your own master for the next six months?” + +“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.” + +Reginald Kinsley set down his wine-glass. + +“Is your St. David’s Tower anywhere near a place called Salthouse?” he +asked reflectively. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Tired of me already?” Hamel asked, smiling. + +Reginald Kinsley knocked the ash from his cigarette. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“I’ll do my best,” Hamel promised. “In any case, it will be just the few +days’ holiday I was looking forward to.” + +Kinsley helped himself to whisky and soda and turned towards his friend. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Kinsley smiled as he held his friend’s hand for a moment. + +“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!” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“So am I,” he replied, still cheerfully. “I suppose the next station is +St. David’s?” + +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. + +“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.” + +She glanced out of the window. + +“The tide,” she told him, “is almost at its lowest.” + +“You live in this neighbourhood, perhaps?” he enquired. + +“I do,” she assented. + +“Sort of country one might get very fond of,” he ventured. + +She glanced at him from the depths of her grey eyes. + +“Do you think so?” she rejoined coldly. “For my part, I hate it.” + +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. + +“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.” + +She, too, was looking out now towards the sea. + +“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.” + +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. + +“That seems hard,” he observed sympathetically. “It seems odd to +hear you talk like that, too. Your life, surely, ought to be pleasant +enough.” + +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. + +“Why ought it?” + +The question was a little bewildering. + +“Why, because you are young and a girl,” he replied. “It’s natural to be +cheerful, isn’t it?” + +“Is it?” she answered listlessly. “I cannot tell. I have not had much +experience.” + +“How old are you?” he asked bluntly. + +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. + +“I am twenty-one,” she told him. + +“And how long have you lived here?” + +“Since I left boarding-school, four years ago.” + +“Anywhere near where I am going to bury myself for a time, I wonder?” he +went on. + +“That depends,” she replied. “Our only neighbours are the Lorneybrookes +of Market Burnham. Are you going there?” + +He shook his head. + +“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.” + +She vouchsafed some slight show of curiosity. + +“Where is this shanty, as you call it?” she asked him. + +“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.” + +She was gazing at him steadfastly now, with parted lips. + +“What is your name?” she demanded. + +“Richard Hamel.” + +“Hamel.” + +She repeated it lingeringly. It seemed quite unfamiliar. + +“Was your father a great friend of Mr. Fentolin’s, then?” she asked. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +He smiled. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“What for?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“I do not understand,” she said, “how you can possibly expect to come +down like this and live there, without any preparation.” + +“Why not?” + +“You haven’t any servants nor any furniture nor things to cook with.” + +He laughed. + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Really!” she murmured. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Wonderful!” he exclaimed. + +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. + +“That,” she said, “is the Tower.” + +He changed his position and leaned out of the window. + +“Well, it’s a queer little place,” he remarked. “It doesn’t look worth +quarrelling over, does it?” + +“And that,” she went on, directing his attention to the hill, “is Mr. +Fentolin’s home, St. David’s Hall.” + +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. + +“I never saw anything like it,” he declared. “Why, it’s barely a quarter +of a mile from the sea, isn’t it?” + +“A little more than that. It is a strangely situated abode, isn’t it?” + +“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.” + +“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. + +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. + +“We shall, perhaps, meet again during the next few days,” he remarked. + +She half turned her head. Her expression was scarcely encouraging. + +“I hope,” she said, “that you will not be disappointed in your +quarters.” + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Sit down, Lucy,” he ordered. + +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. + +“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.” + +She looked at him, still without speech. The immobility of her face was +indeed a marvellous thing. Mr. Fentolin’s expression darkened. + +“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.” + +She turned over a few pages of her notebook. To all appearance she had +not heard a word. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +She wrote a few words in her book. + +“You made a note of that?” + +She raised her head. + +“I do not make mistakes,” she said. + +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. + +“You know who is in this house?” he asked. “You know the name of my +unknown guest?” + +“I know nothing,” she replied. “His presence does not interest me.” + +“Supposing I desire you to know?” he persisted, leaning a little +forward. “Supposing I tell you that it is your duty to know?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“It is not difficult,” she replied. “Your methods are scarcely original. +His mandate to the flames, and his body to the sea!” + +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. + +“It does not terrify you, then,” he asked curiously, “to think that a +man under this roof is about to die?” + +“Why should it?” she retorted. “Death does not frighten me--my own or +anybody else’s. Does it frighten you?” + +His face was suddenly livid, his eyes full of fierce anger. His lips +twitched. He struck the table before him. + +“Beast of a woman!” he shouted. “You ghoul! How dare you! How dare +you--” + +He stopped short. He passed his hand across his forehead. All the time +the woman remained unmoved. + +“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.” + +“Yes,” she admitted, “I was a different sort of woman.” + +“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?” + +“No,” she answered, “I do not remember those days. They do not belong to +me. It is some other woman you are thinking of.” + + +Their eyes met. Mr. Fentolin turned away first. He struck the bell at +his elbow. She rose at once. + +“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!” + +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. + +“Doctor Sarson is to go to Mr. Fentolin.” + +Mr. Fentolin sat quite still, feeling his own pulse. + +“That woman,” he muttered to himself, “that--woman--some day I shouldn’t +be surprised if she really--” + +He paused. The doctor had entered the room. + +“I am upset, Sarson,” he declared. “Come and feel my pulse quickly. That +woman has upset me.” + +“Miss Price?” + +“Miss Price, d--n it! Lucy--yes!” + +“It seems unlike her,” the doctor remarked. “I have never heard her +utter a useless syllable in my life.” + +Mr. Fentolin held out his wrist. + +“It’s what she doesn’t say,” he muttered. + +The doctor produced his watch. In less than a minute he put it away. + +“This is quite unnecessary,” he pronounced. “Your pulse is wonderful.” + +“Not hurried? No signs of palpitation?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin leaned a little back in his chair. An expression of +satisfaction crept over his face. + +“You reassure me, my dear Sarson. That is excellent. What of our +patient?” + +“There is no change.” + +“I am afraid,” Mr. Fentolin sighed, “that we shall have trouble with +him. These strong people always give trouble.” + +“It will be just the same in the long run,” the doctor remarked, +shrugging his shoulders. + +Mr. Fentolin held up his finger. + +“Listen! A motor-car, I believe?” + +“It is Miss Fentolin who is just arriving,” the doctor announced. “I saw +the car coming as I crossed the hall.” + +Mr. Fentolin nodded gently. + +“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.” + + + + +CHAPTER X + +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. + +“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.” + +“I have not been in the house two minutes,” Esther replied, “and I +haven’t seen mother yet. Forgive me.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“For more than a week,” she repeated, under her breath. + +“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?” + +“I have no news,” she answered, gradually recovering herself. + +“The gaieties of London, I fear,” he protested gently, “have proved a +little unsettling.” + +“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.” + +“My dear child, you would not go about London unchaperoned!” + +“There is a difference,” she retorted, “between a chaperon and a +jailer.” + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. He shook his head slowly. He seemed pained. + +“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.” + +“I cannot say that I am glad to hear it,” Esther replied quietly. + +Mr. Fentolin sat back in his chair. His long fingers played nervously +together, he looked at her gravely. + +“My dear child,” he exclaimed, in a tone of pained surprise, “your +attitude distresses me!” + +“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.” + +“The same as ever,” Mr. Fentolin sighed. “I fear that this little change +has done you no good, dear niece.” + +“Change!” she echoed. “It was only a change of prisons.” + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head slowly--a distressful gesture. Yet all the +time he had somehow the air of a man secretly gratified. + +“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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin tapped the table thoughtfully with his forefinger. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin nodded gently. + +“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.” + +“He wrote because he thought it was his duty,” the boy said doggedly. + +“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?” + +“Six feet two, sir.” + +“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.” + +“All the more reason for me to hurry,” the boy begged. + +Mr. Fentolin closed his eyes. + +“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.” + +“I play cricket, sir,” the boy reminded him, a little impatiently, “and, +after all, there are other things in the world besides games.” + +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. + +“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?” + +The boy was paler, but he had drawn himself to his full height. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Doctor Sarson bowed to Esther, who scarcely glanced at him. He remained +in the background, quietly waiting. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Something,” she whispered in his ear, “is going to happen there.” + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +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. + +“Which way to the sea?” Hamel asked. + +The man pointed to the white gates of the crossing. + +“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.” + +“This will do for me,” Hamel replied cheerfully. + +“Be careful of the dikes,” the station-master advised him. “Some of them +are pretty deep.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +“And who might you be, gentleman?” + +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. + +“I am just a visitor,” he replied. “Who are you?” + +She shook her head. + +“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.” + +“Why brave?” he asked. + +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. + +“He’s looking at you,” she muttered. “He don’t like strangers poking +around here, that I can tell you.” + +“And who is he?” Hamel enquired. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“I mind him,” the woman said slowly. “His name was Hamel.” + +“I am his son,” Hamel announced. + +She pointed to the Hall. “Does he know that you are here?” + +Hamel shook his head. “Not yet. I have been abroad for so long.” + +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. + +“Tell me,” Hamel asked gently, “why do you come out here alone, so far +from the village?” + +She pointed with her finger to where the waves were breaking in a thin +line of white, about fifty yards from the beach. + +“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.” + +Hamel looked at her curiously. Her voice had grown lower and lower. + +“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!” + +She clutched his arm. + +“Couldn’t you hear that?” she half whispered. + +“‘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. + +“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!” + +“They were wrecked?” he asked her gently. + +“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!” + +She turned away. Her lips were moving all the time. She walked about a +dozen steps, and then she returned. + +“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.” + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +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. + +“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.” + +Hamel nodded. + +“I not only tried but I succeeded,” he remarked. “I got in through the +window.” + +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. + +“May I ask for your explanation or your excuse?” + +“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.” + +“What is your name?” Mr. Fentolin asked suddenly. + +“My name is Hamel--Richard Hamel.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“I am his son.” + +“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.” + +Hamel knocked the ashes from his pipe. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“You have been making use of this little shanty, haven’t you?” he asked +bluntly. + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. He was apparently beginning to recover himself. + +“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.” + +“It is a strange coast,” Hamel admitted. + +Mr. Fentolin pointed with his forefinger northwards. + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Very kind of you indeed,” Hamel remarked, “very benevolent.” + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +“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!” + +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. + +“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?” + +“She spoke to me strangely,” Hamel admitted. “She gave me the impression +of a woman whose brain had been turned with grief.” + +“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?” + +“She spoke of you as being a very kind-hearted man.” + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin nodded slowly. He moistened his lips for a moment. One +might have imagined that he was anxious. + +“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.” + +Hamel frowned slightly. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin leaned a little out of his carriage. He reached the younger +man’s shoulder with his hand. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“You are really very kind,” he began hesitatingly--. + +“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?” + +Hamel shook his head. + +“An electrical bath-chair,” Mr. Fentolin continued. “Practice has made +me remarkably skilful in its manipulation. You see, I can steer to an +inch.” + +He was already turning around. Hamel rose to his feet. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin was manoeuvring his carriage. His back was towards Hamel. + +“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.” + +He paused suddenly. He felt in all his pockets. + +“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.” + +“It is a great affliction,” Hamel murmured sympathetically. + +“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?” + +“Not in the least,” Hamel replied. “I have been out of England too long +to keep in touch with politics.” + +“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.” + +“In America,” Hamel remarked, “they affect to look upon England as a +doomed Power.” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Welcome!” Mr. Fentolin cried gaily. “Welcome, my friend Mr. Hamel, to +St. David’s Hall!” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +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. + +“Mr. Fentolin will be glad if you will step into his room, sir,” he +announced, leading the way. + +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. + +“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.” + +Hamel accepted a quaintly-cut wine-glass full of the amber liquid. Mr. +Fentolin sipped his with the air of a connoisseur. + +“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.” + +Hamel bowed. + +“It is very kind of Mrs. Fentolin,” he murmured. + +“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.” + +Hamel shook his head. + +“Only in the abstract, I fear,” he answered. “I have scarcely opened a +serious book since I was at Oxford.” + +“What was your year?” Mr. Fentolin asked. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin nodded appreciatively. + +“A magnificent profession,” he murmured. “A healthy one, too, I should +judge from your appearance. You are a strong man, Mr. Hamel.” + +“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.” + +“You are going back there?” Mr. Fentolin asked, with interest. + +Hamel shook his head. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +She held out her hand with the faintest possible smile, which might have +been of greeting or recognition. + +“I travelled for some distance in the train with Mr. Hamel this +afternoon, I think,” she remarked. + +“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?” + +He watched them keenly. Hamel, though he scarcely understood, was quick +to appreciate the possible significance of that tentative question. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +The sound of the dinner gong boomed through the house. A moment later +Gerald entered, followed by a butler announcing dinner. + +“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.” + +Gerald shook hands with his visitor. His face, for a moment, lighted up. +He was looking pale, though, and singularly sullen and dejected. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“But for your interest and consequent trespass,” Hamel remarked, “I +should probably have found the roof off and the whole place in ruins.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“I am tired, sir,” the boy answered quietly. + +Mr. Fentolin nodded gravely. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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--” + +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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin backed his little chair from the table. The doctor came +over and laid his hand upon the handle. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Are you a brave man, Mr. Hamel?” she asked. + +He was staggered but he answered her promptly. + +“I believe so.” + +“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!” + +The earnestness of her words was unmistakable. Hamel felt the thrill of +coming events. + +“Why not?” + +“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!” + +The door had been noiselessly opened. The doctor appeared and advanced +to the table with a grave little bow. + +“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.” + +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. + +Nevertheless, his voice, when he spoke, was clear and firm. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +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. + +“If there is any trouble,” he whispered, “send for me. I am better away, +for the present. My presence only excites him.” + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +“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.” + +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. + +“So you’ve come at last!” he exclaimed, a little truculently. “Are you +Mr. Fentolin?” + +Mr. Fentolin gravely admitted his identity. His eyes rested upon his +guest with an air of tender interest. His face was almost beautiful. + +“You are the owner of this house--I am underneath your roof--is that +so?” + +“This is certainly St. David’s Hall,” Mr. Fentolin replied. “It really +appears as though your conclusions were correct.” + +“Then will you tell me why I am kept a prisoner here?” + +Mr. Fentolin’s expression was for a moment clouded. He seemed hurt. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin smiled reassuringly. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Am I to understand that they are to be restored to me, then?” Mr. +Dunster demanded. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head very gently, very regretfully, but also +firmly. + +“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.” + +Mr. Dunster seemed, for a moment, to struggle for composure. + +“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. + +“In the present case I decline to follow it. I ask for facilities to +leave this house at once.” + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +“In your own interests,” he said calmly, “they will not be granted to +you.” + +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. + +“Will not be granted to me?” he repeated. “Do you mean to say, then, +that I am to be kept here against my will?” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“A few days’ rest--” Mr. Fentolin began. + +“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.” + +“You are very mysterious,” Mr. Fentolin murmured. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin turned to Meekins. + +“You can leave the room for a moment,” he ordered. “Wait upon the +threshold.” + +Meekins very unwillingly turned to obey. + +“You will excuse me, sir,” he objected doubtfully, “but I am not at all +sure that he is safe.” + +Mr. Fentolin smiled faintly. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Now, Mr. Dunster,” he said softly, “you can speak to me without +reserve.” + +Mr. Dunster dropped his voice. His tone became one of fierce eagerness. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head in gentle disbelief. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +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. + +“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.” + +“Have you had any outside advice about his condition?” Hamel inquired. + +Mr. Fentolin glanced across those few feet of space and looked at Hamel +with swift suspicion. + +“Why should I?” he asked. “Doctor Sarson is fully qualified, and the +case seems to present no unusual characteristics.” + +Hamel sipped his brandy thoughtfully. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin shrugged his shoulders. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Hamel was a little taken aback. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin had lit a cigarette and was watching the blue smoke curl +upwards to the ceiling. + +“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?” + +“I don’t think I shall need that,” Hamel admitted, a little +hesitatingly. + +“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?” + +“Not in the least,” Hamel replied. “Tell me, what direction do your +inventions take, Mr. Fentolin?” + +“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.” + +“To be quite frank,” Hamel declared bluntly, “I should like to talk to +your niece.” + +Mr. Fentolin smiled as though amused. His amusement, however, was +perfectly good-natured. + +“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.” + +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. + +“I have just left your uncle,” Hamel said. “He told me that I might come +in here.” + +“Yes?” she murmured. + +“He was very hospitable,” Hamel continued. “He wanted me to remain here +as a guest and not go to the Tower at all.” + +“And you?” + +“I am going to the Tower,” he said. “I am going there to-morrow or the +day after.” + +The music swelled beneath her fingers. + +“For how long?” + +“For a week or so. I am just giving your uncle time to clear out his +belongings. I am leaving him the outhouse.” + +“He asked you to leave him that?” she whispered. + +“Yes!” + +“You are not going in there at all?” + +“Not at all.” + +Again she played a little more loudly for a few moments. Then the music +died away once more. + +“What reason did he give for keeping possession of that?” + +“Another hobby,” Hamel replied. “He is an inventor, it seems. He has the +model of something there; he would not tell me what.” + +She shivered a little, and her music drifted away. She bent over the +keys, her face hidden from him. + +“You will not go away just yet?” she asked softly. “You are going to +stay for a few days, at any rate?” + +“Without a doubt,” he assured her. “I am altogether my own master.” + +“Thank God,” she murmured. + +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. + +“Do you know that this is all rather mysterious?” he said calmly. + +“What is mysterious?” she demanded. + +“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.” + +“We live here, both of us,” she told him. “He is our guardian.” + +“Naturally,” Hamel replied, “and yet, it may have been my fancy, of +course, but at dinnertime I seemed to get a queer impression.” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Come out on to the terrace,” she invited. “You are not afraid of cold?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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?” + +“I have heard so,” he replied gravely. + +She clutched at his arm. + +“Come,” she said. + +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. + +“This way,” she directed. “Be careful.” + +They walked to the very edge of the palisading. It was scarcely more +than a couple of feet high. She pointed downwards. + +“Can you see?” she whispered. + +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. + +“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.” + +“What accident?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“What a horrible thing!” he exclaimed. + +“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!” + +“By whom?” he asked. + +She clung to his arm for a moment. + +“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.” + +“That, at any rate, was fine of him,” Hamel declared. + +She shivered. + +“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!” + +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. + +“I am afraid of him all the time,” she murmured. “He seems to overhear +everything--he or his creatures. Listen!” + +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. + +“You are telling me half,” he said. “Tell me everything. Who threw your +uncle over the parapet?” + +She stood by his side, motionless and trembling. + +“It was the passion of a moment,” she said at last, speaking hoarsely. +“I cannot tell you. Listen! Listen!” + +“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.” + +She suddenly clutched his hand. There was nothing of affection in her +touch, and yet he felt a thrill of delight. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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!” + +She was already round the corner and on her way to the main terrace. He +followed her closely. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +“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?” + +“That is all very well for you,” she retorted, smiling, “but I have +topped my drive.” + +“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.” + +She played her shot, and they walked for a little way together. She was +suddenly silent. + +“Do you know,” she said finally, just a little gravely, “I am not at all +used to speeches of this sort.” + +“Then you ought to be,” he declared. “Nothing but the lonely life you +have been living has kept you from hearing them continually.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Of course,” he went on, “I knew that these links were good--quite +famous, aren’t they?” + +“I have played on so few others,” she told him. “I learned my golf here +with King, the professional.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“So far,” she admitted, “you haven’t been altogether unsuccessful.” + +“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.” + +“I am not at all sure that you have known me long enough to tell me what +colours suit me,” she demurred. + +“Then what will you say,” he enquired, “if I admire the angle of that +quill in your hat?” + +“Don’t do it,” she laughed. “If you continue like this, I may have to go +home.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +They moved off presently to the next teeing ground. + +“I don’t believe this nonsense is good for our golf,” she said. + +“It is immensely good for us as human beings,” he protested. + +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. + +“I am beginning to understand what there is about this coast which +fascinated my father so,” he remarked. + +“Are you?” she answered gravely. “Years ago I used to love it, but not +now.” + +He tried to change the subject, but the gloom had settled upon her face +once more. + +“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!” + +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. + +“Ah, you mustn’t talk like that!” he pleaded. “Do you know what you make +me feel like?” + +She came back from the world of her own unhappy imaginings. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +She smiled. + +“Doubtless your long absence abroad,” she began slowly, “has affected +your game.” + +“I was round in eighty-one,” he grumbled. + +“You must have travelled in many countries,” she continued, “where golf +was an impossibility.” + +“Naturally,” he admitted. “Let us stay and have lunch and try again.” + +She shook her head with a little sigh of regret. + +“You see, the car is waiting,” she pointed out. “We are expected home. I +shan’t be a minute putting my clubs away.” + +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. + +“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.” + +She nodded. + +“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?” + +“Not carefully,” he told her. + +“You must before you leave,” she insisted. “Mr. Fentolin is a great +judge, and so was his father.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“That is to show them the way in at night, isn’t it?” he asked. + +She nodded. + +“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.” + +“It doesn’t seem a dangerous beach,” he remarked. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Your uncle has been here this morning,” he remarked quietly. + +“Very likely.” + +“That outhouse,” he continued, “must be quite a large place. Have you +any idea what it is he works upon there?” + +“None,” she answered. + +He looked around him once more. + +“Mr. Fentolin has been preparing for my coming,” he observed. “I see +that he has moved a few of his personal things.” + +She made no reply, only she shivered a little as she stepped back into +the sunshine. + +“I don’t believe you like my little domicile,” he remarked, as they +started off homeward. + +“I don’t,” she admitted curtly. + +“In the train,” he reminded her, “you seemed rather to discourage my +coming here. Yet last night, after dinner--” + +“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.” + +“Make any difference to what?” + + +“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--” + +“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?” + +“If he will let me,” she promised. + +“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.” + +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. + +“This came for you,” he remarked, handing it to Hamel. “I met the boy +bringing it out of the office.” + +Hamel tore it open, with a word of thanks. Gerald stood in front of him +as he read. + +“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.” + +Hamel did not speak for a moment. He was looking at the few words +scrawled across the pink sheet with a heavy black pencil: + + “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.” + +Hamel crumpled up the telegram and thrust it into his pocket. + +“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?” + +Gerald hesitated for a moment. Then he answered as though a species of +recklessness had seized him. + +“He called himself Mr. John P. Dunster.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin laid his pen deliberately down. + +“So soon,” he murmured. “Very well, Sarson, I am at his service. Say +that I will come at once.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Dunster looked at the speaker curiously. + +“And what might my profession be, Mr. Fentolin?” he asked. “You seem to +know a great deal about me.” + +“It is true,” Mr. Fentolin admitted. “I do know a great deal.” + +Mr. Dunster knocked the ash from his cigar. + +“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?” + +Mr. Fentolin smiled queerly. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“There, you speak with some show of reason. I have a nephew whom you +have met, who is devoted to me.” + +“Mr. Gerald Fentolin,” Mr. Dunster remarked drily. + +“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.” + +“I could,” Mr. Dunster muttered, “very easily!” + +Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + +“Perhaps our points of view might differ.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Dunster held his cigar a little way off and looked steadfastly at +his host for a moment. “So you have interpreted my cipher?” + +Mr. Fentolin spread out the palms of his hands in a delicate gesture. + +“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.” + +“I gather,” Mr. Dunster went on, although his cigar was burning itself +out, “that you have broken the seal of my dispatches?” + +Mr. Fentolin closed his eyes as though he had heard a discord. + +“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.” + +“And if I give you that one word?” Mr. Dunster asked. + +“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.” + +“And in that case,” Mr. Dunster enquired, “what would become of me?” + +“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.” + +“And the dispatch which I am carrying to The Hague?” + +“Would remain here with you.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“I am an Englishman,” Mr. Fentolin confessed “or rather,” he added, with +ghastly humour, “I am half an Englishman.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Or you may,” Mr. Dunster suggested, glancing keenly at his host, “be +the paid agent of some foreign Power.” + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +“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.” + +Mr. Dunster was still mystified. + +“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. + +“In time,” Mr. Fentolin observed, “even that may become clear to you. At +present, well--just that word, if you please?” + +Mr. Dunster shook his head. + +“No,” he decided, “I do not think so. I cannot make up my mind to tell +you that word.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Dunster laughed a little derisively. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin smiled, very slightly, still very blandly. + +“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.” + +Mr. Dunster was obviously plentifully supplied with either courage or +bravado, for he only laughed. + +“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. + +Mr. Fentolin sat very quietly in his chair. + +“You mean, then,” he asked, “that you do not intend to humour me in this +little matter?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“The end of your journey,” he said grimly, “may be nearer than you +think.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Mr. Dunster beat lightly with his square, blunt forefinger upon the +table which stood by his side. + +“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?” + +Mr. Fentolin held his hand in front of his eyes, as though to shut out +some unwelcome vision. + +“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.” + +Mr. Dunster smoked in silence for a few minutes. + +“I am very comfortable here,” he remarked. + +“You delight me,” Mr. Fentolin murmured. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin listened attentively. + +“Do not forget,” he said, “that there is always a limit fixed, whether +it be one day, two days, or three days.” + +“A limit to your complacence, I presume?” + +Mr. Fentolin assented. + +“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?” + +Mr. Fentolin’s eyes grew suddenly a little brighter. There was a light +upon his face strange to witness. + +“The power which is to be the gainer,” he said quietly, “is the power +encompassed by these walls.” + +He touched his chest; his long, slim fingers were folded upon it. + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“I wonder,” Mr. Dunster muttered under his breath, “whether you are in +earnest.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Excellent reasoning,” Fentolin agreed. “For the very reasons you name +that word will be given.” + +Mr. Dunster’s face was momentarily troubled. There was something in the +still, cold emphasis of this man’s voice which made him shiver. + +“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.” + +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. + +“You seem to be in earnest,” he muttered. + +“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!” + +“I am not sure,” Mr. Dunster said slowly, “that I ought not to wring +your neck.” + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. His chair receded an inch or two. There was never a +time when his expression had seemed more seraphic. + +“There is no emergency of that sort,” he remarked, “for which I am not +prepared.” + +His little revolver gleamed for a minute beneath his cuff. He backed his +chair slowly and with wonderful skill towards the door. + +“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!” + +The door opened and closed. Mr. Dunster sat staring into the open space +like a man still a little dazed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +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. + +“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.” + +Lady Saxthorpe, who had been engaged in greeting Esther, held out her +hand and smiled good-humouredly at Hamel. + +“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?” + +“Not at all,” Hamel answered. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“And,” Mr. Fentolin continued, “you must know my young friend here, too. +Mr. Hamel--Lord Saxthorpe.” + +The latter shook hands heartily with the young man. + +“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.” + +“You are very kind,” Hamel murmured. + +“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?” + +“Mr. Hamel plays very well, indeed,” the girl replied. + +“Your niece was too good for me,” Hamel confessed. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +“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.” + +“I do see it,” Lady Saxthorpe murmured. “What eyes you have, Mr. +Fentolin! What perception for colour!” + +“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.” + +“I pity you no longer,” Lady Saxthorpe asserted fervently. “The eyes of +the artist are a finer possession than the limbs of the athlete.” + +The butler announced luncheon, and they all trooped in. Hamel found +himself next to Lady Saxthorpe. + +“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?” + +Hamel wondered politely. Lady Saxthorpe continued with an air of +triumph. + +“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.” + +“What was his excuse?” Hamel asked. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin looked suddenly down the table. He was some distance away, +but his hearing was wonderful. + +“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?” + +His sister-in-law, who was seated at the other end of the table, looked +across at him with a bright but stereotyped smile. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“The coincidence of your question,” Mr. Fentolin said smoothly, “is +certainly a strange one. The mysterious stranger is within our gates.” + +Lady Saxthorpe, who had been out of the conversation for far too long, +laid down her knife and fork. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Lady Saxthorpe shivered. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“You don’t really think,” Lady Saxthorpe asked, “that there is any fear +of war, do you, Mr. Fentolin?” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“And now?” she asked. “What use do you make of them now?” + +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. + +“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.” + +Lord Saxthorpe came strolling up to them. + +“You won’t forget to telephone about this guest of yours?” he asked +fussily. + +“It is already done,” Mr. Fentolin assured him. “My dear sister, why so +silent?” + +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. + +“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.” + +She strolled off, humming a tune to herself. Lord Saxthorpe watched her +with a shadow upon his plain, good-humoured face. + +“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?” + +“Eight years,” Mr. Fentolin replied. “It was just six months after my +own accident.” + +“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.” + +“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--” + +He stopped short. + +“And yet?” Lady Saxthorpe repeated interrogatively. + +Mr. Fentolin was watching Gerald drive golf balls from the lawn beneath. +He pointed downwards. + +“I was like that when I was his age,” he said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +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. + +“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?” + +“Yes, sir, I do!” Gerald replied, with unexpected grimness. “I feel my +responsibility deeply.” + +Mr. Fentolin, who was holding the telescope to his eye, touched Hamel on +the shoulder. + +“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?” + +Hamel held the telescope to his eye and steadied it upon the little +tripod stand. + +“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?” + +“Two,” Hamel answered. “I can see them distinctly now. One man is +driving, another is sitting by his side. They are coming this way.” + +Mr. Fentolin blew his whistle. Meekins appeared almost directly. His +master whispered a word in his ear. The man at once departed. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + +“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.” + +Gerald rose impatiently to his feet and swung across the terrace. Mr. +Fentolin, however, called him back. + +“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.” + +“Shall I tell him, too--” Gerald began. + +“Be careful, Gerald.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“Mr. Fentolin would like to speak to you, inspector,” he said, “if you +will come this way.” + +The inspector followed Gerald and saluted the little group solemnly. Mr. +Fentolin held out his hand. + +“You got my telephone message, inspector?” he asked. + +“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.” + +“Quite so,” Mr. Fentolin assented. “You’ve come over, I presume, to make +enquiries concerning Mr. John P. Dunster?” + +“That is the name of the gentleman, sir.” + +“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?” + +“My first duty, sir,” the inspector pronounced, “is to see the gentleman +in question.” + +“By all means,” Mr. Fentolin agreed. “Gerald, will you take the +inspector up to Mr. Dunster’s rooms? Or stop, I will go myself.” + +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. + +“How is the patient?” Mr. Fentolin enquired. + +Doctor Sarson appeared from the interior of the room. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Doctor Sarson bowed. + +“That is quite simple, sir,” he said. “Please step in.” + +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. + +“Is he asleep?” he asked. + +The doctor shook his head. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin touched the inspector on the arm. + +“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.” + +“I am quite satisfied, sir,” the inspector announced. “I will not +intrude any further.” + +They left the room. Mr. Fentolin himself escorted the inspector into the +library and ordered whisky and cigars. + +“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?” + +“We had a very important enquiry indeed, sir,” the inspector replied. +“I have instructions to telegraph all I have been able to discover, +immediately.” + +“Pardon my putting it plainly,” Mr. Fentolin asked, “but is our friend a +criminal?” + +“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.” + +“Not a criminal at all?” + +“Not as I know of,” the inspector assented. “That isn’t the way I read +the enquiries at all.” + +“You relieve me,” Mr. Fentolin declared. “Now what about his +possessions?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“My dear Florence,” he asked, “where are the others?” + +“Mr. Hamel and Esther have gone for a walk,” she answered. “Gerald has +disappeared somewhere. Has anything--is everything all right?” + +“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.” + +“Unconscious,” Mrs. Fentolin repeated. “I thought that he was better.” + +“One is always subject to those slight relapses in an affair of +concussion,” Mr. Fentolin explained. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“Not particularly.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin laughed softly, a little contemptuously. + +“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.” + +She took up her knitting again. Her eyes were fixed upon the sky-line. +Twice she opened her lips, but twice no words came. + +“You understand?” he whispered. “You begin to understand, don’t you?” + +She looked at him only for a moment and back at her work. + +“I suppose so,” she sighed. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +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. + +“Did you hear that cry?” he whispered. + +Gerald nodded. + +“It woke me up. What do you suppose it was?” Hamel shook his head. + +“Some one in pain,” he replied. “I don’t understand it. It came from +this room.” + +“You know who sleeps there?” Gerald asked hoarsely. + +Hamel nodded. + +“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!” + +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. + +“We both heard the same sound, Meekins. Is any one ill? It sounded like +some one in pain.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Notwithstanding this very plausible explanation, Hamel was conscious +of the remains of an uneasiness which he scarcely knew how to put into +words. + +“It was a most distressing cry,” he observed doubtfully, “a cry of fear +as well as of pain.” + +“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.” + +Hamel neither felt nor showed any disposition to depart. + +“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?” + +Mr. Fentolin showed no signs of displeasure. He was silent for a moment, +as though considering the matter. + +“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.” + +“I think it would be advisable,” Hamel agreed. + +“Good night!” Mr. Fentolin said once more. “I am sorry that your rest +has been disturbed.” + +Hamel, however, still refused to take the hint. His eyes were fixed upon +that closed door. + +“Mr. Fentolin,” he asked, “have you any objection to my seeing Mr. +Dunster?” + +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. + +“There is no reason, Mr. Hamel,” he said, “why your curiosity should not +be gratified. Knock softly at the door, Gerald.” + +The boy obeyed. In a moment or two Doctor Sarson appeared on the +threshold. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Gerald!” + +The boy stood still, trembling, speechless. Mr. Fentolin’s eyes were +riveted upon him. The doctor was standing, still and dark, a motionless +image. + +“Is he asleep?” Hamel asked. + +“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.” + +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. + +“He doesn’t look like getting up for a good many days to come,” Hamel +observed. + +The doctor led the way towards the door. + +“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.” + +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. + +“May I come in for a moment, please?” he whispered. + +Hamel nodded. + +“With pleasure! Come in and have a cigarette if you will. I shan’t feel +like sleep for some time.” + +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. + +“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.” + +The boy was sitting with folded arms. His expression was one of deep +gloom. + +“I only wish I’d never brought him here,” he muttered. “I ought to have +known better.” + +Hamel raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t he as well off here as anywhere else?” + +“Do you think that he is?” Gerald demanded, looking across at Hamel. + +There was a brief silence. + +“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.” + +“Do you really believe that?” Gerald asked. + +Hamel rose to his feet. + +“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.” + +“Go on.” + +“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.” + +“Thank God!” the boy murmured. + +“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.” + +“You say that because you don’t know,” Gerald declared bitterly. + +“In a sense I don’t,” Hamel admitted, “and yet your sister hinted to me +only this afternoon that you and she--” + +“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!” + +Gerald’s face was white with pain. Hamel laid his hand upon his +shoulder. + +“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.” + +“Have you talked to my sister like that?” Gerald asked eagerly. + +“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.” + +“God knows we need one!” the boy said simply. “Good night!” + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +“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.” + +Esther made a little grimace. + +“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.” + +Hamel sighed as he returned to his place. + +“My good intentions are already half dissipated,” he admitted. + +She laughed. + +“How can we attack the other half?” she asked. + +Gerald, who was also on his way to the sideboard, suddenly stopped. + +“Hullo!” he exclaimed, looking out of the window. “Who’s going away this +morning, I wonder? There’s the Rolls-Royce at the door.” + +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. + +“Uncle!” Gerald exclaimed. + +Mr. Fentolin glanced keenly around the room. + +“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.” + +“You mean that he is going?” Hamel asked incredulously. + +“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!” + +Neither Hamel nor Gerald had resumed their places. The former, after a +moment’s hesitation, turned towards the door. + +“I think,” he said, “that I should like to see the last of Mr. Dunster.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +“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.” + +They helped him into the car. Hamel and Gerald stood under the great +stone portico, watching. + +“Well, I’m jiggered!” the boy exclaimed, under his breath. + +Hamel was watching the proceedings with a puzzled frown. To his +surprise, neither Doctor Sarson nor Meekins were accompanying the +departing man. + +“He’s off, right enough,” Hamel declared, as the car glided away. “Do +you understand it? I don’t.” + +Gerald did not speak for several moments. His eyes were still fixed upon +the back of the disappearing car. Then he turned towards Hamel. + +“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.” + +“And me,” Hamel admitted, watching the car until it became a speck in +the distance. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“I had thought of commencing some reading I brought with me,” Hamel +replied, “but Miss Esther has challenged me to another game of golf.” + +“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?” + +“I haven’t made up my mind yet, sir,” the boy replied. + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +“Always that lack of initiative,” he remarked. “A lack of initiative is +one of your worst faults, I am afraid, dear Gerald.” + +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. + +“I rather thought,” he said, “of going into Norwich, if you could spare +me. Captain Holt has asked me to lunch at the Barracks.” + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head gently. + +“It is most unfortunate,” he declared. “I have a commission for you +later in the day.” + +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. + +“Lieutenant Godfrey, sir,” he announced. + +They all looked up. A trim, clean-shaven, hard-featured young man in +naval uniform was standing upon the threshold. He bowed to Esther. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin smiled genially. + +“We are delighted to see you, Lieutenant Godfrey,” he said. “Have some +breakfast.” + +“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.” + +“Haul down my wireless,” Mr. Fentolin repeated slowly. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin seemed puzzled. + +“But, my dear sir,” he protested, “we are not at war, are we?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin halted his chair by the side of the bell, and rang it. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin left the room. Lieutenant Godfrey was already attacking his +breakfast. Gerald leaned towards him eagerly. + +“Is there really going to be war?” he demanded. + +“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?” + +“It’s a fad of my uncle’s,” Gerald replied. “Since his accident he +amuses himself in all sorts of queer ways.” + +Lieutenant Godfrey nodded. + +“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?” + +“Rather!” Gerald answered. “The Fentolins have lived here for hundreds +of years. Why do you ask that?” + +Lieutenant Godfrey hesitated. He looked, for the moment, scarcely at his +ease. + +“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?” + +“About forty minutes,” Gerald told him, “if your car’s any good at all.” + +“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. + +“Hope I shall be before long,” Gerald answered. “I’m going into the +army, though.” + +“Have to hurry up, won’t you?” + +Gerald sighed. + +“It’s a little difficult for me. Here’s your car. Good luck to you!” + +“My excuses to Mr. Fentolin,” Lieutenant Godfrey shouted, “and many +thanks.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +Gerald closed the door behind him and summoned up all his courage. + +“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.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +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. + +“Close that door, Gerald.” + +The boy obeyed. Mr. Fentolin waited until he had turned around again. + +“Come and stand over here by the side of the table,” he directed. + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“You heard the message, then?” + +“I did.” + +“You listened--at the keyhole?” + +“I listened outside,” Gerald assented doggedly. “I am glad I listened. +Do you mind answering my question?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. He had the air of a man who wishes to be +reasonable. + +“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.” + +“Your stockbroker!” Gerald exclaimed. + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin yawned slightly. + +“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.” + +“What about his papers?” + +“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.” + +Gerald shook his head. + +“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?” + +Mr. Fentolin pointed out of the window. Gerald followed his finger. +Three men were at work upon the towering spars. + +“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?” + +“Very well,” the boy replied. “I haven’t seen much of him.” + +“He and Esther are together a great deal, eh?” Mr. Fentolin asked +quickly. + +“They seem to be quite friendly.” + +“It isn’t Mr. Hamel, by any chance, who has been putting these ideas +into your head?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin waited until he had finished. Then he waved him away. + +“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.” + +Gerald overtook Hamel upon the stairs. + +“By this time,” the latter remarked, “I suppose that our friend Mr. +Dunster is upon the sea.” + +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. + +“Mr. Dunster has left, sir,” she told them. + +“We saw him go,” Gerald replied. + +“Rather a quick recovery, wasn’t it, nurse?” Hamel asked. + +“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.” + +“They couldn’t exactly make a prison of the place, could they?” Hamel +pointed out. “The man, after all, was only a guest.” + +“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.” + +Mrs. Fentolin was passing along the corridor as they issued from the +room. She started a little as she saw them. + +“What have you two been doing in there?” she asked quickly. + +“We were just passing,” Hamel explained. “We stopped for a moment to +speak to the nurse.” + +“Mr. Dunster has gone,” she said. “You saw him go, Gerald. You saw him, +too, didn’t you, Mr. Hamel?” + +“I certainly did,” Hamel admitted. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +She shook her head. + +“Thank you very much,” she said. “Mr. Fentolin does not like to be +left.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +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. + +“Where did it go?” she asked. + +“I have no idea,” he admitted. + +“Why don’t you help look for it?” + +“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.” + +She hesitated for a moment. + +“We shall lose our place.” + +“There is no one behind.” + +She sank on to the little knoll of sand to which he had pointed, with a +resigned sigh. + +“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.” + +“I have been silent,” he told her, “because I have been thinking.” + +“That may be truthful,” she remarked, “but you wouldn’t call it polite, +would you?” + +“The subject of my thoughts is my excuse. I have been thinking of you.” + +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. + +“Was it my mashie shots you were worrying about?” she asked. + +“It was not,” he replied simply. “It was you--you yourself.” + +She laughed, not altogether naturally. + +“How flattering!” she murmured. “By-the-by, you are rather a downright +person, aren’t you, Mr. Hamel?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +She looked at him with startled eyes. + +“What do you mean?” she asked quickly. “You are Mr. Hamel, aren’t you?” + +“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?” + +“Yes! Go on, please.” + +“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--” + +“Please go on. Please speak as though I knew nothing.” + +“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.” + +“Go on, please,” she murmured. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +She turned a little in her place and looked at him steadfastly. + +“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.” + +His face was troubled. + +“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.” + +“Mr. Hamel,” she exclaimed nervously, “you don’t believe that! He is +always very kind.” + +“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--” + +“Don’t!” she interrupted suddenly. “Why do you bring me here to talk +like this? You cannot alter things. Nothing can be altered.” + +“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--” + +He paused so long that she looked at him. He moved a little closer to +her, his fingers suddenly gripped her hand. + +“Or you can marry me and come away from it all,” he concluded quietly. +“Forgive me, please--I mean it.” + +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. + +“I think,” she said, “that we had better play golf.” + +“But I have asked you to marry me,” he protested, as he scrambled up. + +“Your caddy has found your ball a long time ago,” she pointed out, +walking swiftly on ahead. + +He played his shot and caught her up. + +“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.” + +“You knew that what was coming?” she asked, raising her eyes suddenly. + +“That I should care for you.” + +“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.” + +“Is it? And why?” + +“I have only known you for three days.” + +“We can make up for that.” + +“But I don’t--care about you. I have never thought of any one in that +way. It is absurd,” she went on. + +“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.” + +Her breath caught a little. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +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. + +“We’d best get on,” he remarked, pointing to two figures in the +distance, “or they’ll say we’ve cut in.” + +Hamel smote his ball far and true. On a more moderate scale she followed +his example. They descended the steps together. + +“Love-making isn’t going to spoil our golf,” he whispered, smiling, as +he touched her fingers once more. + +She looked at him almost shyly. + +“Is this love-making?” she asked. + +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. + +“On our way home--” he began. + +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. + +“Look!” she whispered, under her breath. “Look! It is Mr. Fentolin! He +has come for us himself; he is there in the car.” + +Mr. Fentolin, a strange little figure lying back among the cushions of +the great Daimler, raised his hat and waved it to them. + +“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?” + +“To take my clubs to my locker and pay my caddy,” she replied. + +“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.” + +She gave up her clubs reluctantly. All the life seemed to have gone from +her face. + +“Why didn’t mother come with you?” she asked simply. + +“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?” + +“A great deal,” she echoed, looking steadily ahead of her. + +“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?” + +“Twenty-one,” she replied. + +“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?” + +“I don’t know,” she replied. “I have never thought about the matter.” + +“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.” + +She made no reply whatever. Hamel was coming now towards them. + +“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.” + +She said nothing, but her hand which rested upon the rug was trembling a +little. + +“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?” + +For the first time she turned her head towards him. + +“I understand,” she said, “that you have some particular reason for not +wishing Mr. Hamel to leave St. David’s Hall.” + +He smiled benignly. + +“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?” