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+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 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. Phillips Oppenheim
+
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