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +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. + +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. + +“Are you entirely deserted, Mr. Hamel?” she asked. + +“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.” + +Her eyes followed his outstretched hand. She seemed to him to shiver for +a moment. + +“You really mean, then, that you are going to leave us?” she asked, +accepting the chair which he had drawn up close to his. + +He smiled. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“I have certainly observed--eccentricities,” Hamel assented. + +“My life, and the lives of my two children,” she went on, “is devoted to +the task of ministering to his happiness.” + +“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. + +“To you, Mr. Hamel,” she said, “it may seem so. We who make it know of +its necessity.” + +He bowed his head. It was not a subject for him to discuss with her. + +“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.” + +Hamel’s face grew darker. + +“Has it ever occurred to you,” he demanded, “that Mr. Fentolin is a +tyrant?” + +She closed her eyes for a moment. + +“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.” + +Hamel threw away his cigarette. He was deeply interested. + +“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.” + +“Miles was right, then!” she cried suddenly. “You are here to spy upon +him!” + +He turned towards her swiftly. + +“To spy upon him, Mrs. Fentolin? For what reason? Why? Is he a criminal, +then?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Secrets? But what secrets has he?” Hamel demanded. “Is he an inventor?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Mrs. Seymour Fentolin seemed to be trembling a little. Her hands were +crossed upon her bosom. + +“You have known her for so short a time,” she murmured. + +Hamel smiled confidently. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Why not?” she murmured, as though arguing with some unseen critic of +her thoughts. “Why not?” + +“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--” + +She turned suddenly upon him and gripped his wrist. + +“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?” + +Hamel stared at his companion, for a moment, blankly. Her attitude was +so unexpected, her questioning so fierce. + +“My dear Mrs. Fentolin,” he began--. + +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. + +“No,” she interrupted, “I forgot! I mustn’t talk like that. She, too, is +part of the sacrifice.” + +“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.” + +A gleam of hopefulness shone through the stony misery of the woman’s +face. + +“Does Esther care?” she asked softly. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +“Chow-Chow,” she cried, “come along, dear, we must have our walk. Come +along, Koto; come along, little dogs.” + +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. + +“Unsociable person!” he exclaimed, as he caught her up. “Didn’t you know +that I was longing for a walk?” + +“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.” + +“May I come?” he asked. “I have business there myself.” + +She laughed. + +“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?” + +He shook his head, falling into step with her. + +“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.” + +Something of the lightness faded from her face. + +“So you have quite made up your mind to leave us?” she asked slowly. +“Mother wasn’t able to persuade you to stay?” + +He shook his head. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said quietly. + +“Why not?” he demanded. “It was the truth.” + +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. + +“What did mother say?” she whispered. + +“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.” + +She shook her head very emphatically. + +“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.” + +Her words came to him like numb things. There was little expression in +them, and yet he felt that somehow they meant so much. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +She turned, and he saw the great transformation. Her face was brilliant, +her eyes shone with wonderful things. + +“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.” + +“And we will walk back together?” + +“We will walk back together,” she promised him. + +“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.” + +She dismissed him with a little smile. He strolled along the village +street and plunged into the mysterious recesses of the one tiny shop. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +Hamel met Kinsley shortly before one o’clock the following afternoon, in +the lounge of the Royal Hotel at Norwich. + +“You got my wire, then?” the latter asked, as he held out his hand. “I +had it sent by special messenger from Wells.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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?” + +“Hanged if I know!” Hamel answered, with a sigh. + +“Nothing definite to tell us, then?” + +“Nothing!” + +“What about Mr. John P. Dunster?” + +“He left yesterday morning,” Hamel said. “I saw him go. He looked very +shaky. I understood that Mr. Fentolin sent him to Yarmouth.” + +“Did Mr. Fentolin know that there was an enquiry on foot about this +man’s disappearance?” Kinsley asked. + +“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.” + +Kinsley, for a moment, was singularly and eloquently profane. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Disappeared again?” Hamel muttered. + +“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.” + +Hamel looked doubtful. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Have you tried to trace him from there?” Hamel asked. + +“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.” + +Hamel shook his head. + +“You seem to know a good deal more than I do, already,” he said. + +“What do you think of Mr. Fentolin? You have stayed in his house. You +have had an opportunity of studying him.” + +“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.” + +“Are you staying at St. David’s Hall now?” + +“I left yesterday.” + +“Where are you now, then?” + +“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.” + +“Mr. Fentolin evidently doesn’t like to have you in the locality,” + Kinsley remarked thoughtfully. + +“He was all right so long as I was at St. David’s Hall,” Hamel observed. + +“What’s this little place like--St. David’s Tower, you call it?” Kinsley +asked. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“You probably have,” Kinsley agreed. “What post does he hold in the +household?” + +“I have no idea,” Hamel replied. “I saw him the first day I arrived and +not since. Sort of secretary, I should think.” + +“He is a queer-looking fellow, anyway,” Kinsley muttered. “Look out, +Dick. Here he comes back again.” + +Mr. Ryan approached the table a little diffidently. + +“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.” + +Hamel nodded. + +“I thought I’d seen you there.” + +“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.” + +Hamel shook his head. + +“I came in by train myself, or I would have given you a lift back, with +pleasure,” he said. + +Mr. Ryan expressed his thanks briefly and left the room. Kinsley watched +him from over the top of a newspaper. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Kinsley nodded thoughtfully. + +“I remember Seymour Fentolin,” he said; “a really fine fellow he was. +Well, who else?” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“On and off, the last few days. I seem to have been busy doing all sorts +of things.” + +“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.” + +“I don’t suppose he could help receiving them,” Hamel remarked. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Hamel sighed. + +“I know nothing beyond what I have told you.” + +“How did he look when he went away?” + +“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.” + +“Did you actually speak to him?” + +“Just a word or two.” + +“And you saw him go off in the car?” + +“Gerald Fentolin and I both saw him and wished him good-by.” + +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.” + +“Tell me,” Hamel asked, after they had walked for some distance in +silence, “exactly why is our fleet demonstrating to such an extent?” + +“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--” + +Kinsley paused. His tone and his expression had alike become gloomier. + +“Go on,” Hamel begged. + +“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!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +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. + +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. + +“What time would you like your dinner, sir?” she enquired. + +Hamel stared at her. + +“Why, are you going to keep house for me, Mrs. Cox?” he asked. + +“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.” + +“So I discovered,” he remarked, a little grimly. + +“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.” + +“Yet you are here,” he reminded her. + +“I do not count,” she answered. “I am outside all these things.” + +Hamel gave a little sigh of satisfaction. + +“Well, I am glad you could come, anyhow. If you have something for +dinner, I should like it in about half an hour.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“It is very kind of both of them,” Hamel said thoughtfully. + +The woman stood still for a moment, looking at him. Then she drew a step +nearer. + +“Has Mr. Fentolin given you the key of the shed?” she asked, very +quietly. + +Hamel shook his head. + +“We don’t need the place, do we?” + +“He did not give you the key?” she persisted. + +“Mr. Fentolin said that he had some things in there which he wished to +keep locked up,” he explained. + +She remained thoughtful for several moments. Then she turned away. + +“No,” she said, “it was not likely he would not give you that key!” + +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. + +“I shall be here at seven o’clock in the morning, sir,” she announced. + +Hamel was a little startled. He withdrew the pip from his mouth and +looked at her. + +“Why, of course,” he remarked. “I’d forgotten. There is no place for you +to stay here.” + +“I shall go back to my brother’s.” she said. + +Hamel put some money upon the table. + +“Please get anything that is necessary,” he directed. “I shall leave you +to do the housekeeping for a few days.” + +“Shall you be staying here long, sir?” she asked. + +“I am not sure,” he replied. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“Hard aport, Dave lad! That’s Fentolin’s light. Keep her out a bit. +Steady, lad!” + +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. + +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. + +“Hullo!” + +There was no response. He tried again. + +“Is any one there?” + +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. + +“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.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +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. + +“Breakfast in half an hour, Mrs. Cox,” he called out. + +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. + +“Mind the Dagger Rocks, sir!” + +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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Work be hanged!” he exclaimed. + +A soft voice answered him almost in his ear, a voice which was becoming +very familiar. + +“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.” + +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. + +“I trust that your first night in your new abode has been a pleasant +one?” Mr. Fentolin asked. + +“I slept quite well, thanks,” Hamel replied. “Glad to see you’re going +to paint.” + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head gloomily. + +“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.” + +“I am awfully sorry,” Hamel said. “Can’t I go out of sight somewhere?” + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +“I will not ask your pardon for my absurd humours,” he continued, a +little sadly. “Their existence, however, I cannot deny. I will wait.” + +“It seems a pity for you to do that,” Hamel remarked. “You see, I might +stay here for some time.” + +Mr. Fentolin’s face darkened. He looked at the young man with a sort of +pensive wrath. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin sat quite motionless in his chair; his eyes were fixed upon +Hamel. + +“What is it that you are going to ask me?” he demanded. + +“I want to marry your niece.” + +Mr. Fentolin looked at the young man in mild surprise. + +“A sudden decision on your part, Mr. Hamel?” he murmured. + +“Not at all,” Hamel assured him. “I have been ten years looking for +her.” + +“And the young lady?” Mr. Fentolin enquired. “What does she say?” + +“I believe, sir,” Hamel replied, “that she would be willing.” + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +“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?” + +“If you please.” + +“She has a very moderate fortune.” + +“She need have none at all,” Hamel replied; “I have enough.” + +Mr. Fentolin glanced towards the house. + +“Then,” he said, “I think you had better go and tell her so; in which +case, I shall be able to paint.” + +“I have your permission, then?” Hamel asked, rising to his feet eagerly. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Go and make love,” he ordered, “and leave me alone. We are both in +pursuit of beauty--only our methods differ.” + +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. + +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. + +“Has Mr. Fentolin sent you here?” she asked at last. + +He came over to the typewriter. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Why do you do that?” he demanded. “What is there in your work that you +are afraid I might see?” + +She answered him without hesitation. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +Her eyes rested upon his, filled with a cold and questioning light. + +“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?” + +She glanced towards the bell. He moved to the edge of the table as +though to intercept her. + +“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?” + +She looked at him from the depths of her still, lusterless eyes. + +“You must be a very foolish person,” she remarked, “if you expect to +obtain information in this manner.” + +“Perhaps I am,” he confessed, “but my folly has brought me to you, and +you can give me the information if you will.” + +“Where is Mr. Fentolin?” she asked. + +“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.” + +She turned composedly back to her work. + +“I think,” she said, “that you had better go and find Miss Fentolin.” + +“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.” + +She glanced around her a little contemptuously. + +“You are welcome,” she assured him. “Pray proceed.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Would it be wise, I wonder, then, to ensure their safety?” she asked +coolly. + +Her finger pressed the bell. He took a quick step forward. She held out +her hand. + +“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.” + +He leaned a little towards her. + +“It wouldn’t be possible to bribe you, I suppose?” + +She shook her head. + +“I wonder you haven’t tried that before. No, it would not--not with +money, that is to say.” + +“You’ll tell Mr. Fentolin, I presume?” he asked quickly. + +“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?” + +The man’s expression was full of polite regret. + +“Miss Fentolin went over to Legh Woods early this morning, sir,” he +announced. “She is staying to lunch with Lady Saxthorpe.” + +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. + +“I am sorry,” he said. “I must have made a mistake. I will hurry back.” + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +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. + +“So your wooing has not prospered, my young friend,” he remarked gently. +“I am sorry. Is there anything I can do?” + +“Your niece has gone out to lunch,” Hamel replied shortly. + +Mr. Fentolin stopped painting. His face was full of concern as he looked +up at Hamel. + +“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.” + +“You are very kind.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“Where is your servant?” Hamel asked. + +Mr. Fentolin glanced around him carelessly. + +“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.” + +“Shall I call him?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin looked at him thoughtfully. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +He pointed to the planked way which led down the steep, pebbly beach to +the sea. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +The concentrated gaze of Mr. Fentolin’s keen eyes was hard to meet, but +Hamel came out of the ordeal without flinching. + +“At eight o’clock, Mr. Fentolin,” he answered. “I can see that I must +try to earn your better opinion.” + +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. + +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. + +“What is it, Mrs. Cox?” he asked. “Why were you listening there?” + +Her face was absolutely expressionless. She was busying herself now with +a small saucepan, and her back was turned towards him. + +“I spend my life, sir,” she said, “listening and waiting. One never +knows when the end may come.” + +“But the boat-house,” Hamel objected. “No one has been in there his +morning, have they?” + +“Who can tell?” she answered. “He could go anywhere when he chose, or +how he chose--through the keyhole, if he wanted.” + +“But why listen?” Hamel persisted. “There is nothing in there now but +some odds and ends of machinery.” + +She turned from the fire and looked at him for a moment. Her eyes were +colourless, her tone unemotional. + +“Maybe! There’s no harm in listening.” + +“Did you hear anything which made you want to listen?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“If there’s anything you want, sir,” she said, “I shall hear you at a +word. The kitchen door is open.” + +“One moment, Mrs. Cox.” + +She lingered there patiently, with the tray in her hand. + +“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.” + +“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!” + +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! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +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. + +“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.” + +Hamel looked around the room. Already his heart was beginning to sink. + +“Miss Fentolin is well, I hope?” he asked. + +“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.” + + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“Esther is very young, Mr. Hamel. We must talk this over. You have known +her for such a very short time.” + +A servant announced dinner, and Hamel offered his arm to his hostess. + +“Is Gerald away, too?” he asked. + +“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.” + +“He promised to play with me to-morrow,” Hamel remarked thoughtfully. +“He said nothing about going away.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“You seem a little unsteady this evening, my dear Florence,” Mr. +Fentolin remarked, peering across the round table. + +She eyed him nonchalantly enough. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“So far, she has looked after me very well,” Hamel observed. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin’s tone was gently sympathetic. He changed the subject a +moment or two later, however. + +“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.” + +“Against whom?” Mrs. Fentolin asked. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +“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.” + +“I am out of touch with political affairs,” Hamel declared. “I have been +away from England for so long.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“I said not before ten to-night,” he muttered. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.’” + +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. + +“How can I?” he asked. “What excuse can I make?” + +“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.” + +“But, Mrs. Fentolin--” he began. + +She caught up one of her absurd little pets and held it to her mouth. + +“Meekins is in the doorway,” she whispered. + +“Don’t argue with me, please. You are in danger you know nothing about. +Pass me the cigarettes.” + +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. + +“Koto must learn to sit upon his tail--like that. No, not another grape +till he sits up. There, then!” + +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. + +“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.” + +“You mean the American whom Gerald brought home after the accident?” + Mrs. Fentolin asked carelessly. + +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.” + +“Do you mean that he has disappeared altogether this time?” Hamel asked. + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +“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.” + +She rose at once to her feet, with a dog under either arm. + +“I’ll take the phenacetin,” she promised, “but I hate going to bed +early. Shall I see you again, I wonder, Mr. Hamel?” + +“Not this evening, I fear,” he answered. “I am going to ask Mr. Fentolin +to excuse me early.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Another evening, if you don’t mind,” Hamel begged. “To-night I must ask +you to excuse my hurrying away.” + +Mr. Fentolin looked up from underneath his eyelids. His glance was quick +and penetrating. + +“Why this haste?” + +Hamel shrugged his shoulders. + +“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.” + +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. + +“We shall see,” Mr. Fentolin said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +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. + +“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.” + +Hamel’s eyes were fixed a little longingly upon some of the volumes with +which the table was covered. + +“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.” + +“You are obdurate?” Mr. Fentolin asked softly. + +“I am afraid I am.” + +Mr. Fentolin busied himself with the handle of his chair. + +“Tell me,” he insisted, “is there any other person save yourself to whom +you have given this mysterious promise?” + +“No one,” Hamel replied promptly. + +“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?” + +Hamel shook his head. + +“I am not in the confidence of the different members of your family,” he +answered. “So far as I, personally, am concerned--” + +“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?” + +“There are matters in which you are concerned,” Hamel admitted, “which I +do not understand, but I see no purpose in discussing them.” + +Mr. Fentolin wheeled his chair round in a semicircle. He was now between +the door and Hamel. + +“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.” + +Hamel saw the glitter in his hand. This was the end, then, of all doubt! +He remained silent. + +“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.” + +Hamel started. + +“You mean that he has run away?” + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +“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.” + +“What of Miss Esther?” Hamel asked quickly. + +“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.” + +“By whom?” Hamel demanded. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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!” + +“I understand that you are threatening me?” Hamel murmured. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +“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!” + +He held up his finger. The tide had turned, and through the half-open +window came the low thunder of the waves. + +“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.” + +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. + +“I come to make my adieux,” he whispered, with a glance towards the +door. + +“You are leaving, then?” she asked quickly. + +He nodded. + +“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!” + +“What about Esther?” he asked quietly. + +“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.” + +She motioned him to go. He touched her fingers for a moment. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +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. + +“Do you know the time, Mrs. Cox?” he asked. “You ought to have been home +hours ago. What are you doing there?” + +She rose to her feet. Her expression was one of dogged but patient +humility. + +“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.” + +Hamel looked at her with a frown upon his forehead. + +“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?” + +“Not real voices,” she repeated, without the slightest expression in her +tone. + +“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?” + +“I do not know,” she answered patiently. + +“You must have some reason,” he persisted. + +“I have no reason,” she assured him, “only some day I shall see behind +these doors. Afterwards, I shall hear the voices no more.” + +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. + +“Tell me--I have found you listening here before. Have you ever heard +anything suspicious?” + +“I have heard nothing yet,” she admitted, “nothing that counts.” + +“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.” + +“Mr. Fentolin would not give you the keys, sir,” she replied. “If he +did, it would be useless.” + +“Would you like me to break the door in?” Hamel asked. + +“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?” + +“Mr. Fentolin has invented something,” Hamel explained. “He keeps the +model in there. Inventors are very jealous of their work.” + +She looked down upon the floor for a moment. + +“I shall be here at seven o’clock in the morning, sir. I will give you +your breakfast at the usual time.” + +Hamel opened the door for her. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“She is mad, of course!” he muttered. + +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. + +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. + +“Who’s there?” he cried. “Who’s there, I say?” + +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. + +“Mrs. Fentolin!” he exclaimed, aghast. + +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. + +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. + +“Tell me, please, what is the matter?” he insisted, speaking as +indifferently as he could. “Tell me at once what has happened?” + +She pointed to the door. + +“Lock it!” she implored. + +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. + +“Give me some water.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“Upon my honour, I am,” he assured her. “You should know that.” + +“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?” + +“You mean where Mr. Fentolin met with his accident.” + +“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!” + +He was silent for a moment. + +“No one has known the truth,” he murmured. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +Once more her voice began to shake. + +“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--” + +“Where is Esther?” Hamel interrupted suddenly. + +“Locked up away from you, locked up because she rebelled!” + +“And Dunster?” + +She shook her head. Her eyes were filled with horror. + +“But he left the Hall--I saw him!” + +She shook her head. + +“It wasn’t Dunster. It was the man Miles makes use of--Ryan, the +librarian. He was once an actor.” + +“Where is Dunster, then?” Hamel asked quickly. “What has become of him?” + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +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. + +“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.” + +She nodded, and her fingers gently pressed his. + +“I am sure of it,” she murmured. + +“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?” + +“I don’t know,” she answered. “It was Lucy Price who sent me. She came +to my room just as I was undressing.” + +“Lucy Price,” he repeated. “The secretary?” + +“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.” + +“Miss Price told you this?” Hamel asked gravely. + +Mrs. Fentolin nodded. + +“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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Where was Mr. Fentolin when you left?” Hamel asked. + +“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?” + +Hamel shook his head. + +“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.” + +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!” + +“And how are we to know,” Hamel asked, “if he comes to-night?” + +“Go outside,” she whispered. “Look towards St. David’s Hall and tell me +how many lights you can see.” + +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. + +“There are seven,” he told her, closing the door with an effort. + +She counted upon her fingers. + +“I must come and see,” she muttered. “I must be sure. Help me.” + +He lifted her to her feet, and they staggered out together. + +“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--” + +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. + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Hamel threw another log on to the fire and drew her chair closer to it. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +“Shall I go round to the front and see that he is in bed?” + +“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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Still the man upon the bed made no movement nor any reply. Mr. Fentolin +sighed and beckoned to Doctor Sarson. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Give him two minutes,” he said calmly. “He will be able to speak then.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“I’ll see you in hell first!” + +Mr. Fentolin’s face momentarily darkened. He moved a little nearer to +the man upon the bed. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +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. + +“Come and parley with us, Mr. Hamel,” he begged. “You will not find us +unreasonable.” + +Hamel’s voice came back in reply, but Hamel himself kept well away from +the opening. + +“The conditions,” he said, “are unpropitious. A little time for +reflection will do you no harm.” + +The trap-doors were suddenly closed. Mr. Fentolin’s face, as he looked +up, became diabolic. + +“We are trapped!” he muttered; “caught like rats in a hole!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +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. + +“Can we get into the house without waking any one?” he asked. + +“Quite easily,” she assured him. “The front door is never barred.” + +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. + +“What are you going to do now?” she whispered. + +“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.” + +She nodded. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“I want to speak to Mr. Kinsley at once upon most important business,” + Hamel announced. + +“Very sorry, sir,” the man repelled. “Mr. Kinsley left town last night +for the country.” + +“Where has he gone?” Hamel demanded quickly. “You can tell me. You know +who I am; I am Mr. Hamel.” + +“Into Norfolk somewhere, sir. He went with several other gentlemen.” + +“Is that Bullen?” Hamel asked. + +The man admitted the fact. + +“Can you tell me if any of the people with whom Mr. Kinsley left London +were connected with the police?” he inquired. + +The man hesitated. + +“I believe so, sir,” he admitted. “The gentlemen started in a motor-car +and were going to drive all night.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Hamel nodded. + +“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.” + +“Are you going to leave them where they are until these people arrive?” + she asked. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“I can guess.” + +“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.” + +“But as a matter of common sense,” Hamel asked, “why does Mr. Fentolin +desire war?” + +“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.” + +“Yet you have all been his slaves,” Hamel said curiously. + +“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.” + +Hamel looked at her wonderingly. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Do you know where Miss Fentolin is?” he interrupted. + +“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.” + +“I have a friend,” Hamel answered, “who will see to that.” + +“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.” + +“Please do,” Hamel begged. + +She looked at him coldly. Her tone was still free from any sort of +emotion. + +“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?” + +“I know it,” he admitted. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +“He may,” Hamel answered sturdily, “but never to make you people his +slaves again. You have done enough. You have earned your freedom.” + +“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.” + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +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. + +“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.” + +“Perhaps,” Mr. Dunster said in a hollow tone, “you will have some +opportunity now of discovering with me what it is like.” + +“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.” + +“He must have been hanging around and followed us in when we came,” + Meekins muttered. “Somehow, I fancied I felt some one near.” + +“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.” + +“You aren’t going to murder me first, then?” Mr. Dunster grunted. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled at him benignly. + +“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.” + +Mr. Dunster struggled for a moment for breath. + +“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?” + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +“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.” + +Mr. Dunster tried to sit up but found himself unable. + +“So you think they won’t believe my story, eh?” he muttered. “Well, we +shall see.” + +Mr. Fentolin thoughtfully contemplated the burning end of his cigarette +for a moment. + +“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.” + +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. + +“For God’s sake, leave me alone!” he moaned. “Let me get away, that’s +all; let me crawl away!” + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“I heard the bolts go,” Doctor Sarson remarked uneasily. + +“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.” + +Doctor Sarson came slowly and gravely to the bedside. He looked down +upon his patient. Mr. Dunster shivered. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“Meekins,” he said, “look at me.” + +The man turned and faced his master. His aspect of dogged civility had +never been more apparent. + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Some one was in the boat-house when I broke the trap-door,” Meekins +muttered. “I heard them moving about.” + +Mr. Fentolin frowned. + +“Then let us hurry,” he said. “Sarson, what about your patient?” + +Mr. Dunster was lying upon his side, watching them. The doctor went over +to the bedside and felt his pulse and head. + +“He will do for twelve hours,” he pronounced. “If you think that other +little operation--” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Any one up there?” Mr. Fentolin enquired, a shade of anxiety in his +tone. + +“No one,” the doctor reported. + +“Has anything been disturbed?” + +Doctor Sarson was some little time before he replied. + +“Yes,” he said, “some one seems to have been rummaging about.” + +“Send down the steps quickly,” Mr. Fentolin ordered. “I am beginning to +find the atmosphere here unpleasant.” + +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. + +“Who has been in here?” Mr. Fentolin demanded, as he looked around the +place. + +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: + +“Some one has taken away the key! The door is locked on the other side!” + +Mr. Fentolin’s frown was malign even for him. + +“Our dear friend, Mr. Hamel, I suppose,” he muttered. “Another little +debt we shall owe him! Try the other door.” + +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. + +“Try the other door quickly,” he directed. + +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. + +“My good woman,” Mr. Fentolin exclaimed, frowning, “are you the person +who removed that key?” + +She laid her hand upon his chair. She took no notice of the other two. + +“Come,” she said, “there is something here I want you to listen to. +Come!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +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. + +“Down here,” she directed softly. “Bring your chair down the plank-way, +close to the water’s edge.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“What have you to do with that?” he asked in a low tone. + +“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.” + +Mr. Fentolin shook her off. He looked around for Meekins. + +“Meekins, stand by my chair,” he ordered sharply. “Turn round; I wish to +go to the Hall. Drive this woman away.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Listen!” she cried. “Listen!” + +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. + +“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!” + +She forced him to look once more at the top of the boat-house. + +“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?” + +Mr. Fentolin shrank back in his chair. + +“Take this woman away!” he ordered the fishermen. “Do you hear? Take her +away; she is mad!” + +They looked towards him, but not one of them moved. Mr. Fentolin raised +his whistle to his lips, and blew it. + +“Meekins!” he cried. “Where are you, Meekins?” + +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. + +“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?” + +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. + +“The light was never lit there,” he said. “It was simply to help me in +some electrical experiments.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“You are a fool!” he shrieked. “You can buy forgetfulness! The memory of +everything passes.” + +“I may be a fool,” she retorted grimly, “and you the wise man; but this +day we’ll both know the truth.” + +There was a little murmur from the shore, where the fishermen stood in a +long line. + +“Bring him back, missus,” Jacob called out. “You’ve scared him enough. +Bring him back. We’ll leave him to the law.” + +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. + +“Aye,” she cried, “we’ll leave him to the law--to the law of God!” + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +But if indeed his eyes were touched with fire at that moment, no one +else in the world saw anything more of Miles Fentolin. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +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. + +“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.” + +“Sheer envy,” Hamel murmured. “We escape from our tight corners by +forethought.” + +“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. + +“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?” + +“It didn’t quite come off, sir,” Gerald observed. + +“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.” + +“There was never any proof,” Hamel remarked, “that France would not have +remained staunch to us.” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +Mrs. Fentolin shivered a little. She drew her cloak around her. Gerald, +who had been watching her, sprang to his feet. + +“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.” + +Mrs. Fentolin shook her head once more. Her face had recovered its +serenity. She looked downward gravely but with no sign of fear. + +“There is nothing to terrify us there, Gerald,” she declared. “The sea +has gathered, and the sea will hold its own.” + +Hamel held out his hand to Esther. + +“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.” + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Vanished Messenger, by E. 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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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Phillips Oppenheim + +Posting Date: November 23, 2008 [EBook #1699] +Release Date: April, 1999 +[Last updated: October 3, 2015] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VANISHED MESSENGER *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer + + + + + +THE VANISHED MESSENGER + +By E. Phillips Oppenheim + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +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. + +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. + +The inspector watched them curiously. "Lost his way, I should think," he +observed. + +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." + +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. + +"Can I speak to you for a moment, sir?" + +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. + +"Are you Mr. John P. Dunster?" the youth asked. + +"I carry my visiting-card in my hand, sir," the other replied, swinging +his dressing-case around. "My name is John P. Dunster." + +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. + +"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." + +"They are very strict in this country, I know." + +Mr. Dunster agreed, without change of expression. "Please go on." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"You are particularly anxious to cross to-night?" he asked. + +"I am," the youth admitted emphatically. "I never ought to have risked +missing the train. I am due at The Hague to-morrow." + +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. + +"What is the nature of your pressing business at The Hague?" he asked. + +The youth hesitated. + +"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." + +"A golf tournament at The Hague!" Mr. Dunster repeated, in a slightly +altered tone. "What is your name?" + +"Gerald Fentolin." + +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: + + 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. + +Mr. Dunster folded up the newspaper and replaced it in his pocket. He +turned towards the young man. + +"So you're a golfer, are you?" + +"I play a bit," was the somewhat indifferent reply. + +Mr. Dunster turned to another part of the paper and pointed to the great +black head-lines. + +"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." + +"Getting ready for what?" + +"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." + +The young man's lack of interest was curious. + +"I am not in the army," he said. "It really doesn't affect me." + +Mr. Dunster stared at him. + +"You'll forgive my curiosity," he said, "but say, is there nothing you +could get into and fight if this thing came along?" + +"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--" + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +The station-master looked the curiosity which he did not actually +express in words. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +The inspector shook his head. + +"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." + +The young man paused to light a cigarette. + +"If he's an American, I suppose that accounts for it," he observed. "He +must be in a precious hurry to get somewhere, though." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster nodded. + +"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!" + +They were about to start when Mr. Dunster once more let down the window. + +"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!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +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. + +"There will be some floods out to-morrow," he remarked. + +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. + +"Very likely," was his sole reply. + +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. + +"May as well try to get a nap," he yawned. "There won't be much chance +on the steamer, if it blows like this." + +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. + +"What is the matter?" Mr. Dunster demanded. "Why are we waiting here?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Why are we travelling like this?" he asked impatiently. "We shall never +catch the boat." + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster frowned. For the first time he showed some signs of +uneasiness. + +"Perhaps," he muttered, half to himself, "a motor-car would have been +better." + +"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." + +"There appears to be a chance," Mr. Dunster remarked drily, "that you +will have to scratch for your competition to-morrow." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"What are we going to do, then?" Mr. Dunster demanded. + +"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." + +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. + +"If I cannot get to Harwich," he asked, "is there any possibility of +keeping straight on and reaching Yarmouth?" + +The guard hesitated. + +"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." + +"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." + +"How far did you wish to go, sir?" the guard enquired. + +"To Yarmouth," Mr. Dunster replied firmly. "If there are bridges down, +and communication with Harwich is blocked, Yarmouth would suit me better +than anywhere." + +The guard shook his head. + +"I couldn't go on that way, sir, without instructions." + +"Is there a telegraph office at this station?" Mr. Dunster inquired. + +"We can speak anywhere on the line," the guard replied. + +"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." + +The guard hesitated. + +"It's a goodish way from here to Norwich," he observed, "and for all we +know--" + +"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." + +The guard raised his hat and departed without another word. + +"It will probably suit you better," Mr. Dunster continued, turning to +his companion, "to leave me at Ipswich and join the mail." + +The latter shook his head. + +"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!" + +"You live in this part of the world, then?" Mr. Dunster asked. + +The young man assented. Again there was a certain amount of hesitation +in his manner. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +They relapsed once more into silence. Presently the guard reappeared. + +"Instructions to take you on to Yarmouth, if possible, sir," he +announced, "and to collect the mileage at our destination." + +"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. + +"Have you any idea where we are?" Mr. Dunster asked once. + +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. + +"I don't think we are far from Norwich. We passed Forncett, anyhow, some +time ago." + +"Still raining?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Off the rails!" the boy cried, springing to his feet. "Hold on tightly, +sir. I'd keep away from the window." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +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!" + +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. + +"My God!" he exclaimed. "Any one alive here?" + +"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." + +The porter caught hold of a piece of the wreckage with which to steady +himself. + +"Your train ran right into three feet of water," he answered. "The rails +had gone--torn up. The telegraph line's down." + +"Why didn't you stop the train?" + +"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?" + +"One gentleman travelling with me," Gerald answered. "We'd better try to +get him out. What about the guard and engine-driver?" + +"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." + +"Where are we?" + +"A few hundred yards from Wymondham. Let's have a look for the other +gentleman." + +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. + +"He's alive all right," the porter remarked. "There's a doctor on the +way. Let's cover him up quick and wait." + +"Can't we carry him to shelter of some sort?" Gerald proposed. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Perhaps there's a flask somewhere in this dressing-case," Gerald said. +"Lend me a knife." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"You're about done yourself, sir," he remarked. "Hold up." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I am all right," he declared. "Let's look after him." + +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. + +"It's all right now, sir!" he exclaimed. "They've brought blankets and a +stretcher and brandy. Here's a doctor, sir." + +A powerful-looking man, hatless, and wrapped in a great ulster, moved +towards them. + +"How many are there of you?" he asked, as he bent over Mr. Dunster. + +"Only we two," Gerald replied. "Is my friend badly hurt?" + +"Concussion," the doctor announced. "We'll take him to the village. What +about you, young man? Your face is bleeding, I see." + +"Just a cut," Gerald faltered; "nothing else." + +"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." + +They all staggered along, Gerald still clutching the dressing-case, +and supported on the other side by an excited and somewhat incoherent +villager. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +He glanced at the cut on Gerald's forehead, noted the access of colour +in his cheeks, and nodded. + +"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." + +He departed, and many of the villagers with him. The landlady sat down +and began to weep. + +"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!" + +"Judgment of the fiddlesticks!" her husband growled. "Can't you light +the fire, woman? What's the good of sitting there whining?" + +"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!" + +Her husband scoffed. He was dressed only in his shirt and trousers, his +hair rough, his braces hanging down behind. + +"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." + +"The Lord only knows!" she cried, wringing her hands. + +"Can I hire a motor-car from anywhere near?" Gerald asked. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"How far off is the garage?" he asked. + +"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." + +Gerald felt in his pocket and produced a sovereign. + +"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." + +"It's sound common sense," the woman declared. "Be off with you, +Richard." + +The man was looking at the coin covetously, but his wife pushed him +away. + +"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." + +"I'll be wet through," the man muttered. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +Gerald shivered ever so slightly. He drank the milk, however. He felt +that he might need his strength. + +"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." + +Gerald shook his head with an affectation of weariness. + +"I don't know," he replied. "I don't remember anything about it. We were +hours late, I think." + +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. + +"Sakes alive!" the woman muttered, as she looked down. "What does he +carry a thing like that for--in a peaceful country, too!" + +"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." + +He stooped down and withdrew it from the unconscious man's pocket. He +started as he discovered that it was loaded in every chamber. + +"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." + +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. + +"This 'ere is Mr. Martin's chaffer," he announced. "You can tell him +what you want yerself." + +Gerald turned almost eagerly towards the newcomer. + +"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?" + +The chauffeur looked doubtful. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I'm on," the young man agreed shortly. "It's an open car, you know." + +"It doesn't matter," Gerald replied. "I can stick it in front with you, +and we can cover--him up in the tonneau." + +"You'll wait until the doctor comes back?" the landlord asked. + +"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?" + +"It don't seem right, somehow," the man complained doggedly. "The +doctor didn't say anything about having him moved." + +"You get the car," Gerald ordered the young man. "I'll take the whole +responsibility." + +The chauffeur silently left the room. Gerald put a couple of sovereigns +upon the mantelpiece. + +"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." + +The woman pocketed the two sovereigns. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Are you used to prayer, young sir?" the woman asked. + +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. + +"The Lord have mercy on this man, a sinner!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"My advice to you, sir, is to chuck it!" + +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. + +"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." + +"The doctor said he would remain in exactly the same condition for +twenty-four hours," Gerald declared. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Only seven miles," the chauffeur repeated more cheerfully. "That's +something, anyway." + +"And all downhill." + +"Towards the sea, then?" + +"Straight to the sea," Gerald told him. "The place we are making for is +St. David's Hall, near Salthouse." + +The chauffeur seemed a little startled. + +"Why, that's Squire Fentolin's house!" + +Gerald nodded. + +"That is where we are going. You follow this road almost straight +ahead." + +The chauffeur slipped in the clutch. + +"Oh, I know the way now, sir, right enough!" he exclaimed. "There's +Salthouse marsh to cross, though. I don't know about that." + +"We shall manage that all right," Gerald declared. "We've more light +now, too." + +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. + +"I don't like the look of the marsh," he grumbled. "Can't see the road +at all. However, here goes." + +"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." + +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. + +"My God!" he exclaimed. "Here's more trouble!" + +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. + +"There's St. David's Hall," he said, "on the other side of the hill. The +road seems all right." + +"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." + +His hand was already upon the reverse lever, but Gerald gripped it. + +"Look here," he protested, "we haven't come all this way to turn back. +You don't look like a coward." + +"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." + +"Naturally," Gerald answered calmly, "but remember this. I am +responsible for your car--not you. Mr. Fentolin is my uncle." + +The chauffeur nodded shortly. + +"You're Mr. Gerald Fentolin, aren't you, sir?" he remarked. "I thought I +recognised you." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +The chauffeur moved his head backwards. + +"How about him?" + +"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." + +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. + +"If the engine gets stopped," he said, "I don't know how we shall get +out of this." + +They emerged on the other side. For some time they had a clear run. Then +suddenly the driver clapped on his brakes. + +"My God!" he cried. "We can't get through that!" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"We're cut off!" the chauffeur exclaimed. "What a fool I was to try +this! There's the tide coming in as well!" + +Gerald sat down in his place. + +"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." + +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. + +"It's getting deeper," the man declared. "It's within an inch or two of +the bonnet now. Hold on." + +A wave broke almost over them but the engine continued its beat. + +"If we stop now," he gasped, "we're done!" + +The engine began to knock. + +"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." + +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. + +"I've got it!" he exclaimed, tugging hard. "It's a stone." + +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. + +"We've done it, all right!" he cried. "Don't you see? It's getting lower +all the time." + +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. + +"We're safe!" he almost sobbed. "There's the road, straight ahead and +round to the right. There's no more water anywhere near." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"It's all right," Gerald cried. "Let us through quickly, Foulds. We've a +gentleman in behind who's ill." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"The master is awake," Henderson, the butler, remarked, dropping his +voice a little. + +Gerald nodded. + +"I will go to him at once," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded approvingly. + +"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." + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin spread out his hands. + +"Could one avoid the knowledge of it?" he asked. "Such a sight has never +been seen." + +"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." + +"An accident?" Mr. Fentolin exclaimed. + +Gerald nodded. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin sat quite silent. His eyes blinked once or twice, and there +was a curious curve about his lips. + +"You have done well, my boy," he pronounced slowly. "Your scheme of +bringing him here sounds a little primitive, but success justifies +everything." + +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. + +"Meekins," Mr. Fentolin said, "a visitor has arrived. Do you happen to +have noticed what luggage he brought?" + +"There is one small dressing-case, sir," the man replied; "nothing else +that I have seen." + +"That is all we brought," Gerald interposed. + +"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." + +Meekins closed the door and departed. Mr. Fentolin turned back towards +his nephew. + +"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?" + +"Tired, perhaps," Gerald answered shortly. "We were many hours in the +car. I have had no sleep." + +Mr. Fentolin's face was full of kindly sympathy. + +"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." + +"I'll go directly," Gerald promised. "Can I speak to you for one moment +first?" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"A terrible reflection, my dear boy," he admitted softly, "but, alas! +the finger of probability points that way." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin was shocked. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin leaned a little forward in his chair. + +"Gerald!" he said softly. + +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. + +"Gerald!" Mr. Fentolin repeated. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Gerald rose to his feet. + +"What are you going to do about it?" he asked abruptly. "Do you want any +one in from the telegraph room?" + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head slowly. + +"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." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +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: + +"Where am I?" + +She felt his forehead, altered a bandage for a moment, and took his +wrist between her fingers. + +"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." + +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. + +"Please tell me where I am?" he begged. + +"You have been in a railway accident," the doctor told him, "and you +were brought here afterwards." + +"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?" + +"It is here by the side of your bed." + +"And my pocket-book?" + +"It is on your dressing-table." + +"Have any of my things been looked at?" + +"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." + +"When," Mr. Dunster enquired, "shall I be able to continue my journey?" + +"That depends upon many things," the doctor replied. + +Mr. Dunster drank his beef tea and felt considerably stronger. His head +still ached, but his memory was returning. + +"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?" + +"Fentolin," the doctor said. "He is unhurt. This is his relative's house +to which you have been brought." + +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. + +"Whose house exactly is this?" he demanded. + +"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." + +"Can I send a telegram?" Mr. Dunster asked, a little abruptly. + +"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." + +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? + +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. + +"Can you tell me any date, Doctor, upon which I can rely upon leaving +here?" + +"You will probably be well enough to travel on the third day from now," +the doctor assured him. + +"The third day," Mr. Dunster muttered. "Very well." + +He wrote out three telegrams and passed them over. + +"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." + +"Is there anything more," the doctor asked, "that can be done for your +comfort?" + +"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?" + +Sarson shook his head. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster contemplated the speaker steadfastly. + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +His hand fell to his side. Momentarily he had finished his work. He +turned around and eyed the doctor, who stood in taciturn silence. + +"Answer. Answer me," he insisted. + +The doctor's gloomy face seemed darker still. + +"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. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. His face became almost like the face of one of +those angels of the great Italian master. + +"How well you know me!" he murmured. "My humble effort, Doctor--how do +you like it?" + +The doctor bent over the canvas. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin studied the canvas himself for a moment. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"You do not wish anything dispatched?" + +"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?" + +"He wants to get on with his journey." + +"We shall see," Mr. Fentolin remarked. "Now feel my pulse, Sarson. How +am I this morning?" + +The doctor held the thin wrist for a moment between his fingers, and let +it go. + +"In perfect health, as usual," he announced grimly. + +"Ah, but you cannot be sure!" Mr. Fentolin protested. "My tongue, if you +please." + +He put it out. + +"Excellent!" + +"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." + +The doctor made his examination with impassive face. Then he stepped +back. + +"There is no change in your condition, Mr. Fentolin," he announced. "The +palpitation you spoke of is a mistake. You are in perfect health." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + +"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?" + +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." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed, as though a weight had been removed from his heart. + +"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." + +The doctor turned silently away. There was no one there to see his +expression as he walked towards the door. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Think of you?" Hamel repeated, a little doubtfully. "Do you mean +personally?" + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"There's nothing seriously wrong, is there, Reggie?" he asked. + +"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." + +"Then these arrests," Hamel remarked, "are really bona fide?" + +"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." + +"A conference between whom?" Hamel asked. + +Kinsley dropped his voice almost to a whisper. + +"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." + +"And what will the end be?" Hamel enquired eagerly. + +Kinsley shrugged his shoulders and paused while their glasses were +filled with wine. + +"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!" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"And who is this singular person?" Hamel asked. + +"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." + +"Fentolin," Hamel repeated softly to himself. "Tell me, whereabouts does +he live?" + +"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." + +"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. + +Kinsley nodded. There was a slight flush upon his pallid cheeks. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Of course I do," Hamel insisted. "I'm on for anything." + +"You say that you are entirely your own master for the next six months?" + +"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." + +Reginald Kinsley set down his wine-glass. + +"Is your St. David's Tower anywhere near a place called Salthouse?" he +asked reflectively. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Tired of me already?" Hamel asked, smiling. + +Reginald Kinsley knocked the ash from his cigarette. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I'll do my best," Hamel promised. "In any case, it will be just the few +days' holiday I was looking forward to." + +Kinsley helped himself to whisky and soda and turned towards his friend. + +"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." + +"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." + +Kinsley smiled as he held his friend's hand for a moment. + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"So am I," he replied, still cheerfully. "I suppose the next station is +St. David's?" + +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. + +"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." + +She glanced out of the window. + +"The tide," she told him, "is almost at its lowest." + +"You live in this neighbourhood, perhaps?" he enquired. + +"I do," she assented. + +"Sort of country one might get very fond of," he ventured. + +She glanced at him from the depths of her grey eyes. + +"Do you think so?" she rejoined coldly. "For my part, I hate it." + +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. + +"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." + +She, too, was looking out now towards the sea. + +"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." + +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. + +"That seems hard," he observed sympathetically. "It seems odd to +hear you talk like that, too. Your life, surely, ought to be pleasant +enough." + +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. + +"Why ought it?" + +The question was a little bewildering. + +"Why, because you are young and a girl," he replied. "It's natural to be +cheerful, isn't it?" + +"Is it?" she answered listlessly. "I cannot tell. I have not had much +experience." + +"How old are you?" he asked bluntly. + +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. + +"I am twenty-one," she told him. + +"And how long have you lived here?" + +"Since I left boarding-school, four years ago." + +"Anywhere near where I am going to bury myself for a time, I wonder?" he +went on. + +"That depends," she replied. "Our only neighbours are the Lorneybrookes +of Market Burnham. Are you going there?" + +He shook his head. + +"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." + +She vouchsafed some slight show of curiosity. + +"Where is this shanty, as you call it?" she asked him. + +"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." + +She was gazing at him steadfastly now, with parted lips. + +"What is your name?" she demanded. + +"Richard Hamel." + +"Hamel." + +She repeated it lingeringly. It seemed quite unfamiliar. + +"Was your father a great friend of Mr. Fentolin's, then?" she asked. + +"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." + +"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?" + +He smiled. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"What for?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I do not understand," she said, "how you can possibly expect to come +down like this and live there, without any preparation." + +"Why not?" + +"You haven't any servants nor any furniture nor things to cook with." + +He laughed. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Really!" she murmured. + +"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." + +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. + +"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. + +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. + +"That," she said, "is the Tower." + +He changed his position and leaned out of the window. + +"Well, it's a queer little place," he remarked. "It doesn't look worth +quarrelling over, does it?" + +"And that," she went on, directing his attention to the hill, "is Mr. +Fentolin's home, St. David's Hall." + +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. + +"I never saw anything like it," he declared. "Why, it's barely a quarter +of a mile from the sea, isn't it?" + +"A little more than that. It is a strangely situated abode, isn't it?" + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"We shall, perhaps, meet again during the next few days," he remarked. + +She half turned her head. Her expression was scarcely encouraging. + +"I hope," she said, "that you will not be disappointed in your +quarters." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Sit down, Lucy," he ordered. + +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. + +"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." + +She looked at him, still without speech. The immobility of her face was +indeed a marvellous thing. Mr. Fentolin's expression darkened. + +"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." + +She turned over a few pages of her notebook. To all appearance she had +not heard a word. + +"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?" + +"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." + +She wrote a few words in her book. + +"You made a note of that?" + +She raised her head. + +"I do not make mistakes," she said. + +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. + +"You know who is in this house?" he asked. "You know the name of my +unknown guest?" + +"I know nothing," she replied. "His presence does not interest me." + +"Supposing I desire you to know?" he persisted, leaning a little +forward. "Supposing I tell you that it is your duty to know?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"It is not difficult," she replied. "Your methods are scarcely original. +His mandate to the flames, and his body to the sea!" + +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. + +"It does not terrify you, then," he asked curiously, "to think that a +man under this roof is about to die?" + +"Why should it?" she retorted. "Death does not frighten me--my own or +anybody else's. Does it frighten you?" + +His face was suddenly livid, his eyes full of fierce anger. His lips +twitched. He struck the table before him. + +"Beast of a woman!" he shouted. "You ghoul! How dare you! How dare +you--" + +He stopped short. He passed his hand across his forehead. All the time +the woman remained unmoved. + +"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." + +"Yes," she admitted, "I was a different sort of woman." + +"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?" + +"No," she answered, "I do not remember those days. They do not belong to +me. It is some other woman you are thinking of." + + +Their eyes met. Mr. Fentolin turned away first. He struck the bell at +his elbow. She rose at once. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Doctor Sarson is to go to Mr. Fentolin." + +Mr. Fentolin sat quite still, feeling his own pulse. + +"That woman," he muttered to himself, "that--woman--some day I shouldn't +be surprised if she really--" + +He paused. The doctor had entered the room. + +"I am upset, Sarson," he declared. "Come and feel my pulse quickly. That +woman has upset me." + +"Miss Price?" + +"Miss Price, d--n it! Lucy--yes!" + +"It seems unlike her," the doctor remarked. "I have never heard her +utter a useless syllable in my life." + +Mr. Fentolin held out his wrist. + +"It's what she doesn't say," he muttered. + +The doctor produced his watch. In less than a minute he put it away. + +"This is quite unnecessary," he pronounced. "Your pulse is wonderful." + +"Not hurried? No signs of palpitation?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin leaned a little back in his chair. An expression of +satisfaction crept over his face. + +"You reassure me, my dear Sarson. That is excellent. What of our +patient?" + +"There is no change." + +"I am afraid," Mr. Fentolin sighed, "that we shall have trouble with +him. These strong people always give trouble." + +"It will be just the same in the long run," the doctor remarked, +shrugging his shoulders. + +Mr. Fentolin held up his finger. + +"Listen! A motor-car, I believe?" + +"It is Miss Fentolin who is just arriving," the doctor announced. "I saw +the car coming as I crossed the hall." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded gently. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +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. + +"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." + +"I have not been in the house two minutes," Esther replied, "and I +haven't seen mother yet. Forgive me." + +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. + +"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." + +"For more than a week," she repeated, under her breath. + +"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?" + +"I have no news," she answered, gradually recovering herself. + +"The gaieties of London, I fear," he protested gently, "have proved a +little unsettling." + +"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." + +"My dear child, you would not go about London unchaperoned!" + +"There is a difference," she retorted, "between a chaperon and a +jailer." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. He shook his head slowly. He seemed pained. + +"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." + +"I cannot say that I am glad to hear it," Esther replied quietly. + +Mr. Fentolin sat back in his chair. His long fingers played nervously +together, he looked at her gravely. + +"My dear child," he exclaimed, in a tone of pained surprise, "your +attitude distresses me!" + +"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." + +"The same as ever," Mr. Fentolin sighed. "I fear that this little change +has done you no good, dear niece." + +"Change!" she echoed. "It was only a change of prisons." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head slowly--a distressful gesture. Yet all the +time he had somehow the air of a man secretly gratified. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin tapped the table thoughtfully with his forefinger. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded gently. + +"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." + +"He wrote because he thought it was his duty," the boy said doggedly. + +"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?" + +"Six feet two, sir." + +"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." + +"All the more reason for me to hurry," the boy begged. + +Mr. Fentolin closed his eyes. + +"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." + +"I play cricket, sir," the boy reminded him, a little impatiently, "and, +after all, there are other things in the world besides games." + +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. + +"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?" + +The boy was paler, but he had drawn himself to his full height. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Doctor Sarson bowed to Esther, who scarcely glanced at him. He remained +in the background, quietly waiting. + +"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." + +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. + +"Something," she whispered in his ear, "is going to happen there." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +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. + +"Which way to the sea?" Hamel asked. + +The man pointed to the white gates of the crossing. + +"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." + +"This will do for me," Hamel replied cheerfully. + +"Be careful of the dikes," the station-master advised him. "Some of them +are pretty deep." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"And who might you be, gentleman?" + +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. + +"I am just a visitor," he replied. "Who are you?" + +She shook her head. + +"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." + +"Why brave?" he asked. + +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. + +"He's looking at you," she muttered. "He don't like strangers poking +around here, that I can tell you." + +"And who is he?" Hamel enquired. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I mind him," the woman said slowly. "His name was Hamel." + +"I am his son," Hamel announced. + +She pointed to the Hall. "Does he know that you are here?" + +Hamel shook his head. "Not yet. I have been abroad for so long." + +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. + +"Tell me," Hamel asked gently, "why do you come out here alone, so far +from the village?" + +She pointed with her finger to where the waves were breaking in a thin +line of white, about fifty yards from the beach. + +"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." + +Hamel looked at her curiously. Her voice had grown lower and lower. + +"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!" + +She clutched his arm. + +"Couldn't you hear that?" she half whispered. + +"'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. + +"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!" + +"They were wrecked?" he asked her gently. + +"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!" + +She turned away. Her lips were moving all the time. She walked about a +dozen steps, and then she returned. + +"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." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +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. + +"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." + +Hamel nodded. + +"I not only tried but I succeeded," he remarked. "I got in through the +window." + +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. + +"May I ask for your explanation or your excuse?" + +"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." + +"What is your name?" Mr. Fentolin asked suddenly. + +"My name is Hamel--Richard Hamel." + +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. + +"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." + +"I am his son." + +"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." + +Hamel knocked the ashes from his pipe. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"You have been making use of this little shanty, haven't you?" he asked +bluntly. + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. He was apparently beginning to recover himself. + +"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." + +"It is a strange coast," Hamel admitted. + +Mr. Fentolin pointed with his forefinger northwards. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Very kind of you indeed," Hamel remarked, "very benevolent." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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?" + +"She spoke to me strangely," Hamel admitted. "She gave me the impression +of a woman whose brain had been turned with grief." + +"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?" + +"She spoke of you as being a very kind-hearted man." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded slowly. He moistened his lips for a moment. One +might have imagined that he was anxious. + +"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." + +Hamel frowned slightly. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin leaned a little out of his carriage. He reached the younger +man's shoulder with his hand. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"You are really very kind," he began hesitatingly--. + +"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?" + +Hamel shook his head. + +"An electrical bath-chair," Mr. Fentolin continued. "Practice has made +me remarkably skilful in its manipulation. You see, I can steer to an +inch." + +He was already turning around. Hamel rose to his feet. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin was manoeuvring his carriage. His back was towards Hamel. + +"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." + +He paused suddenly. He felt in all his pockets. + +"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." + +"It is a great affliction," Hamel murmured sympathetically. + +"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?" + +"Not in the least," Hamel replied. "I have been out of England too long +to keep in touch with politics." + +"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." + +"In America," Hamel remarked, "they affect to look upon England as a +doomed Power." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Welcome!" Mr. Fentolin cried gaily. "Welcome, my friend Mr. Hamel, to +St. David's Hall!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +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. + +"Mr. Fentolin will be glad if you will step into his room, sir," he +announced, leading the way. + +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. + +"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." + +Hamel accepted a quaintly-cut wine-glass full of the amber liquid. Mr. +Fentolin sipped his with the air of a connoisseur. + +"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." + +Hamel bowed. + +"It is very kind of Mrs. Fentolin," he murmured. + +"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." + +Hamel shook his head. + +"Only in the abstract, I fear," he answered. "I have scarcely opened a +serious book since I was at Oxford." + +"What was your year?" Mr. Fentolin asked. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded appreciatively. + +"A magnificent profession," he murmured. "A healthy one, too, I should +judge from your appearance. You are a strong man, Mr. Hamel." + +"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." + +"You are going back there?" Mr. Fentolin asked, with interest. + +Hamel shook his head. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +She held out her hand with the faintest possible smile, which might have +been of greeting or recognition. + +"I travelled for some distance in the train with Mr. Hamel this +afternoon, I think," she remarked. + +"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?" + +He watched them keenly. Hamel, though he scarcely understood, was quick +to appreciate the possible significance of that tentative question. + +"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?" + +"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." + +The sound of the dinner gong boomed through the house. A moment later +Gerald entered, followed by a butler announcing dinner. + +"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." + +Gerald shook hands with his visitor. His face, for a moment, lighted up. +He was looking pale, though, and singularly sullen and dejected. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"But for your interest and consequent trespass," Hamel remarked, "I +should probably have found the roof off and the whole place in ruins." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"I am tired, sir," the boy answered quietly. + +Mr. Fentolin nodded gravely. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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--" + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin backed his little chair from the table. The doctor came +over and laid his hand upon the handle. + +"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." + +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. + +"Are you a brave man, Mr. Hamel?" she asked. + +He was staggered but he answered her promptly. + +"I believe so." + +"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!" + +The earnestness of her words was unmistakable. Hamel felt the thrill of +coming events. + +"Why not?" + +"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!" + +The door had been noiselessly opened. The doctor appeared and advanced +to the table with a grave little bow. + +"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." + +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. + +Nevertheless, his voice, when he spoke, was clear and firm. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +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. + +"If there is any trouble," he whispered, "send for me. I am better away, +for the present. My presence only excites him." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +"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." + +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. + +"So you've come at last!" he exclaimed, a little truculently. "Are you +Mr. Fentolin?" + +Mr. Fentolin gravely admitted his identity. His eyes rested upon his +guest with an air of tender interest. His face was almost beautiful. + +"You are the owner of this house--I am underneath your roof--is that +so?" + +"This is certainly St. David's Hall," Mr. Fentolin replied. "It really +appears as though your conclusions were correct." + +"Then will you tell me why I am kept a prisoner here?" + +Mr. Fentolin's expression was for a moment clouded. He seemed hurt. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled reassuringly. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Am I to understand that they are to be restored to me, then?" Mr. +Dunster demanded. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head very gently, very regretfully, but also +firmly. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster seemed, for a moment, to struggle for composure. + +"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. + +"In the present case I decline to follow it. I ask for facilities to +leave this house at once." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"In your own interests," he said calmly, "they will not be granted to +you." + +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. + +"Will not be granted to me?" he repeated. "Do you mean to say, then, +that I am to be kept here against my will?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +"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." + +"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." + +"A few days' rest--" Mr. Fentolin began. + +"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." + +"You are very mysterious," Mr. Fentolin murmured. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin turned to Meekins. + +"You can leave the room for a moment," he ordered. "Wait upon the +threshold." + +Meekins very unwillingly turned to obey. + +"You will excuse me, sir," he objected doubtfully, "but I am not at all +sure that he is safe." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled faintly. + +"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." + +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. + +"Now, Mr. Dunster," he said softly, "you can speak to me without +reserve." + +Mr. Dunster dropped his voice. His tone became one of fierce eagerness. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head in gentle disbelief. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +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. + +"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." + +"Have you had any outside advice about his condition?" Hamel inquired. + +Mr. Fentolin glanced across those few feet of space and looked at Hamel +with swift suspicion. + +"Why should I?" he asked. "Doctor Sarson is fully qualified, and the +case seems to present no unusual characteristics." + +Hamel sipped his brandy thoughtfully. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shrugged his shoulders. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Hamel was a little taken aback. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin had lit a cigarette and was watching the blue smoke curl +upwards to the ceiling. + +"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?" + +"I don't think I shall need that," Hamel admitted, a little +hesitatingly. + +"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?" + +"Not in the least," Hamel replied. "Tell me, what direction do your +inventions take, Mr. Fentolin?" + +"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." + +"To be quite frank," Hamel declared bluntly, "I should like to talk to +your niece." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled as though amused. His amusement, however, was +perfectly good-natured. + +"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." + +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. + +"I have just left your uncle," Hamel said. "He told me that I might come +in here." + +"Yes?" she murmured. + +"He was very hospitable," Hamel continued. "He wanted me to remain here +as a guest and not go to the Tower at all." + +"And you?" + +"I am going to the Tower," he said. "I am going there to-morrow or the +day after." + +The music swelled beneath her fingers. + +"For how long?" + +"For a week or so. I am just giving your uncle time to clear out his +belongings. I am leaving him the outhouse." + +"He asked you to leave him that?" she whispered. + +"Yes!" + +"You are not going in there at all?" + +"Not at all." + +Again she played a little more loudly for a few moments. Then the music +died away once more. + +"What reason did he give for keeping possession of that?" + +"Another hobby," Hamel replied. "He is an inventor, it seems. He has the +model of something there; he would not tell me what." + +She shivered a little, and her music drifted away. She bent over the +keys, her face hidden from him. + +"You will not go away just yet?" she asked softly. "You are going to +stay for a few days, at any rate?" + +"Without a doubt," he assured her. "I am altogether my own master." + +"Thank God," she murmured. + +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. + +"Do you know that this is all rather mysterious?" he said calmly. + +"What is mysterious?" she demanded. + +"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." + +"We live here, both of us," she told him. "He is our guardian." + +"Naturally," Hamel replied, "and yet, it may have been my fancy, of +course, but at dinnertime I seemed to get a queer impression." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Come out on to the terrace," she invited. "You are not afraid of cold?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"I have heard so," he replied gravely. + +She clutched at his arm. + +"Come," she said. + +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. + +"This way," she directed. "Be careful." + +They walked to the very edge of the palisading. It was scarcely more +than a couple of feet high. She pointed downwards. + +"Can you see?" she whispered. + +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. + +"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." + +"What accident?" + +"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." + +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. + +"What a horrible thing!" he exclaimed. + +"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!" + +"By whom?" he asked. + +She clung to his arm for a moment. + +"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." + +"That, at any rate, was fine of him," Hamel declared. + +She shivered. + +"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!" + +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. + +"I am afraid of him all the time," she murmured. "He seems to overhear +everything--he or his creatures. Listen!" + +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. + +"You are telling me half," he said. "Tell me everything. Who threw your +uncle over the parapet?" + +She stood by his side, motionless and trembling. + +"It was the passion of a moment," she said at last, speaking hoarsely. +"I cannot tell you. Listen! Listen!" + +"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." + +She suddenly clutched his hand. There was nothing of affection in her +touch, and yet he felt a thrill of delight. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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!" + +She was already round the corner and on her way to the main terrace. He +followed her closely. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +"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?" + +"That is all very well for you," she retorted, smiling, "but I have +topped my drive." + +"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." + +She played her shot, and they walked for a little way together. She was +suddenly silent. + +"Do you know," she said finally, just a little gravely, "I am not at all +used to speeches of this sort." + +"Then you ought to be," he declared. "Nothing but the lonely life you +have been living has kept you from hearing them continually." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Of course," he went on, "I knew that these links were good--quite +famous, aren't they?" + +"I have played on so few others," she told him. "I learned my golf here +with King, the professional." + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"So far," she admitted, "you haven't been altogether unsuccessful." + +"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." + +"I am not at all sure that you have known me long enough to tell me what +colours suit me," she demurred. + +"Then what will you say," he enquired, "if I admire the angle of that +quill in your hat?" + +"Don't do it," she laughed. "If you continue like this, I may have to go +home." + +"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." + +"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." + +They moved off presently to the next teeing ground. + +"I don't believe this nonsense is good for our golf," she said. + +"It is immensely good for us as human beings," he protested. + +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. + +"I am beginning to understand what there is about this coast which +fascinated my father so," he remarked. + +"Are you?" she answered gravely. "Years ago I used to love it, but not +now." + +He tried to change the subject, but the gloom had settled upon her face +once more. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Ah, you mustn't talk like that!" he pleaded. "Do you know what you make +me feel like?" + +She came back from the world of her own unhappy imaginings. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +She smiled. + +"Doubtless your long absence abroad," she began slowly, "has affected +your game." + +"I was round in eighty-one," he grumbled. + +"You must have travelled in many countries," she continued, "where golf +was an impossibility." + +"Naturally," he admitted. "Let us stay and have lunch and try again." + +She shook her head with a little sigh of regret. + +"You see, the car is waiting," she pointed out. "We are expected home. I +shan't be a minute putting my clubs away." + +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. + +"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." + +She nodded. + +"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?" + +"Not carefully," he told her. + +"You must before you leave," she insisted. "Mr. Fentolin is a great +judge, and so was his father." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"That is to show them the way in at night, isn't it?" he asked. + +She nodded. + +"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." + +"It doesn't seem a dangerous beach," he remarked. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Your uncle has been here this morning," he remarked quietly. + +"Very likely." + +"That outhouse," he continued, "must be quite a large place. Have you +any idea what it is he works upon there?" + +"None," she answered. + +He looked around him once more. + +"Mr. Fentolin has been preparing for my coming," he observed. "I see +that he has moved a few of his personal things." + +She made no reply, only she shivered a little as she stepped back into +the sunshine. + +"I don't believe you like my little domicile," he remarked, as they +started off homeward. + +"I don't," she admitted curtly. + +"In the train," he reminded her, "you seemed rather to discourage my +coming here. Yet last night, after dinner--" + +"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." + +"Make any difference to what?" + + +"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--" + +"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?" + +"If he will let me," she promised. + +"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." + +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. + +"This came for you," he remarked, handing it to Hamel. "I met the boy +bringing it out of the office." + +Hamel tore it open, with a word of thanks. Gerald stood in front of him +as he read. + +"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." + +Hamel did not speak for a moment. He was looking at the few words +scrawled across the pink sheet with a heavy black pencil: + + "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." + +Hamel crumpled up the telegram and thrust it into his pocket. + +"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?" + +Gerald hesitated for a moment. Then he answered as though a species of +recklessness had seized him. + +"He called himself Mr. John P. Dunster." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin laid his pen deliberately down. + +"So soon," he murmured. "Very well, Sarson, I am at his service. Say +that I will come at once." + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster looked at the speaker curiously. + +"And what might my profession be, Mr. Fentolin?" he asked. "You seem to +know a great deal about me." + +"It is true," Mr. Fentolin admitted. "I do know a great deal." + +Mr. Dunster knocked the ash from his cigar. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin smiled queerly. + +"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." + +"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." + +"There, you speak with some show of reason. I have a nephew whom you +have met, who is devoted to me." + +"Mr. Gerald Fentolin," Mr. Dunster remarked drily. + +"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." + +"I could," Mr. Dunster muttered, "very easily!" + +Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + +"Perhaps our points of view might differ." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster held his cigar a little way off and looked steadfastly at +his host for a moment. "So you have interpreted my cipher?" + +Mr. Fentolin spread out the palms of his hands in a delicate gesture. + +"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." + +"I gather," Mr. Dunster went on, although his cigar was burning itself +out, "that you have broken the seal of my dispatches?" + +Mr. Fentolin closed his eyes as though he had heard a discord. + +"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." + +"And if I give you that one word?" Mr. Dunster asked. + +"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." + +"And in that case," Mr. Dunster enquired, "what would become of me?" + +"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." + +"And the dispatch which I am carrying to The Hague?" + +"Would remain here with you." + +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. + +"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?" + +"I am an Englishman," Mr. Fentolin confessed "or rather," he added, with +ghastly humour, "I am half an Englishman." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Or you may," Mr. Dunster suggested, glancing keenly at his host, "be +the paid agent of some foreign Power." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster was still mystified. + +"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. + +"In time," Mr. Fentolin observed, "even that may become clear to you. At +present, well--just that word, if you please?" + +Mr. Dunster shook his head. + +"No," he decided, "I do not think so. I cannot make up my mind to tell +you that word." + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster laughed a little derisively. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled, very slightly, still very blandly. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster was obviously plentifully supplied with either courage or +bravado, for he only laughed. + +"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. + +Mr. Fentolin sat very quietly in his chair. + +"You mean, then," he asked, "that you do not intend to humour me in this +little matter?" + +"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." + +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. + +"The end of your journey," he said grimly, "may be nearer than you +think." + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster beat lightly with his square, blunt forefinger upon the +table which stood by his side. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin held his hand in front of his eyes, as though to shut out +some unwelcome vision. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster smoked in silence for a few minutes. + +"I am very comfortable here," he remarked. + +"You delight me," Mr. Fentolin murmured. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin listened attentively. + +"Do not forget," he said, "that there is always a limit fixed, whether +it be one day, two days, or three days." + +"A limit to your complacence, I presume?" + +Mr. Fentolin assented. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin's eyes grew suddenly a little brighter. There was a light +upon his face strange to witness. + +"The power which is to be the gainer," he said quietly, "is the power +encompassed by these walls." + +He touched his chest; his long, slim fingers were folded upon it. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"I wonder," Mr. Dunster muttered under his breath, "whether you are in +earnest." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Excellent reasoning," Fentolin agreed. "For the very reasons you name +that word will be given." + +Mr. Dunster's face was momentarily troubled. There was something in the +still, cold emphasis of this man's voice which made him shiver. + +"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." + +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. + +"You seem to be in earnest," he muttered. + +"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!" + +"I am not sure," Mr. Dunster said slowly, "that I ought not to wring +your neck." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. His chair receded an inch or two. There was never a +time when his expression had seemed more seraphic. + +"There is no emergency of that sort," he remarked, "for which I am not +prepared." + +His little revolver gleamed for a minute beneath his cuff. He backed his +chair slowly and with wonderful skill towards the door. + +"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!" + +The door opened and closed. Mr. Dunster sat staring into the open space +like a man still a little dazed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +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. + +"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." + +Lady Saxthorpe, who had been engaged in greeting Esther, held out her +hand and smiled good-humouredly at Hamel. + +"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?" + +"Not at all," Hamel answered. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"And," Mr. Fentolin continued, "you must know my young friend here, too. +Mr. Hamel--Lord Saxthorpe." + +The latter shook hands heartily with the young man. + +"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." + +"You are very kind," Hamel murmured. + +"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?" + +"Mr. Hamel plays very well, indeed," the girl replied. + +"Your niece was too good for me," Hamel confessed. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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." + +"I do see it," Lady Saxthorpe murmured. "What eyes you have, Mr. +Fentolin! What perception for colour!" + +"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." + +"I pity you no longer," Lady Saxthorpe asserted fervently. "The eyes of +the artist are a finer possession than the limbs of the athlete." + +The butler announced luncheon, and they all trooped in. Hamel found +himself next to Lady Saxthorpe. + +"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?" + +Hamel wondered politely. Lady Saxthorpe continued with an air of +triumph. + +"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." + +"What was his excuse?" Hamel asked. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin looked suddenly down the table. He was some distance away, +but his hearing was wonderful. + +"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?" + +His sister-in-law, who was seated at the other end of the table, looked +across at him with a bright but stereotyped smile. + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"The coincidence of your question," Mr. Fentolin said smoothly, "is +certainly a strange one. The mysterious stranger is within our gates." + +Lady Saxthorpe, who had been out of the conversation for far too long, +laid down her knife and fork. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Lady Saxthorpe shivered. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"You don't really think," Lady Saxthorpe asked, "that there is any fear +of war, do you, Mr. Fentolin?" + +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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"And now?" she asked. "What use do you make of them now?" + +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. + +"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." + +Lord Saxthorpe came strolling up to them. + +"You won't forget to telephone about this guest of yours?" he asked +fussily. + +"It is already done," Mr. Fentolin assured him. "My dear sister, why so +silent?" + +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. + +"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." + +She strolled off, humming a tune to herself. Lord Saxthorpe watched her +with a shadow upon his plain, good-humoured face. + +"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?" + +"Eight years," Mr. Fentolin replied. "It was just six months after my +own accident." + +"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." + +"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--" + +He stopped short. + +"And yet?" Lady Saxthorpe repeated interrogatively. + +Mr. Fentolin was watching Gerald drive golf balls from the lawn beneath. +He pointed downwards. + +"I was like that when I was his age," he said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +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. + +"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?" + +"Yes, sir, I do!" Gerald replied, with unexpected grimness. "I feel my +responsibility deeply." + +Mr. Fentolin, who was holding the telescope to his eye, touched Hamel on +the shoulder. + +"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?" + +Hamel held the telescope to his eye and steadied it upon the little +tripod stand. + +"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?" + +"Two," Hamel answered. "I can see them distinctly now. One man is +driving, another is sitting by his side. They are coming this way." + +Mr. Fentolin blew his whistle. Meekins appeared almost directly. His +master whispered a word in his ear. The man at once departed. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + +"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." + +Gerald rose impatiently to his feet and swung across the terrace. Mr. +Fentolin, however, called him back. + +"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." + +"Shall I tell him, too--" Gerald began. + +"Be careful, Gerald." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Mr. Fentolin would like to speak to you, inspector," he said, "if you +will come this way." + +The inspector followed Gerald and saluted the little group solemnly. Mr. +Fentolin held out his hand. + +"You got my telephone message, inspector?" he asked. + +"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." + +"Quite so," Mr. Fentolin assented. "You've come over, I presume, to make +enquiries concerning Mr. John P. Dunster?" + +"That is the name of the gentleman, sir." + +"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?" + +"My first duty, sir," the inspector pronounced, "is to see the gentleman +in question." + +"By all means," Mr. Fentolin agreed. "Gerald, will you take the +inspector up to Mr. Dunster's rooms? Or stop, I will go myself." + +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. + +"How is the patient?" Mr. Fentolin enquired. + +Doctor Sarson appeared from the interior of the room. + +"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." + +"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." + +Doctor Sarson bowed. + +"That is quite simple, sir," he said. "Please step in." + +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. + +"Is he asleep?" he asked. + +The doctor shook his head. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin touched the inspector on the arm. + +"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." + +"I am quite satisfied, sir," the inspector announced. "I will not +intrude any further." + +They left the room. Mr. Fentolin himself escorted the inspector into the +library and ordered whisky and cigars. + +"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?" + +"We had a very important enquiry indeed, sir," the inspector replied. +"I have instructions to telegraph all I have been able to discover, +immediately." + +"Pardon my putting it plainly," Mr. Fentolin asked, "but is our friend a +criminal?" + +"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." + +"Not a criminal at all?" + +"Not as I know of," the inspector assented. "That isn't the way I read +the enquiries at all." + +"You relieve me," Mr. Fentolin declared. "Now what about his +possessions?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"My dear Florence," he asked, "where are the others?" + +"Mr. Hamel and Esther have gone for a walk," she answered. "Gerald has +disappeared somewhere. Has anything--is everything all right?" + +"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." + +"Unconscious," Mrs. Fentolin repeated. "I thought that he was better." + +"One is always subject to those slight relapses in an affair of +concussion," Mr. Fentolin explained. + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Not particularly." + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin laughed softly, a little contemptuously. + +"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." + +She took up her knitting again. Her eyes were fixed upon the sky-line. +Twice she opened her lips, but twice no words came. + +"You understand?" he whispered. "You begin to understand, don't you?" + +She looked at him only for a moment and back at her work. + +"I suppose so," she sighed. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +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. + +"Did you hear that cry?" he whispered. + +Gerald nodded. + +"It woke me up. What do you suppose it was?" Hamel shook his head. + +"Some one in pain," he replied. "I don't understand it. It came from +this room." + +"You know who sleeps there?" Gerald asked hoarsely. + +Hamel nodded. + +"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!" + +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. + +"We both heard the same sound, Meekins. Is any one ill? It sounded like +some one in pain." + +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. + +"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." + +Notwithstanding this very plausible explanation, Hamel was conscious +of the remains of an uneasiness which he scarcely knew how to put into +words. + +"It was a most distressing cry," he observed doubtfully, "a cry of fear +as well as of pain." + +"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." + +Hamel neither felt nor showed any disposition to depart. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin showed no signs of displeasure. He was silent for a moment, +as though considering the matter. + +"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." + +"I think it would be advisable," Hamel agreed. + +"Good night!" Mr. Fentolin said once more. "I am sorry that your rest +has been disturbed." + +Hamel, however, still refused to take the hint. His eyes were fixed upon +that closed door. + +"Mr. Fentolin," he asked, "have you any objection to my seeing Mr. +Dunster?" + +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. + +"There is no reason, Mr. Hamel," he said, "why your curiosity should not +be gratified. Knock softly at the door, Gerald." + +The boy obeyed. In a moment or two Doctor Sarson appeared on the +threshold. + +"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." + +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. + +"Gerald!" + +The boy stood still, trembling, speechless. Mr. Fentolin's eyes were +riveted upon him. The doctor was standing, still and dark, a motionless +image. + +"Is he asleep?" Hamel asked. + +"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." + +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. + +"He doesn't look like getting up for a good many days to come," Hamel +observed. + +The doctor led the way towards the door. + +"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." + +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. + +"May I come in for a moment, please?" he whispered. + +Hamel nodded. + +"With pleasure! Come in and have a cigarette if you will. I shan't feel +like sleep for some time." + +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. + +"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." + +The boy was sitting with folded arms. His expression was one of deep +gloom. + +"I only wish I'd never brought him here," he muttered. "I ought to have +known better." + +Hamel raised his eyebrows. "Isn't he as well off here as anywhere else?" + +"Do you think that he is?" Gerald demanded, looking across at Hamel. + +There was a brief silence. + +"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." + +"Do you really believe that?" Gerald asked. + +Hamel rose to his feet. + +"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." + +"Go on." + +"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." + +"Thank God!" the boy murmured. + +"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." + +"You say that because you don't know," Gerald declared bitterly. + +"In a sense I don't," Hamel admitted, "and yet your sister hinted to me +only this afternoon that you and she--" + +"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!" + +Gerald's face was white with pain. Hamel laid his hand upon his +shoulder. + +"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." + +"Have you talked to my sister like that?" Gerald asked eagerly. + +"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." + +"God knows we need one!" the boy said simply. "Good night!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +"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." + +Esther made a little grimace. + +"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." + +Hamel sighed as he returned to his place. + +"My good intentions are already half dissipated," he admitted. + +She laughed. + +"How can we attack the other half?" she asked. + +Gerald, who was also on his way to the sideboard, suddenly stopped. + +"Hullo!" he exclaimed, looking out of the window. "Who's going away this +morning, I wonder? There's the Rolls-Royce at the door." + +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. + +"Uncle!" Gerald exclaimed. + +Mr. Fentolin glanced keenly around the room. + +"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." + +"You mean that he is going?" Hamel asked incredulously. + +"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!" + +Neither Hamel nor Gerald had resumed their places. The former, after a +moment's hesitation, turned towards the door. + +"I think," he said, "that I should like to see the last of Mr. Dunster." + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"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." + +They helped him into the car. Hamel and Gerald stood under the great +stone portico, watching. + +"Well, I'm jiggered!" the boy exclaimed, under his breath. + +Hamel was watching the proceedings with a puzzled frown. To his +surprise, neither Doctor Sarson nor Meekins were accompanying the +departing man. + +"He's off, right enough," Hamel declared, as the car glided away. "Do +you understand it? I don't." + +Gerald did not speak for several moments. His eyes were still fixed upon +the back of the disappearing car. Then he turned towards Hamel. + +"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." + +"And me," Hamel admitted, watching the car until it became a speck in +the distance. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"I had thought of commencing some reading I brought with me," Hamel +replied, "but Miss Esther has challenged me to another game of golf." + +"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?" + +"I haven't made up my mind yet, sir," the boy replied. + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"Always that lack of initiative," he remarked. "A lack of initiative is +one of your worst faults, I am afraid, dear Gerald." + +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. + +"I rather thought," he said, "of going into Norwich, if you could spare +me. Captain Holt has asked me to lunch at the Barracks." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head gently. + +"It is most unfortunate," he declared. "I have a commission for you +later in the day." + +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. + +"Lieutenant Godfrey, sir," he announced. + +They all looked up. A trim, clean-shaven, hard-featured young man in +naval uniform was standing upon the threshold. He bowed to Esther. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled genially. + +"We are delighted to see you, Lieutenant Godfrey," he said. "Have some +breakfast." + +"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." + +"Haul down my wireless," Mr. Fentolin repeated slowly. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin seemed puzzled. + +"But, my dear sir," he protested, "we are not at war, are we?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin halted his chair by the side of the bell, and rang it. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin left the room. Lieutenant Godfrey was already attacking his +breakfast. Gerald leaned towards him eagerly. + +"Is there really going to be war?" he demanded. + +"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?" + +"It's a fad of my uncle's," Gerald replied. "Since his accident he +amuses himself in all sorts of queer ways." + +Lieutenant Godfrey nodded. + +"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?" + +"Rather!" Gerald answered. "The Fentolins have lived here for hundreds +of years. Why do you ask that?" + +Lieutenant Godfrey hesitated. He looked, for the moment, scarcely at his +ease. + +"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?" + +"About forty minutes," Gerald told him, "if your car's any good at all." + +"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. + +"Hope I shall be before long," Gerald answered. "I'm going into the +army, though." + +"Have to hurry up, won't you?" + +Gerald sighed. + +"It's a little difficult for me. Here's your car. Good luck to you!" + +"My excuses to Mr. Fentolin," Lieutenant Godfrey shouted, "and many +thanks." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +Gerald closed the door behind him and summoned up all his courage. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +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. + +"Close that door, Gerald." + +The boy obeyed. Mr. Fentolin waited until he had turned around again. + +"Come and stand over here by the side of the table," he directed. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"You heard the message, then?" + +"I did." + +"You listened--at the keyhole?" + +"I listened outside," Gerald assented doggedly. "I am glad I listened. +Do you mind answering my question?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. He had the air of a man who wishes to be +reasonable. + +"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." + +"Your stockbroker!" Gerald exclaimed. + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin yawned slightly. + +"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." + +"What about his papers?" + +"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." + +Gerald shook his head. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin pointed out of the window. Gerald followed his finger. +Three men were at work upon the towering spars. + +"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?" + +"Very well," the boy replied. "I haven't seen much of him." + +"He and Esther are together a great deal, eh?" Mr. Fentolin asked +quickly. + +"They seem to be quite friendly." + +"It isn't Mr. Hamel, by any chance, who has been putting these ideas +into your head?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin waited until he had finished. Then he waved him away. + +"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." + +Gerald overtook Hamel upon the stairs. + +"By this time," the latter remarked, "I suppose that our friend Mr. +Dunster is upon the sea." + +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. + +"Mr. Dunster has left, sir," she told them. + +"We saw him go," Gerald replied. + +"Rather a quick recovery, wasn't it, nurse?" Hamel asked. + +"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." + +"They couldn't exactly make a prison of the place, could they?" Hamel +pointed out. "The man, after all, was only a guest." + +"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." + +Mrs. Fentolin was passing along the corridor as they issued from the +room. She started a little as she saw them. + +"What have you two been doing in there?" she asked quickly. + +"We were just passing," Hamel explained. "We stopped for a moment to +speak to the nurse." + +"Mr. Dunster has gone," she said. "You saw him go, Gerald. You saw him, +too, didn't you, Mr. Hamel?" + +"I certainly did," Hamel admitted. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +She shook her head. + +"Thank you very much," she said. "Mr. Fentolin does not like to be +left." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +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. + +"Where did it go?" she asked. + +"I have no idea," he admitted. + +"Why don't you help look for it?" + +"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." + +She hesitated for a moment. + +"We shall lose our place." + +"There is no one behind." + +She sank on to the little knoll of sand to which he had pointed, with a +resigned sigh. + +"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." + +"I have been silent," he told her, "because I have been thinking." + +"That may be truthful," she remarked, "but you wouldn't call it polite, +would you?" + +"The subject of my thoughts is my excuse. I have been thinking of you." + +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. + +"Was it my mashie shots you were worrying about?" she asked. + +"It was not," he replied simply. "It was you--you yourself." + +She laughed, not altogether naturally. + +"How flattering!" she murmured. "By-the-by, you are rather a downright +person, aren't you, Mr. Hamel?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +She looked at him with startled eyes. + +"What do you mean?" she asked quickly. "You are Mr. Hamel, aren't you?" + +"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?" + +"Yes! Go on, please." + +"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--" + +"Please go on. Please speak as though I knew nothing." + +"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." + +"Go on, please," she murmured. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +She turned a little in her place and looked at him steadfastly. + +"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." + +His face was troubled. + +"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." + +"Mr. Hamel," she exclaimed nervously, "you don't believe that! He is +always very kind." + +"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--" + +"Don't!" she interrupted suddenly. "Why do you bring me here to talk +like this? You cannot alter things. Nothing can be altered." + +"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--" + +He paused so long that she looked at him. He moved a little closer to +her, his fingers suddenly gripped her hand. + +"Or you can marry me and come away from it all," he concluded quietly. +"Forgive me, please--I mean it." + +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. + +"I think," she said, "that we had better play golf." + +"But I have asked you to marry me," he protested, as he scrambled up. + +"Your caddy has found your ball a long time ago," she pointed out, +walking swiftly on ahead. + +He played his shot and caught her up. + +"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." + +"You knew that what was coming?" she asked, raising her eyes suddenly. + +"That I should care for you." + +"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." + +"Is it? And why?" + +"I have only known you for three days." + +"We can make up for that." + +"But I don't--care about you. I have never thought of any one in that +way. It is absurd," she went on. + +"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." + +Her breath caught a little. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"We'd best get on," he remarked, pointing to two figures in the +distance, "or they'll say we've cut in." + +Hamel smote his ball far and true. On a more moderate scale she followed +his example. They descended the steps together. + +"Love-making isn't going to spoil our golf," he whispered, smiling, as +he touched her fingers once more. + +She looked at him almost shyly. + +"Is this love-making?" she asked. + +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. + +"On our way home--" he began. + +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. + +"Look!" she whispered, under her breath. "Look! It is Mr. Fentolin! He +has come for us himself; he is there in the car." + +Mr. Fentolin, a strange little figure lying back among the cushions of +the great Daimler, raised his hat and waved it to them. + +"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?" + +"To take my clubs to my locker and pay my caddy," she replied. + +"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." + +She gave up her clubs reluctantly. All the life seemed to have gone from +her face. + +"Why didn't mother come with you?" she asked simply. + +"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?" + +"A great deal," she echoed, looking steadily ahead of her. + +"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?" + +"Twenty-one," she replied. + +"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?" + +"I don't know," she replied. "I have never thought about the matter." + +"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." + +She made no reply whatever. Hamel was coming now towards them. + +"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." + +She said nothing, but her hand which rested upon the rug was trembling a +little. + +"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?" + +For the first time she turned her head towards him. + +"I understand," she said, "that you have some particular reason for not +wishing Mr. Hamel to leave St. David's Hall." + +He smiled benignly. + +"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?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +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. + +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. + +"Are you entirely deserted, Mr. Hamel?" she asked. + +"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." + +Her eyes followed his outstretched hand. She seemed to him to shiver for +a moment. + +"You really mean, then, that you are going to leave us?" she asked, +accepting the chair which he had drawn up close to his. + +He smiled. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"I have certainly observed--eccentricities," Hamel assented. + +"My life, and the lives of my two children," she went on, "is devoted to +the task of ministering to his happiness." + +"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. + +"To you, Mr. Hamel," she said, "it may seem so. We who make it know of +its necessity." + +He bowed his head. It was not a subject for him to discuss with her. + +"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." + +Hamel's face grew darker. + +"Has it ever occurred to you," he demanded, "that Mr. Fentolin is a +tyrant?" + +She closed her eyes for a moment. + +"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." + +Hamel threw away his cigarette. He was deeply interested. + +"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." + +"Miles was right, then!" she cried suddenly. "You are here to spy upon +him!" + +He turned towards her swiftly. + +"To spy upon him, Mrs. Fentolin? For what reason? Why? Is he a criminal, +then?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Secrets? But what secrets has he?" Hamel demanded. "Is he an inventor?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Mrs. Seymour Fentolin seemed to be trembling a little. Her hands were +crossed upon her bosom. + +"You have known her for so short a time," she murmured. + +Hamel smiled confidently. + +"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." + +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. + +"Why not?" she murmured, as though arguing with some unseen critic of +her thoughts. "Why not?" + +"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--" + +She turned suddenly upon him and gripped his wrist. + +"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?" + +Hamel stared at his companion, for a moment, blankly. Her attitude was +so unexpected, her questioning so fierce. + +"My dear Mrs. Fentolin," he began--. + +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. + +"No," she interrupted, "I forgot! I mustn't talk like that. She, too, is +part of the sacrifice." + +"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." + +A gleam of hopefulness shone through the stony misery of the woman's +face. + +"Does Esther care?" she asked softly. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Chow-Chow," she cried, "come along, dear, we must have our walk. Come +along, Koto; come along, little dogs." + +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. + +"Unsociable person!" he exclaimed, as he caught her up. "Didn't you know +that I was longing for a walk?" + +"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." + +"May I come?" he asked. "I have business there myself." + +She laughed. + +"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?" + +He shook his head, falling into step with her. + +"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." + +Something of the lightness faded from her face. + +"So you have quite made up your mind to leave us?" she asked slowly. +"Mother wasn't able to persuade you to stay?" + +He shook his head. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"You shouldn't have done that," she said quietly. + +"Why not?" he demanded. "It was the truth." + +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. + +"What did mother say?" she whispered. + +"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." + +She shook her head very emphatically. + +"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." + +Her words came to him like numb things. There was little expression in +them, and yet he felt that somehow they meant so much. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +She turned, and he saw the great transformation. Her face was brilliant, +her eyes shone with wonderful things. + +"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." + +"And we will walk back together?" + +"We will walk back together," she promised him. + +"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." + +She dismissed him with a little smile. He strolled along the village +street and plunged into the mysterious recesses of the one tiny shop. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +Hamel met Kinsley shortly before one o'clock the following afternoon, in +the lounge of the Royal Hotel at Norwich. + +"You got my wire, then?" the latter asked, as he held out his hand. "I +had it sent by special messenger from Wells." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"Hanged if I know!" Hamel answered, with a sigh. + +"Nothing definite to tell us, then?" + +"Nothing!" + +"What about Mr. John P. Dunster?" + +"He left yesterday morning," Hamel said. "I saw him go. He looked very +shaky. I understood that Mr. Fentolin sent him to Yarmouth." + +"Did Mr. Fentolin know that there was an enquiry on foot about this +man's disappearance?" Kinsley asked. + +"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." + +Kinsley, for a moment, was singularly and eloquently profane. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Disappeared again?" Hamel muttered. + +"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." + +Hamel looked doubtful. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Have you tried to trace him from there?" Hamel asked. + +"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." + +Hamel shook his head. + +"You seem to know a good deal more than I do, already," he said. + +"What do you think of Mr. Fentolin? You have stayed in his house. You +have had an opportunity of studying him." + +"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." + +"Are you staying at St. David's Hall now?" + +"I left yesterday." + +"Where are you now, then?" + +"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." + +"Mr. Fentolin evidently doesn't like to have you in the locality," +Kinsley remarked thoughtfully. + +"He was all right so long as I was at St. David's Hall," Hamel observed. + +"What's this little place like--St. David's Tower, you call it?" Kinsley +asked. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"You probably have," Kinsley agreed. "What post does he hold in the +household?" + +"I have no idea," Hamel replied. "I saw him the first day I arrived and +not since. Sort of secretary, I should think." + +"He is a queer-looking fellow, anyway," Kinsley muttered. "Look out, +Dick. Here he comes back again." + +Mr. Ryan approached the table a little diffidently. + +"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." + +Hamel nodded. + +"I thought I'd seen you there." + +"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." + +Hamel shook his head. + +"I came in by train myself, or I would have given you a lift back, with +pleasure," he said. + +Mr. Ryan expressed his thanks briefly and left the room. Kinsley watched +him from over the top of a newspaper. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Kinsley nodded thoughtfully. + +"I remember Seymour Fentolin," he said; "a really fine fellow he was. +Well, who else?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"On and off, the last few days. I seem to have been busy doing all sorts +of things." + +"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." + +"I don't suppose he could help receiving them," Hamel remarked. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Hamel sighed. + +"I know nothing beyond what I have told you." + +"How did he look when he went away?" + +"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." + +"Did you actually speak to him?" + +"Just a word or two." + +"And you saw him go off in the car?" + +"Gerald Fentolin and I both saw him and wished him good-by." + +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." + +"Tell me," Hamel asked, after they had walked for some distance in +silence, "exactly why is our fleet demonstrating to such an extent?" + +"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--" + +Kinsley paused. His tone and his expression had alike become gloomier. + +"Go on," Hamel begged. + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +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. + +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. + +"What time would you like your dinner, sir?" she enquired. + +Hamel stared at her. + +"Why, are you going to keep house for me, Mrs. Cox?" he asked. + +"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." + +"So I discovered," he remarked, a little grimly. + +"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." + +"Yet you are here," he reminded her. + +"I do not count," she answered. "I am outside all these things." + +Hamel gave a little sigh of satisfaction. + +"Well, I am glad you could come, anyhow. If you have something for +dinner, I should like it in about half an hour." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"It is very kind of both of them," Hamel said thoughtfully. + +The woman stood still for a moment, looking at him. Then she drew a step +nearer. + +"Has Mr. Fentolin given you the key of the shed?" she asked, very +quietly. + +Hamel shook his head. + +"We don't need the place, do we?" + +"He did not give you the key?" she persisted. + +"Mr. Fentolin said that he had some things in there which he wished to +keep locked up," he explained. + +She remained thoughtful for several moments. Then she turned away. + +"No," she said, "it was not likely he would not give you that key!" + +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. + +"I shall be here at seven o'clock in the morning, sir," she announced. + +Hamel was a little startled. He withdrew the pip from his mouth and +looked at her. + +"Why, of course," he remarked. "I'd forgotten. There is no place for you +to stay here." + +"I shall go back to my brother's." she said. + +Hamel put some money upon the table. + +"Please get anything that is necessary," he directed. "I shall leave you +to do the housekeeping for a few days." + +"Shall you be staying here long, sir?" she asked. + +"I am not sure," he replied. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Hard aport, Dave lad! That's Fentolin's light. Keep her out a bit. +Steady, lad!" + +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. + +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. + +"Hullo!" + +There was no response. He tried again. + +"Is any one there?" + +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. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +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. + +"Breakfast in half an hour, Mrs. Cox," he called out. + +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. + +"Mind the Dagger Rocks, sir!" + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Work be hanged!" he exclaimed. + +A soft voice answered him almost in his ear, a voice which was becoming +very familiar. + +"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." + +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. + +"I trust that your first night in your new abode has been a pleasant +one?" Mr. Fentolin asked. + +"I slept quite well, thanks," Hamel replied. "Glad to see you're going +to paint." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head gloomily. + +"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." + +"I am awfully sorry," Hamel said. "Can't I go out of sight somewhere?" + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"I will not ask your pardon for my absurd humours," he continued, a +little sadly. "Their existence, however, I cannot deny. I will wait." + +"It seems a pity for you to do that," Hamel remarked. "You see, I might +stay here for some time." + +Mr. Fentolin's face darkened. He looked at the young man with a sort of +pensive wrath. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin sat quite motionless in his chair; his eyes were fixed upon +Hamel. + +"What is it that you are going to ask me?" he demanded. + +"I want to marry your niece." + +Mr. Fentolin looked at the young man in mild surprise. + +"A sudden decision on your part, Mr. Hamel?" he murmured. + +"Not at all," Hamel assured him. "I have been ten years looking for +her." + +"And the young lady?" Mr. Fentolin enquired. "What does she say?" + +"I believe, sir," Hamel replied, "that she would be willing." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"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?" + +"If you please." + +"She has a very moderate fortune." + +"She need have none at all," Hamel replied; "I have enough." + +Mr. Fentolin glanced towards the house. + +"Then," he said, "I think you had better go and tell her so; in which +case, I shall be able to paint." + +"I have your permission, then?" Hamel asked, rising to his feet eagerly. + +"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." + +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. + +"Go and make love," he ordered, "and leave me alone. We are both in +pursuit of beauty--only our methods differ." + +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. + +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. + +"Has Mr. Fentolin sent you here?" she asked at last. + +He came over to the typewriter. + +"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." + +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. + +"Why do you do that?" he demanded. "What is there in your work that you +are afraid I might see?" + +She answered him without hesitation. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Her eyes rested upon his, filled with a cold and questioning light. + +"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?" + +She glanced towards the bell. He moved to the edge of the table as +though to intercept her. + +"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?" + +She looked at him from the depths of her still, lusterless eyes. + +"You must be a very foolish person," she remarked, "if you expect to +obtain information in this manner." + +"Perhaps I am," he confessed, "but my folly has brought me to you, and +you can give me the information if you will." + +"Where is Mr. Fentolin?" she asked. + +"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." + +She turned composedly back to her work. + +"I think," she said, "that you had better go and find Miss Fentolin." + +"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." + +She glanced around her a little contemptuously. + +"You are welcome," she assured him. "Pray proceed." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Would it be wise, I wonder, then, to ensure their safety?" she asked +coolly. + +Her finger pressed the bell. He took a quick step forward. She held out +her hand. + +"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." + +He leaned a little towards her. + +"It wouldn't be possible to bribe you, I suppose?" + +She shook her head. + +"I wonder you haven't tried that before. No, it would not--not with +money, that is to say." + +"You'll tell Mr. Fentolin, I presume?" he asked quickly. + +"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?" + +The man's expression was full of polite regret. + +"Miss Fentolin went over to Legh Woods early this morning, sir," he +announced. "She is staying to lunch with Lady Saxthorpe." + +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. + +"I am sorry," he said. "I must have made a mistake. I will hurry back." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +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. + +"So your wooing has not prospered, my young friend," he remarked gently. +"I am sorry. Is there anything I can do?" + +"Your niece has gone out to lunch," Hamel replied shortly. + +Mr. Fentolin stopped painting. His face was full of concern as he looked +up at Hamel. + +"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." + +"You are very kind." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"Where is your servant?" Hamel asked. + +Mr. Fentolin glanced around him carelessly. + +"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." + +"Shall I call him?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin looked at him thoughtfully. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +He pointed to the planked way which led down the steep, pebbly beach to +the sea. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +The concentrated gaze of Mr. Fentolin's keen eyes was hard to meet, but +Hamel came out of the ordeal without flinching. + +"At eight o'clock, Mr. Fentolin," he answered. "I can see that I must +try to earn your better opinion." + +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. + +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. + +"What is it, Mrs. Cox?" he asked. "Why were you listening there?" + +Her face was absolutely expressionless. She was busying herself now with +a small saucepan, and her back was turned towards him. + +"I spend my life, sir," she said, "listening and waiting. One never +knows when the end may come." + +"But the boat-house," Hamel objected. "No one has been in there his +morning, have they?" + +"Who can tell?" she answered. "He could go anywhere when he chose, or +how he chose--through the keyhole, if he wanted." + +"But why listen?" Hamel persisted. "There is nothing in there now but +some odds and ends of machinery." + +She turned from the fire and looked at him for a moment. Her eyes were +colourless, her tone unemotional. + +"Maybe! There's no harm in listening." + +"Did you hear anything which made you want to listen?" + +"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." + +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. + +"If there's anything you want, sir," she said, "I shall hear you at a +word. The kitchen door is open." + +"One moment, Mrs. Cox." + +She lingered there patiently, with the tray in her hand. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +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. + +"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." + +Hamel looked around the room. Already his heart was beginning to sink. + +"Miss Fentolin is well, I hope?" he asked. + +"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." + + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Esther is very young, Mr. Hamel. We must talk this over. You have known +her for such a very short time." + +A servant announced dinner, and Hamel offered his arm to his hostess. + +"Is Gerald away, too?" he asked. + +"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." + +"He promised to play with me to-morrow," Hamel remarked thoughtfully. +"He said nothing about going away." + +"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." + +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. + +"You seem a little unsteady this evening, my dear Florence," Mr. +Fentolin remarked, peering across the round table. + +She eyed him nonchalantly enough. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"So far, she has looked after me very well," Hamel observed. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin's tone was gently sympathetic. He changed the subject a +moment or two later, however. + +"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." + +"Against whom?" Mrs. Fentolin asked. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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." + +"I am out of touch with political affairs," Hamel declared. "I have been +away from England for so long." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I said not before ten to-night," he muttered. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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.'" + +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. + +"How can I?" he asked. "What excuse can I make?" + +"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." + +"But, Mrs. Fentolin--" he began. + +She caught up one of her absurd little pets and held it to her mouth. + +"Meekins is in the doorway," she whispered. + +"Don't argue with me, please. You are in danger you know nothing about. +Pass me the cigarettes." + +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. + +"Koto must learn to sit upon his tail--like that. No, not another grape +till he sits up. There, then!" + +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. + +"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." + +"You mean the American whom Gerald brought home after the accident?" +Mrs. Fentolin asked carelessly. + +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." + +"Do you mean that he has disappeared altogether this time?" Hamel asked. + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +"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." + +She rose at once to her feet, with a dog under either arm. + +"I'll take the phenacetin," she promised, "but I hate going to bed +early. Shall I see you again, I wonder, Mr. Hamel?" + +"Not this evening, I fear," he answered. "I am going to ask Mr. Fentolin +to excuse me early." + +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. + +"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." + +"Another evening, if you don't mind," Hamel begged. "To-night I must ask +you to excuse my hurrying away." + +Mr. Fentolin looked up from underneath his eyelids. His glance was quick +and penetrating. + +"Why this haste?" + +Hamel shrugged his shoulders. + +"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." + +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. + +"We shall see," Mr. Fentolin said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +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. + +"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." + +Hamel's eyes were fixed a little longingly upon some of the volumes with +which the table was covered. + +"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." + +"You are obdurate?" Mr. Fentolin asked softly. + +"I am afraid I am." + +Mr. Fentolin busied himself with the handle of his chair. + +"Tell me," he insisted, "is there any other person save yourself to whom +you have given this mysterious promise?" + +"No one," Hamel replied promptly. + +"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?" + +Hamel shook his head. + +"I am not in the confidence of the different members of your family," he +answered. "So far as I, personally, am concerned--" + +"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?" + +"There are matters in which you are concerned," Hamel admitted, "which I +do not understand, but I see no purpose in discussing them." + +Mr. Fentolin wheeled his chair round in a semicircle. He was now between +the door and Hamel. + +"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." + +Hamel saw the glitter in his hand. This was the end, then, of all doubt! +He remained silent. + +"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." + +Hamel started. + +"You mean that he has run away?" + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +"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." + +"What of Miss Esther?" Hamel asked quickly. + +"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." + +"By whom?" Hamel demanded. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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!" + +"I understand that you are threatening me?" Hamel murmured. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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!" + +He held up his finger. The tide had turned, and through the half-open +window came the low thunder of the waves. + +"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." + +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. + +"I come to make my adieux," he whispered, with a glance towards the +door. + +"You are leaving, then?" she asked quickly. + +He nodded. + +"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!" + +"What about Esther?" he asked quietly. + +"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." + +She motioned him to go. He touched her fingers for a moment. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +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. + +"Do you know the time, Mrs. Cox?" he asked. "You ought to have been home +hours ago. What are you doing there?" + +She rose to her feet. Her expression was one of dogged but patient +humility. + +"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." + +Hamel looked at her with a frown upon his forehead. + +"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?" + +"Not real voices," she repeated, without the slightest expression in her +tone. + +"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?" + +"I do not know," she answered patiently. + +"You must have some reason," he persisted. + +"I have no reason," she assured him, "only some day I shall see behind +these doors. Afterwards, I shall hear the voices no more." + +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. + +"Tell me--I have found you listening here before. Have you ever heard +anything suspicious?" + +"I have heard nothing yet," she admitted, "nothing that counts." + +"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." + +"Mr. Fentolin would not give you the keys, sir," she replied. "If he +did, it would be useless." + +"Would you like me to break the door in?" Hamel asked. + +"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?" + +"Mr. Fentolin has invented something," Hamel explained. "He keeps the +model in there. Inventors are very jealous of their work." + +She looked down upon the floor for a moment. + +"I shall be here at seven o'clock in the morning, sir. I will give you +your breakfast at the usual time." + +Hamel opened the door for her. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"She is mad, of course!" he muttered. + +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. + +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. + +"Who's there?" he cried. "Who's there, I say?" + +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. + +"Mrs. Fentolin!" he exclaimed, aghast. + +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. + +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. + +"Tell me, please, what is the matter?" he insisted, speaking as +indifferently as he could. "Tell me at once what has happened?" + +She pointed to the door. + +"Lock it!" she implored. + +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. + +"Give me some water." + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Upon my honour, I am," he assured her. "You should know that." + +"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?" + +"You mean where Mr. Fentolin met with his accident." + +"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!" + +He was silent for a moment. + +"No one has known the truth," he murmured. + +"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." + +"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?" + +Once more her voice began to shake. + +"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--" + +"Where is Esther?" Hamel interrupted suddenly. + +"Locked up away from you, locked up because she rebelled!" + +"And Dunster?" + +She shook her head. Her eyes were filled with horror. + +"But he left the Hall--I saw him!" + +She shook her head. + +"It wasn't Dunster. It was the man Miles makes use of--Ryan, the +librarian. He was once an actor." + +"Where is Dunster, then?" Hamel asked quickly. "What has become of him?" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +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. + +"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." + +She nodded, and her fingers gently pressed his. + +"I am sure of it," she murmured. + +"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?" + +"I don't know," she answered. "It was Lucy Price who sent me. She came +to my room just as I was undressing." + +"Lucy Price," he repeated. "The secretary?" + +"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." + +"Miss Price told you this?" Hamel asked gravely. + +Mrs. Fentolin nodded. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +"Where was Mr. Fentolin when you left?" Hamel asked. + +"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?" + +Hamel shook his head. + +"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." + +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!" + +"And how are we to know," Hamel asked, "if he comes to-night?" + +"Go outside," she whispered. "Look towards St. David's Hall and tell me +how many lights you can see." + +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. + +"There are seven," he told her, closing the door with an effort. + +She counted upon her fingers. + +"I must come and see," she muttered. "I must be sure. Help me." + +He lifted her to her feet, and they staggered out together. + +"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--" + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +Hamel threw another log on to the fire and drew her chair closer to it. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Shall I go round to the front and see that he is in bed?" + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Still the man upon the bed made no movement nor any reply. Mr. Fentolin +sighed and beckoned to Doctor Sarson. + +"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." + +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. + +"Give him two minutes," he said calmly. "He will be able to speak then." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I'll see you in hell first!" + +Mr. Fentolin's face momentarily darkened. He moved a little nearer to +the man upon the bed. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Come and parley with us, Mr. Hamel," he begged. "You will not find us +unreasonable." + +Hamel's voice came back in reply, but Hamel himself kept well away from +the opening. + +"The conditions," he said, "are unpropitious. A little time for +reflection will do you no harm." + +The trap-doors were suddenly closed. Mr. Fentolin's face, as he looked +up, became diabolic. + +"We are trapped!" he muttered; "caught like rats in a hole!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +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. + +"Can we get into the house without waking any one?" he asked. + +"Quite easily," she assured him. "The front door is never barred." + +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. + +"What are you going to do now?" she whispered. + +"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." + +She nodded. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"I want to speak to Mr. Kinsley at once upon most important business," +Hamel announced. + +"Very sorry, sir," the man repelled. "Mr. Kinsley left town last night +for the country." + +"Where has he gone?" Hamel demanded quickly. "You can tell me. You know +who I am; I am Mr. Hamel." + +"Into Norfolk somewhere, sir. He went with several other gentlemen." + +"Is that Bullen?" Hamel asked. + +The man admitted the fact. + +"Can you tell me if any of the people with whom Mr. Kinsley left London +were connected with the police?" he inquired. + +The man hesitated. + +"I believe so, sir," he admitted. "The gentlemen started in a motor-car +and were going to drive all night." + +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. + +"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." + +Hamel nodded. + +"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." + +"Are you going to leave them where they are until these people arrive?" +she asked. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"I can guess." + +"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." + +"But as a matter of common sense," Hamel asked, "why does Mr. Fentolin +desire war?" + +"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." + +"Yet you have all been his slaves," Hamel said curiously. + +"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." + +Hamel looked at her wonderingly. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Do you know where Miss Fentolin is?" he interrupted. + +"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." + +"I have a friend," Hamel answered, "who will see to that." + +"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." + +"Please do," Hamel begged. + +She looked at him coldly. Her tone was still free from any sort of +emotion. + +"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?" + +"I know it," he admitted. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"He may," Hamel answered sturdily, "but never to make you people his +slaves again. You have done enough. You have earned your freedom." + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +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. + +"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." + +"Perhaps," Mr. Dunster said in a hollow tone, "you will have some +opportunity now of discovering with me what it is like." + +"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." + +"He must have been hanging around and followed us in when we came," +Meekins muttered. "Somehow, I fancied I felt some one near." + +"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." + +"You aren't going to murder me first, then?" Mr. Dunster grunted. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled at him benignly. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster struggled for a moment for breath. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster tried to sit up but found himself unable. + +"So you think they won't believe my story, eh?" he muttered. "Well, we +shall see." + +Mr. Fentolin thoughtfully contemplated the burning end of his cigarette +for a moment. + +"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." + +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. + +"For God's sake, leave me alone!" he moaned. "Let me get away, that's +all; let me crawl away!" + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I heard the bolts go," Doctor Sarson remarked uneasily. + +"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." + +Doctor Sarson came slowly and gravely to the bedside. He looked down +upon his patient. Mr. Dunster shivered. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Meekins," he said, "look at me." + +The man turned and faced his master. His aspect of dogged civility had +never been more apparent. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Some one was in the boat-house when I broke the trap-door," Meekins +muttered. "I heard them moving about." + +Mr. Fentolin frowned. + +"Then let us hurry," he said. "Sarson, what about your patient?" + +Mr. Dunster was lying upon his side, watching them. The doctor went over +to the bedside and felt his pulse and head. + +"He will do for twelve hours," he pronounced. "If you think that other +little operation--" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Any one up there?" Mr. Fentolin enquired, a shade of anxiety in his +tone. + +"No one," the doctor reported. + +"Has anything been disturbed?" + +Doctor Sarson was some little time before he replied. + +"Yes," he said, "some one seems to have been rummaging about." + +"Send down the steps quickly," Mr. Fentolin ordered. "I am beginning to +find the atmosphere here unpleasant." + +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. + +"Who has been in here?" Mr. Fentolin demanded, as he looked around the +place. + +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: + +"Some one has taken away the key! The door is locked on the other side!" + +Mr. Fentolin's frown was malign even for him. + +"Our dear friend, Mr. Hamel, I suppose," he muttered. "Another little +debt we shall owe him! Try the other door." + +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. + +"Try the other door quickly," he directed. + +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. + +"My good woman," Mr. Fentolin exclaimed, frowning, "are you the person +who removed that key?" + +She laid her hand upon his chair. She took no notice of the other two. + +"Come," she said, "there is something here I want you to listen to. +Come!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +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. + +"Down here," she directed softly. "Bring your chair down the plank-way, +close to the water's edge." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"What have you to do with that?" he asked in a low tone. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook her off. He looked around for Meekins. + +"Meekins, stand by my chair," he ordered sharply. "Turn round; I wish to +go to the Hall. Drive this woman away." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Listen!" she cried. "Listen!" + +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. + +"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!" + +She forced him to look once more at the top of the boat-house. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin shrank back in his chair. + +"Take this woman away!" he ordered the fishermen. "Do you hear? Take her +away; she is mad!" + +They looked towards him, but not one of them moved. Mr. Fentolin raised +his whistle to his lips, and blew it. + +"Meekins!" he cried. "Where are you, Meekins?" + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"The light was never lit there," he said. "It was simply to help me in +some electrical experiments." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"You are a fool!" he shrieked. "You can buy forgetfulness! The memory of +everything passes." + +"I may be a fool," she retorted grimly, "and you the wise man; but this +day we'll both know the truth." + +There was a little murmur from the shore, where the fishermen stood in a +long line. + +"Bring him back, missus," Jacob called out. "You've scared him enough. +Bring him back. We'll leave him to the law." + +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. + +"Aye," she cried, "we'll leave him to the law--to the law of God!" + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +But if indeed his eyes were touched with fire at that moment, no one +else in the world saw anything more of Miles Fentolin. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +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. + +"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." + +"Sheer envy," Hamel murmured. "We escape from our tight corners by +forethought." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"It didn't quite come off, sir," Gerald observed. + +"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." + +"There was never any proof," Hamel remarked, "that France would not have +remained staunch to us." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +Mrs. Fentolin shivered a little. She drew her cloak around her. Gerald, +who had been watching her, sprang to his feet. + +"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." + +Mrs. Fentolin shook her head once more. Her face had recovered its +serenity. She looked downward gravely but with no sign of fear. + +"There is nothing to terrify us there, Gerald," she declared. "The sea +has gathered, and the sea will hold its own." + +Hamel held out his hand to Esther. + +"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." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Vanished Messenger, by E. 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Phillips Oppenheim + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +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. + +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. + +The inspector watched them curiously. "Lost his way, I should +think," he observed. + +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." + +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. + +"Can I speak to you for a moment, sir?" + +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. + +"Are you Mr. John P. Dunster?" the youth asked. + +"I carry my visiting-card in my hand, sir," the other replied, +swinging his dressing-case around. "My name is John P. Dunster." + +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. + +"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." + +"They are very strict in this country, I know." + +Mr. Dunster agreed, without change of expression. +"Please go on." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"You are particularly anxious to cross to-night?" he asked. + +"I am," the youth admitted emphatically. "I never ought to have +risked missing the train. I am due at The Hague to-morrow." + +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. + +"What is the nature of your pressing business at The Hague?" he asked. + +The youth hesitated. + +"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." + +"A golf tournament at The Hague! " Mr. Dunster repeated, in a +slightly altered tone. "What is your name?" + +"Gerald Fentolin." + +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: + + 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. + +Mr. Dunster folded up the newspaper and replaced it in his pocket. +He turned towards the young man. + +"So you're a golfer, are you?" + +"I play a bit," was the somewhat indifferent reply. + +Mr. Dunster turned to another part of the paper and pointed to the +great black head-lines. + +"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." + +"Getting ready for what?" + +"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." + +The young man's lack of interest was curious. + +"I am not in the army," he said. "It really doesn't affect me." + +Mr. Dunster stared at him. + +"You'll forgive my curiosity," he said, "but say, is there nothing +you could get into and fight if this thing came along?" + +"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 -" + +"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." + +The young man showed signs of some satisfaction. "I am very much +obliged to you, sir," he dedared. "I promise you I won't be in +the way." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +The station-master looked the curiosity which he did not actually +express in words. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +The inspector shook his head. + +"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." + +The young man paused to light a cigarette. + +"If he's an American, I suppose that accounts for it," he observed. +"He must be in a precious hurry to get somewhere, though." + +"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." + +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. + +"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 Colehester." + +Mr. Dunster nodded. + +"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!" + +They were about to start when Mr. Dunster once more let down the +window. + +"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!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +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. + +"There will be some floods out to-morrow," he remarked. + +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. + +"Very likely," was his sole reply. + +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. + +"May as well try to get a nap," he yawned. "There won't be much +chance on the steamer, if it blows like this." + +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. + +"What is the matter?" Mr. Dunster demanded. "Why are we waiting +here?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Why are we travelling like this?" he asked impatiently. "We shall +never catch the boat." + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster frowned. For the first time he showed some signs of +uneasiness. + +"Perhaps," he muttered, half to himself," a motorcar would have been +better." + +"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." + +"There appears to be a chance," Mr. Dunster remarked drily, "that +you will have to scratch for your competition to-morrow." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"What are we going to do, then?" Mr. Dunster demanded. + +"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." + +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. + +"If I cannot get to Harwich," he asked, "is there any possibility +of keeping straight on and reaching Yarmouth?" + +The guard hesitated. + +"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." + +"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." + +"How far did you wish to go, sir?" the guard enquired. + +"To Yarmouth," Mr. Dunster replied firmly. "If there are bridges +down, and communication with Harwich is blocked, Yarmouth would +suit me better than anywhere." + +The guard shook his head. + +"I couldn't go on that way, sir, without instructions." + +"Is there a telegraph office at this station?" Mr. Dunster inquired. + +"We can speak anywhere on the line," the guard replied. + +"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." + +The guard hesitated. + +"It's a goodish way from here to Norwich," he observed, "and for +all we know -" + +"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." + +The guard raised his hat and departed without another word. + +"It will probably suit you better," Mr. Dunster continued, turning +to his companion, " to leave me at Ipswich and join the mail." + +The latter shook his head. + +"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!" + +"You live in this part of the world, then?" Mr. Dunster asked. + +The young man assented. Again there was a certain amount of +hesitation in his manner. + +"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." + +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. + +"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 tonight. My own business +is of importance. A golf tournament, however, is scarcely worth +risking your life for, is it?" + +"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." + +They relapsed once more into silence. Presently the guard +reappeared. + +"Instructions to take you on to Yarmouth, if possible, sir," he +announced, "and to collect the mileage at our destination." + +"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. + +"Have you any idea where we are?" Mr. Dunster asked once. + +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. + +"I don't think we are far from Norwich. We passed Forncett, anyhow, +some time ago." + +"Still raining?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Off the rails!" the boy cried, springing to his feet. "Hold on +tightly, sir. I'd keep away from the window." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +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!" + +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. + +"My God! "he exclaimed. "Any one alive here?" + +"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." + +The porter caught hold of a piece of the wreckage with which to +steady himself. + +"Your train ran right into three feet of water," he answered. "The +rails had gone - torn up. The telegraph line's down." + +"Why didn't you stop the train?" + +"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?" + +"One gentleman travelling with me," Gerald answered. "We'd better +try to get him out. What about the guard and engine-driver?" + +"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." + +"Where are we?" + +"A few hundred yards from Wymondham. Let's have a look for the +other gentleman." + +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. + +"He's alive all right," the porter remarked. "There's a doctor on +the way. Let's cover him up quick and wait." + +"Can't we carry him to shelter of some sort Gerald proposed. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Perhaps there's a flask somewhere in this dressing-case," Gerald +said. " Lend me a knife." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"You're about done yourself, sir," he remarked. "Hold up." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I am all right," he declared. "Let's look after him." + +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. + +"It's all right now, sir!" he exclaimed. "They've brought blankets +and a stretcher and brandy. Here's a doctor, sir." + +A powerful-looking man, hatless, and wrapped in a great ulster, +moved towards them. + +"How many are there of you?" he asked, as he bent over Mr. Dunster. + +"Only we two," Gerald replied. "Is my friend badly hurt?" + +"Concussion," the doctor announced. "We'll take him to the village. +What about you, young man? Your face is bleeding, I see." + +"Just a cut," Gerald faltered; "nothing else." + +"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." + +They all staggered along, Gerald still clutching the dressing-case, +and supported on the other side by an excited and somewhat +incoherent villager. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +He glanced at the cut on Gerald's forehead, noted the access of +colour in his cheeks, and nodded. + +"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." + +He departed, and many of the villagers with him. The landlady sat +down and began to weep. + +"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!" + +"Judgment of the fiddlesticks!" her husband growled. "Can't you +light the fire, woman? What's the good of sitting there whining?" + +"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!" + +Her husband scoffed. He was dressed only in his shirt and trousers, +his hair rough, his braces hanging down behind. + +"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." + +"The Lord only knows!" she cried, wringing her hands. + +"Can I hire a motor-car from anywhere near?" Gerald asked. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"How far off is the garage?" he asked. + +"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." + +Gerald felt in his pocket and produced a sovereign. + +"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." + +"It's sound common sense," the woman declared. "Be off with you, +Richard." + +The man was looking at the coin covetously, but his wife pushed him +away. + +"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." + +"I'll be wet through," the man muttered. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +Gerald shivered ever so slightly. He drank the milk, however. He +felt that he might need his strength. + +"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." + +Gerald shook his head with an affectation of weariness. + +"I don't know," he replied. "I don't remember anything about it. +We were hours late, I think." + +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. + +"Sakes alive!." the woman muttered, as she looked down. "What does +he carry a thing like that for - in a peaceful country, too!" + +"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." + +He stooped down and withdrew it from the unconscious man's pocket. +He started as he discovered that it was loaded in every chamber. + +"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." + +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. + +"This 'ere is Mr. Martin's chaffer," he announced. "You can tell +him what you want yerself." + +Gerald turned almost eagerly towards the newcomer. + +"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?" + +The chauffeur looked doubtful. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I'm on," the young man agreed shortly. "It's an open car, you know." + +"It doesn't matter," Gerald replied. "I can stick it in front with +you, and we can cover - him up in the tonneau." + +"You'll wait until the doctor comes back?" the landlord asked. + +"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?" + +"It don't seem right, somehow," the man com plained doggedly. "The +doctor didn't say anything about having him moved." + +"You get the car," Gerald ordered the young man. "I'll take the +whole responsibility." + +The chauffeur silently left the room. Gerald put a couple of +sovereigns upon the mantelpiece. + +"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." + +The woman pocketed the two sovereigns. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Are you used to prayer, young sir?" the woman asked. + +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. + +"The Lord have mercy on this man, a sinner!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"My advice to you, sir, is to chuck it!" + +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. + +"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." + +"The doctor said he would remain in exactly the same condition for +twenty-four hours," Gerald declared. + +"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." + +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 lps but +his breathing was still perceptible. It seemed even a little +stronger. Gerald resumed his seat. + +"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." + +"Only seven miles," the chauffeur repeated more cheerfully. "That's +something, anyway." + +"And all downhill." + +"Towards the sea, then?" + +"Straight to the sea," Gerald told him. "The place we are making +for is St. David's Hall, near Salthouse." + +The chauffeur seemed a little startled. + +"'Why, that's Squire Fentolin's house!" + +Gerald nodded. + +"That is where we are going. You follow this road almost straight +ahead." + +The chauffeur slipped in the clutch. + +"Oh, I know the way now, sir, right enough!" he exclaimed. "There's +Salthouse marsh to cross, though. I don't know about that." + +"We shall manage that all right," Gerald declared. "'We've more +light now, too." + +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. + +"I don't like the look of the marsh," he grumbled. "Can't see the +road at all. However, here goes." + +"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." + +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. + +"My God!" he exclaimed. "Here's more trouble!" + +Gerald for a moment was speechless. They seemed to have come +suddenly upon a huge plain of waters, an immense lake reaching as +ar 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. + +" There's St. David's Hall," he said, "on the other side of the +hill. The road seems all right." + +"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." + +His hand was already upon the reverse lever, but Gerald gripped it. + +"Look here," he protested, "we haven't come all this way to turn back. +You don't look like a coward." + +"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." + +"Naturally," Gerald answered calmly, "but remember this. I am +responsible for your car - not you. Mr. Fentolin is my uncle." + +The chauffeur nodded shortly. + +"You're Mr. Gerald Fentolin, aren't you, sir?" he remarked. "I +thought I recognised you." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +The chauffeur moved his head backwards. + +"How about him?" + +"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." + +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. + +"If the engine gets stopped," he said, "I don't know how we shall +get out of this." + +They emerged on the other side. For some time they had a clear run. +Then suddenly the driver clapped on his brakes. + +"My God!" he cried. "We can't get through that!" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"We're cut off!" the chauffeur exclaimed. "'What a fool I was to +try this! There's the tide coming in as well!" + +Gerald sat down in his place. + +"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." + +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. + +"It's getting deeper," the man declared. "It's within an inch or +two of the bonnet now. Hold on." + +A wave broke almost over them but the engine continued its beat. + +"If we stop now," he gasped, "we're done!" + +The engine began to knock. + +"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." + +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. + +"I've got it!" he exclaimed, tugging hard. "It's a stone." + +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. + +"We've done it, all right!" he cried. "Don't you see? It's getting +lower all the time." + +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. + +"We're safe!" he almost sobbed. "There's the road, straight ahead +and round to the right. There's no more water anywhere near." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"It's all right," Gerald cried. "Let us through quickly, Foulds. +We've a gentleman in behind who's ill." + +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 hail door. Their coming had been observed, and +servants were already waiting. Gerald sprang to the ground. + +"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." + +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. + +"The master is awake," Henderson, the butler, remarked, dropping +his voice a little. + +Gerald nodded. + +"I will go to him at once," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"The storm has stopped all the trains," he said. "The boat did not +cross last night, and in any ease 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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded approvingly. + +"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 +alsehood." + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin spread out his hands. + +"Could one avoid the knowledge of it he asked. "Such a sight has +never been seen." + +"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." + +"An accident?" Mr. Fentolin exclaimed. + +Gerald nodded. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"He was unconscious when we picked him up," Gerald explained. "He +is unconscious now. Tbe 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." + +Mr. Fentolin sat quite silent. His eyes blinked once or twice, and +there was a curious curve about his lips. + +"You have done well, my boy," he pronounced slowly. "Your scheme +of bringing him here sounds a little primitive, but success +justifies everything." + +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. + +"Meekins," Mr. Fentolin said, "a visitor has arrived. Do you happen +to have noticed what luggage he brought?" + +"There is one small dressing-case, sir," the man replied; "nothing +else that I have seen." + +"That is all we brought," Gerald interposed. + +"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." + +Meekins closed the door and departed. Mr. Fentolin turned back +towards his nephew. + +"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?" + +"Tired, perhaps," Gerald answered shortly. "We were many hours in +the car. I have had no sleep." + +Mr. Fentolin's face was full of kindly sympathy. + +"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." + +"I'll go directly," Gerald promised. "Can I speak to you for one +moment first?" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"A terrible reflection, my dear boy," he admitted softly, "but, alas! +the finger of probability points that way." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin was shocked. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin leaned a little forward in his chair. + +"Gerald!" he said softly. + +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. + +"Gerald!" Mr. Fentolin repeated. + +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. + +"You're a little overwrought, Gerald," Mr. Fentolin declared. +"Sit quietly in my easy-chair for a few moments. Walt until I have +examined Mr. Dunster's belongings. Ah! Meekins has been prompt, +indeed." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I should like," he said, turning to Gerald, "to be alone. It may +interest you to know that this docu which Mr. Dunster has brought +across the seas, and which I hold in my hands, is the most amazing +message of modern times." + +Gerald rose to his feet. + +"What are you going to do about it?" he asked abruptly. "Do you +want any one in from the telegraph room?" + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head slowly. + +"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." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +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: + +"Where am I?" + +She felt his forehead, altered a bandage for a moment, and took his +wrist between her fingers. + +"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." + +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. + +"Please tell me where I am?" he begged. + +"You have been in a railway accident," the doctor told him, "and +you were brought here afterwards." + +"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?" + +"It is here by the side of your bed." + +"And my pocket-book?" + +"It is on your dressing-table." + +"Have any of my things been looked at?" + +"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." + +"When," Mr. Dunster enquired, " shall I be able to continue my +journey?" + +"That depends upon many things," the doctor replied. + +Mr. Dunster drank his beef tea and felt considerably stronger. His +head still ached, but his memory was returning. + +"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?" + +"Fentolin," the doctor said. "He is unhurt. This is his relative's +house to which you have been brought." + +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. + +"Whose house exactly is this?" he demanded. + +"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." + +"Can I send a telegram?" Mr. Dunster asked, a little abruptly. + +"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." + +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? + +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. + +"Can you tell me any date, Doctor, upon which I can rely upon +leaving here?" + +"You will probably be well enough to travel on the third day from +now," the doctor assured him. + +"The third day," Mr. Dunster muttered. "Very well." + +He wrote out three telegrams and passed them over. + +"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." + +"Is there anything more," the doctor asked, "that can be done for +your comfort?" + +"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?" + +Sarson shook his head. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster contemplated the speaker steadfastly. + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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 hail, 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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +His hand fell to his side. Momentarily he had finished his work. +He turned around and eyed the doctor, who stood in taciturn silence. + +"Answer. Answer me," he insisted. + +The doctor's gloomy face seemed darker still. + +"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. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. His face became almost like the face of one +of those angels of the great Italian master. + +"How well you know me!" he murmured. "My humble effort, Doctor +- how do you like it?" + +The doctor bent over the canvas. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin studied the canvas himself for a moment. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"You do not wish anything dispatched?" + +"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?" + +"He wants to get on with his journey." + +"We shall see," Mr. Fentolin remarked. "Now feel my pulse, Sarson. +How am I this morning?" + +The doctor held the thin wrist for a moment between his fingers, +and let it go. + +"In perfect health, as usual," he announced grimly. + +"Ah, but you cannot be sure!" Mr. Fentolin protested. "My tongue, +if you please." + +He put it out. + +"Excellent!" + +"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." + +The doctor made his examination with impassive face. Then he +stepped back. + +"There is no change in your condition, Mr. Fentolin," he announced. +"The palpitation you spoke of is a mistake. You are in perfect +health." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + +"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?" + +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. + +Mr. Fentolin sighed, as though a weight bad been removed from his +heart. + +"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." + +The doctor turned silently away. There was no one there to see his +expression as he walked towards the door. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +The two men who were supping together in the griliroom 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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Think of you?" Hamel repeated, a little doubtfully. "Do you mean +personally?" + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"There's nothing seriously wrong, is there, Reggie?" he asked. + +"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." + +"Then these arrests," Hamel remarked," are really bona fide?" + +"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." + +"A conference between whom? " Hamel asked. + +Kinsley dropped his voice almost to a whisper. + +"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." + +"And what will the end be?" Hamel enquired eagerly. + +Kinsley shrugged his shoulders and paused while their glasses were +filled with wine. + +"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!" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"And who is this singular person?" Hamel asked. + +"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." + +"Fentolin," Hamel repeated softly to himself. "Tell me, whereabouts +does he live?" + +"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." + +"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. + +Kinsley nodded. There was a slight flush upon his pallid cheeks. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Of course I do," Hamel insisted. "I'm on for anything." + +"You say that you are entirely your own master for the next six +months?" + +"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." + +Reginald Kinsley set down his wine-glass. + +"Is your St. David's Tower anywhere near a place called Salthouse?" +he asked reflectively. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Tired of me already?" Hamel asked, smiling. + +Reginald Kinsley knocked the ash from his cigarette. + +"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 +o 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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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" + +"I'll do my best," Hamel promised. "In any case, it will be just +the few days' holiday I was looking forward to." + +Kinsley helped himself to whisky and soda and turned towards his +friend. + +"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." + +"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." + +Kinsley smiled as he held his friend's band for a moment. + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Richard Hame1, 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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"So am I," he replied, still cheerfully. "I suppose the next +station is St. David's?" + +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. + +"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." + +She glanced out of the window. + +"The tide," she told him, "is almost at its lowest." + +"You live in this neighbourhood, perhaps?" he enquired. + +"I do," she assented. + +"Sort of country one might get very fond of," he ventured. + +She glanced at him from the depths of her grey eyes. + +"Do you think so?" she rejoined coldly. "For my part, I hate it." + +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. + +"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." + +She, too, was looking out now towards the sea. + +"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." + +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. + +"That seems hard," he observed sympathetically. "It seems odd to +hear you talk like that, too. Your life, surely, ought to be +pleasant enough." + +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. + +"Why ought it?." + +The question was a little bewildering. + +"Why, because you are young and a girl," he replied. "It's natural +to be cheerful, isn't it?" + +"Is it?" she answered listlessly. "I cannot tell. I have not had +much experience." + +"How old are you?" he asked bluntly. + +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. + +"I am twenty-one," she told him. + +"And how long have you lived here? + +"Since I left boarding-school, four years ago." + +"Anywhere near where I am going to bury myself for a time, I wonder?" +he went on. + +"That depends," she replied. "Our only neighbours are the +Lorneybrookes of Market Burnham. Are you going there?" + +He shook his head. + +"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." + +She vouchsafed some slight show of curiosity. + +"Where is this shanty, as you call it?" she asked him. + +"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." + +She was gazing at him steadfastly now, with parted lips. + +"What is your name?" she demanded. + +"Richard Hamel." + +"Hamel." + +She repeated it lingeringly. It seemed quite unfamiliar. + +"Was your father a great friend of Mr. Fentolin's, then?" she asked. + +"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." + +"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?" + +He smiled. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"What for?" + +She looked at her questioner quite steadfastly, quite quietly, +speechlessly. A curious uneasiness crept into his thoughts. There +were mysterious tbings 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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I do not understand," she said, "how you can possibly expect to +come down like this and live there, without any preparation." + +"Why not? " + +"You haven't any servants nor any furniture nor things to cook with." + +He laughed. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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? " + +"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." + +"Really!" she murmured. + +"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." + +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. + +"Wonderful! " he exclaimed. + +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. + +That," she said, " is the Tower." + +He changed his position and leaned out of the window. + +"Well, it's a queer little place," he remarked. "It doesn't look +worth quarrelling over, does it?" + +"And that," she went on, directing his attention to the hill, " is +Mr. Fentolin's home, St. David's Hall." + +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. + +"I never saw anything like it," he declared. "Why, it's barely a +quarter of a mile from the sea, isn't it? " + +"A little more than that. It is a strangely situated abode, isn't +it?" + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"We shall, perhaps, meet again during the next few days," he +remarked. + +She half turned her head. Her expression was scarcely encouraging. + +"I hope," she said, "that you will not be disappointed in your +quarters." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Sit down, Lucy," he ordered. + +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 her head slightly. + +"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 bad 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." + +She looked at him, still without speech. The immobility of her +face was indeed a marvellous thing. Mr. Fentolin's expression +darkened. + +"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." + +She turned over a few pages of her notebook. To all appearance +she had not heard a word. + +"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?" + +"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." + +She wrote a few words in her book. + +"You made a note of that?" + +She raised her head. + +"I do not make mistakes," she said. + +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. + +"You know who is in this house?" he asked. "You know the name of +my unknown guest?" + +"I know nothing," she replied. "His presence does not interest me." + +"Supposing I desire you to know?" he persisted, leaning a little +forward. "Supposing I tell you that it is your duty to know?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"It is not difficult," she replied. "Your methods are scarcely +original. His mandate to the flames, and his body to the sea!" + +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. + +"It does not terrify you, then," he asked curiously, "to think that +a man under this roof is about to die?" + +"Why should it?" she retorted. "Death does not frighten me - my +own or anybody else's. Does it frighten you?" + +His face was suddenly livid, his eyes full of fierce anger. His +lips twitched. He struck the table before him. + +"Beast of a woman!" he shouted. "You ghoul! How dare you! How +dare you -" + +He stopped short. He passed his hand across his forehead. All the +time the woman remained unmoved. + +"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." + + "Yes," she admitted, "I was a different sort of woman." + +"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?" + +"No," she answered, "I do not remember those days. They do not +belong to me. It is some other woman you are thinking of." + + +Their eyes met. Mr. Fentolin turned away first. He struck the +bell at his elbow. She rose at once. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Doctor Sarson is to go to Mr. Fentolin." + +Mr. Fentolin sat quite still, feeling his own pulse. + +"That woman," he muttered to himself, "that -woman - some day I +shouldn't be surprised if she really -" + +He paused. The doctor had entered the room. + +"I am upset, Sarson," he declared. "Come and feel my pulse quickly. +That woman has upset me." + +"Miss Price?" + +"Miss Price, d-n it! Lucy - yes!" + +"It seems unlike her," the doctor remarked. "I have never heard her +utter a useless syllable in my life." + +Mr. Fentolin held out his wrist. + +"It's what she doesn't say," he muttered. + +The doctor produced his watch. In less than a minute he put it +away. + +"This is quite unnecessary," he pronounced. "Your pulse is +wonderful." + +"Not hurried? No signs of palpitation?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin leaned a little back in his chair. An expression of +satisfaction crept over his face. + +"You reassure me, my dear Sarson. That is excellent. What of our +patient?" + +"There is no change." + +"I am afraid," Mr. Fentolin sighed, "that we shall have trouble +with him. These strong people always give trouble." + +"It will be just the same in the long run," the doctor remarked, +shrugging his shoulders. + +Mr. Fentolin held up his finger. + +"Listen! A motor-car, I believe?" + +"It is Miss Fentolin who is just arriving," the doctor announced. +"I saw the car coming as I crossed the hall." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded gently. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +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. + +"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." + +"I have not been in the house two minutes," Esther replied, "and I +haven't seen mother yet. Forgive me." + +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. + +"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." + +"For more than a week," she repeated, under her breath. + +"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?" + +"I have no news," she answered, gradually recovering herself. + +"The gaieties of London, I fear," he protested gently, "have proved +a little unsettling." + +"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." + +"My dear child, you would not go about London unchaperoned!" + +"There is a difference," she retorted, "between a chaperon and a +jailer." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. He shook his head slowly. He seemed pained. + +"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." + +"I cannot say that I am glad to hear it," Esther replied quietly. + +Mr. Fentolin sat back in his chair. His long fingers played +nervously together, he looked at her gravely. + +"My dear child," he exclaimed, in a tone of pained surprise, "your +attitude distresses me!" + +"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." + +"The same as ever," Mr. Fentolin sighed. "I fear that this little +change has done you no good, dear niece. + +"Change!" she echoed. "It was only a change of prisons." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head slowly - a distressful gesture. Yet +all the time he had somehow the air of a man secretly gratified. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin tapped the table thoughtfully with his forefinger. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded gently. + +"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." + +"He wrote because he thought it was his duty," the boy said doggedly. + +"So you want to be a soldier," Mr. Fentolln 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? + +" Six feet two, sir." + +"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." + +"All the more reason for me to hurry," the boy begged. + +Mr. Fentolin closed his eyes. + +"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." + +"I play cricket, sir," the boy reminded him, a little impatiently, +"and, after all, there are other things in the world besides games." + +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. + +"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?" + +The boy was paler, but he had drawn himself to his full height. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Doctor Sarson bowed to Esther, who scarcely glanced at him. He +remained in the background, quietly waiting. + +"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." + +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. + +"Something," she whispered in his ear, "is going to happen there." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +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. + +"Which way to the sea?" Hamel asked. + +The man pointed to the white gates of the crossing. + +"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." + +"This will do for me," Hamel replied cheerfully. + +"Be careful of the dikes," the station-master advised him. "Some +of them are pretty deep." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"And who might you be, gentleman?" + +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. + +"I am just a visitor," he replied. "Who are you?" + +She shook her head. + +"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." + +"Why brave?" he asked. + +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. + +"He's looking at you," she muttered. "He don't like strangers +poking around here, that I can tell you." + +"And who is he?" Hamel enquired. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I mind him," the woman said slowly. "His name was Hamel." + +"I am his son," Hamel announced. + +She pointed to the Hall. "Does he know that you are here?" + +Hamel shook his head. "Not yet. I have been abroad for so long." + +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. + +"Tell me," Hamel asked gently, "why do you come out here alone, so +far from the village?" + +She pointed with her finger to where the waves were breaking in a +thin line of white, about fifty yards from the beach. + +"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." + +Hamel looked at her curiously. Her voice had grown lower and lower. + +"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!" + +She clutched his arm. + +"Couldn't you hear that?" she half whispered. + +"'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. + +"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!" + +"They were wrecked?" he asked her gently. + +"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!" + +She turned away. Her lips were moving all the time. She walked +about a dozen steps, and then she returned. + +"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." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +>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. + +"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." + +Hamel nodded. + +"I not only tried but I succeeded," he remarked. "I got in through +the window." + +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. + +"May I ask for your explanation or your excuse?" " + +"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." + +"What is your name?" Mr. Fentolin asked suddenly. + +"My name is Hamel - Richard Hamel." + +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. + +"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." + +"I am his son." + +"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." + +Hamel knocked the ashes from his pipe. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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 bands 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. + +"You have been making use of this little shanty, haven't you?" he +asked bluntly. + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. He was apparently begin ning to recover +himself. + +"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." + +"It is a strange coast," Hamel admitted. + +Mr. Fentolin pointed with his forefinger northwards. + +"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?" + +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. + +"I have had a light fixed there for the benefit or 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." + +"Very kind of you indeed," Hamel remarked, "very benevolent." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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?" + +"She spoke to me strangely," Hamel admitted. "She gave me the +impression of a woman whose brain had been turned with grief." + +"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?" + +"She spoke of you as being a very kind-hearted man." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded slowly. He moistened his lips for a moment. +One might have imagined that he was anxious. + +"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." + +Hamel frowned slightly. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin leaned a little out of his carriage. He reached the +younger man's shoulder with his hand. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"You are really very kind," he began hesitatingly - + +"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?" + +Hamel shook his head. + +"An electrical bath-chair," Mr. Fentolin continued. "Practice has +made me remarkably skilful in its manipulation. You see, I can +steer to an inch." + +He was already turning around. Hamel rose to his feet. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin was manoeuvring his carriage. His back was towards +Hamel. + +"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." + +He paused suddenly. He felt in all his pockets. + +"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." + +"It is a great affliction," Hamel murmured sympathetically. + +"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?" + +"Not in the least," Hamel replied. "I have been out of England too +long to keep in touch with politics." + +"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." + +"In America," Hamel remarked, "they affect to look upon England as +a doomed Power." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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 hail, which seemed more imposing than ever by reason +of this unexpected entrance. Hamel, blinking a little, stepped to +his side. + +"Welcome!" Mr. Fentolin cried gaily. "Welcome, my friend Mr. Hamel, +to St. David's Hall!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +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. + +"Mr. Fentolin will be glad if you will step into his room, sir," he +announced, leading the way. + +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-hound 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. + +"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. + +Hamel accepted a quaintly-cut wine-glass full of the amber liquid. +Mr. Fentolin sipped his with the air of a connoisseur. + +"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." + +Hamel bowed. + +"It is very kind of Mrs. Fentolin," he murmured. + +"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. + +Hamel shook his head. + +"Only in the abstract, I fear," he answered. "I have scarcely +opened a serious book since I was at Oxford." + +"What was your year?" Mr. Fentolin asked. + +"Fourteen years ago I left Magdalen," Hamel replied. "I had made +up my mind to he an engineer, and I went over to the Boston +Institute of Technology." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded appreciatively. + +"A magnificent profession," he murmured. "A healthy one, too, I +should judge from your appearance. You are a strong man, Mr. Hamel." + +"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." + +"You are going back there?" Mr. Fentolin asked, with interest. + +Hamel shook his head. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +She held out her hand with the faintest possible smile, which might +have been of greeting or recognition. + +"I travelled for some distance in the train with Mr. Hamel this +afternoon, I think," she remarked. + +"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?" + +He watched them keenly. Hamel, though he scareely understood, was +quick to appreciate the possible significance of that tentative +question. + +"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?" + +"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." + +The sound of the dinner gong boomed through the house. A moment +later Gerald entered, followed by a butler announcing dinner. + +"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." + +Gerald shook hands with his visitor. His face, for a moment, +lighted up. He was looking pale, though, and singularly sullen +and dejected. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"But for your interest and consequent trespass," Hamel remarked, "I +should probably have found the roof off and the whole place in ruins." + +"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 he the kindness and +consideration of those by whom I am surrounded." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"I am tired, sir," the boy answered quietly. + +Mr. Fentolin nodded gravely. + +"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." + +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 band and motioned +him to resume his seat. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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 +ver been precipitated. + +"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 -" + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin backed his little chair from the table. The doctor +came over and laid his hand upon the handle. + +"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." + +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. + +"Are you a brave man, Mr. Hamel?" she asked. + +He was staggered but he answered her promptly. + +"I believe so." + +"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!" + +The earnestness of her words was unmistakable. Hamel felt the +thrill of coming events. + +"Why not?" + +"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!" + +The door had been noiselessly opened. The doctor appeared and +advanced to the table with a grave little bow. + +"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." + +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. + +Neverthe1ess, his voice, when he spoke, was clear and +firm. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +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. + +"If there is any trouble," he whispered, "send for me. I am better +away, for the present. My presence only excites him." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +"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." + +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. + +"So you've come at last!" he exclaimed, a little truculently. "Are +you Mr. Fentolin?" + +Mr. Fentolin gravely admitted his identity. His eyes rested upon +his guest with an air of tender interest. His face was almost +beautiful. + +"You are the owner of this house - I am underneath your roof - is +that so?" + +"This is certainly St. David's Hall," Mr. Fentolin replied. "It +really appears as though your conclusions were correct." + +"Then will you tell me why I am kept a prisoner here?" + +Mr. Fentolin's expression was for a moment clouded. He seemed hurt. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled reassuringly. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"My dear Mr. Dunster," his host replled 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." + +"Am I to understand that they are to be restored to me, then?" Mr. +Dunster demanded. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head very gently, very regretfully, but also +firmly. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster seemed, for a moment, to struggle for composure. + +"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. + +In the present case I decline to follow it. I ask for facilities +to leave this house at once." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"In your own interests," he said calmly, "they will not be granted +to you." + +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. + +"Will not be granted to me?" he repeated. "Do you mean to say, +then, that I am to be kept here against my will?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +"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." + +"I simply insisted upon having my clothes," Mr. Dunster explained. +"Your servant refused to fetch them. rerhaps I lost my temper. +If so, I am sorry. I am not used to being thwarted." + +"A few days' rest -" Mr. Fentolin began. + +"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." + +"You are very mysterious," Mr. Fentolin murinured. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin turned to Meekins. + +"You can leave the room for a moment," he ordered. "Wait upon the +threshold." + +Meekins very unwillingly turned to obey. + +"You will excuse me, sir," he objected doubtfully, "but I am not at +all sure that he is safe." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled faintly. + +"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." + +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. + +"Now, Mr. Dunster," he said softly, "you can speak to me without +reserve." + +Mr. Dunster dropped his voice. His tone became one of fierce +eagerness. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head in gentle disbelief. + +"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." + +"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." + +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 bad 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. + +"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." + +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 hack 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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +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. + +"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." + +"Have you had any outside advice about his condition?" Hamel +inquired. + +Mr. Fentolin glanced across those few feet of space and looked at +Hamel with swift suspicion. + +"Why should I?" he asked. "Doctor Sarson is fully qualified, and +the case seems to present no unusual characteristics." + +Hamel sipped his brandy thoughtfully. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shrugged his shoulders. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Hamel was a little taken aback. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin had lit a cigarette and was watching the blue smoke +curl upwards to the ceiling. + +"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?" + +"I don't think I shall need that," Hamel admitted, a little +hesitatingly. + +"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?" + +"Not in the least," Hamel replied. "Tell me, what direction do your +inventions take, Mr. Fentolin? + +"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." + +"To be quite frank," Hamel declared bluntly, "I should like to talk +to your niece. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled as though amused. His amusement, however, +was perfectly good-natured. + +"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." + +Hamel crossed the hail, 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. + +"I have just left your uncle," Hamel said. "He told me that I might +come in here." + +"Yes?" she murmured. + +"He was very hospitable," Hamel continued. "He wanted me to remain +here as a guest and not go to the Tower at all." + +"And you?" + +"I am going to the Tower," he said. "I am going there to-morrow +or the day after." + +The music swelled beneath her fingers. + +"For how long?" + +"For a week or so. I am just giving your uncle time to clear out +his belongings. I am leaving him the outhouse." + +"He asked you to leave him that?" she whispered. + +"Yes! + +"You are not going in there at all?" + +"Not at all." + +Again she played a little more loudly for a few moments. Then the +music died away once more. + +"What reason did he give for keeping possession of that?" + +"Another bobby," Hamel replied. "He is an inventor, it seems. He +has the model of something there; he would not tell me what." + +She shivered a little, and her music drifted away. She bent over +the keys, her face hidden from him. + +"You will not go away just yet? "she asked softly. "You are going +to stay for a few days, at any rate?" + +"Without a doubt," he assured her. "I am altogether my own master." + +"Thank God," she murmured. + +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. + +"Do you know that this is all rather mysterious?" he said calmly. + +"'What is mysterious?" she demanded. + +"The atmosphere of the place: your uncle's queer aversion to my +having the Tower; your visitor upstairs, 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." + +"We live here, both of us," she told him. "He is our guardian." + +"Naturally," Hamel replied, "and yet, it may have been my fancy, of +course, but at dinnertime I seemed to get a queer impression. + +"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 watch-ng. Tell me what you thought?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Come out on to the terrace," she invited. "You are not afraid of +cold?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"I have heard so," he replied gravely. + +She clutched at his arm. + +"Come," she said. + +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. + +"This way," she directed. "Be careful." + +They walked to the very edge of the palisading. It was scarcely +more than a couple of feet high. She pointed downwards. + +"Can you see? " she whispered. + +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. + +"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." + +"What accident?" + +"Mr. Fentolln'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." + +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. + +"What a horrible thing! "he exclaimed. + +"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!" + +"By whom?" he asked. + +She clung to his arm for a moment. + +"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." + +"That, at any rate, was fine of him," Hamel dedared. + +She shivered. + +"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!" + +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. + +"I am afraid of him all the time," she murmured. "He seems to +overhear everything - he or his creatures. Listen!" + +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. + +"You are telling me half," he said. "Tell me everything. Who +threw your uncle over the parapet? + +She stood by his side, motionless and trembling. + +"It was the passion of a moment," she said at last, speaking +hoarsely. "I cannot tell you. Listen! Listen!" + +"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." + +She suddenly clutched his hand. There was nothing of affection in +her touch, and yet he felt a thrill of delight. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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!" + +She was already round the corner and on her way to the main terrace. +He followed her closely. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +"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?" + +"That is all very well for you," she retorted, smiling, "but I have +topped my drive." + +"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." + +She played her shot, and they walked for a little way together. +She was suddenly silent. + +"Do you know," she said finally, just a little gravely, "I am not +at all used to speeches of this sort." + +"Then you ought to be," he declared. "Nothing but the lonely life +you have been living has kept you from hearing them continually." + +She laughed a little at the impotence of her rebuff and paused for +a moment to make her next shot. Hame1, 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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Of course," he went on, "I knew that these links were good - quite +famous, aren't they?" + +"I have played on so few others," she told him. "I learned my golf +here with King, the professional." + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"So far," she admitted, "you haven't been altogether unsuccessful." + +"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." + +"I am not at all sure that you have known me long enough to tell +me what colours suit me," she demurred. + +"Then what will you say," he enquired, "if I admire the angle of +that quill in your hat?" + +"Don't do it," she laughed. "If you continue like this, I may have +to go home." + +"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." + +"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." + +They moved off presently to the next teeing ground. + +"I don't believe this nonsense is good for our golf," she said. + +"It is immensely good for us as human beings," he protested. + +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. + +"I am beginning to understand what there is about this coast which +fascinated my father so," he remarked. + +"Are you?" she answered gravely. "Years ago I used to love it, but +not now." + +He tried to change the subject, but the gloom had settled upon her +face once more. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Ah, you mustn't talk like that!" he pleaded. "Do you know what +you make me feel like?" + +She came back from the world of her own unhappy imaginings. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +She smiled. + +"Doubtless your long absence abroad," she began slowly, "has +affected your game." + +"I was round in eighty-one," he grumbled. + +"You must have travelled in many countries," she continued, "where +golf was an impossibility." + +"Naturally," he admitted. "Let us stay and have lunch and try +again." + +She shook her head with a little sigh of regret. + +"You see, the car is waiting," she pointed out. "We are expected +home. I shan't be a minute putting my clubs away." + +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. + +"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." + +She nodded. + +"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?" + +"Not carefully," he told her. + +"You must before you leave," she insisted. "Mr. Fentolin is a great +judge, and so was his father." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"That is to show them the way in at night, isn't it?" he asked. + +She nodded. + +"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." + +"It doesn't seem a dangerous beach," he remarked. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Your uncle has been here this morning," he remarked quietly. + +"Very likely." + +"That outhouse," he continued, "must be quite a large place. Have +you any idea what it is he works upon there?" + +"None," she answered. + +He looked around him once more. + +"Mr. Fentolin has been preparing for my coming, he observed. "I +see that he has moved a few of his personal things." + +She made no reply, only she shivered a little as she stepped back +into the sunshine. + +"I don't believe you like my little domicile," he remarked, as they +started off homeward. + +"I don't," she admitted curtly. + +"In the train," he reminded her, "you seemed rather to discourage +my coming here. Yet last night, after dinner -" + +"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." + +"Make any difference to what?" + + +"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 -" + +"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?" + +"If he will let me," she promised. + +"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." + +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. + +"This came for you," he remarked, handing it to Hamel. "I met the +boy bringing it out of the office." + +Hamel tore it open, with a word of thanks. Gerald stood in front +of him as he read. + +"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." + +Hamel did not speak for a moment. He was looking at the few words +scrawled across the pink sheet with a heavy black pencil: + + "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 im- + properly detained." + +Hamel crumpled up the telegram and thrust it into his pocket. + +"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?" + +Gerald hesitated for a moment. Then he answered as though a species +of recklessness had seized him. + +"He called himself Mr. John P. Dunster." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin laid his pen deliberately down. + +"So soon," he murmured. "Very well, Sarson, I am at his service. + Say that I will come at once." + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster looked at the speaker curiously. + +"And what might my profession be, Mr. Fentolin?" he asked. "You +seem to know a great deal about me." + +"It is true," Mr. Fentolin admitted. "I do know a great deal." + +Mr. Dunster knocked the ash from his cigar. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolinn smiled queerly. + +"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." + +"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." + +"There, you speak with some show of reason. I have a nephew whom +you have met, who is devoted to me." + +"Mr. Gerald Fentolin," Mr. Dunster remarked drily. + +"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." + +"I could," Mr. Dunster muttered, "very easily!" + +Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + +"Perhaps our points of view might differ." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster held his cigar a little way off and looked steadfastly +at his host for a moment. So you have interpreted my cipher?" + +Mr. Fentolin spread out the palms of his hands in a delicate gesture. + +"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." + +"I gather," Mr. Dunster went on, although his cigar was burning +itself out, "that you have broken the seal of my dispatches?" + +Mr. Fentolin closed his eyes as though he had heard a discord. + +"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." + +"And if I give you that one word?" Mr. Dunster asked. + +"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." + +"And in that case," Mr. Dunster enquired, "what would become of me?" + +"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." + +"And the dispatch which I am carrying to The Hague?" + +"Would remain here with you." + +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. + +"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?" + +"I am an Englishman," Mr. Fentolin confessed "or rather," he added, +with ghastly humour, "I am half an Englishman." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Or you may," Mr. Dunster suggested, glancing keenly at his host, +"be the paid agent of some foreign Power." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster was still mystified. + +"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. + +"In time," Mr. Fentolin observed, "even that may become clear to +you. At present, well - just that word, if you please?" + +Mr. Dunster shook his head. + +"No," he decided, "I do not think so. I cannot make up my mind to +tell you that word." + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster laughed a little derisively. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled, very slightly, still very blandly. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster was obviously plentifully supplied with either courage +or bravado, for he only laughed. + +"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. + +Mr. Fentolin sat very quietly in his chair. + +"You mean, then," he asked, "that you do not intend to humour me in +this little matter?" + +"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." + +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. + +"The end of your journey," he said grimly, "may be nearer than you +think." + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster beat lightly with his square, blunt forefinger upon the +table which stood by his side. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin held his hand in front of his eyes, as though to shut +out some unwelcome vision. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster smoked in silence for a few minutes. + +"I am very comfortable here," he remarked. + +"You delight me," Mr. Fentolin murmured. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin listened attentively. + +"Do not forget," he said, "that there is always a limit fixed, +whether it be one day, two days, or three days." + +"A limit to your complacence, I presume?" + +Mr. Fentolin assented. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin's eyes grew suddenly a little brighter. There was a +light upon his face strange to witness, + +"The power which is to be the gainer," he said quietly, " is the +power encompassed by these walls," + +He touched his chest; his long, slim fingers were folded upon it. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"I wonder," Mr. Dunster muttered under his breath, "whether you are +in earnest." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Excellent reasoning," Fentolin agreed. "For the very reasons you +name that word will be given." + +Mr. Dunster's face was momentarily troubled. There was something in +the still, cold emphasis of this man's voice which made him shiver. + +"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." + +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. + +"You seem to be in earnest," he muttered. + +"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!" + +"I am not sure," Mr. Dunster said slowly, "that I ought not to +wring your neck." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. His chair receded an inch or two. There was +never a time when his expression had seemed more seraphic. + +"There is no emergency of that sort," he remarked," for which I am +not prepared." + +His little revolver gleamed for a minute beneath his cuff. He +backed his chair slowly and with wonderful skill towards the door. + +"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!" + +The door opened and closed. Mr. Dunster sat staring into the open +space like a man still a little dazed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +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. + +"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." + +Lady Saxthorpe, who had been engaged in greeting +Esther, held out her hand and smiled good-humour- +edly at Hamel. + +"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?" + +"Not at all," Hamel answered. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"And, Mr. Fentolin continued, "you must know my young friend here, +too. Mr. Hamel - Lord Saxthorpe." + +The latter shook hands heartily with the young man. + +"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." + +"You are very kind," Hamel murmured. + +"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?" + +"Mr. Hamel plays very well, indeed," the girl replied. + +"Your niece was too good for me," Hamel confessed. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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." + +"I do see it," Lady Saxthorpe murmured. "What eyes you have, Mr. +Fentolin! What perception for colour!" + +"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." + +"I pity you no longer," Lady Saxthorpe asserted fervently. "The +eyes of the artist are a finer possession than the limbs of the +athlete." + +The butler announced luncheon, and they all trooped in. Hamel +found himself next to Lady Saxthorpe. + +"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?" + +Hamel wondered politely. Lady Saxthorpe continued with an air of +triumph. + +"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." + +"What was his excuse? " Hamel asked. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin looked suddenly down the table. He was some distance +away, but his hearing was wonderful. + +"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?" + +His sister-in-law, who was seated at the other end of the table, +looked across at him with a bright but stereotyped smile. + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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 dogcart to make enquiries round the +neighbourhood. If any one in fiction wants a type of the ridiculous +detective, there he is, ready-made." + +"The coincidence of your question," Mr. Fentolin said smoothly, "is +certainly a strange one. The mysterious stranger is within our +gates." + +Lady Saxthorpe, who had been out of the conversation for far too +long, laid down her knife and fork. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Lady Saxthorpe shivered. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"You don't really think," Lady Saxthorpe asked, "that there is any +fear of war, do you, Mr. Fentolin? + +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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"And now?" she asked. "What use do you make of them now?" + +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. + +"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." + +Lord Saxthorpe came strolling up to them. + +"You won't forget to telephone about this guest of yours?" he +asked fussily. + +"It is already done," Mr. Fentolin assured him. "My dear sister, +why so silent?" + +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. + +"I was looking where you were looking," she dedared 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." + +She strolled off, humming a tune to herself. Lord Saxthorpe watched +her with a shadow upon his plain, good-humoured face. + +"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?" + +"Eight years," Mr. Fentolin replied. "It was just six months after +my own accident." + +"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." + +"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 -" + +He stopped short. + +"And yet?" Lady Saxthorpe repeated interrogatively. + +Mr.. Fentolin was watching Gerald drive golf balls from the lawn +beneath. He pointed downwards. + +"I was like that when I was his age," he said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +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. + +"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?" + +"Yes, sir, I do!" Gerald replied, with unexpected grimness. "I +feel my responsibility deeply." + +Mr. Fentolin, who was holding the telescope to his eye, touched +Hamel on the shoulder. + +"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?" + +Hamel held the telescope to his eye and steadied it upon the little +tripod stand. + +"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?" + +"Two," Hamel answered. "I can see them distinctly now. One man is +driving, another is sitting by his side. They are coming this way." + +Mr. Fentolin blew his whistle. Meekins appeared almost directly. +His master whispered a word in his ear. The man at once departed. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + +"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." + +Gerald rose impatiently to his feet and swung across the terrace. +Mr. Fentolin, however, called him back. + +"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." + +"Shall I tell him, too -" Gerald began. + +"Be careful, Gerald." + +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. + +"Dear me," Mrs. Fentolin mumured, "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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Mr. Fentolin would like to speak to you, inspector," he said, "if +you will come this way." + +The inspector followed Gerald and saluted the little group solemnly. +Mr. Fentolin held out his hand. + +"You got my telephone message, inspector?" he asked. + +"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." + +"Quite so," Mr. Fentolin assented. "You've come over, I presume, +to make enquiries concerning Mr. John P. Dunster?" + +"That is the name of the gentleman, sir." + +"I only understood to-day from my friena 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?" + +"My first duty, sir," the inspector pronounced, "is to see the +gentleman in question." + +"By all means," Mr. Fentolin agreed. "Gerald, will you take the +inspector up to Mr. Dunster's rooms? Or stop, I will go myself." + +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. + +"How is the patient?" Mr. Fentolin enquired. + +Doctor Sarson appeared from the interior of the room. + +"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." + +"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." + +Doctor Sarson bowed. + +"That is quite simple, sir," he said. "Please step in." + +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. + +"Is he asleep?" he asked. + +The doctor shook his head. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin touched the inspector on the arm. + +"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." + +"I am quite satisfied, sir," the inspector announced. "I will not +intrude any further." + +They left the room. Mr. Fentolin himself escorted the inspector +into the library and ordered whisky and cigars. + +"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?" + +"We had a very important enquiry indeed, sir," the inspector replied. +"I have instructions to telegraph all I have been able to discover, +immediately." + +"Pardon my putting it plainly," Mr. Fentolin asked, "but is our +friend a criminal?" + +"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." + +"Not a criminal at all?" + +"Not as I know of," the inspector assented. +"That isn't the way I read the enquiries at all." + +"You relieve me," Mr. Fentolin declared. "Now what about his +possessions?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"My dear florence," he asked, "where are the others?" + +"Mr. Hamel and Esther have gone for a walk," she answered. "Gerald +has disappeared somewhere. Has anything - is everything all right?" + +"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." + +"Unconscious," Mrs. Fentolin repeated. "I thought that he was +better." + +"One is always subject to those slight relapses in an affair of +concussion," Mr. Fentolin explained. + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Not particularly." + +"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." + +"But after all," Mrs. Fentolinprotested, "you know who he is. You +know that he is Peter Hamel's son. He had a definite purpose in +coming here." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin laughed softly, a little contemptuously. + +"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." + +She took up her knitting again. Her eyes were fixed upon the +sky-line. Twice she opened her lips, but twice no words came. + +"You understand?" he whispered. "You begin to understand, don't +you?" + +She looked at him only for a moment and back at her work. + +"I suppose so," she sighed. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +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. + +"Did you hear that cry?" he whispered. + +Gerald nodded. + +"It woke me up. What do you suppose it was?" Hamel shook his head. + +"Some one in pain," he replied. "I don't understand it. It came +from this room." + +"You know who sleeps there?" Gerald asked hoarsely. + +Hamel nodded. + +"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!" + +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. + +"We both heard the same sound, Meekins. Is any one ill? It sounded +like some one in pain." + +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. + +"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." + +Notwithstanding this very plausible explanation, Hamel was conscious +of the remains of an uneasiness which he scarcely knew how to put +into words. + +"It was a most distressing cry," he observed doubtfully, "a cry of +fear as well as of pain." + +"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." + +Hamel neither felt nor showed any disposition to depart. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin showed no signs of displeasure. He was silent for a +moment, as though considering the matter. + +"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." + +"I think it would be advisable," Hamel agreed. + +"Good night!" Mr. Fentolin said once more. I am sorry that your +rest has been disturbed." + +Hamel, however, still refused to take the hint. His eyes were fixed +upon that closed door. + +"Mr. Fentolin," he asked, "have you any objection to my seeing Mr. +Dunster?" + +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. + +"There is no reason, Mr. Hamel," he said, "why your curiosity should +not be gratified. Knock softly at the door, Gerald." + +The boy obeyed. In a moment or two Doctor Sarson appeared on the +threshold. + +"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." + +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. + +"Gerald!" + +The boy stood still, trembling, speechless. Mr. Fentolin's eyes +were riveted upon him. The doctor was standing, still and dark, a +motionless image. + +"Is he asleep?" Hamel asked. + +"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." + +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. + +"He doesn't look like getting up for a good many days to come," +Hamel observed. + +The doctor led the way towards the door. + +"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." + +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. + +"May I come in for a moment, please?" he whispered. + +Hamel nodded. + +"With pleasure! Come in and have a cigarette if you will. I shan't +feel like sleep for some time." + +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. + +"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." + +The boy was sitting with folded arms. His expression was one of +deep gloom. + +"I only wish I'd never brought him here," he muttered. "I ought +to have known better." + +Hamel raised his eyebrows. "Isn't he as well off here as anywhere +else?" + +"Do you think that he is?" Gerald demanded, looking across at Hamel. + +There was a brief silence. + +"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." + +"Do you really believe that?" Gerald asked. + +Hamel rose to his feet. + +"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." + +"Go on." + +"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." + +"Thank God!" the boy murmured. + +"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." + +"You say that because you don't know," Gerald declared bitterly. + +"In a sense I don't," Hamel admitted, "and yet your sister hinted +to me only this afternoon that you and she -" + +"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!" + +Gerald's face was white with pain. Hamel laid his hand upon his +shoulder. + +"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." + +"Have you talked to my sister like that?" Gerald asked eagerly. + +"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." + +"God knows we need one!" the boy said simply. "Good night!" + +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 aimlessnessn of purpose which had troubled him during the +last few months had disappeared. He had found an object in life. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +"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." + +Esther made a little grimace. + +"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." + +Hamel sighed as he returned to his place. + +"My good intentions are already half dissipated," he admitted. + +She laughed. + +"How can we attack the other half?" she asked. + +Gerald, who was also on his way to the sideboard, suddenly stopped. + +"Hullo!" he exclaimed, looking out of the window. "Who's going +away this morning, I wonder? There's the Rolls-Royce at the door." + +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. + +"Uncle!" Gerald exclaimed. + +Mr. Fentolin glanced keenly around the room. + +"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." + +"You mean that he is going?" Hamel asked incredulously. + +"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!" + +Neither Hamel nor Gerald had resumed their places. The former, +after a moment's hesitation, turned towards the door. + +"I think," he said, "that I should like to see the last of Mr. +Dunster." + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"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." + +They helped him into the car. Hamel and Gerald stood under the +great stone portico, watching. + +"Well, I'm jiggered!" the boy exclaimed, under his breath. + +Hamel was watching the proceedings with a puzzled frown. To his +surprise, neither Doctor Sarson nor Meekins were accompanying the +departing man. + +"He's off, right enough," Hamel declared, as the car glided away. +"Do you understand it? I don't." + +Gerald did not speak for several moments. His eyes were still fixed +upon the back of the disappearing car. Then he turned towards Hamel. + +"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." + +"And me," Hamel admitted, watching the car until it became a speck +in the distance. + +"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." + +"So you've seen the last of our guest," Mr. Fentolin remarked, as +amel 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 goin +to amuse yourself to-day?" + +"I had thought of commencing some reading I brought with me," Hamel +replied, "but Miss Esther has challenged me to another game of golf." + +"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?" + +"I haven't made up my mind yet, sir," the boy replied. + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"Always that lack of initiative," he remarked. "A lack of initiative +is one of your worst faults, I am afraid, dear Gerald." + +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. + +"I rather thought," he said, "of going into Norwich, if you could +spare me. Captain Holt has asked me to lunch at the Barracks." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head gently. + +"It is most unfortunate," he declared. "I have a commission for +you later in the day." + +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. + +"Lieutenant Godfrey, sir," he announced. + +They all looked up. A trim, clean-shaven, hard-featured young man +in naval uniform was standing upon the threshold. He bowed to +Esther. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled genially. + +"We are delighted to see you, Lieutenant Godfrey," he said. "Have +some breakfast." + +"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." + +"Had down my wireless," Mr. Fentolin repeated slowly. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin seemed puzzled. + +"But, my dear sir," he protested, "we are not at war, are we?" + +"Not yet," the young officer replied, "but God knows when we shall +be! We are under sealed or ders, anyway, and we don't want any +risk of our plans leaking out. That's why we want your wireless +disconnected." + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin halted his chair by the side of the bell, and rang it. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin left the room. Lieutenant Godfrey was already +attacking his breakfast. Gerald leaned towards him eagerly. + +"Is there really going to be war?" he demanded. + +"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?" + +"It's a fad of my uncle's," Gerald replied. "Since his accident he +amuses himself in all sorts of queer ways." + +Lieutenant Godfrey nodded. + +"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?" + +"Rather!" Gerald answered. "The Fentolins have lived here for +hundreds of years. Why do you ask that?" + +Lieutenant Godfrey hesitated. He looked, for the moment, scarcely +at his ease. + +"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?" + +"About forty minutes," Gerald told him, "if your car's any good at +all." + +"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. + +"Hope I shall be before long," Gerald answered. I'm going into the +army, though." + +"Have to hurry up, won't you?" + +Gerald sighed. + +"It's a little difficult for me. Here's your car. Good luck to you!" + +"My excuses to Mr. Fentolin," Lieutenant Godfrey shouted, "and many +thanks." + +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 ball 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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +Gerald closed the door behind him and summoned up all his courage. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +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. + +"Close that door, Gerald." + +The boy obeyed. Mr. Fentolin waited until he had turned around +again. + +"Come and stand over here by the side of the table," he directed. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"You heard the message, then?" + +"I did." + +"You listened - at the keyhole?" + +"I listened outside," Gerald assented doggedly. "I am glad I +listened. Do you mind answering my question? + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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 top 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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. He had the air of a man who wishes to be +reasonable. + +"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." + +"Your stockbroker!" Gerald exclaimed. + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin yawned slightly. + +"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." + +"What about his papers?" + +"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." + +Gerald shook his head. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin pointed out of the window. Gerald followed his finger. +Three men were at work upon the towering spars. + +"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?" + +"Very well," the boy replied. "I haven't seen much of him." + +"He and Esther are together a great deal, eh?" Mr. Fentolin asked +quickly. + +"They seem to be quite friendly." + +"It isn't Mr. Hamel, by any chance, who has been putting these +ideas into your head?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin waited until he had finished. Then be waved him away. + +"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." + +Gerald overtook Hamel upon the stairs. + +"By this time," the latter remarked, "I suppose that our friend +Mr. Dunster is upon the sea." + +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. + +"Mr. Dunster has left, sir," she told them. + +"We saw him go," Gerald replied. + +"Rather a quick recovery, wasn't it, nurse?" Hamel asked. + +"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." + +"They couldn't exactly make a prison of the place, could they?" +Hamel pointed out. "The man, after all, was only a guest." + +"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." + +Mrs. Fentolin was passing along the corridor as they issued from +the room. She started a little as she saw them. + +"What have you two been doing in there?" she asked quickly. + +"We were just passing," Hamel explained. "We stopped for a moment +to speak to the nurse." + +"Mr. Dunster has gone," she said. "You saw him go, Gerald. You +saw him, too, didn't you, Mr. Hamel?" + +"I certainly did," Hamel admitted. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +She shook her head. + +"Thank you very much," she said. "Mr. Fentolin does not like +to be left." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +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. + +"Where did it go?" she asked. + +"I have no idea," he admitted. + +"Why don't you help look for it?" + +"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." + +She hesitated for a moment. + +"We shall lose our place." + +"There is no one behind." + +She sank on to the little knoll of sand to which he had pointed, +with a resigned sigh. + +"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." + +"I have been silent," he told her, "because I have been thinking." + +"That may be truthful," she remarked, "but you wouldn't call it +polite, would you?" + +"The subject of my thoughts is my excuse. I have been thinking of +you." + +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. + +"Was it my mashie shots you were worrying about?" she asked. + +"It was not," he replied simply. "It was you - you yourself." + +She laughed, not altogether naturally. + +"How flattering!" she murmured. "By-the-by, you are rather a +downright person, aren't you, Mr. Hamel?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +She looked at him with startled eyes. + +"What do you mean?" she asked quickly. "You are Mr. Hamel, aren't +you?" + +"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?" + +"Yes! Go on, please." + +"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 -" + +"Please go on. Please speak as though I knew nothing." + +"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." + +"Go on, please," she murmured. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +She turned a little in her place and looked at him steadfastly. + +"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." + +His face was troubled. + +"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." + +"Mr. Hamel," she exclaimed nervously, "you don't believe that! He +is always very kind." + +"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 -" + +"Don't!" she interrupted suddenly. "Why do you bring me here to +talk like this? You cannot alter things. Nothing can be altered." + +"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 -" + +He paused so long that she looked at him. He moved a little closer +to her, his fingers suddenly gripped her hand. + +"Or you can marry me and come away from it all," he concluded +quietly. "Forgive me, please - I mean it." + +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. + +"I think," she said, "that we had better play golf." + +"But I have asked you to marry me," he protested, as he scrambled up. + +"Your caddy has found your ball a long time ago," she pointed out, +walking swiftly on ahead. + +He played his shot and caught her up. + +"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." + +"You knew that what was coming?" she asked, raising her eyes +suddenly. + +"That I should care for you." + +"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." + +"Is it? And why?" + +"I have only known you for three days." + +"We can make up for that." + +"But I don't - care about you. I have never thought of any one in +that way. It is absurd," she went on. + +"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." + +Her breath caught a little. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"We'd best get on," he remarked, pointing to two figures in the +distance, "or they'll say we've cut in." + +Hamel smote his ball far and true. On a more moderate scale she +followed his example. They descended the steps together. + +"Love-making isn't going to spoil our golf," he whispered, smiling, +as he touched her fingers once more. + +She looked at him almost shyly. + +"Is this love-making?" she asked. + +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. + +"On our way home -" he began. + +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. + +"Look!" she whispered, under her breath. "Look! It is Mr. Fentolin! +He has come for us himself; he is there in the car." + +Mr. Fentolin, a strange little figure lying back among the cushions +of the great Daimler, raised his hat and waved it to them. + +"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? + +"To take my clubs to my locker and pay my caddy," she replied. + +"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." + +She gave up her clubs reluctantly. All the life seemed to have gone +from her face. + +"Why didn't mother come with you?" she asked simply. + +"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?" + +"A great deal," she echoed, looking steadily ahead of her. + +"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?" + +"Twenty-one," she replied. + +"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?" + +"I don't know," she replied. "I have never thought about the +matter." + +"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." + +She made no reply whatever. Hamel was coming now towards them. + +"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." + +She said nothing, but her hand which rested upon the rug was +trembling a little. + +"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?" + +For the first time she turned her head towards him. + +"I understand," she said, "that you have some particular reason for +not wishing Mr. Hamel to leave St. David's Hall." + +He smiled benignly. + +"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?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +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, bad 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. + +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. + +"Are you entirely deserted, Mr. Hamel?" she asked. + +"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." + +Her eyes followed his outstretched hand. She seemed to him to +shiver for a moment. + +"You really mean, then, that you are going to leave us?" she asked, +accepting the chair which he had drawn up close to his. + +He smiled. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"I have certainly observed - eccentricities," Hamel assented. + +"My life, and the lives of my two children," she went on, "is devoted +to the task of ministering to his happiness." + +"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. + +"To you, Mr. Hamel," she said, "it may seem so. We who make it know +of its necessity." + +He bowed his head. It was not a subject for him to discuss with her. + +"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." + +Hamel's face grew darker. + +"Has it ever occurred to you," he demanded, "that Mr. Fentolin is a +tyrant?" + +She closed her eyes for a moment. + +"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." + +Hamel threw away his cigarette. He was deeply interested. + +"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." + +"Miles was right, then!" she cried suddenly. "You are here to spy +upon him!" + +He turned towards her swiftly. + +"To spy upon him, Mrs. Fentolin? For what reason? Why? Is he a +criminal, then?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Secrets? But what secrets has he?" Hamel demanded. "Is he an +inventor?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Mrs. Seymour Fentolin seemed to be trembling a little. Her hands +were crossed upon her bosom. + +"You have known her for so short a time," she murmured. + +Hamel smiled confidently. + +"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." + +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. + +"Why not?" she murmured, as though arguing with some unseen critic +of her thoughts. "Why not?" + +"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 - + +She turned suddenly upon him and gripped his wrist. + +"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?" + +Hamel stared at his companion, for a moment, blankly. Her attitude +was so unexpected, her questioning so fierce. + +"My dear Mrs. Fentolin," he began - + +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. + +"No," she interrupted, "I forgot! I mustn't talk like that. She, +too, is part of the sacrifice." + +"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." + +A gleam of hopefulness shone through the stony misery of the woman's +face. + +"Does Esther care?" she asked softly. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Chow-Chow," she cried, "come along, dear, we must have our walk. +Come along, Koto; come along, little dogs." + +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. + +"Unsociable person!" he exclaimed, as he caught her up. "Didn't +you know that I was longing for a walk?" + +"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." + +"May I come?" he asked. "I have business there myself." + +She laughed. + +"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?" + +He shook his head, falling into step with her. + +"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. + +Something of the lightness faded from her face. + +"So you have quite made up your mind to leave us?" she asked slowly. +"Mother wasn't able to persuade you to stay?" + +He shook his head. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"You shouldn't have done that," she said quietly. + +"Why not?" he demanded. "It was the truth." + +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. + +"What did mother say?" she whispered. + +"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." + +She shook her head very emphatically. + +"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." + +Her words came to him like numb things. There was little expression +in them, and yet he felt that somehow they meant so much. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +She turned, and he saw the great transformation. Her face was +brilliant, her eyes shone with wonderful things. + +"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 littl +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." + +"And we will walk back together?" + +"We will walk back together," she promised him. + +"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. + +She dismissed him with a little smile. He strolled along the +village street and plunged into the mysterious recesses of the +one tiny shop. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +Hamel met Kinsley shortly before one o'clock the following afternoon, +in the lounge of the Royal Hotel at Norwich. + +"You got my wire, then?" the latter asked, as he held out his hand. +"I had it sent by special messenger from Wells." + +"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." + +"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 hack to town." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"Hanged if I know!" Hamel answered, with a sigh. + +"Nothing definite to tell us, then?" Nothing!" + +"What about Mr. John P. Dunster?" + +"He left yesterday morning," Hamel said. "I saw him go. He looked +very shaky. I understood that Mr. Fentolin sent him to Yarmouth." + +"Did Mr. Fentolin know that there was an enquiry on foot about this +man's disappearance?" Kinsley asked. + +"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." + +Kinsley, for a moment, was singularly and eloquently profane. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Disappeared again?" Hamel muttered. + +"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." + +Hamel looked doubtful. + +"Mr. Dunster left quite alone in the car," he said. "He was on his +guard too, for Mr. Fentolin and he had had words. 1 really can't +see how it was possible for him to have got into any more trouble." + +"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." + +"Have you tried to trace him from there?" Hamel asked. + +"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." + +Hamel shook his head. + +"You seem to know a good deal more than I do, already," he said. + +"What do you think of Mr. Fentolin? You have stayed in his house. +You have had an opportunity of studying him." + +"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." + +"Are you staying at St. David's Hall now?" + +"I left yesterday." + +"Where are you now, then?" + +"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." + +"Mr. Fentolin evidently doesn't like to have you in the locality," +Kinsley remarked thoughtfully. + +"He was all right so long as I was at St. David's Hall," Hamel +observed. + +"What's this little place like - St. David's Tower, you call it?" +Kinsley asked. + +"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 +ery well." + +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. + +"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." + +"You probably have," Kinsley agreed. "What post does he hold in +the household?" + +"I have no idea," Hamel replied. "I saw him the first day I arrived +and not since. Sort of secretary, I should think." + +"He is a queer-looking fellow, anyway," Kinsley muttered. "Look +out, Dick. Here he comes back again." + +Mr. Ryan approached the table a little diffidently. + +"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." + +Hamel nodded. + +"I thought I'd seen you there." + +"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." + +Hamel shook his head. + +"I came in by train myself, or I would have given you a lift back, +with pleasure," he said. + +Mr. Ryan expressed his thanks briefly and left the room. Kinsley +watched him from over the top of a newspaper. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Kinsley nodded thoughtfully. + +"I remember Seymour Fentolin he said; "a really fine fellow he was. +Well, who else?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"On and off, the last few days. I seem to have been busy doing all +sorts of things." + +"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." + +"I don't suppose he could help receiving them," Hamel remarked. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Hamel sighed. + +"I know nothing beyond what I have told you." + +"How did he look when he went away?" + +"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." + +"Did you actually speak to him?" + +"Just a word or two." + +"And you saw him go off in the car?" + +"Gerald Fentolin and I both saw him and wished him good-by." + +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." + +"Tell me," Hamel asked, after they had walked for some distance in +silence, "exactly why is our fleet demonstrating to such an extent?" + +"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 -" + +Kinsley paused. His tone and his expression had alike become +gloomier. + +"Go on," Hamel begged. + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +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. + +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. + +"What time would you like your dinner, sir ?" she enquired. + +Hamel stared at her. + +"Why, are you going to keep house for me, Mrs. Cox?" he asked. + +"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." + +"So I discovered," he remarked, a little grimly. + +"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." + +"Yet you are here," he reminded her. + +"I do not count," she answered. "I am outside all these things." + +Hamel gave a little sigh of satisfaction. + +"Well, I am glad you could come, anyhow. If you have something for +dinner, I should like it in about half an hour." + +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. + +"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." + +"Mrs. Seymore 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." + +"It is very kind of both of them," Hamel said thoughtfully. + +The woman stood still for a moment, looking at him. Then she drew +a step nearer. + +"Has Mr. Fentolin given you the key of the shed?" she asked, very +quietly. + +Hamel shook his head. + +"We don't need the place, do we?" + +"He did not give you the key?" she persisted. + +"Mr. Fentolin said that he had some things in there which he wished +to keep locked up," he explained. + +She remained thoughtful for several moments. Then she turned away. + +"No," she said, "it was not likely he would not give you that key!" + +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. + +"I shall be here at seven o'clock in the morning, sir," she +announced. + +Hamel was a little startled. He withdrew the pip from his mouth +and looked at her. + +"Why, of course," he remarked. "I'd forgotten. There is no place +for you to stay here." + +"I shall go back to my brother's." she said. + +Hamel put some money upon the table. + +"Please get anything that is necessary," he directed. "I shall +leave you to do the housekeeping for a few days." + +"Shall you be staying here long, sir?" she asked. + +"I am not sure," he replied. + +"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. + +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. + +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 Lt 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. + +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: + +"Hard aport, Dave lad! That's Fentolin's light. Keep her out a bit. +Steady, lad!" + +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. + +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. + +"Hullo!" + +There was no response. He tried again. + +"Is any one there?" + +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. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +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. + +"Breakfast in half an hour, Mrs. Cox," he called out. + +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. + +"Mind the Dagger Rocks, sir!" + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Work be hanged!" he exclaimed. + +A soft voice answered him almost in his ear, a voice which was +becoming very familiar. + +"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." + +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. + +"I trust that your first night in your new abode has been a pleasant +one?" Mr. Fentolin asked. + +"I slept quite well, thanks," Hamel replied. "Glad to see you're +going to paint." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head gloomily. + +"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." + +"I am awfully sorry," Hamel said. "Can't I go out of sight +somewhere?" + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"I will not ask your pardon for my absurd humours," he continued, +a little sadly. "Their existence, however, I cannot deny. I +will wait." + +"It seems a pity for you to do that," Hamel remarked. "You see, +I might stay here for some time." + +Mr. Fentolin's face darkened. He looked at the young man with a +sort of pensive wrath. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin sat quite motionless in his chair; his eyes were +fixed upon Hamel. + +"What is it that you are going to ask me?" be demanded. + +"I want to marry your niece. + +Mr. Fentolin looked at the young man in mild surprise. + +"A sudden decision on your part, Mr. Hamel?" he murmured. + +"Not at all," Hamel assured him. "I have been ten years looking +for her." + +"And the young lady?" Mr. Fentolin enquired. "What does she say?" + +"I believe, sir," Hamel replied, "that she would be willing." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"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?" + +"If you please." + +"She has a very moderate fortune." + +"She need have none at all," Hamel replied; "I have enough." + +Mr. Fentolin glanced towards the house. + +"Then," he said, "I think you had better go and tell her so; in +which case, I shall be able to paint." + +"I have your permission, then?" Hamel asked, rising to his feet +eagerly. + +"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." + +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. + +"Go and make love," he ordered, "and leave me alone. We are both +in pursuit of beauty - only our methods differ." + +Hamel hesitated no longer but walked up the narnow 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, a + 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. + +Hamel stood for a moment perfectly still. He had hurred 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 hack 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 hail 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. + +"Has Mr. Fentolin sent you here?" she asked at last. + +He came over to the typewriter. + +"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." + +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. + +"Why do you do that? " he demanded. "What is there in your work +that you are afraid I might see?" + +She answered him without hesitation. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Her eyes rested upon his, filled with a cold and questioning light. + +"There's an impression up in London," Hamel went on, "that Mr. +Fentolin has been intefering 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?" + +She glanced towards the bell. He moved to the edge of the table +as though to intercept her. + +"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?" + +She looked at him from the depths of her still, lusterless eyes. + +"You must be a very foolish person," she remarked, "if you expect +to obtain information in this manner." + +"Perhaps I am," he confessed, "but my folly has brought me to you, +and you can give me the information if you will." + +"Where is Mr. Fentolin?" she asked. + +"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." + +She turned composedly back to her work. + +"I think," she said, "that you had better go and find Miss Fentolin." + +"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." + +She glanced around her a little contemptuously. + +"You are welcome," she assured him. "Pray proceed." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Would it be wise, I wonder, then, to ensure their safety?" she +asked coolly. + +Her finger pressed the bell. He took a quick step forward. She +held out her hand. + +"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." + +He leaned a little towards her. + +"It wouldn't be possible to bribe you, I suppose?" + +She shook her head. + +"I wonder you haven't tried that before. No, it would not - not +with money, that is to say." + +"You'll tell Mr. Fentolin, I presume?" he asked quickly. + +"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?" + +The man's expression was full of polite regret. + +"Miss Fentolin went over to Legh Woods early this morning, sir," +he announced. "She is staying to lunch with Lady Saxthorpe." + +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. + +"I am sorry," he said. "I must have made a mistake. I will hurry +back." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +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. + +"So your wooing has not prospered, my young friend," he remarked +gently. "I am sorry. Is there anything I can do?" + +"Your niece has gone out to lunch," Hamel replied shortly. + +Mr. Fentolin stopped painting. His face was full of concern as he +looked up at Hamel. + +"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." + +"You are very kind." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"Where is your servant? " Hamel asked. + +Mr. Fentolin glanced around him carelessly. + +"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." + +"Shall I call him ?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin looked at him thoughtfully. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +He pointed to the planked way which led down the steep, pebbly beach +to the sea. + +"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." + +He lifted his head suddenly. Meekins had am peared, coming round +from the back of the Tower. Instantly Mr. Fentolin's whole manner +changed. He sat up in his chair. + +"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." + +The concentrated gaze of Mr. Fentolin's keen eyes was hard to meet, +but Hamel came out of the ordeal without flinching. + +"At eight o'clock, Mr. Fentolin," he answered. "I can see that I +must try to earn your better opinion. + +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. + +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. + +"What is it, Mrs. Cox?" he asked. "Why were you listening there?" + +Her face was absolutely expressionless. She was busying herself +now with a small saucepan, and her back was turned towards him. + +"I spend my life, sir," she said, "listening and waiting. One +never knows when the end may come." + +"But the boat-house," Hamel objected. "No one has been in there +his morning, have they?" + +"Who can tell?" she answered. "He could go anywhere when he chose, +or how he chose - through the keyhole, if he wanted." + +"But why listen?" Hamel persisted. "There is nothing in there now +but some odds and ends of machinery." + +She turned from the fire and looked at him for a moment. Her eyes +were colourless, her tone unemotional. + +"Maybe! There's no harm in listening." + +"Did you hear anything which made you want to listen?" + +"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." + +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. + +"If there's anything you want, sir," she said, "I shall hear you at +a word. The kitchen door is open." + +"One moment, Mrs. Cox." + +She lingered there patiently, with the tray in her hand. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +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. + +"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." + +Hamel looked around the room. Already his heart was beginning to +sink. + +"Miss Fentolin is well, I hope?" he asked. + +"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." + + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Esther is very young, Mr. Hamel. We must talk this over. You have +known her for such a very short time." + +A servant announced dinner, and Hamel offered his arm to his hostess. + +"Is Gerald away, too?" he asked. + +"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." + +"He promised to play with me to-morrow," Hamel remarked thoughtfully. +"He said nothing about going away." + +"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." + +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 suchdenly conscious +that something hard was being pressed into his palm. He drew his +hand away at once. + +"You seem a little unsteady this evening, my dear Florence," Mr. +Fentolin remarked, peering across the round table. + +She eyed him nonchalantly enough. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"So far, she has looked after me very well," Hamel observed. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin's tone was gently sympathetic. He changed the subject +a moment or two later, however. + +"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." + +"Against whom?" Mrs, Fentolin asked. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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." + +"I am out of touch with political affairs," Hamel declared. "I have +been away from England for so long." + +"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." + +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 bad 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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I said not before ten to-night," he muttered. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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>'" + +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. + +"How can I?" he asked. "What excuse can I make?" + +"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." + +"But, Mrs, Fentolin -" he began. + +She caught up one of her absurd little pets and held it to her mouth. + +"Meekins is in the doorway," she whispered + +Don't argue with me, please. You are in danger you know nothing +about. Pass me the cigarettes." + +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. + +"Koto must learn to sit upon his tail - like that. No, not another +grape till he sits up. There, then!" + +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. + +"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." + +"You mean the American whom Gerald brought home after the accident?" +Mrs, Fentolin asked carelessly. + + 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." + +"Do you mean that he has disappeared altogether this time?" Hamel +asked. + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +"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 detect,ives, 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." + +She rose at once to her feet, with a dog under either arm. + +"I'll take the phenacetin," she promised, "but I hate going to bed +early. Shall I see you again, I wonder, Mr. Hamel?" + +"Not this evening, I fear," he answered. "I am going to ask Mr. +Fentolin to excuse me early." + +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. + +"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." + +"Another evening, if you don't mind," Hamel begged. "To-night I +must ask you to excuse my hurrying away." + +Mr. Fentolin looked up from underneath his eyelids. His glance was +quick and penetrating. + +"Why this haste?" + +Hamel shrugged his shoulders. + +"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." + +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. + + "We shall see," Mr. Fentolin said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +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. + +"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." + +Hamel's eyes were fixed a little longingly upon some of the volumes +with which the table was covered. + +"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." + +"You are obdurate?" Mr. Fentolin asked softly. + +"I am afraid I am." + +Mr. Fentolin busied himself with the handle of his chair. + +"Tell me," he insisted, "is there any other person save yourself +to whom you have given this mysterious promise?" + +"No one," Hamel replied promptly. + +"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?" + +Hamel shook his head. + +"I am not in the confidence of the different members of your family," +he answered. "So far as I, personally, am concerned -" + +"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?" + +"There are matters in which you are concerned," Hamel admitted, +"which I do not understand, but I see no purpose in discussing them." + +Mr. Fentolin wheeled his chair round in a semicircle. He was now +between the door and Hamel. + +"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." + +Hamel saw the glitter in his hand. This was so end, then, of all +doubt! He remained silent. + +"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." + +Hamel started. + +"You mean that he has run away?" + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +"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." + +"What of Miss Esther?" Hamel asked quickly. + +"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." + +"By whom?" Hamel demanded. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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!" + +"I understand that you are threatening me?" Hamel murmured. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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!" + +He held up his finger. The tide had turned, and through the +half-open window came the low thunder of the waves. + +"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." + +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. + +"I come to make my adieux," he whispered, with a glance towards the +door. + +"You are leaving, then?" she asked quickly. + +He nodded. + +"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!" + +"What about Esther?" he asked quietly. + +"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." + +She motioned him to go. He touched her fingers for a moment. + +"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." + +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 hail and passed out into the night. + +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 boathouse, her face expressionless, her ear +turned towards the crack. She was still listening. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +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. + +"Do you know the time, Mrs. Cox?" he asked. "You ought to have been +home hours ago. What are you doing there?" + +She rose to her feet. Her expression was one of dogged but patient +humility. + +"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." + +Hamel looked at her with a frown upon his forehead. + +"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?" + +"Not real voices," she repeated, without the slightest expression in +her tone. + +"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? + +"I do not know," she answered patiently. + +"You must have some reason," he persisted. + +"I have no reason," she assured him, "only some day I shall see +behind these doors. Afterwards, I shall hear the voices no more." + +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. + +"Tell me - I have found you listening here before. Have you ever +heard anything suspicious?" + +"I have heard nothing yet," she admitted, "nothing that counts." + +"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 cannet refuse. +The place is mine. + +"Mr. Fentolin would not give you the keys, sir," she replied. "If +he did, it would be useless." + +"Would you like me to break the door in?" Hamel asked. + +"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?" + +"Mr. Fentolin has invented something," Hamel explained. "He keeps +the model in there. Inventors are very jealous of their work." + +She looked down upon the floor for a moment. + +"I shall be here at seven o'clock in the morning, sir. I will give +you your breakfast at the usual time." + +Hamel opened the door for her. + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"She is mad, of course!" he muttered. + +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. + +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. + +"Who's there?" he cried. "Who's there, I say?" + +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. + +"Mrs, Fentolin!" he exclaimed, aghast. + +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. + +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. + +"Tell me, please, what is the matter?" he insisted, speaking as +indifferently as he could. "Tell me at once what has happened?" + +She pointed to the door. + +"Lock it!" she implored. + +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. + +"Give me some water." + +He poured out some soda-water. She drank only o sip and put it down +again. He began to be alarmed. She had the appearance of one who +has suddenly lost her senses. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Upon my honour, I am," he assured her. "You should know that." + +"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?" + +"You mean where Mr. Fentolin met with his accident." + +"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!" + +He was silent for a moment. + +"No one has known the truth," he murmured. + +"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." + +"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?" + +Once more her voice began to shake. + +"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 -" + +"'Where is Esther?" Hamel interrupted suddenly. + +"Locked up away from you, locked up because she rebelled! " + +"And Dunster?" + +She shook her head. Her eyes were filled with horror. + +"But he left the Hall - I saw him!" + +She shook her head. + +"It wasn't Dunster. It was the man Miles makes use of - Ryan, the +librarian. He was once an actor." + +"Where is Dunster, then?" Hamel asked quickly. "What has become +of him?" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +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. + +"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." + +She nodded, and her fingers gently pressed his. + +"I am sure of it," she murmured. + +"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?" + +"I don't know," she answered. "It was Lucy Price who sent me. She +came to my room just as I was undressing." + +"Lucy Price," he repeated. "The secretary?" + +"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." + +"Miss Price told you this?" Hamel asked gravely. + +Mrs, Fentolin nodded. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +"Where was Mr. Fentolin when you left?" Hamel asked. + +"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?" + +Hamel shook his head. + +" 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." + +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!" + +"And how are we to know," Hamel asked, "if he comes to-night?" + +"Go outside," she whispered. "Look towards St. David's Hall and +tell me how many lights you can see." + +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. + +"There are seven," he told her, closing the door with an effort. + +She counted upon her fingers. + +"I must come and see," she muttered. "I must be sure. Help me." + +He lifted her to her feet, and they staggered out together. + +"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 -" + +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. + +"She was right!" Mrs. Pentolin 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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +Hamel threw another log on to the fire and drew her chair closer +to it. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Shall I go round to the front and see that he is in bed?" + +"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!" + +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 trapdoor, 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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Still the man upon the bed made no movement nor any reply. Mr. +Fentolin sighed and beckoned to Doctor Sarson. + +"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." + +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. + +"Give him two minutes," he said calmly. "He will be able to speak +then." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I'll see you in hell first!" + +Mr. Fentolin's face momentarily darkened. He moved a little nearer +to the man upon the bed. + +"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 + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Come and parley with us, Mr. Hamel," he begged. "You will not find +us unreasonable." + +Hamel's voice came back in reply, but Hamel himself kept well away +from the opening. + +"The conditions," he said, "are unpropitious. A little time for +reflection will do you no harm." + +The trap-doors were suddenly closed. Mr. Fentolin's face, as he +looked up, became diabolic. + +"We are trapped!" he muttered; "caught like rats in a hole!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +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. + +"Can we get into the house without waking any one?" he asked. + +"Quite easily," she assured him. "The front door is never barred." + +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. + +"What are you going to do now?" she whispered. + +"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." + +She nodded. + +"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." + +She passed silently up the broad staircase. Hamel groped his way +across the hail 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. + +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. + +"I want to speak to Mr. Kinsley at once upon most important +business," Hamel announced. + +"Very sorry, sir," the man replled. "Mr. Kinsley left town last +night for the country." + +"Where has he gone?" Hamel demanded quickly. "You can tell me. +You know who I am; I am Mr. Hamel." + +"Into Norfolk somewhere, sir. He went with several other gentlemen." + +"Is that Bullen?" Hamel asked. + +The man admitted the fact. + +"Can you tell me if any of the people with whom Mr. Kinsley left +London were connected with the police?" he inquired. + +The man hesitated. + +"I believe so, sir," he admitted. "The gentlemen started in a +motor-car and were going to drive all night." + +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. + +"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." + +Hamel nodded. + +"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." + +"Are you going to leave them where they are until these people +arrive?" she asked. + +"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. + +" 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?" + +"I can guess." + +"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." + +"But as a matter of common sense," Hamel asked, "why does Mr. +Fentolin desire war?" + +"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." + +"Yet you have all been his slaves," Hamel said curiously. + +"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." + +Hamel looked at her wonderingly. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Do you know where Miss Fentolin is?" he interrupted. + +"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." + +"I have a friend," Hamel answered, "who will see to that." + +"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." + +"Please do," Hamel begged. + +She looked at him coldly. Her tone was still free from any sort of +emotion. + +"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?" + +"I know it," he admitted. + +"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." + +She left him. Hamel followed her out into the hail. 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. + +"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!" + +"He may," Hamel answered sturdily, "but never to make you people +his slaves again. You have done enough. You have earned your +freedom." + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +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. + +"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." + +"Perhaps," Mr. Dunster said in a hollow tone, you will have some +opportunity now of discovering with me what it is like." + +"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." + +"He must have been hanging around and followed us in when we came," +Meekins muttered. "Somehow, I fancied I felt some one near." + +"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." + +"You aren't going to murder me first, then?" Mr. Dunster grunted. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled at him benignly. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster struggled for a moment for breath. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster tried to sit up but found himself unable. + +"So you think they won't believe my story, eh?" he muttered. "Well, +we shall see." + +Mr. Fentolin thoughtfully contemplated the burning end of his +cigarette for a moment. + +"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." + +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. + +"For God's sake, leave me alone!" he moaned. "Let me get away, +that's all; let me crawl away!" + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I heard the bolts go," Doctor Sarson remarked uneasily. + +"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." + +Doctor Sarson came slowly and gravely to the bedside. He looked +down upon his patient. Mr. Dunster shivered. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Meekins," he said, "look at me." + +The man turned and faced his master. His aspect of dogged civility +had never been more apparent. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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 anotber 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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Some one was in the boat-house when I broke the trap-door," Meekins +muttered. "I heard them moving about." + +Mr. Fentolin frowned. + +"Then let us hurry," he said. "Sarson, what about your patient?" + +Mr. Dunster was lying upon his side, watching them. The doctor +went over to the bedside and felt his pulse and head. + +"He will do for twelve hours," he pronounced. "If you think that +other little operation -" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Any one up there?" Mr. Fentolin enquired, a shade of anxiety in +his tone. + +"No one," the doctor reported. + +"Has anything been disturbed?" + +Doctor Sarson was some little time before he replied. + +"Yes," he said," some one seems to have been rummaging about." + +"Send down the steps quickly," Mr. Fentolin ordered. "I am beginning +to find the atmosphere here unpleasant." + +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. + +"Who has been in here?" Mr. Fentolin demanded, as he looked around +the place. + +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: + +"Some one has taken away the key! The door is locked on the other +side!" + +Mr. Fentolin's frown was malign even for him. + +"Our dear friend, Mr. Hamel, I suppose," he muttered. "Another +little debt we shall owe him! Try the other door." + +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. + +"Try the other door quickly," he directed. + +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. + +"My good woman," Mr. Fentolin exclaimed, frowning, "are you the +person who removed that key?" + +She laid her hand upon his chair. She took no no tice of the other +two. + +"Come," she said, "there is something here I want you to listen to. +Come!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +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. + +"Down here," she directed softly. "Bring your chair down the +plank-way, close to the water's edge." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"What have you to do with that?" he asked in a low tone. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook her off. He looked around for Meekins. + +"Meekins, stand by my chair," he ordered sharply. "Turn round; I +wish to go to the Hall. Drive this woman away." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Listen!" she cried. "Listen!" + +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. + +"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!" + +She forced him to look once more at the top of the boat-house. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin shrank back in his chair. + +"Take this woman away!" he ordered the fishermen. "Do you hear? +Take her away; she is mad!" + +They looked towards him, but not one of them moved. Mr. Fentolin +raised his whistle to his lips, and blew it. + +"Meekins!" he cried. "Where are you, Meekins?" + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"The light was never lit there," he said. "It was simply to help +me in some electrical experiments." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"You are a fool!" he shrieked. "You can buy forgetfulness! The +memory of everything passes." + +"I may be a fool," she retorted grimly, "and you the wise man; but +this day we'll both know the truth." + +There was a little murmur from the shore, where the fishermen stood +in a long line. + +"Bring him back, missus," Jacob called out. "You've scared him +enough. Bring him back. We'll leave him to the law." + +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. + +"Aye," she cried, "we'll leave him to the law - to the law of God!" + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +But if indeed his eyes were touched with fire at that moment, no +one else in the world saw anything more of Miles Fentolin. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +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. + +"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." + +"Sheer envy," Hamel murmured. "We escape from our tight corners by +forethought." + +"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. + +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?" + +"It didn't quite come off, sir," Gerald observed. + +"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." + +"There was never any proof," Hamel remarked, "that France would not +have remained staunch to us." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +Mrs. Fentolin shivered a little. She drew her cloak around her. +Gerald, who had been watching her, sprang to his feet. + +"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." + +Mrs. Fentolin shook her head once more. Her face had recovered its +serenity. She looked downward gravely but with no sign of fear. + +"There is nothing to terrify us there, Gerald," she declared. "The +sea has gathered, and the sea will hold its own." + +Hamel held out his hand to Esther. + +"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." + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Vanished Messenger by Oppenheim + diff --git a/old/vmsgr10.zip b/old/vmsgr10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9993b83 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/vmsgr10.zip diff --git a/old/vmsgr11.txt b/old/vmsgr11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..62fbb74 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/vmsgr11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10875 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Vanished Messenger by Oppenheim +#4 in our series by by E. Phillips Oppenheim + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. 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Phillips Oppenheim + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +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. + +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. + +The inspector watched them curiously. "Lost his way, I should +think," he observed. + +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." + +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. + +"Can I speak to you for a moment, sir?" + +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. + +"Are you Mr. John P. Dunster?" the youth asked. + +"I carry my visiting-card in my hand, sir," the other replied, +swinging his dressing-case around. "My name is John P. Dunster." + +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. + +"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." + +"They are very strict in this country, I know." + +Mr. Dunster agreed, without change of expression. +"Please go on." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"You are particularly anxious to cross to-night?" he asked. + +"I am," the youth admitted emphatically. "I never ought to have +risked missing the train. I am due at The Hague to-morrow." + +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. + +"What is the nature of your pressing business at The Hague?" he asked. + +The youth hesitated. + +"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." + +"A golf tournament at The Hague!" Mr. Dunster repeated, in a +slightly altered tone. "What is your name?" + +"Gerald Fentolin." + +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: + + 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. + +Mr. Dunster folded up the newspaper and replaced it in his pocket. +He turned towards the young man. + +"So you're a golfer, are you?" + +"I play a bit," was the somewhat indifferent reply. + +Mr. Dunster turned to another part of the paper and pointed to the +great black head-lines. + +"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." + +"Getting ready for what?" + +"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." + +The young man's lack of interest was curious. + +"I am not in the army," he said. "It really doesn't affect me." + +Mr. Dunster stared at him. + +"You'll forgive my curiosity," he said, "but say, is there nothing +you could get into and fight if this thing came along?" + +"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--" + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +The station-master looked the curiosity which he did not actually +express in words. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +The inspector shook his head. + +"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." + +The young man paused to light a cigarette. + +"If he's an American, I suppose that accounts for it," he observed. +"He must be in a precious hurry to get somewhere, though." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster nodded. + +"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!" + +They were about to start when Mr. Dunster once more let down the +window. + +"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!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +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. + +"There will be some floods out to-morrow," he remarked. + +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. + +"Very likely," was his sole reply. + +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. + +"May as well try to get a nap," he yawned. "There won't be much +chance on the steamer, if it blows like this." + +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. + +"What is the matter?" Mr. Dunster demanded. "Why are we waiting +here?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Why are we travelling like this?" he asked impatiently. "We shall +never catch the boat." + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster frowned. For the first time he showed some signs of +uneasiness. + +"Perhaps," he muttered, half to himself, "a motor-car would have been +better." + +"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." + +"There appears to be a chance," Mr. Dunster remarked drily, "that +you will have to scratch for your competition to-morrow." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"What are we going to do, then?" Mr. Dunster demanded. + +"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." + +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. + +"If I cannot get to Harwich," he asked, "is there any possibility +of keeping straight on and reaching Yarmouth?" + +The guard hesitated. + +"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." + +"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." + +"How far did you wish to go, sir?" the guard enquired. + +"To Yarmouth," Mr. Dunster replied firmly. "If there are bridges +down, and communication with Harwich is blocked, Yarmouth would +suit me better than anywhere." + +The guard shook his head. + +"I couldn't go on that way, sir, without instructions." + +"Is there a telegraph office at this station?" Mr. Dunster inquired. + +"We can speak anywhere on the line," the guard replied. + +"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." + +The guard hesitated. + +"It's a goodish way from here to Norwich," he observed, "and for +all we know--" + +"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." + +The guard raised his hat and departed without another word. + +"It will probably suit you better," Mr. Dunster continued, turning +to his companion, "to leave me at Ipswich and join the mail." + +The latter shook his head. + +"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!" + +"You live in this part of the world, then?" Mr. Dunster asked. + +The young man assented. Again there was a certain amount of +hesitation in his manner. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +They relapsed once more into silence. Presently the guard +reappeared. + +"Instructions to take you on to Yarmouth, if possible, sir," he +announced, "and to collect the mileage at our destination." + +"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. + +"Have you any idea where we are?" Mr. Dunster asked once. + +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. + +"I don't think we are far from Norwich. We passed Forncett, anyhow, +some time ago." + +"Still raining?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Off the rails!" the boy cried, springing to his feet. "Hold on +tightly, sir. I'd keep away from the window." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +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!" + +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. + +"My God!" he exclaimed. "Any one alive here?" + +"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." + +The porter caught hold of a piece of the wreckage with which to +steady himself. + +"Your train ran right into three feet of water," he answered. "The +rails had gone--torn up. The telegraph line's down." + +"Why didn't you stop the train?" + +"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?" + +"One gentleman travelling with me," Gerald answered. "We'd better +try to get him out. What about the guard and engine-driver?" + +"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." + +"Where are we?" + +"A few hundred yards from Wymondham. Let's have a look for the +other gentleman." + +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. + +"He's alive all right," the porter remarked. "There's a doctor on +the way. Let's cover him up quick and wait." + +"Can't we carry him to shelter of some sort?" Gerald proposed. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Perhaps there's a flask somewhere in this dressing-case," Gerald +said. "Lend me a knife." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"You're about done yourself, sir," he remarked. "Hold up." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I am all right," he declared. "Let's look after him." + +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. + +"It's all right now, sir!" he exclaimed. "They've brought blankets +and a stretcher and brandy. Here's a doctor, sir." + +A powerful-looking man, hatless, and wrapped in a great ulster, +moved towards them. + +"How many are there of you?" he asked, as he bent over Mr. Dunster. + +"Only we two," Gerald replied. "Is my friend badly hurt?" + +"Concussion," the doctor announced. "We'll take him to the village. +What about you, young man? Your face is bleeding, I see." + +"Just a cut," Gerald faltered; "nothing else." + +"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." + +They all staggered along, Gerald still clutching the dressing-case, +and supported on the other side by an excited and somewhat +incoherent villager. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +He glanced at the cut on Gerald's forehead, noted the access of +colour in his cheeks, and nodded. + +"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." + +He departed, and many of the villagers with him. The landlady sat +down and began to weep. + +"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!" + +"Judgment of the fiddlesticks!" her husband growled. "Can't you +light the fire, woman? What's the good of sitting there whining?" + +"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!" + +Her husband scoffed. He was dressed only in his shirt and trousers, +his hair rough, his braces hanging down behind. + +"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." + +"The Lord only knows!" she cried, wringing her hands. + +"Can I hire a motor-car from anywhere near?" Gerald asked. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"How far off is the garage?" he asked. + +"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." + +Gerald felt in his pocket and produced a sovereign. + +"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." + +"It's sound common sense," the woman declared. "Be off with you, +Richard." + +The man was looking at the coin covetously, but his wife pushed him +away. + +"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." + +"I'll be wet through," the man muttered. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +Gerald shivered ever so slightly. He drank the milk, however. He +felt that he might need his strength. + +"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." + +Gerald shook his head with an affectation of weariness. + +"I don't know," he replied. "I don't remember anything about it. +We were hours late, I think." + +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. + +"Sakes alive!" the woman muttered, as she looked down. "What does +he carry a thing like that for--in a peaceful country, too!" + +"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." + +He stooped down and withdrew it from the unconscious man's pocket. +He started as he discovered that it was loaded in every chamber. + +"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." + +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. + +"This 'ere is Mr. Martin's chaffer," he announced. "You can tell +him what you want yerself." + +Gerald turned almost eagerly towards the newcomer. + +"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?" + +The chauffeur looked doubtful. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I'm on," the young man agreed shortly. "It's an open car, you know." + +"It doesn't matter," Gerald replied. "I can stick it in front with +you, and we can cover--him up in the tonneau." + +"You'll wait until the doctor comes back?" the landlord asked. + +"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?" + +"It don't seem right, somehow," the man com plained doggedly. "The +doctor didn't say anything about having him moved." + +"You get the car," Gerald ordered the young man. "I'll take the +whole responsibility." + +The chauffeur silently left the room. Gerald put a couple of +sovereigns upon the mantelpiece. + +"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." + +The woman pocketed the two sovereigns. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Are you used to prayer, young sir?" the woman asked. + +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. + +"The Lord have mercy on this man, a sinner!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"My advice to you, sir, is to chuck it!" + +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. + +"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." + +"The doctor said he would remain in exactly the same condition for +twenty-four hours," Gerald declared. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Only seven miles," the chauffeur repeated more cheerfully. "That's +something, anyway." + +"And all downhill." + +"Towards the sea, then?" + +"Straight to the sea," Gerald told him. "The place we are making +for is St. David's Hall, near Salthouse." + +The chauffeur seemed a little startled. + +"Why, that's Squire Fentolin's house!" + +Gerald nodded. + +"That is where we are going. You follow this road almost straight +ahead." + +The chauffeur slipped in the clutch. + +"Oh, I know the way now, sir, right enough!" he exclaimed. "There's +Salthouse marsh to cross, though. I don't know about that." + +"We shall manage that all right," Gerald declared. "We've more +light now, too." + +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. + +"I don't like the look of the marsh," he grumbled. "Can't see the +road at all. However, here goes." + +"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." + +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. + +"My God!" he exclaimed. "Here's more trouble!" + +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. + +"There's St. David's Hall," he said, "on the other side of the +hill. The road seems all right." + +"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." + +His hand was already upon the reverse lever, but Gerald gripped it. + +"Look here," he protested, "we haven't come all this way to turn back. +You don't look like a coward." + +"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." + +"Naturally," Gerald answered calmly, "but remember this. I am +responsible for your car--not you. Mr. Fentolin is my uncle." + +The chauffeur nodded shortly. + +"You're Mr. Gerald Fentolin, aren't you, sir?" he remarked. "I +thought I recognised you." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +The chauffeur moved his head backwards. + +"How about him?" + +"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." + +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. + +"If the engine gets stopped," he said, "I don't know how we shall +get out of this." + +They emerged on the other side. For some time they had a clear run. +Then suddenly the driver clapped on his brakes. + +"My God!" he cried. "We can't get through that!" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"We're cut off!" the chauffeur exclaimed. "What a fool I was to +try this! There's the tide coming in as well!" + +Gerald sat down in his place. + +"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." + +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. + +"It's getting deeper," the man declared. "It's within an inch or +two of the bonnet now. Hold on." + +A wave broke almost over them but the engine continued its beat. + +"If we stop now," he gasped, "we're done!" + +The engine began to knock. + +"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." + +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. + +"I've got it!" he exclaimed, tugging hard. "It's a stone." + +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. + +"We've done it, all right!" he cried. "Don't you see? It's getting +lower all the time." + +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. + +"We're safe!" he almost sobbed. "There's the road, straight ahead +and round to the right. There's no more water anywhere near." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"It's all right," Gerald cried. "Let us through quickly, Foulds. +We've a gentleman in behind who's ill." + +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 hail door. Their coming had been observed, and +servants were already waiting. Gerald sprang to the ground. + +"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." + +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. + +"The master is awake," Henderson, the butler, remarked, dropping +his voice a little. + +Gerald nodded. + +"I will go to him at once," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded approvingly. + +"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." + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin spread out his hands. + +"Could one avoid the knowledge of it?" he asked. "Such a sight has +never been seen." + +"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." + +"An accident?" Mr. Fentolin exclaimed. + +Gerald nodded. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin sat quite silent. His eyes blinked once or twice, and +there was a curious curve about his lips. + +"You have done well, my boy," he pronounced slowly. "Your scheme +of bringing him here sounds a little primitive, but success +justifies everything." + +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. + +"Meekins," Mr. Fentolin said, "a visitor has arrived. Do you happen +to have noticed what luggage he brought?" + +"There is one small dressing-case, sir," the man replied; "nothing +else that I have seen." + +"That is all we brought," Gerald interposed. + +"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." + +Meekins closed the door and departed. Mr. Fentolin turned back +towards his nephew. + +"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?" + +"Tired, perhaps," Gerald answered shortly. "We were many hours in +the car. I have had no sleep." + +Mr. Fentolin's face was full of kindly sympathy. + +"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." + +"I'll go directly," Gerald promised. "Can I speak to you for one +moment first?" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"A terrible reflection, my dear boy," he admitted softly, "but, alas! +the finger of probability points that way." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin was shocked. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin leaned a little forward in his chair. + +"Gerald!" he said softly. + +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. + +"Gerald!" Mr. Fentolin repeated. + +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. + +"You're a little overwrought, Gerald," Mr. Fentolin declared. +"Sit quietly in my easy-chair for a few moments. Walt until I have +examined Mr. Dunster's belongings. Ah! Meekins has been prompt, +indeed." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Gerald rose to his feet. + +"What are you going to do about it?" he asked abruptly. "Do you +want any one in from the telegraph room?" + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head slowly. + +"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." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +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: + +"Where am I?" + +She felt his forehead, altered a bandage for a moment, and took his +wrist between her fingers. + +"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." + +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. + +"Please tell me where I am?" he begged. + +"You have been in a railway accident," the doctor told him, "and +you were brought here afterwards." + +"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?" + +"It is here by the side of your bed." + +"And my pocket-book?" + +"It is on your dressing-table." + +"Have any of my things been looked at?" + +"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." + +"When," Mr. Dunster enquired, "shall I be able to continue my +journey?" + +"That depends upon many things," the doctor replied. + +Mr. Dunster drank his beef tea and felt considerably stronger. His +head still ached, but his memory was returning. + +"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?" + +"Fentolin," the doctor said. "He is unhurt. This is his relative's +house to which you have been brought." + +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. + +"Whose house exactly is this?" he demanded. + +"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." + +"Can I send a telegram?" Mr. Dunster asked, a little abruptly. + +"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." + +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? + +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. + +"Can you tell me any date, Doctor, upon which I can rely upon +leaving here?" + +"You will probably be well enough to travel on the third day from +now," the doctor assured him. + +"The third day," Mr. Dunster muttered. "Very well." + +He wrote out three telegrams and passed them over. + +"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." + +"Is there anything more," the doctor asked, "that can be done for +your comfort?" + +"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?" + +Sarson shook his head. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster contemplated the speaker steadfastly. + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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 hail, 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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +His hand fell to his side. Momentarily he had finished his work. +He turned around and eyed the doctor, who stood in taciturn silence. + +"Answer. Answer me," he insisted. + +The doctor's gloomy face seemed darker still. + +"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. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. His face became almost like the face of one +of those angels of the great Italian master. + +"How well you know me!" he murmured. "My humble effort, Doctor +--how do you like it?" + +The doctor bent over the canvas. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin studied the canvas himself for a moment. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"You do not wish anything dispatched?" + +"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?" + +"He wants to get on with his journey." + +"We shall see," Mr. Fentolin remarked. "Now feel my pulse, Sarson. +How am I this morning?" + +The doctor held the thin wrist for a moment between his fingers, +and let it go. + +"In perfect health, as usual," he announced grimly. + +"Ah, but you cannot be sure!" Mr. Fentolin protested. "My tongue, +if you please." + +He put it out. + +"Excellent!" + +"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." + +The doctor made his examination with impassive face. Then he +stepped back. + +"There is no change in your condition, Mr. Fentolin," he announced. +"The palpitation you spoke of is a mistake. You are in perfect +health." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + +"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?" + +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." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed, as though a weight had been removed from his +heart. + +"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." + +The doctor turned silently away. There was no one there to see his +expression as he walked towards the door. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Think of you?" Hamel repeated, a little doubtfully. "Do you mean +personally?" + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"There's nothing seriously wrong, is there, Reggie?" he asked. + +"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." + +"Then these arrests," Hamel remarked, "are really bona fide?" + +"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." + +"A conference between whom?" Hamel asked. + +Kinsley dropped his voice almost to a whisper. + +"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." + +"And what will the end be?" Hamel enquired eagerly. + +Kinsley shrugged his shoulders and paused while their glasses were +filled with wine. + +"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!" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"And who is this singular person?" Hamel asked. + +"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." + +"Fentolin," Hamel repeated softly to himself. "Tell me, whereabouts +does he live?" + +"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." + +"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. + +Kinsley nodded. There was a slight flush upon his pallid cheeks. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Of course I do," Hamel insisted. "I'm on for anything." + +"You say that you are entirely your own master for the next six +months?" + +"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." + +Reginald Kinsley set down his wine-glass. + +"Is your St. David's Tower anywhere near a place called Salthouse?" +he asked reflectively. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Tired of me already?" Hamel asked, smiling. + +Reginald Kinsley knocked the ash from his cigarette. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I'll do my best," Hamel promised. "In any case, it will be just +the few days' holiday I was looking forward to." + +Kinsley helped himself to whisky and soda and turned towards his +friend. + +"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." + +"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." + +Kinsley smiled as he held his friend's hand for a moment. + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"So am I," he replied, still cheerfully. "I suppose the next +station is St. David's?" + +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. + +"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." + +She glanced out of the window. + +"The tide," she told him, "is almost at its lowest." + +"You live in this neighbourhood, perhaps?" he enquired. + +"I do," she assented. + +"Sort of country one might get very fond of," he ventured. + +She glanced at him from the depths of her grey eyes. + +"Do you think so?" she rejoined coldly. "For my part, I hate it." + +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. + +"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." + +She, too, was looking out now towards the sea. + +"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." + +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. + +"That seems hard," he observed sympathetically. "It seems odd to +hear you talk like that, too. Your life, surely, ought to be +pleasant enough." + +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. + +"Why ought it?" + +The question was a little bewildering. + +"Why, because you are young and a girl," he replied. "It's natural +to be cheerful, isn't it?" + +"Is it?" she answered listlessly. "I cannot tell. I have not had +much experience." + +"How old are you?" he asked bluntly. + +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. + +"I am twenty-one," she told him. + +"And how long have you lived here?" + +"Since I left boarding-school, four years ago." + +"Anywhere near where I am going to bury myself for a time, I wonder?" +he went on. + +"That depends," she replied. "Our only neighbours are the +Lorneybrookes of Market Burnham. Are you going there?" + +He shook his head. + +"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." + +She vouchsafed some slight show of curiosity. + +"Where is this shanty, as you call it?" she asked him. + +"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." + +She was gazing at him steadfastly now, with parted lips. + +"What is your name?" she demanded. + +"Richard Hamel." + +"Hamel." + +She repeated it lingeringly. It seemed quite unfamiliar. + +"Was your father a great friend of Mr. Fentolin's, then?" she asked. + +"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." + +"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?" + +He smiled. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"What for?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I do not understand," she said, "how you can possibly expect to +come down like this and live there, without any preparation." + +"Why not?" + +"You haven't any servants nor any furniture nor things to cook with." + +He laughed. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Really!" she murmured. + +"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." + +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. + +"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. + +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. + +"That," she said, "is the Tower." + +He changed his position and leaned out of the window. + +"Well, it's a queer little place," he remarked. "It doesn't look +worth quarrelling over, does it?" + +"And that," she went on, directing his attention to the hill, "is +Mr. Fentolin's home, St. David's Hall." + +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. + +"I never saw anything like it," he declared. "Why, it's barely a +quarter of a mile from the sea, isn't it?" + +"A little more than that. It is a strangely situated abode, isn't +it?" + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"We shall, perhaps, meet again during the next few days," he +remarked. + +She half turned her head. Her expression was scarcely encouraging. + +"I hope," she said, "that you will not be disappointed in your +quarters." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Sit down, Lucy," he ordered. + +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 her head slightly. + +"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." + +She looked at him, still without speech. The immobility of her +face was indeed a marvellous thing. Mr. Fentolin's expression +darkened. + +"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." + +She turned over a few pages of her notebook. To all appearance +she had not heard a word. + +"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?" + +"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." + +She wrote a few words in her book. + +"You made a note of that?" + +She raised her head. + +"I do not make mistakes," she said. + +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. + +"You know who is in this house?" he asked. "You know the name of +my unknown guest?" + +"I know nothing," she replied. "His presence does not interest me." + +"Supposing I desire you to know?" he persisted, leaning a little +forward. "Supposing I tell you that it is your duty to know?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"It is not difficult," she replied. "Your methods are scarcely +original. His mandate to the flames, and his body to the sea!" + +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. + +"It does not terrify you, then," he asked curiously, "to think that +a man under this roof is about to die?" + +"Why should it?" she retorted. "Death does not frighten me--my +own or anybody else's. Does it frighten you?" + +His face was suddenly livid, his eyes full of fierce anger. His +lips twitched. He struck the table before him. + +"Beast of a woman!" he shouted. "You ghoul! How dare you! How +dare you--" + +He stopped short. He passed his hand across his forehead. All the +time the woman remained unmoved. + +"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." + + "Yes," she admitted, "I was a different sort of woman." + +"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?" + +"No," she answered, "I do not remember those days. They do not +belong to me. It is some other woman you are thinking of." + + +Their eyes met. Mr. Fentolin turned away first. He struck the +bell at his elbow. She rose at once. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Doctor Sarson is to go to Mr. Fentolin." + +Mr. Fentolin sat quite still, feeling his own pulse. + +"That woman," he muttered to himself, "that--woman--some day I +shouldn't be surprised if she really--" + +He paused. The doctor had entered the room. + +"I am upset, Sarson," he declared. "Come and feel my pulse quickly. +That woman has upset me." + +"Miss Price?" + +"Miss Price, d-n it! Lucy--yes!" + +"It seems unlike her," the doctor remarked. "I have never heard her +utter a useless syllable in my life." + +Mr. Fentolin held out his wrist. + +"It's what she doesn't say," he muttered. + +The doctor produced his watch. In less than a minute he put it +away. + +"This is quite unnecessary," he pronounced. "Your pulse is +wonderful." + +"Not hurried? No signs of palpitation?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin leaned a little back in his chair. An expression of +satisfaction crept over his face. + +"You reassure me, my dear Sarson. That is excellent. What of our +patient?" + +"There is no change." + +"I am afraid," Mr. Fentolin sighed, "that we shall have trouble +with him. These strong people always give trouble." + +"It will be just the same in the long run," the doctor remarked, +shrugging his shoulders. + +Mr. Fentolin held up his finger. + +"Listen! A motor-car, I believe?" + +"It is Miss Fentolin who is just arriving," the doctor announced. +"I saw the car coming as I crossed the hall." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded gently. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +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. + +"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." + +"I have not been in the house two minutes," Esther replied, "and I +haven't seen mother yet. Forgive me." + +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. + +"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." + +"For more than a week," she repeated, under her breath. + +"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?" + +"I have no news," she answered, gradually recovering herself. + +"The gaieties of London, I fear," he protested gently, "have proved +a little unsettling." + +"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." + +"My dear child, you would not go about London unchaperoned!" + +"There is a difference," she retorted, "between a chaperon and a +jailer." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. He shook his head slowly. He seemed pained. + +"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." + +"I cannot say that I am glad to hear it," Esther replied quietly. + +Mr. Fentolin sat back in his chair. His long fingers played +nervously together, he looked at her gravely. + +"My dear child," he exclaimed, in a tone of pained surprise, "your +attitude distresses me!" + +"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." + +"The same as ever," Mr. Fentolin sighed. "I fear that this little +change has done you no good, dear niece." + +"Change!" she echoed. "It was only a change of prisons." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head slowly--a distressful gesture. Yet +all the time he had somehow the air of a man secretly gratified. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin tapped the table thoughtfully with his forefinger. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded gently. + +"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." + +"He wrote because he thought it was his duty," the boy said doggedly. + +"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?" + +"Six feet two, sir." + +"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." + +"All the more reason for me to hurry," the boy begged. + +Mr. Fentolin closed his eyes. + +"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." + +"I play cricket, sir," the boy reminded him, a little impatiently, +"and, after all, there are other things in the world besides games." + +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. + +"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?" + +The boy was paler, but he had drawn himself to his full height. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Doctor Sarson bowed to Esther, who scarcely glanced at him. He +remained in the background, quietly waiting. + +"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." + +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. + +"Something," she whispered in his ear, "is going to happen there." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +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. + +"Which way to the sea?" Hamel asked. + +The man pointed to the white gates of the crossing. + +"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." + +"This will do for me," Hamel replied cheerfully. + +"Be careful of the dikes," the station-master advised him. "Some +of them are pretty deep." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"And who might you be, gentleman?" + +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. + +"I am just a visitor," he replied. "Who are you?" + +She shook her head. + +"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." + +"Why brave?" he asked. + +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. + +"He's looking at you," she muttered. "He don't like strangers +poking around here, that I can tell you." + +"And who is he?" Hamel enquired. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I mind him," the woman said slowly. "His name was Hamel." + +"I am his son," Hamel announced. + +She pointed to the Hall. "Does he know that you are here?" + +Hamel shook his head. "Not yet. I have been abroad for so long." + +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. + +"Tell me," Hamel asked gently, "why do you come out here alone, so +far from the village?" + +She pointed with her finger to where the waves were breaking in a +thin line of white, about fifty yards from the beach. + +"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." + +Hamel looked at her curiously. Her voice had grown lower and lower. + +"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!" + +She clutched his arm. + +"Couldn't you hear that?" she half whispered. + +"'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. + +"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!" + +"They were wrecked?" he asked her gently. + +"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!" + +She turned away. Her lips were moving all the time. She walked +about a dozen steps, and then she returned. + +"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." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +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. + +"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." + +Hamel nodded. + +"I not only tried but I succeeded," he remarked. "I got in through +the window." + +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. + +"May I ask for your explanation or your excuse?" + +"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." + +"What is your name?" Mr. Fentolin asked suddenly. + +"My name is Hamel--Richard Hamel." + +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. + +"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." + +"I am his son." + +"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." + +Hamel knocked the ashes from his pipe. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"You have been making use of this little shanty, haven't you?" he +asked bluntly. + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. He was apparently beginning to recover +himself. + +"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." + +"It is a strange coast," Hamel admitted. + +Mr. Fentolin pointed with his forefinger northwards. + +"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?" + +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. + +"I have had a light fixed there for the benefit or 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." + +"Very kind of you indeed," Hamel remarked, "very benevolent." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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?" + +"She spoke to me strangely," Hamel admitted. "She gave me the +impression of a woman whose brain had been turned with grief." + +"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?" + +"She spoke of you as being a very kind-hearted man." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded slowly. He moistened his lips for a moment. +One might have imagined that he was anxious. + +"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." + +Hamel frowned slightly. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin leaned a little out of his carriage. He reached the +younger man's shoulder with his hand. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"You are really very kind," he began hesitatingly--. + +"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?" + +Hamel shook his head. + +"An electrical bath-chair," Mr. Fentolin continued. "Practice has +made me remarkably skilful in its manipulation. You see, I can +steer to an inch." + +He was already turning around. Hamel rose to his feet. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin was manoeuvring his carriage. His back was towards +Hamel. + +"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." + +He paused suddenly. He felt in all his pockets. + +"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." + +"It is a great affliction," Hamel murmured sympathetically. + +"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?" + +"Not in the least," Hamel replied. "I have been out of England too +long to keep in touch with politics." + +"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." + +"In America," Hamel remarked, "they affect to look upon England as +a doomed Power." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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 hail, which seemed more imposing than ever by reason +of this unexpected entrance. Hamel, blinking a little, stepped to +his side. + +"Welcome!" Mr. Fentolin cried gaily. "Welcome, my friend Mr. Hamel, +to St. David's Hall!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +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. + +"Mr. Fentolin will be glad if you will step into his room, sir," he +announced, leading the way. + +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. + +"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." + +Hamel accepted a quaintly-cut wine-glass full of the amber liquid. +Mr. Fentolin sipped his with the air of a connoisseur. + +"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." + +Hamel bowed. + +"It is very kind of Mrs. Fentolin," he murmured. + +"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." + +Hamel shook his head. + +"Only in the abstract, I fear," he answered. "I have scarcely +opened a serious book since I was at Oxford." + +"What was your year?" Mr. Fentolin asked. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded appreciatively. + +"A magnificent profession," he murmured. "A healthy one, too, I +should judge from your appearance. You are a strong man, Mr. Hamel." + +"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." + +"You are going back there?" Mr. Fentolin asked, with interest. + +Hamel shook his head. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +She held out her hand with the faintest possible smile, which might +have been of greeting or recognition. + +"I travelled for some distance in the train with Mr. Hamel this +afternoon, I think," she remarked. + +"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?" + +He watched them keenly. Hamel, though he scarcely understood, was +quick to appreciate the possible significance of that tentative +question. + +"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?" + +"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." + +The sound of the dinner gong boomed through the house. A moment +later Gerald entered, followed by a butler announcing dinner. + +"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." + +Gerald shook hands with his visitor. His face, for a moment, +lighted up. He was looking pale, though, and singularly sullen +and dejected. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"But for your interest and consequent trespass," Hamel remarked, "I +should probably have found the roof off and the whole place in ruins." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"I am tired, sir," the boy answered quietly. + +Mr. Fentolin nodded gravely. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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--" + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin backed his little chair from the table. The doctor +came over and laid his hand upon the handle. + +"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." + +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. + +"Are you a brave man, Mr. Hamel?" she asked. + +He was staggered but he answered her promptly. + +"I believe so." + +"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!" + +The earnestness of her words was unmistakable. Hamel felt the +thrill of coming events. + +"Why not?" + +"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!" + +The door had been noiselessly opened. The doctor appeared and +advanced to the table with a grave little bow. + +"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." + +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. + +Nevertheless, his voice, when he spoke, was clear and +firm. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +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. + +"If there is any trouble," he whispered, "send for me. I am better +away, for the present. My presence only excites him." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +"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." + +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. + +"So you've come at last!" he exclaimed, a little truculently. "Are +you Mr. Fentolin?" + +Mr. Fentolin gravely admitted his identity. His eyes rested upon +his guest with an air of tender interest. His face was almost +beautiful. + +"You are the owner of this house--I am underneath your roof--is +that so?" + +"This is certainly St. David's Hall," Mr. Fentolin replied. "It +really appears as though your conclusions were correct." + +"Then will you tell me why I am kept a prisoner here?" + +Mr. Fentolin's expression was for a moment clouded. He seemed hurt. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled reassuringly. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Am I to understand that they are to be restored to me, then?" Mr. +Dunster demanded. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head very gently, very regretfully, but also +firmly. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster seemed, for a moment, to struggle for composure. + +"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. + +"In the present case I decline to follow it. I ask for facilities +to leave this house at once." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"In your own interests," he said calmly, "they will not be granted +to you." + +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. + +"Will not be granted to me?" he repeated. "Do you mean to say, +then, that I am to be kept here against my will?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +"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." + +"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." + +"A few days' rest--" Mr. Fentolin began. + +"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." + +"You are very mysterious," Mr. Fentolin murmured. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin turned to Meekins. + +"You can leave the room for a moment," he ordered. "Wait upon the +threshold." + +Meekins very unwillingly turned to obey. + +"You will excuse me, sir," he objected doubtfully, "but I am not at +all sure that he is safe." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled faintly. + +"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." + +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. + +"Now, Mr. Dunster," he said softly, "you can speak to me without +reserve." + +Mr. Dunster dropped his voice. His tone became one of fierce +eagerness. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head in gentle disbelief. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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 hack 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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +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. + +"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." + +"Have you had any outside advice about his condition?" Hamel +inquired. + +Mr. Fentolin glanced across those few feet of space and looked at +Hamel with swift suspicion. + +"Why should I?" he asked. "Doctor Sarson is fully qualified, and +the case seems to present no unusual characteristics." + +Hamel sipped his brandy thoughtfully. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shrugged his shoulders. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Hamel was a little taken aback. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin had lit a cigarette and was watching the blue smoke +curl upwards to the ceiling. + +"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?" + +"I don't think I shall need that," Hamel admitted, a little +hesitatingly. + +"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?" + +"Not in the least," Hamel replied. "Tell me, what direction do your +inventions take, Mr. Fentolin?" + +"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." + +"To be quite frank," Hamel declared bluntly, "I should like to talk +to your niece." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled as though amused. His amusement, however, +was perfectly good-natured. + +"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." + +Hamel crossed the hail, 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. + +"I have just left your uncle," Hamel said. "He told me that I might +come in here." + +"Yes?" she murmured. + +"He was very hospitable," Hamel continued. "He wanted me to remain +here as a guest and not go to the Tower at all." + +"And you?" + +"I am going to the Tower," he said. "I am going there to-morrow +or the day after." + +The music swelled beneath her fingers. + +"For how long?" + +"For a week or so. I am just giving your uncle time to clear out +his belongings. I am leaving him the outhouse." + +"He asked you to leave him that?" she whispered. + +"Yes!" + +"You are not going in there at all?" + +"Not at all." + +Again she played a little more loudly for a few moments. Then the +music died away once more. + +"What reason did he give for keeping possession of that?" + +"Another hobby," Hamel replied. "He is an inventor, it seems. He +has the model of something there; he would not tell me what." + +She shivered a little, and her music drifted away. She bent over +the keys, her face hidden from him. + +"You will not go away just yet?" she asked softly. "You are going +to stay for a few days, at any rate?" + +"Without a doubt," he assured her. "I am altogether my own master." + +"Thank God," she murmured. + +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. + +"Do you know that this is all rather mysterious?" he said calmly. + +"What is mysterious?" she demanded. + +"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." + +"We live here, both of us," she told him. "He is our guardian." + +"Naturally," Hamel replied, "and yet, it may have been my fancy, of +course, but at dinnertime I seemed to get a queer impression." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Come out on to the terrace," she invited. "You are not afraid of +cold?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"I have heard so," he replied gravely. + +She clutched at his arm. + +"Come," she said. + +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. + +"This way," she directed. "Be careful." + +They walked to the very edge of the palisading. It was scarcely +more than a couple of feet high. She pointed downwards. + +"Can you see?" she whispered. + +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. + +"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." + +"What accident?" + +"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." + +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. + +"What a horrible thing!" he exclaimed. + +"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!" + +"By whom?" he asked. + +She clung to his arm for a moment. + +"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." + +"That, at any rate, was fine of him," Hamel declared. + +She shivered. + +"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!" + +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. + +"I am afraid of him all the time," she murmured. "He seems to +overhear everything--he or his creatures. Listen!" + +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. + +"You are telling me half," he said. "Tell me everything. Who +threw your uncle over the parapet?" + +She stood by his side, motionless and trembling. + +"It was the passion of a moment," she said at last, speaking +hoarsely. "I cannot tell you. Listen! Listen!" + +"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." + +She suddenly clutched his hand. There was nothing of affection in +her touch, and yet he felt a thrill of delight. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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!" + +She was already round the corner and on her way to the main terrace. +He followed her closely. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +"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?" + +"That is all very well for you," she retorted, smiling, "but I have +topped my drive." + +"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." + +She played her shot, and they walked for a little way together. +She was suddenly silent. + +"Do you know," she said finally, just a little gravely, "I am not +at all used to speeches of this sort." + +"Then you ought to be," he declared. "Nothing but the lonely life +you have been living has kept you from hearing them continually." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Of course," he went on, "I knew that these links were good--quite +famous, aren't they?" + +"I have played on so few others," she told him. "I learned my golf +here with King, the professional." + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"So far," she admitted, "you haven't been altogether unsuccessful." + +"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." + +"I am not at all sure that you have known me long enough to tell +me what colours suit me," she demurred. + +"Then what will you say," he enquired, "if I admire the angle of +that quill in your hat?" + +"Don't do it," she laughed. "If you continue like this, I may have +to go home." + +"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." + +"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." + +They moved off presently to the next teeing ground. + +"I don't believe this nonsense is good for our golf," she said. + +"It is immensely good for us as human beings," he protested. + +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. + +"I am beginning to understand what there is about this coast which +fascinated my father so," he remarked. + +"Are you?" she answered gravely. "Years ago I used to love it, but +not now." + +He tried to change the subject, but the gloom had settled upon her +face once more. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Ah, you mustn't talk like that!" he pleaded. "Do you know what +you make me feel like?" + +She came back from the world of her own unhappy imaginings. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +She smiled. + +"Doubtless your long absence abroad," she began slowly, "has +affected your game." + +"I was round in eighty-one," he grumbled. + +"You must have travelled in many countries," she continued, "where +golf was an impossibility." + +"Naturally," he admitted. "Let us stay and have lunch and try +again." + +She shook her head with a little sigh of regret. + +"You see, the car is waiting," she pointed out. "We are expected +home. I shan't be a minute putting my clubs away." + +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. + +"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." + +She nodded. + +"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?" + +"Not carefully," he told her. + +"You must before you leave," she insisted. "Mr. Fentolin is a great +judge, and so was his father." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"That is to show them the way in at night, isn't it?" he asked. + +She nodded. + +"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." + +"It doesn't seem a dangerous beach," he remarked. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Your uncle has been here this morning," he remarked quietly. + +"Very likely." + +"That outhouse," he continued, "must be quite a large place. Have +you any idea what it is he works upon there?" + +"None," she answered. + +He looked around him once more. + +"Mr. Fentolin has been preparing for my coming," he observed. "I +see that he has moved a few of his personal things." + +She made no reply, only she shivered a little as she stepped back +into the sunshine. + +"I don't believe you like my little domicile," he remarked, as they +started off homeward. + +"I don't," she admitted curtly. + +"In the train," he reminded her, "you seemed rather to discourage +my coming here. Yet last night, after dinner--" + +"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." + +"Make any difference to what?" + + +"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--" + +"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?" + +"If he will let me," she promised. + +"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." + +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. + +"This came for you," he remarked, handing it to Hamel. "I met the +boy bringing it out of the office." + +Hamel tore it open, with a word of thanks. Gerald stood in front +of him as he read. + +"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." + +Hamel did not speak for a moment. He was looking at the few words +scrawled across the pink sheet with a heavy black pencil: + + "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." + +Hamel crumpled up the telegram and thrust it into his pocket. + +"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?" + +Gerald hesitated for a moment. Then he answered as though a species +of recklessness had seized him. + +"He called himself Mr. John P. Dunster." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin laid his pen deliberately down. + +"So soon," he murmured. "Very well, Sarson, I am at his service. + Say that I will come at once." + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster looked at the speaker curiously. + +"And what might my profession be, Mr. Fentolin?" he asked. "You +seem to know a great deal about me." + +"It is true," Mr. Fentolin admitted. "I do know a great deal." + +Mr. Dunster knocked the ash from his cigar. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin smiled queerly. + +"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." + +"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." + +"There, you speak with some show of reason. I have a nephew whom +you have met, who is devoted to me." + +"Mr. Gerald Fentolin," Mr. Dunster remarked drily. + +"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." + +"I could," Mr. Dunster muttered, "very easily!" + +Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + +"Perhaps our points of view might differ." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster held his cigar a little way off and looked steadfastly +at his host for a moment. "So you have interpreted my cipher?" + +Mr. Fentolin spread out the palms of his hands in a delicate gesture. + +"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." + +"I gather," Mr. Dunster went on, although his cigar was burning +itself out, "that you have broken the seal of my dispatches?" + +Mr. Fentolin closed his eyes as though he had heard a discord. + +"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." + +"And if I give you that one word?" Mr. Dunster asked. + +"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." + +"And in that case," Mr. Dunster enquired, "what would become of me?" + +"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." + +"And the dispatch which I am carrying to The Hague?" + +"Would remain here with you." + +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. + +"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?" + +"I am an Englishman," Mr. Fentolin confessed "or rather," he added, +with ghastly humour, "I am half an Englishman." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Or you may," Mr. Dunster suggested, glancing keenly at his host, +"be the paid agent of some foreign Power." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster was still mystified. + +"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. + +"In time," Mr. Fentolin observed, "even that may become clear to +you. At present, well--just that word, if you please?" + +Mr. Dunster shook his head. + +"No," he decided, "I do not think so. I cannot make up my mind to +tell you that word." + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster laughed a little derisively. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled, very slightly, still very blandly. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster was obviously plentifully supplied with either courage +or bravado, for he only laughed. + +"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. + +Mr. Fentolin sat very quietly in his chair. + +"You mean, then," he asked, "that you do not intend to humour me in +this little matter?" + +"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." + +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. + +"The end of your journey," he said grimly, "may be nearer than you +think." + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster beat lightly with his square, blunt forefinger upon the +table which stood by his side. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin held his hand in front of his eyes, as though to shut +out some unwelcome vision. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster smoked in silence for a few minutes. + +"I am very comfortable here," he remarked. + +"You delight me," Mr. Fentolin murmured. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin listened attentively. + +"Do not forget," he said, "that there is always a limit fixed, +whether it be one day, two days, or three days." + +"A limit to your complacence, I presume?" + +Mr. Fentolin assented. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin's eyes grew suddenly a little brighter. There was a +light upon his face strange to witness. + +"The power which is to be the gainer," he said quietly, "is the +power encompassed by these walls," + +He touched his chest; his long, slim fingers were folded upon it. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"I wonder," Mr. Dunster muttered under his breath, "whether you are +in earnest." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Excellent reasoning," Fentolin agreed. "For the very reasons you +name that word will be given." + +Mr. Dunster's face was momentarily troubled. There was something in +the still, cold emphasis of this man's voice which made him shiver. + +"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." + +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. + +"You seem to be in earnest," he muttered. + +"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!" + +"I am not sure," Mr. Dunster said slowly, "that I ought not to +wring your neck." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. His chair receded an inch or two. There was +never a time when his expression had seemed more seraphic. + +"There is no emergency of that sort," he remarked, "for which I am +not prepared." + +His little revolver gleamed for a minute beneath his cuff. He +backed his chair slowly and with wonderful skill towards the door. + +"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!" + +The door opened and closed. Mr. Dunster sat staring into the open +space like a man still a little dazed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +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. + +"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." + +Lady Saxthorpe, who had been engaged in greeting +Esther, held out her hand and smiled good-humouredly at Hamel. + +"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?" + +"Not at all," Hamel answered. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"And," Mr. Fentolin continued, "you must know my young friend here, +too. Mr. Hamel--Lord Saxthorpe." + +The latter shook hands heartily with the young man. + +"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." + +"You are very kind," Hamel murmured. + +"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?" + +"Mr. Hamel plays very well, indeed," the girl replied. + +"Your niece was too good for me," Hamel confessed. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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." + +"I do see it," Lady Saxthorpe murmured. "What eyes you have, Mr. +Fentolin! What perception for colour!" + +"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." + +"I pity you no longer," Lady Saxthorpe asserted fervently. "The +eyes of the artist are a finer possession than the limbs of the +athlete." + +The butler announced luncheon, and they all trooped in. Hamel +found himself next to Lady Saxthorpe. + +"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?" + +Hamel wondered politely. Lady Saxthorpe continued with an air of +triumph. + +"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." + +"What was his excuse?" Hamel asked. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin looked suddenly down the table. He was some distance +away, but his hearing was wonderful. + +"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?" + +His sister-in-law, who was seated at the other end of the table, +looked across at him with a bright but stereotyped smile. + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"The coincidence of your question," Mr. Fentolin said smoothly, "is +certainly a strange one. The mysterious stranger is within our +gates." + +Lady Saxthorpe, who had been out of the conversation for far too +long, laid down her knife and fork. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Lady Saxthorpe shivered. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"You don't really think," Lady Saxthorpe asked, "that there is any +fear of war, do you, Mr. Fentolin?" + +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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"And now?" she asked. "What use do you make of them now?" + +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. + +"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." + +Lord Saxthorpe came strolling up to them. + +"You won't forget to telephone about this guest of yours?" he +asked fussily. + +"It is already done," Mr. Fentolin assured him. "My dear sister, +why so silent?" + +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. + +"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." + +She strolled off, humming a tune to herself. Lord Saxthorpe watched +her with a shadow upon his plain, good-humoured face. + +"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?" + +"Eight years," Mr. Fentolin replied. "It was just six months after +my own accident." + +"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." + +"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--" + +He stopped short. + +"And yet?" Lady Saxthorpe repeated interrogatively. + +Mr. Fentolin was watching Gerald drive golf balls from the lawn +beneath. He pointed downwards. + +"I was like that when I was his age," he said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +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. + +"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?" + +"Yes, sir, I do!" Gerald replied, with unexpected grimness. "I +feel my responsibility deeply." + +Mr. Fentolin, who was holding the telescope to his eye, touched +Hamel on the shoulder. + +"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?" + +Hamel held the telescope to his eye and steadied it upon the little +tripod stand. + +"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?" + +"Two," Hamel answered. "I can see them distinctly now. One man is +driving, another is sitting by his side. They are coming this way." + +Mr. Fentolin blew his whistle. Meekins appeared almost directly. +His master whispered a word in his ear. The man at once departed. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed gently. + +"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." + +Gerald rose impatiently to his feet and swung across the terrace. +Mr. Fentolin, however, called him back. + +"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." + +"Shall I tell him, too--" Gerald began. + +"Be careful, Gerald." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Mr. Fentolin would like to speak to you, inspector," he said, "if +you will come this way." + +The inspector followed Gerald and saluted the little group solemnly. +Mr. Fentolin held out his hand. + +"You got my telephone message, inspector?" he asked. + +"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." + +"Quite so," Mr. Fentolin assented. "You've come over, I presume, +to make enquiries concerning Mr. John P. Dunster?" + +"That is the name of the gentleman, sir." + +"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?" + +"My first duty, sir," the inspector pronounced, "is to see the +gentleman in question." + +"By all means," Mr. Fentolin agreed. "Gerald, will you take the +inspector up to Mr. Dunster's rooms? Or stop, I will go myself." + +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. + +"How is the patient?" Mr. Fentolin enquired. + +Doctor Sarson appeared from the interior of the room. + +"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." + +"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." + +Doctor Sarson bowed. + +"That is quite simple, sir," he said. "Please step in." + +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. + +"Is he asleep?" he asked. + +The doctor shook his head. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin touched the inspector on the arm. + +"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." + +"I am quite satisfied, sir," the inspector announced. "I will not +intrude any further." + +They left the room. Mr. Fentolin himself escorted the inspector +into the library and ordered whisky and cigars. + +"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?" + +"We had a very important enquiry indeed, sir," the inspector replied. +"I have instructions to telegraph all I have been able to discover, +immediately." + +"Pardon my putting it plainly," Mr. Fentolin asked, "but is our +friend a criminal?" + +"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." + +"Not a criminal at all?" + +"Not as I know of," the inspector assented. +"That isn't the way I read the enquiries at all." + +"You relieve me," Mr. Fentolin declared. "Now what about his +possessions?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"My dear Florence," he asked, "where are the others?" + +"Mr. Hamel and Esther have gone for a walk," she answered. "Gerald +has disappeared somewhere. Has anything--is everything all right?" + +"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." + +"Unconscious," Mrs. Fentolin repeated. "I thought that he was +better." + +"One is always subject to those slight relapses in an affair of +concussion," Mr. Fentolin explained. + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Not particularly." + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin laughed softly, a little contemptuously. + +"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." + +She took up her knitting again. Her eyes were fixed upon the +sky-line. Twice she opened her lips, but twice no words came. + +"You understand?" he whispered. "You begin to understand, don't +you?" + +She looked at him only for a moment and back at her work. + +"I suppose so," she sighed. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +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. + +"Did you hear that cry?" he whispered. + +Gerald nodded. + +"It woke me up. What do you suppose it was?" Hamel shook his head. + +"Some one in pain," he replied. "I don't understand it. It came +from this room." + +"You know who sleeps there?" Gerald asked hoarsely. + +Hamel nodded. + +"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!" + +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. + +"We both heard the same sound, Meekins. Is any one ill? It sounded +like some one in pain." + +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. + +"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." + +Notwithstanding this very plausible explanation, Hamel was conscious +of the remains of an uneasiness which he scarcely knew how to put +into words. + +"It was a most distressing cry," he observed doubtfully, "a cry of +fear as well as of pain." + +"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." + +Hamel neither felt nor showed any disposition to depart. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin showed no signs of displeasure. He was silent for a +moment, as though considering the matter. + +"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." + +"I think it would be advisable," Hamel agreed. + +"Good night!" Mr. Fentolin said once more. "I am sorry that your +rest has been disturbed." + +Hamel, however, still refused to take the hint. His eyes were fixed +upon that closed door. + +"Mr. Fentolin," he asked, "have you any objection to my seeing Mr. +Dunster?" + +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. + +"There is no reason, Mr. Hamel," he said, "why your curiosity should +not be gratified. Knock softly at the door, Gerald." + +The boy obeyed. In a moment or two Doctor Sarson appeared on the +threshold. + +"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." + +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. + +"Gerald!" + +The boy stood still, trembling, speechless. Mr. Fentolin's eyes +were riveted upon him. The doctor was standing, still and dark, a +motionless image. + +"Is he asleep?" Hamel asked. + +"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." + +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. + +"He doesn't look like getting up for a good many days to come," +Hamel observed. + +The doctor led the way towards the door. + +"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." + +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. + +"May I come in for a moment, please?" he whispered. + +Hamel nodded. + +"With pleasure! Come in and have a cigarette if you will. I shan't +feel like sleep for some time." + +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. + +"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." + +The boy was sitting with folded arms. His expression was one of +deep gloom. + +"I only wish I'd never brought him here," he muttered. "I ought +to have known better." + +Hamel raised his eyebrows. "Isn't he as well off here as anywhere +else?" + +"Do you think that he is?" Gerald demanded, looking across at Hamel. + +There was a brief silence. + +"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." + +"Do you really believe that?" Gerald asked. + +Hamel rose to his feet. + +"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." + +"Go on." + +"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." + +"Thank God!" the boy murmured. + +"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." + +"You say that because you don't know," Gerald declared bitterly. + +"In a sense I don't," Hamel admitted, "and yet your sister hinted +to me only this afternoon that you and she--" + +"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!" + +Gerald's face was white with pain. Hamel laid his hand upon his +shoulder. + +"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." + +"Have you talked to my sister like that?" Gerald asked eagerly. + +"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." + +"God knows we need one!" the boy said simply. "Good night!" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +"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." + +Esther made a little grimace. + +"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." + +Hamel sighed as he returned to his place. + +"My good intentions are already half dissipated," he admitted. + +She laughed. + +"How can we attack the other half?" she asked. + +Gerald, who was also on his way to the sideboard, suddenly stopped. + +"Hullo!" he exclaimed, looking out of the window. "Who's going +away this morning, I wonder? There's the Rolls-Royce at the door." + +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. + +"Uncle!" Gerald exclaimed. + +Mr. Fentolin glanced keenly around the room. + +"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." + +"You mean that he is going?" Hamel asked incredulously. + +"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!" + +Neither Hamel nor Gerald had resumed their places. The former, +after a moment's hesitation, turned towards the door. + +"I think," he said, "that I should like to see the last of Mr. +Dunster." + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"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." + +They helped him into the car. Hamel and Gerald stood under the +great stone portico, watching. + +"Well, I'm jiggered!" the boy exclaimed, under his breath. + +Hamel was watching the proceedings with a puzzled frown. To his +surprise, neither Doctor Sarson nor Meekins were accompanying the +departing man. + +"He's off, right enough," Hamel declared, as the car glided away. +"Do you understand it? I don't." + +Gerald did not speak for several moments. His eyes were still fixed +upon the back of the disappearing car. Then he turned towards Hamel. + +"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." + +"And me," Hamel admitted, watching the car until it became a speck +in the distance. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"I had thought of commencing some reading I brought with me," Hamel +replied, "but Miss Esther has challenged me to another game of golf." + +"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?" + +"I haven't made up my mind yet, sir," the boy replied. + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"Always that lack of initiative," he remarked. "A lack of initiative +is one of your worst faults, I am afraid, dear Gerald." + +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. + +"I rather thought," he said, "of going into Norwich, if you could +spare me. Captain Holt has asked me to lunch at the Barracks." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head gently. + +"It is most unfortunate," he declared. "I have a commission for +you later in the day." + +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. + +"Lieutenant Godfrey, sir," he announced. + +They all looked up. A trim, clean-shaven, hard-featured young man +in naval uniform was standing upon the threshold. He bowed to +Esther. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin smiled genially. + +"We are delighted to see you, Lieutenant Godfrey," he said. "Have +some breakfast." + +"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." + +"Haul down my wireless," Mr. Fentolin repeated slowly. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin seemed puzzled. + +"But, my dear sir," he protested, "we are not at war, are we?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin halted his chair by the side of the bell, and rang it. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin left the room. Lieutenant Godfrey was already +attacking his breakfast. Gerald leaned towards him eagerly. + +"Is there really going to be war?" he demanded. + +"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?" + +"It's a fad of my uncle's," Gerald replied. "Since his accident he +amuses himself in all sorts of queer ways." + +Lieutenant Godfrey nodded. + +"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?" + +"Rather!" Gerald answered. "The Fentolins have lived here for +hundreds of years. Why do you ask that?" + +Lieutenant Godfrey hesitated. He looked, for the moment, scarcely +at his ease. + +"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?" + +"About forty minutes," Gerald told him, "if your car's any good at +all." + +"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. + +"Hope I shall be before long," Gerald answered. "I'm going into the +army, though." + +"Have to hurry up, won't you?" + +Gerald sighed. + +"It's a little difficult for me. Here's your car. Good luck to you!" + +"My excuses to Mr. Fentolin," Lieutenant Godfrey shouted, "and many +thanks." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +Gerald closed the door behind him and summoned up all his courage. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +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. + +"Close that door, Gerald." + +The boy obeyed. Mr. Fentolin waited until he had turned around +again. + +"Come and stand over here by the side of the table," he directed. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"You heard the message, then?" + +"I did." + +"You listened--at the keyhole?" + +"I listened outside," Gerald assented doggedly. "I am glad I +listened. Do you mind answering my question?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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 top 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." + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. He had the air of a man who wishes to be +reasonable. + +"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." + +"Your stockbroker!" Gerald exclaimed. + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin yawned slightly. + +"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." + +"What about his papers?" + +"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." + +Gerald shook his head. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin pointed out of the window. Gerald followed his finger. +Three men were at work upon the towering spars. + +"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?" + +"Very well," the boy replied. "I haven't seen much of him." + +"He and Esther are together a great deal, eh?" Mr. Fentolin asked +quickly. + +"They seem to be quite friendly." + +"It isn't Mr. Hamel, by any chance, who has been putting these +ideas into your head?" + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin waited until he had finished. Then he waved him away. + +"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." + +Gerald overtook Hamel upon the stairs. + +"By this time," the latter remarked, "I suppose that our friend +Mr. Dunster is upon the sea." + +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. + +"Mr. Dunster has left, sir," she told them. + +"We saw him go," Gerald replied. + +"Rather a quick recovery, wasn't it, nurse?" Hamel asked. + +"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." + +"They couldn't exactly make a prison of the place, could they?" +Hamel pointed out. "The man, after all, was only a guest." + +"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." + +Mrs. Fentolin was passing along the corridor as they issued from +the room. She started a little as she saw them. + +"What have you two been doing in there?" she asked quickly. + +"We were just passing," Hamel explained. "We stopped for a moment +to speak to the nurse." + +"Mr. Dunster has gone," she said. "You saw him go, Gerald. You +saw him, too, didn't you, Mr. Hamel?" + +"I certainly did," Hamel admitted. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +She shook her head. + +"Thank you very much," she said. "Mr. Fentolin does not like +to be left." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +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. + +"Where did it go?" she asked. + +"I have no idea," he admitted. + +"Why don't you help look for it?" + +"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." + +She hesitated for a moment. + +"We shall lose our place." + +"There is no one behind." + +She sank on to the little knoll of sand to which he had pointed, +with a resigned sigh. + +"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." + +"I have been silent," he told her, "because I have been thinking." + +"That may be truthful," she remarked, "but you wouldn't call it +polite, would you?" + +"The subject of my thoughts is my excuse. I have been thinking of +you." + +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. + +"Was it my mashie shots you were worrying about?" she asked. + +"It was not," he replied simply. "It was you--you yourself." + +She laughed, not altogether naturally. + +"How flattering!" she murmured. "By-the-by, you are rather a +downright person, aren't you, Mr. Hamel?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +She looked at him with startled eyes. + +"What do you mean?" she asked quickly. "You are Mr. Hamel, aren't +you?" + +"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?" + +"Yes! Go on, please." + +"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--" + +"Please go on. Please speak as though I knew nothing." + +"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." + +"Go on, please," she murmured. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +She turned a little in her place and looked at him steadfastly. + +"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." + +His face was troubled. + +"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." + +"Mr. Hamel," she exclaimed nervously, "you don't believe that! He +is always very kind." + +"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--" + +"Don't!" she interrupted suddenly. "Why do you bring me here to +talk like this? You cannot alter things. Nothing can be altered." + +"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--" + +He paused so long that she looked at him. He moved a little closer +to her, his fingers suddenly gripped her hand. + +"Or you can marry me and come away from it all," he concluded +quietly. "Forgive me, please--I mean it." + +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. + +"I think," she said, "that we had better play golf." + +"But I have asked you to marry me," he protested, as he scrambled up. + +"Your caddy has found your ball a long time ago," she pointed out, +walking swiftly on ahead. + +He played his shot and caught her up. + +"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." + +"You knew that what was coming?" she asked, raising her eyes +suddenly. + +"That I should care for you." + +"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." + +"Is it? And why?" + +"I have only known you for three days." + +"We can make up for that." + +"But I don't--care about you. I have never thought of any one in +that way. It is absurd," she went on. + +"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." + +Her breath caught a little. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"We'd best get on," he remarked, pointing to two figures in the +distance, "or they'll say we've cut in." + +Hamel smote his ball far and true. On a more moderate scale she +followed his example. They descended the steps together. + +"Love-making isn't going to spoil our golf," he whispered, smiling, +as he touched her fingers once more. + +She looked at him almost shyly. + +"Is this love-making?" she asked. + +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. + +"On our way home--" he began. + +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. + +"Look!" she whispered, under her breath. "Look! It is Mr. Fentolin! +He has come for us himself; he is there in the car." + +Mr. Fentolin, a strange little figure lying back among the cushions +of the great Daimler, raised his hat and waved it to them. + +"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?" + +"To take my clubs to my locker and pay my caddy," she replied. + +"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." + +She gave up her clubs reluctantly. All the life seemed to have gone +from her face. + +"Why didn't mother come with you?" she asked simply. + +"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?" + +"A great deal," she echoed, looking steadily ahead of her. + +"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?" + +"Twenty-one," she replied. + +"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?" + +"I don't know," she replied. "I have never thought about the +matter." + +"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." + +She made no reply whatever. Hamel was coming now towards them. + +"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." + +She said nothing, but her hand which rested upon the rug was +trembling a little. + +"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?" + +For the first time she turned her head towards him. + +"I understand," she said, "that you have some particular reason for +not wishing Mr. Hamel to leave St. David's Hall." + +He smiled benignly. + +"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?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +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. + +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. + +"Are you entirely deserted, Mr. Hamel?" she asked. + +"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." + +Her eyes followed his outstretched hand. She seemed to him to +shiver for a moment. + +"You really mean, then, that you are going to leave us?" she asked, +accepting the chair which he had drawn up close to his. + +He smiled. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"I have certainly observed--eccentricities," Hamel assented. + +"My life, and the lives of my two children," she went on, "is devoted +to the task of ministering to his happiness." + +"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. + +"To you, Mr. Hamel," she said, "it may seem so. We who make it know +of its necessity." + +He bowed his head. It was not a subject for him to discuss with her. + +"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." + +Hamel's face grew darker. + +"Has it ever occurred to you," he demanded, "that Mr. Fentolin is a +tyrant?" + +She closed her eyes for a moment. + +"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." + +Hamel threw away his cigarette. He was deeply interested. + +"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." + +"Miles was right, then!" she cried suddenly. "You are here to spy +upon him!" + +He turned towards her swiftly. + +"To spy upon him, Mrs. Fentolin? For what reason? Why? Is he a +criminal, then?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Secrets? But what secrets has he?" Hamel demanded. "Is he an +inventor?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Mrs. Seymour Fentolin seemed to be trembling a little. Her hands +were crossed upon her bosom. + +"You have known her for so short a time," she murmured. + +Hamel smiled confidently. + +"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." + +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. + +"Why not?" she murmured, as though arguing with some unseen critic +of her thoughts. "Why not?" + +"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--" + +She turned suddenly upon him and gripped his wrist. + +"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?" + +Hamel stared at his companion, for a moment, blankly. Her attitude +was so unexpected, her questioning so fierce. + +"My dear Mrs. Fentolin," he began--. + +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. + +"No," she interrupted, "I forgot! I mustn't talk like that. She, +too, is part of the sacrifice." + +"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." + +A gleam of hopefulness shone through the stony misery of the woman's +face. + +"Does Esther care?" she asked softly. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Chow-Chow," she cried, "come along, dear, we must have our walk. +Come along, Koto; come along, little dogs." + +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. + +"Unsociable person!" he exclaimed, as he caught her up. "Didn't +you know that I was longing for a walk?" + +"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." + +"May I come?" he asked. "I have business there myself." + +She laughed. + +"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?" + +He shook his head, falling into step with her. + +"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." + +Something of the lightness faded from her face. + +"So you have quite made up your mind to leave us?" she asked slowly. +"Mother wasn't able to persuade you to stay?" + +He shook his head. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"You shouldn't have done that," she said quietly. + +"Why not?" he demanded. "It was the truth." + +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. + +"What did mother say?" she whispered. + +"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." + +She shook her head very emphatically. + +"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." + +Her words came to him like numb things. There was little expression +in them, and yet he felt that somehow they meant so much. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +She turned, and he saw the great transformation. Her face was +brilliant, her eyes shone with wonderful things. + +"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." + +"And we will walk back together?" + +"We will walk back together," she promised him. + +"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." + +She dismissed him with a little smile. He strolled along the +village street and plunged into the mysterious recesses of the +one tiny shop. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +Hamel met Kinsley shortly before one o'clock the following afternoon, +in the lounge of the Royal Hotel at Norwich. + +"You got my wire, then?" the latter asked, as he held out his hand. +"I had it sent by special messenger from Wells." + +"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." + +"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 hack to town." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"Hanged if I know!" Hamel answered, with a sigh. + +"Nothing definite to tell us, then?" + +"Nothing!" + +"What about Mr. John P. Dunster?" + +"He left yesterday morning," Hamel said. "I saw him go. He looked +very shaky. I understood that Mr. Fentolin sent him to Yarmouth." + +"Did Mr. Fentolin know that there was an enquiry on foot about this +man's disappearance?" Kinsley asked. + +"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." + +Kinsley, for a moment, was singularly and eloquently profane. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Disappeared again?" Hamel muttered. + +"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." + +Hamel looked doubtful. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Have you tried to trace him from there?" Hamel asked. + +"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." + +Hamel shook his head. + +"You seem to know a good deal more than I do, already," he said. + +"What do you think of Mr. Fentolin? You have stayed in his house. +You have had an opportunity of studying him." + +"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." + +"Are you staying at St. David's Hall now?" + +"I left yesterday." + +"Where are you now, then?" + +"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." + +"Mr. Fentolin evidently doesn't like to have you in the locality," +Kinsley remarked thoughtfully. + +"He was all right so long as I was at St. David's Hall," Hamel +observed. + +"What's this little place like--St. David's Tower, you call it?" +Kinsley asked. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"You probably have," Kinsley agreed. "What post does he hold in +the household?" + +"I have no idea," Hamel replied. "I saw him the first day I arrived +and not since. Sort of secretary, I should think." + +"He is a queer-looking fellow, anyway," Kinsley muttered. "Look +out, Dick. Here he comes back again." + +Mr. Ryan approached the table a little diffidently. + +"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." + +Hamel nodded. + +"I thought I'd seen you there." + +"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." + +Hamel shook his head. + +"I came in by train myself, or I would have given you a lift back, +with pleasure," he said. + +Mr. Ryan expressed his thanks briefly and left the room. Kinsley +watched him from over the top of a newspaper. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Kinsley nodded thoughtfully. + +"I remember Seymour Fentolin," he said; "a really fine fellow he was. +Well, who else?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"On and off, the last few days. I seem to have been busy doing all +sorts of things." + +"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." + +"I don't suppose he could help receiving them," Hamel remarked. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Hamel sighed. + +"I know nothing beyond what I have told you." + +"How did he look when he went away?" + +"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." + +"Did you actually speak to him?" + +"Just a word or two." + +"And you saw him go off in the car?" + +"Gerald Fentolin and I both saw him and wished him good-by." + +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." + +"Tell me," Hamel asked, after they had walked for some distance in +silence, "exactly why is our fleet demonstrating to such an extent?" + +"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--" + +Kinsley paused. His tone and his expression had alike become +gloomier. + +"Go on," Hamel begged. + +"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!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +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. + +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. + +"What time would you like your dinner, sir?" she enquired. + +Hamel stared at her. + +"Why, are you going to keep house for me, Mrs. Cox?" he asked. + +"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." + +"So I discovered," he remarked, a little grimly. + +"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." + +"Yet you are here," he reminded her. + +"I do not count," she answered. "I am outside all these things." + +Hamel gave a little sigh of satisfaction. + +"Well, I am glad you could come, anyhow. If you have something for +dinner, I should like it in about half an hour." + +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. + +"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." + +"Mrs. Seymore 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." + +"It is very kind of both of them," Hamel said thoughtfully. + +The woman stood still for a moment, looking at him. Then she drew +a step nearer. + +"Has Mr. Fentolin given you the key of the shed?" she asked, very +quietly. + +Hamel shook his head. + +"We don't need the place, do we?" + +"He did not give you the key?" she persisted. + +"Mr. Fentolin said that he had some things in there which he wished +to keep locked up," he explained. + +She remained thoughtful for several moments. Then she turned away. + +"No," she said, "it was not likely he would not give you that key!" + +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. + +"I shall be here at seven o'clock in the morning, sir," she +announced. + +Hamel was a little startled. He withdrew the pip from his mouth +and looked at her. + +"Why, of course," he remarked. "I'd forgotten. There is no place +for you to stay here." + +"I shall go back to my brother's." she said. + +Hamel put some money upon the table. + +"Please get anything that is necessary," he directed. "I shall +leave you to do the housekeeping for a few days." + +"Shall you be staying here long, sir?" she asked. + +"I am not sure," he replied. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Hard aport, Dave lad! That's Fentolin's light. Keep her out a bit. +Steady, lad!" + +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. + +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. + +"Hullo!" + +There was no response. He tried again. + +"Is any one there?" + +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. + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +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. + +"Breakfast in half an hour, Mrs. Cox," he called out. + +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. + +"Mind the Dagger Rocks, sir!" + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Work be hanged!" he exclaimed. + +A soft voice answered him almost in his ear, a voice which was +becoming very familiar. + +"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." + +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. + +"I trust that your first night in your new abode has been a pleasant +one?" Mr. Fentolin asked. + +"I slept quite well, thanks," Hamel replied. "Glad to see you're +going to paint." + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head gloomily. + +"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." + +"I am awfully sorry," Hamel said. "Can't I go out of sight +somewhere?" + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"I will not ask your pardon for my absurd humours," he continued, +a little sadly. "Their existence, however, I cannot deny. I +will wait." + +"It seems a pity for you to do that," Hamel remarked. "You see, +I might stay here for some time." + +Mr. Fentolin's face darkened. He looked at the young man with a +sort of pensive wrath. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin sat quite motionless in his chair; his eyes were +fixed upon Hamel. + +"What is it that you are going to ask me?" he demanded. + +"I want to marry your niece." + +Mr. Fentolin looked at the young man in mild surprise. + +"A sudden decision on your part, Mr. Hamel?" he murmured. + +"Not at all," Hamel assured him. "I have been ten years looking +for her." + +"And the young lady?" Mr. Fentolin enquired. "What does she say?" + +"I believe, sir," Hamel replied, "that she would be willing." + +Mr. Fentolin sighed. + +"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?" + +"If you please." + +"She has a very moderate fortune." + +"She need have none at all," Hamel replied; "I have enough." + +Mr. Fentolin glanced towards the house. + +"Then," he said, "I think you had better go and tell her so; in +which case, I shall be able to paint." + +"I have your permission, then?" Hamel asked, rising to his feet +eagerly. + +"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." + +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. + +"Go and make love," he ordered, "and leave me alone. We are both +in pursuit of beauty--only our methods differ." + +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, a + 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. + +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 hack 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 hail 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. + +"Has Mr. Fentolin sent you here?" she asked at last. + +He came over to the typewriter. + +"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." + +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. + +"Why do you do that?" he demanded. "What is there in your work +that you are afraid I might see?" + +She answered him without hesitation. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Her eyes rested upon his, filled with a cold and questioning light. + +"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?" + +She glanced towards the bell. He moved to the edge of the table +as though to intercept her. + +"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?" + +She looked at him from the depths of her still, lusterless eyes. + +"You must be a very foolish person," she remarked, "if you expect +to obtain information in this manner." + +"Perhaps I am," he confessed, "but my folly has brought me to you, +and you can give me the information if you will." + +"Where is Mr. Fentolin?" she asked. + +"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." + +She turned composedly back to her work. + +"I think," she said, "that you had better go and find Miss Fentolin." + +"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." + +She glanced around her a little contemptuously. + +"You are welcome," she assured him. "Pray proceed." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Would it be wise, I wonder, then, to ensure their safety?" she +asked coolly. + +Her finger pressed the bell. He took a quick step forward. She +held out her hand. + +"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." + +He leaned a little towards her. + +"It wouldn't be possible to bribe you, I suppose?" + +She shook her head. + +"I wonder you haven't tried that before. No, it would not--not +with money, that is to say." + +"You'll tell Mr. Fentolin, I presume?" he asked quickly. + +"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?" + +The man's expression was full of polite regret. + +"Miss Fentolin went over to Legh Woods early this morning, sir," +he announced. "She is staying to lunch with Lady Saxthorpe." + +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. + +"I am sorry," he said. "I must have made a mistake. I will hurry +back." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +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. + +"So your wooing has not prospered, my young friend," he remarked +gently. "I am sorry. Is there anything I can do?" + +"Your niece has gone out to lunch," Hamel replied shortly. + +Mr. Fentolin stopped painting. His face was full of concern as he +looked up at Hamel. + +"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." + +"You are very kind." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"Where is your servant?" Hamel asked. + +Mr. Fentolin glanced around him carelessly. + +"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." + +"Shall I call him?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin looked at him thoughtfully. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +He pointed to the planked way which led down the steep, pebbly beach +to the sea. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +The concentrated gaze of Mr. Fentolin's keen eyes was hard to meet, +but Hamel came out of the ordeal without flinching. + +"At eight o'clock, Mr. Fentolin," he answered. "I can see that I +must try to earn your better opinion." + +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. + +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. + +"What is it, Mrs. Cox?" he asked. "Why were you listening there?" + +Her face was absolutely expressionless. She was busying herself +now with a small saucepan, and her back was turned towards him. + +"I spend my life, sir," she said, "listening and waiting. One +never knows when the end may come." + +"But the boat-house," Hamel objected. "No one has been in there +his morning, have they?" + +"Who can tell?" she answered. "He could go anywhere when he chose, +or how he chose--through the keyhole, if he wanted." + +"But why listen?" Hamel persisted. "There is nothing in there now +but some odds and ends of machinery." + +She turned from the fire and looked at him for a moment. Her eyes +were colourless, her tone unemotional. + +"Maybe! There's no harm in listening." + +"Did you hear anything which made you want to listen?" + +"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." + +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. + +"If there's anything you want, sir," she said, "I shall hear you at +a word. The kitchen door is open." + +"One moment, Mrs. Cox." + +She lingered there patiently, with the tray in her hand. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +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. + +"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." + +Hamel looked around the room. Already his heart was beginning to +sink. + +"Miss Fentolin is well, I hope?" he asked. + +"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." + + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Esther is very young, Mr. Hamel. We must talk this over. You have +known her for such a very short time." + +A servant announced dinner, and Hamel offered his arm to his hostess. + +"Is Gerald away, too?" he asked. + +"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." + +"He promised to play with me to-morrow," Hamel remarked thoughtfully. +"He said nothing about going away." + +"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." + +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. + +"You seem a little unsteady this evening, my dear Florence," Mr. +Fentolin remarked, peering across the round table. + +She eyed him nonchalantly enough. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"So far, she has looked after me very well," Hamel observed. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin's tone was gently sympathetic. He changed the subject +a moment or two later, however. + +"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." + +"Against whom?" Mrs. Fentolin asked. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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." + +"I am out of touch with political affairs," Hamel declared. "I have +been away from England for so long." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I said not before ten to-night," he muttered. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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.'" + +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. + +"How can I?" he asked. "What excuse can I make?" + +"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." + +"But, Mrs. Fentolin--" he began. + +She caught up one of her absurd little pets and held it to her mouth. + +"Meekins is in the doorway," she whispered. + +"Don't argue with me, please. You are in danger you know nothing +about. Pass me the cigarettes." + +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. + +"Koto must learn to sit upon his tail--like that. No, not another +grape till he sits up. There, then!" + +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. + +"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." + +"You mean the American whom Gerald brought home after the accident?" +Mrs. Fentolin asked carelessly. + + 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." + +"Do you mean that he has disappeared altogether this time?" Hamel +asked. + +Mr. Fentolin shook his head. + +"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." + +She rose at once to her feet, with a dog under either arm. + +"I'll take the phenacetin," she promised, "but I hate going to bed +early. Shall I see you again, I wonder, Mr. Hamel?" + +"Not this evening, I fear," he answered. "I am going to ask Mr. +Fentolin to excuse me early." + +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. + +"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." + +"Another evening, if you don't mind," Hamel begged. "To-night I +must ask you to excuse my hurrying away." + +Mr. Fentolin looked up from underneath his eyelids. His glance was +quick and penetrating. + +"Why this haste?" + +Hamel shrugged his shoulders. + +"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." + +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. + +"We shall see," Mr. Fentolin said quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +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. + +"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." + +Hamel's eyes were fixed a little longingly upon some of the volumes +with which the table was covered. + +"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." + +"You are obdurate?" Mr. Fentolin asked softly. + +"I am afraid I am." + +Mr. Fentolin busied himself with the handle of his chair. + +"Tell me," he insisted, "is there any other person save yourself +to whom you have given this mysterious promise?" + +"No one," Hamel replied promptly. + +"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?" + +Hamel shook his head. + +"I am not in the confidence of the different members of your family," +he answered. "So far as I, personally, am concerned--" + +"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?" + +"There are matters in which you are concerned," Hamel admitted, +"which I do not understand, but I see no purpose in discussing them." + +Mr. Fentolin wheeled his chair round in a semicircle. He was now +between the door and Hamel. + +"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." + +Hamel saw the glitter in his hand. This was the end, then, of all +doubt! He remained silent. + +"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." + +Hamel started. + +"You mean that he has run away?" + +Mr. Fentolin nodded. + +"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." + +"What of Miss Esther?" Hamel asked quickly. + +"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." + +"By whom?" Hamel demanded. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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!" + +"I understand that you are threatening me?" Hamel murmured. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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!" + +He held up his finger. The tide had turned, and through the +half-open window came the low thunder of the waves. + +"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." + +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. + +"I come to make my adieux," he whispered, with a glance towards the +door. + +"You are leaving, then?" she asked quickly. + +He nodded. + +"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!" + +"What about Esther?" he asked quietly. + +"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." + +She motioned him to go. He touched her fingers for a moment. + +"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." + +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 hail and passed out into the night. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +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. + +"Do you know the time, Mrs. Cox?" he asked. "You ought to have been +home hours ago. What are you doing there?" + +She rose to her feet. Her expression was one of dogged but patient +humility. + +"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." + +Hamel looked at her with a frown upon his forehead. + +"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?" + +"Not real voices," she repeated, without the slightest expression in +her tone. + +"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?" + +"I do not know," she answered patiently. + +"You must have some reason," he persisted. + +"I have no reason," she assured him, "only some day I shall see +behind these doors. Afterwards, I shall hear the voices no more." + +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. + +"Tell me--I have found you listening here before. Have you ever +heard anything suspicious?" + +"I have heard nothing yet," she admitted, "nothing that counts." + +"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." + +"Mr. Fentolin would not give you the keys, sir," she replied. "If +he did, it would be useless." + +"Would you like me to break the door in?" Hamel asked. + +"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?" + +"Mr. Fentolin has invented something," Hamel explained. "He keeps +the model in there. Inventors are very jealous of their work." + +She looked down upon the floor for a moment. + +"I shall be here at seven o'clock in the morning, sir. I will give +you your breakfast at the usual time." + +Hamel opened the door for her. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"She is mad, of course!" he muttered. + +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. + +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. + +"Who's there?" he cried. "Who's there, I say?" + +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. + +"Mrs. Fentolin!" he exclaimed, aghast. + +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. + +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. + +"Tell me, please, what is the matter?" he insisted, speaking as +indifferently as he could. "Tell me at once what has happened?" + +She pointed to the door. + +"Lock it!" she implored. + +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. + +"Give me some water." + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Upon my honour, I am," he assured her. "You should know that." + +"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?" + +"You mean where Mr. Fentolin met with his accident." + +"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!" + +He was silent for a moment. + +"No one has known the truth," he murmured. + +"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." + +"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?" + +Once more her voice began to shake. + +"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--" + +"Where is Esther?" Hamel interrupted suddenly. + +"Locked up away from you, locked up because she rebelled!" + +"And Dunster?" + +She shook her head. Her eyes were filled with horror. + +"But he left the Hall--I saw him!" + +She shook her head. + +"It wasn't Dunster. It was the man Miles makes use of--Ryan, the +librarian. He was once an actor." + +"Where is Dunster, then?" Hamel asked quickly. "What has become +of him?" + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +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. + +"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." + +She nodded, and her fingers gently pressed his. + +"I am sure of it," she murmured. + +"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?" + +"I don't know," she answered. "It was Lucy Price who sent me. She +came to my room just as I was undressing." + +"Lucy Price," he repeated. "The secretary?" + +"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." + +"Miss Price told you this?" Hamel asked gravely. + +Mrs. Fentolin nodded. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +"Where was Mr. Fentolin when you left?" Hamel asked. + +"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?" + +Hamel shook his head. + +"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." + +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!" + +"And how are we to know," Hamel asked, "if he comes to-night?" + +"Go outside," she whispered. "Look towards St. David's Hall and +tell me how many lights you can see." + +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. + +"There are seven," he told her, closing the door with an effort. + +She counted upon her fingers. + +"I must come and see," she muttered. "I must be sure. Help me." + +He lifted her to her feet, and they staggered out together. + +"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--" + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +Hamel threw another log on to the fire and drew her chair closer +to it. + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"Shall I go round to the front and see that he is in bed?" + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Still the man upon the bed made no movement nor any reply. Mr. +Fentolin sighed and beckoned to Doctor Sarson. + +"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." + +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. + +"Give him two minutes," he said calmly. "He will be able to speak +then." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"I'll see you in hell first!" + +Mr. Fentolin's face momentarily darkened. He moved a little nearer +to the man upon the bed. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Come and parley with us, Mr. Hamel," he begged. "You will not find +us unreasonable." + +Hamel's voice came back in reply, but Hamel himself kept well away +from the opening. + +"The conditions," he said, "are unpropitious. A little time for +reflection will do you no harm." + +The trap-doors were suddenly closed. Mr. Fentolin's face, as he +looked up, became diabolic. + +"We are trapped!" he muttered; "caught like rats in a hole!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +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. + +"Can we get into the house without waking any one?" he asked. + +"Quite easily," she assured him. "The front door is never barred." + +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. + +"What are you going to do now?" she whispered. + +"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." + +She nodded. + +"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." + +She passed silently up the broad staircase. Hamel groped his way +across the hail 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. + +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. + +"I want to speak to Mr. Kinsley at once upon most important +business," Hamel announced. + +"Very sorry, sir," the man repelled. "Mr. Kinsley left town last +night for the country." + +"Where has he gone?" Hamel demanded quickly. "You can tell me. +You know who I am; I am Mr. Hamel." + +"Into Norfolk somewhere, sir. He went with several other gentlemen." + +"Is that Bullen?" Hamel asked. + +The man admitted the fact. + +"Can you tell me if any of the people with whom Mr. Kinsley left +London were connected with the police?" he inquired. + +The man hesitated. + +"I believe so, sir," he admitted. "The gentlemen started in a +motor-car and were going to drive all night." + +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. + +"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." + +Hamel nodded. + +"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." + +"Are you going to leave them where they are until these people +arrive?" she asked. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"I can guess." + +"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." + +"But as a matter of common sense," Hamel asked, "why does Mr. +Fentolin desire war?" + +"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." + +"Yet you have all been his slaves," Hamel said curiously. + +"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." + +Hamel looked at her wonderingly. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Do you know where Miss Fentolin is?" he interrupted. + +"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." + +"I have a friend," Hamel answered, "who will see to that." + +"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." + +"Please do," Hamel begged. + +She looked at him coldly. Her tone was still free from any sort of +emotion. + +"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?" + +"I know it," he admitted. + +"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." + +She left him. Hamel followed her out into the hail. 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. + +"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!" + +"He may," Hamel answered sturdily, "but never to make you people +his slaves again. You have done enough. You have earned your +freedom." + +"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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +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. + +"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." + +"Perhaps," Mr. Dunster said in a hollow tone, "you will have some +opportunity now of discovering with me what it is like." + +"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." + +"He must have been hanging around and followed us in when we came," +Meekins muttered. "Somehow, I fancied I felt some one near." + +"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." + +"You aren't going to murder me first, then?" Mr. Dunster grunted. + +Mr. Fentolin smiled at him benignly. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster struggled for a moment for breath. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin smiled. + +"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." + +Mr. Dunster tried to sit up but found himself unable. + +"So you think they won't believe my story, eh?" he muttered. "Well, +we shall see." + +Mr. Fentolin thoughtfully contemplated the burning end of his +cigarette for a moment. + +"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." + +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. + +"For God's sake, leave me alone!" he moaned. "Let me get away, +that's all; let me crawl away!" + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I heard the bolts go," Doctor Sarson remarked uneasily. + +"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." + +Doctor Sarson came slowly and gravely to the bedside. He looked +down upon his patient. Mr. Dunster shivered. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"Meekins," he said, "look at me." + +The man turned and faced his master. His aspect of dogged civility +had never been more apparent. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Some one was in the boat-house when I broke the trap-door," Meekins +muttered. "I heard them moving about." + +Mr. Fentolin frowned. + +"Then let us hurry," he said. "Sarson, what about your patient?" + +Mr. Dunster was lying upon his side, watching them. The doctor +went over to the bedside and felt his pulse and head. + +"He will do for twelve hours," he pronounced. "If you think that +other little operation--" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Any one up there?" Mr. Fentolin enquired, a shade of anxiety in +his tone. + +"No one," the doctor reported. + +"Has anything been disturbed?" + +Doctor Sarson was some little time before he replied. + +"Yes," he said, "some one seems to have been rummaging about." + +"Send down the steps quickly," Mr. Fentolin ordered. "I am beginning +to find the atmosphere here unpleasant." + +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. + +"Who has been in here?" Mr. Fentolin demanded, as he looked around +the place. + +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: + +"Some one has taken away the key! The door is locked on the other +side!" + +Mr. Fentolin's frown was malign even for him. + +"Our dear friend, Mr. Hamel, I suppose," he muttered. "Another +little debt we shall owe him! Try the other door." + +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. + +"Try the other door quickly," he directed. + +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. + +"My good woman," Mr. Fentolin exclaimed, frowning, "are you the +person who removed that key?" + +She laid her hand upon his chair. She took no notice of the other +two. + +"Come," she said, "there is something here I want you to listen to. +Come!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +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. + +"Down here," she directed softly. "Bring your chair down the +plank-way, close to the water's edge." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"What have you to do with that?" he asked in a low tone. + +"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." + +Mr. Fentolin shook her off. He looked around for Meekins. + +"Meekins, stand by my chair," he ordered sharply. "Turn round; I +wish to go to the Hall. Drive this woman away." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Listen!" she cried. "Listen!" + +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. + +"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!" + +She forced him to look once more at the top of the boat-house. + +"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?" + +Mr. Fentolin shrank back in his chair. + +"Take this woman away!" he ordered the fishermen. "Do you hear? +Take her away; she is mad!" + +They looked towards him, but not one of them moved. Mr. Fentolin +raised his whistle to his lips, and blew it. + +"Meekins!" he cried. "Where are you, Meekins?" + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"The light was never lit there," he said. "It was simply to help +me in some electrical experiments." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"You are a fool!" he shrieked. "You can buy forgetfulness! The +memory of everything passes." + +"I may be a fool," she retorted grimly, "and you the wise man; but +this day we'll both know the truth." + +There was a little murmur from the shore, where the fishermen stood +in a long line. + +"Bring him back, missus," Jacob called out. "You've scared him +enough. Bring him back. We'll leave him to the law." + +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. + +"Aye," she cried, "we'll leave him to the law--to the law of God!" + +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. + +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. + +"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!" + +But if indeed his eyes were touched with fire at that moment, no +one else in the world saw anything more of Miles Fentolin. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +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. + +"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." + +"Sheer envy," Hamel murmured. "We escape from our tight corners by +forethought." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"It didn't quite come off, sir," Gerald observed. + +"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." + +"There was never any proof," Hamel remarked, "that France would not +have remained staunch to us." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +Mrs. Fentolin shivered a little. She drew her cloak around her. +Gerald, who had been watching her, sprang to his feet. + +"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." + +Mrs. Fentolin shook her head once more. Her face had recovered its +serenity. She looked downward gravely but with no sign of fear. + +"There is nothing to terrify us there, Gerald," she declared. "The +sea has gathered, and the sea will hold its own." + +Hamel held out his hand to Esther. + +"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." + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Vanished Messenger by Oppenheim + + diff --git a/old/vmsgr11.zip b/old/vmsgr11.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b5860b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/vmsgr11.zip |